Her Greek Groom: The Tycoon's Mistress / Smokescreen Marriage / His Forbidden Bride

Oh, God, what am I doing?

Aloud, she said urgently, ‘Look—there’s no need for you to do this. I can manage—really.’

‘You don’t like to be touched?’

‘I’ve never thought about it.’ She found herself startled into honesty.

‘Then think now.’ He paused, and there was a sudden harshness in his voice. ‘Do you like to be in the arms of your lover?’

‘Of course,’ she said, and was glad that his head was bent, and that this time he could not look into her eyes and see that she was lying again.

She was expecting more questions, but he was suddenly silent, concentrating, presumably, on what he was doing.

There was disinfectant in the bowl that he’d brought, and Cressy tried not to wince as he swabbed the blister.

‘What’s that?’ she asked dubiously as he uncapped a small pot of pale green ointment.

‘It is made from herbs,’ he said. ‘It will help you to heal.’

When he’d finished, Cressy had a small, neat dressing held in place by a strip of plaster.

‘Efharisto,’ she said unwillingly. ‘Thank you. It—it feels better already.’

‘Good,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘Then you will be able to dance with me tonight.’

‘No,’ Cressy said, feeling her heart thud painfully against her ribcage. ‘No, I couldn’t possibly.’

‘Why not? Because your lover would not like it if he knew?’

‘Perhaps.’ Cressy examined her plaster with renewed interest. This non-existent boyfriend was proving useful, she thought. She had a dress ring in her luggage at the hotel. From now on she would wear it—on her engagement finger.

‘Then why is he not here with you—making sure that no other man’s hand touches his woman?’

She shrugged. ‘He didn’t want to come. He—he doesn’t like very hot weather.’

‘He has ice in his veins—this Englishman.’ The harshness in his tone was inlaid with contempt.

‘On the contrary.’ Cressy moved her foot cautiously. ‘But we have a modern relationship, kyrie. We don’t have to spend every minute of every day together. We—like our space.’

He said slowly, ‘If you belonged to me, matia mou, I would not let you out of my sight.’

She raised her eyebrows. ‘Isn’t that a little primitive?’

‘Perhaps.’ His mouth smiled but the agate eyes were oddly hard. ‘But it is also—effective.’

He picked up the bowl and the roll of plaster. ‘Come down when you are ready, thespinis. Yannis is waiting to cook your dinner.’

‘I can’t come down,’ she said. ‘I have nothing to wear.’

Draco indicated the dress that was lying on the bed. ‘You call this nothing? Maria has put it here for you. It would honour her for you to wear it. And be an honour for you, too,’ he added sharply. ‘It was her wedding dress.’

‘Oh.’ Cressy swallowed. ‘I had no idea. Then of course I must…’ Her voice tailed away.

He replaced the dress carefully, then went to the door.

He said, ‘I will tell them to expect you—to dine, and then to dance.’

And was gone.

Maria must have been very much slimmer at the time of her marriage, Cressy reflected, for the dress was almost a perfect fit.

Of course, the canvas shoes didn’t really do it justice, but they’d have to suffice.

She’d brushed her damp hair until it hung, sleek and shining, to her shoulders, and applied a touch of colour to her mouth.

Now, she circled doubtfully in front of the long narrow mirror fixed to the wall. No one at her City office would have recognised her, she thought. She hardly recognised herself.

I look about seventeen, she thought. Except that I never looked like this when I was seventeen.

It wasn’t just the dress. There was something in her face—something soft, almost wistful, that was new and unfamiliar. Under their fringe of lashes, her eyes were dreaming.

My eyes. That was what he had called her. Matia mou.

Only she wasn’t going to think about that any more—what he’d said, or done. She was going to eat her meal, get on her ferry, and go back to the sanctuary of her expensive hotel. And if he turned up there, Security would know how to deal with him.

She nodded fiercely, and went down to the courtyard of the taverna.

Yannis welcomed her with extravagant admiration, and Maria appeared in the kitchen doorway, smiling mistily.

But Draco, as a cautious glance round soon revealed, was nowhere to be seen.

Perhaps the mention of a boyfriend had produced the desired result, Cressy told herself, firmly quashing an unwelcome tingle of disappointment.

To her surprise, the taverna was busy, and not just with local people. One of the tour companies had brought a crowd over from Alakos, it seemed, and most of the tables had been rearranged in a long line under the striped awning, and people, laughing and talking, were taking their seats there.

Yannis took Cressy to a secluded corner, protected by latticework screens covered, in turn, by a flowering vine.

He brought her ouzo, followed by dishes of taramasalata and houmous, and juicy black olives, with a platter of fresh bread.

As she sampled them, Cressy saw that a group of bouzouki players had arrived and were tuning their instruments.

For the dancing, thought Cressy with sudden unease. She sent a restive glance at her watch.

‘There is a problem?’ No mistaking that deep voice. Cressy looked up, shocked, to see Draco depositing a bottle of white wine on the table and taking the seat opposite.

Her warning antennae had let her down badly this time, she thought, biting her lip.

She hurried into speech. ‘I was wondering about the ferry. What time does it leave?’

He sent an amused glance at the exuberant holidaymakers. ‘When these people are ready to go. There is no hurry.’ He paused. ‘Or are you so anxious to leave us?’

She kept her voice even. ‘I think it’s time that I got back to the real world.’

‘Or what passes for reality at the Hellenic Imperial hotel,’ he said softly.

‘You don’t approve of such places?’

He shrugged. ‘The islands need tourists, and tourists need hotels. They can prove—lucrative.’

‘Especially,’ Cressy said waspishly, ‘for someone like you.’

His grin was unabashed. ‘I do not deny it.’ He picked up her glass to fill it with wine.

She said, ‘I didn’t order that.’

He smiled at her. ‘It is a gift.’

‘I didn’t expect that either.’

‘You ask for so little, matia mou. It is one of your many charms.’

Cressy flushed. ‘If you really want to do me a favour, kyrie, you’ll stop calling me matia mou.’

His brows lifted. ‘Why?’

‘Because it’s—inappropriate. In my country it could be construed as harassment.’

She couldn’t believe how prim and humourless she sounded.

He said quietly, ‘But you are in my country now. On my island. And things are different here.’

‘Is that a warning?’ She stiffened.

‘Do you feel that you are in danger?’

Yes, she wanted to scream. Yes—and I don’t understand what’s happening to me. I don’t want this.

Aloud, she said lightly, ‘I’m the stranger within your gates, kyrie. Isn’t that what you told me? I’ve eaten your bread, and now I’m drinking your wine.’ She lifted her glass towards him, then took a mouthful. It was cool and crisp against her dry throat. ‘So why should I be afraid?’

He raised his own glass. ‘Stin iyia sas. To you, thespinis, and to your beauty in that dress. If your lover was here, he would beg on his knees to make you his bride.’ He drank, and put down his glass.

He said softly, his gaze holding hers, ‘I will make a bargain with you. I will not call you “my eyes” until your eyes promise me that I may. And, in return, you will tell me your given name.’

Under the cool white cotton, her skin felt as if it was on fire.

She lifted her chin. ‘Very well, kyrie. I’m called Cressida.’

‘Cressida,’ he repeated thoughtfully. ‘The golden one—who was faithless to her lover Troilus.’

‘According to Shakespeare, and the other men who wrote about her,’ Cressy said crisply. ‘She, of course, might have had a different viewpoint. And, if it comes to that, your own namesake isn’t much to brag about—a tyrant imposing laws that no one could live under. Although that shouldn’t surprise me,’ she added with warmth.

‘Quarrelling?’ Yannis arrived with two plates of grilled swordfish, Greek salads, and a big bowl of fries. ‘Not while you eat my food, or you will get bad stomachs.’ He wagged an admonishing finger at them both, and went off.

Draco grinned at her. ‘He is right. Let us begin again.’

He held out his hand. ‘Hero poli, Cressida. I am pleased to meet you.’

Reluctantly, she allowed her fingers to be enclosed in the warmth of his. ‘Hero poli—Draco.’

‘And your name is very beautiful,’ he added.

Cressy wrinkled her nose. ‘I used to hate it,’ she confessed. ‘But then I hated everything about being a girl. I wanted so badly to be a boy when I was little that my father used to call me Sid as a joke. My mother was very cross about it, so he’d never use it in front of her. Only when we were on our own.’

‘And does he still call you—Sid?’ His brows lifted.

Cressy looked down at her plate. ‘Not for a long time,’ she said quietly.

‘I am not surprised.’ He gave a faint smile. ‘I must tell you, Cressida, that you are no boy.’

She met the sudden intensity of the dark eyes and flushed, reaching hurriedly for her knife and fork.

The swordfish was succulent and delicious, and she ate every scrap, even conducting a laughing battle with Draco over the last few fries.

‘It is good to meet a woman who does not wish to starve herself,’ he told her as he refilled her glass.

She shook her head. ‘One of these days all these calories will suddenly explode, and I’ll turn into a mountain.’

‘No.’ The dark eyes travelled over her in smiling, sensuous appraisal. ‘For me, you will always look as you do now, agapi mou.’

Cressy frowned. ‘What does that mean?’ she asked suspiciously.

He laughed. ‘It is best that you don’t know.’

Cressy felt her colour deepen helplessly. To cover her confusion, she turned to watch the bouzouki players, tapping her fingers on the table to the music.

Draco was watching her. ‘You like bouzouki?’

‘I don’t know very much,’ she admitted. ‘Just “Zorba’s Dance”, like everyone else.’ She hesitated. ‘I liked what you were dancing to this morning.’

‘That was also by Theodorakis.’ He smiled faintly. ‘He is still very much a hero. A man whose music spoke to the people.’

She said, ‘I—I hope you’re going to dance tonight.’

‘Only if you will promise, just once, to be my partner.’

‘But I couldn’t,’ Cressy protested. ‘I’ve never done any Greek dancing.’

‘I did not mean that. When the entertainment is over, Yannis plays other music.’ The agate eyes glittered at her. ‘We will choose something very slow—very sweet—so that you won’t hurt your foot.’

‘Oh.’ Cressy felt hollow inside, but she mustered a smile. ‘Thank you.’

‘Would you like some dessert? Halva, perhaps—or baklava?’

‘Just coffee, please.’

He said, ‘I’ll fetch it.’

She watched him lithely threading his way between the tables, and saw without surprise that several of the woman holidaymakers from the large party were watching him too, nudging each other and exchanging whispered comments and giggles.

I could always send a note over saying, ‘He’s available,’ Cressy thought sourly. Only people might get killed in the rush.

She’d come away on holiday to relax, yet she’d never felt so edgy and restless in her life.

She’d had her day and her evening neatly planned, but here she was, in another woman’s wedding dress, having dinner with a man who supplemented his income by ‘befriending’ lonely women.

And she wasn’t lonely, she told herself vehemently. Yes, she missed her father’s company, but she had plenty of friends. She could go out every night, if she wanted. And there were plenty of men who’d be keen to escort her.

Which was fine. It was when they tried to get closer that warning bells started to ring and she felt herself freeze.

No man was prepared to be held at arm’s length for ever. She understood that perfectly well. She’d always assumed that one of her casual friendships would eventually bloom into something deeper. Something based on liking and respect, rather than casual physical attraction.

She’d always sworn she’d never be caught in that trap.

So a holiday romance had never been on the cards.

Draco was good-looking, with a sexual aura as powerful as a force field, but this time he’d chosen the wrong target, she told herself with determination.

Their acquaintance would end with dinner, as she would make clear.

I’ll pay Yannis for the meal, she thought, and ask him to tell Draco goodbye for me.

And then she’d never set foot on Myros again. She would arrange for the hotel to launder and return Maria’s dress and collect her own things. And that would be an end to it.

She looked round for Yannis, but at the same moment the bouzouki players struck up again, and she saw that he and three other men had formed a line and begun to dance, their hands resting on each other’s shoulders. It was a slow, intricate dance, but their movements were perfectly synchronised, and strangely dignified, Cressy thought, watching, entranced.

This wasn’t just a cabaret act, as it was at the hotel, she realised as she joined the rest of the audience in clapping in time to the music. These were men to whom their own culture was a living, breathing thing.

The music quickened its pace. The dance changed to include Maria and a couple of other women, and, gradually, the crowd from Alakos were persuaded to join in too, weaving their way between the tables in a long, twirling chain.

A waiter appeared at her side with coffee. ‘For you, thespinis. Kyrios Draco says he is to dance next.’

Giving her an ideal chance to slip away, thought Cressy. As the waiter moved off, she stopped him. ‘O logariasimos, parakolo?’ Adding, ‘May I have the bill, please?’ in case he didn’t understand her attempt at Greek.

But he didn’t seem to have much grasp of English either, because he shrugged, smilingly spread his hands, and kept on walking.

The dance finished and everyone sat down, laughing and talking.

When the music started again, it was slow and haunting, almost plaintive.

Cressy knew that Draco had appeared, because the chattering voices were stilled suddenly, and there was a new tension in the air. She stared down at her coffee, not wanting to look up—not wanting to watch, but eventually impelled to.

Across the distance that divided them, above the heads of the crowd, his eyes met hers—held them steadily. He inclined his head in silent acknowledgement. Then he began to dance.

Yannis and the other men knelt in a half-circle around him, clapping the rhythm. Tonight, there was none of the exuberance she’d seen that morning. The movements were as passionate, but they spoke of pain and isolation. The music seemed to wail and weep, emphasising the yearning expressed by his taut body.

Cressy, totally enthralled, saw weariness and suffering. And every so often a dangerous flicker of wildness.

She thought, with an odd certainty, This is about love—and the loss of love…

When it stopped, there was silence for a moment, and then the applause broke out, wave after wave of it, and people were standing to take photographs.

When disco music began to play over the sound system it was almost a shock. But no one else could have followed Draco, she thought.

Everyone was up on their feet, joining in, jigging around vigorously. Glad, she thought, to dispel some of the emotion of the last few minutes.

Cressy noticed the girl at once. She was red-haired and pretty, wearing a tiny Lycra skirt and a skimpy top displaying a generous amount of cleavage. Her hand was on Draco’s arm and she was smiling up at him, moving closer, her whole body an invitation.

Cressy put down her coffee cup, aware that her hand was shaking. She knew an overwhelming impulse to rush over to them—to drag the redhead away—to slap her—scratch her nails down that simpering face.

But she wasn’t a violent person, she told herself vehemently. She never had been.

Except that she’d never been jealous before. And that made all the difference.

The resentment she felt for Eloise didn’t even feature on the same scale, she thought, closing her eyes, conscious that she felt slightly sick.

She and Draco came from two different worlds. So how could she possibly feel these things for a total stranger—someone she didn’t want? That she couldn’t want…

The soundtrack had changed to something soft and dreamy, and Cressy kept her eyes shut, because she didn’t want to see the red-haired girl in Draco’s arms.

His voice, soft and amused, said, ‘It is too soon to sleep, agapi mou. You have a bargain to keep.’

She looked up at him, feeling her stomach muscles clench in unwelcome excitement and longing.

She said coolly, ‘Shouldn’t you be spending time with your adoring public?’

His grin was appreciative. ‘She was beautiful, ne?’ He whistled. ‘Such a mouth—such breasts.’ Lazily, he scanned Cressy’s indignantly parted lips, then let his gaze travel slowly downwards. That was all he did, yet for one dizzy, scared moment she knew how his mouth would feel on hers—recognised the intimate touch of his hands on her body.

He went on quietly, ‘But I am here with you, my golden one, so don’t disappoint me.’

He held out his hand, and, silently, she rose from her seat and went with him. Felt his arms close round her, drawing her against him. Cressy surrendered, sliding her own arms round his firm waist and resting her cheek against his chest as they moved quietly together to the music, one tune fading effortlessly into another.

She was not an accomplished dancer, yet in Draco’s arms she seemed to drift in perfect attunement, as if she was part of him. It might have been a dream, except that she was only too aware of the physical reality of his nearness.

She was trembling inside, her body tingling as the warmth of his skin invaded her thin layers of clothing, giving her the helpless impression that she was naked in his arms. Shocking her by the sudden scalding heat of desire.

There were no pretences anymore. He was as aroused as she was.

He whispered against her ear, his voice raw and urgent, ‘You feel it too, ne, my girl, my heaven? This need we have for each other?’

She pulled away, staring up at him, her eyes wide, the pupils dilated as she met the glint of golden fire in his.

She said hoarsely, ‘I—I can’t do this. I have to go—have to…’

And stopped, as she realised they were alone. The courtyard was deserted. Yannis and his helpers had vanished into the taverna, the glass doors discreetly closed behind them, and the crowd from Alakos had gone.

She said on a little sob, ‘The ferry—oh, God, the ferry…’

She ran out of the courtyard and down the street towards the harbour, but Draco caught her before she’d gone more than a few yards.

‘The ferry has gone,’ he said.

‘But you knew I had to catch it. You knew that.’ Her voice shook. ‘Now I’m stranded. Oh, hell. What am I going to do?’

‘You stay here,’ he said calmly. ‘It’s not a problem.’

‘Yes,’ she said bitterly. ‘Oh, yes, it is. You don’t understand…’

‘I know more than you think.’ He put his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her angry, frightened face. ‘You believe I have kept you here to share my bed tonight, but you are wrong. I shall sleep at my own house, and you will stay here with Yannis and Maria.’

Cressy gasped. ‘When was this decided?’

‘When we realised that there would be no room for you on the ferry. An overcrowded boat is not safe, particularly when many of the passengers have been drinking Metaxa. It is better to wait for tomorrow.’

She bit her lip. ‘Very well.’ She paused. ‘But the hotel. They’ll know I haven’t come back…’

‘Yannis has telephoned them, so all is well.’

She said quietly, ‘Then there’s nothing left to say.’

The music had stopped when they came back to the courtyard, and the lights were out.

Draco walked beside her, his tread as quiet as a cat’s. He did not touch her, but she felt him in every fibre of her being.

He would kiss her, she thought confusedly, and she wanted him to. In fact, she ached for him. But she’d betrayed too much already, while they were dancing. And when his mouth touched hers she would have no defences left.

No strength to say no when he walked up the moonlit stairs beside her to the quiet, cool room with the wide bed. No power to resist when he drew her down into his arms.

His for the taking, she thought. And he would know that, and would take…

They reached the foot of the stone steps and she paused uncertainly, waiting for him to reach for her.

He said softly, ‘Until tomorrow—Cressida the golden. But now—kalinichta. Goodnight.’ And she felt the brush of his lips against her hair, as swift and tantalising as a butterfly’s wing.

And then she was free, walking up the stairs alone, and bewildered. She turned at the top of the stairs and looked down at him, the still shadow waiting there. Watching her go.

She said huskily, ‘I don’t understand. What do you want from me?’

‘I want everything, agapi mou.’ There was a strange harshness in his voice. ‘All you have to give. And nothing less will do.’ He paused. ‘But I can wait.’

He turned away into the darkness, leaving Cressy standing motionless, her hand pressed to her trembling mouth.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘MISS FIELDING—are you all right?’

Cressida started violently, and looked up to see one of the senior nurses standing beside her.

‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I’m fine. I’m sorry—I was miles away.’

A thousand miles, she thought, and another world…

‘I’m going to ask you to go to the visitors’ room for a little while. The consultant is coming to see your father, and he’ll talk to you afterwards.’

‘Of course.’ She almost stumbled up from her chair and along the corridor. It wasn’t a comfortable room. There was a table in the middle of the room with magazines, and a few moulded plastic chairs ranged round the walls.

She went over to the window and looked out at a vista of rooftops.

She felt ashamed. She was supposed to be here for her father, trying to infuse him with her own youth and strength, and instead she’d allowed herself to daydream—to remember things far better forgotten. A time that was past and done with.

Except…

The memory of that enigmatic e-mail message would not be so easily dismissed.

I am waiting for you.

It can’t be him, she denied, almost violently. I won’t believe it.

She grabbed a magazine from the table and sat down, only to open it at a page recommending Greek holidays. She looked at the crescent of bleached sand fringed by turquoise water in the picture and realised bleakly that there was no refuge from her memories.

They crowded her mind, filling it. Drawing her inexorably back to Myros.

She’d hardly slept that first night at the taverna. She had been too aware of the danger threatening her to be able to relax. And Draco was the most danger she’d ever encountered in her life.

No wonder he was a fisherman, she had thought, turning over restlessly and thumping the flat pillow with her fist. He knew exactly how to keep a woman hooked and helpless.

But he wouldn’t reel her in. She wouldn’t allow it to happen. She was her own person, and her plan didn’t include casual sex. It never had.

Draco had to learn that no matter how attractive he might be he was not always going to win.

And he’d soon find consolation. Every time he danced there’d be a queue of eager and willing girls vying for his attention. He wouldn’t have time to remember the one that got away.