Powerful Greek, Unworldly Wife Page 12

  ‘Waiting isn’t my forte.’

  ‘I noticed that. But from my point of view the fact that you were so irritated made the whole thing even more stressful. I would have spent most of the day getting ready and you’d look at me in disbelief as if you couldn’t quite believe that was what I’d chosen to wear and then you’d usher me out to the car.’

  ‘That is not what I would have been thinking,’ Leandro muttered. ‘I was probably thinking how much you’d changed. When first I met you, you didn’t do any of those things. You were straightforward and lacking in vanity.’

  ‘I’m sorry! That’s because I had never been to a charity ball in my life! The highlight of my social calendar was the village fete.’

  He raked his hands through his hair and gave a groan of frustration. ‘That was a compliment, Millie! Don’t you ever hear a compliment?’

  Stunned by the force of his tone, she looked at him in confusion. ‘But you said—I thought—I thought lacking in vanity meant that I didn’t spend hours on myself.’

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t need to spend hours on yourself. I liked you the way you were. I liked you the way you were that day I first met you.’

  ‘I was working on the farm! You arrived, designer dressed from head to toe, to talk business and I was wearing a pair of torn, ancient shorts and a T-shirt that had belonged to my dad but had shrunk in the wash.’

  ‘I don’t remember the shorts,’ Leandro growled, ‘but I do remember your legs. And your smile. And how sweet you were crawling over that haystack, risking life and limb to rescue those kittens that were trapped. I remember thinking, I want her in my bed. I want her looking after our babies. And I remember deciding at that moment that I wanted to wake up every morning looking at that smile. Why do you think I stayed two days? It was supposed to be a two-hour meeting.’

  ‘You invested in my dad’s business.’

  Leandro gave a wry smile. ‘I’m going to be honest here, agape mou, and confess that your dad’s business is the only investment I’ve ever made that has lost me money.’

  Millie gave an astonished laugh. ‘You made a mistake?’

  ‘No. I knew it was going to be a disaster the minute he showed me the numbers. I wasn’t investing in the business. I was investing in you.’

  She thought of the changes her dad had made to the farm. How excited he’d been by his new venture.

  ‘Oh. It was kind of you to do that for Dad.’ For a moment she was too flustered to respond, then she frowned slightly. ‘But it doesn’t change the fact that you didn’t stop to think how I’d cope with it all, did you?’

  Leandro took her hand again. ‘I assumed you’d love the lifestyle. I knew your parents were struggling with the farm and you were working inhuman hours for a pittance.’

  ‘But I didn’t marry you for your money or the lifestyle,’ she said in a small voice. ‘I married you for you. And you were always away being the big tycoon. And when we went out, there were always millions of people around us and I couldn’t relax because there were cameras stuck in my face and everyone wanted to criticise me. Yes, I was lacking in vanity, but someone like that can’t survive in your world. I hadn’t realised just how much was involved in being a billionaire’s wife. And those awful celebrity magazines tore me to pieces. At the beginning they said I was fat—or “full figured” was the exact phrase—And then I was in this column about fashion mistakes. Don’t even start me on that one.’

  ‘Why did you read them?’ ’

  ‘I thought it might help me work out what was expected of me. I wanted to look like the perfect wife.’ She bit her lip. ‘I wanted you to be proud of me. I didn’t want you to sit there at a charity event thinking, Why did I marry her?

  ‘I never thought that.’

  ‘Didn’t you?’ Her smile was wan. ‘I don’t know. I just know that it got worse and worse. Until I no longer had the confidence to undress in front of you—until I couldn’t bear the thought of having sex with you because I imagined that you must be thinking, Yuck, all the time. I just felt so self-conscious.’

  ‘Theos mou.’ His tone raw with emotion, Leandro rose to his feet and stood facing the pool, the muscles of his powerful shoulders flexing as he struggled for control. ‘And I didn’t see any of this. Never before have I considered myself to be stupid and yet obviously I am.’

  ‘No. You just move in different circles to me. You take it all for granted. The women you dated before know how to do their hair, what to wear, how to talk, what to eat, how much they’re supposed to weigh.’

  ‘Who makes these rules?’

  ‘Society.’

  ‘And do you never break rules?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ Millie looked at him cautiously. ‘But I was desperate not to embarrass you or make you ashamed.’

  ‘Suddenly everything is falling into place.’ Leandro spun to face her, his voice harsh. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way? Why not just have a conversation?’

  ‘Telling your husband that you feel out of place and unattractive isn’t the easiest conversation to have. I suppose part of me thought that if I said it aloud, I’d draw attention to it.’ As if he hadn’t already noticed. ‘We had fundamental problems that no amount of words could fix. And after the accident, well, I knew I was going to have bad scars. The break in my leg meant that I was in hospital for ages. There was no way you would want to be with someone like me.’

  ‘You reached that conclusion by yourself?’ His tone was tight and angry and she felt her own tension increase.

  ‘Yes. You’re a man who demands perfection in every part of his life,’ she said quietly, ‘and I was so far from perfect. I was already insecure about how I was—the accident just made it all worse. Can’t you see that?’

  ‘What I see is that we left too many things unsaid. I also finally understand why you were so quick to condemn me when you saw me with your sister.’ His voice was low and rough in the semi-darkness. ‘Your own confidence was at such a low point that it didn’t occur to you that I could be faithful to you. It seems as though you were resigned to the fact that I’d have an affair. You seemed to regard it as inevitable. You assumed that I would prefer your sister.’

  Had she been wrong about that? For the first time ever a significant rush of doubt seeped into her brain. ‘You and my sister—that was a much more obvious relationship than you and me.’ But she was starting to wonder. ‘Even if that hadn’t happened then—with her—it would have happened eventually. Sooner or later some woman would have come along and caught your attention. Maybe you did find me attractive—but the novelty would have worn off. We weren’t meant to be together, Leandro.’ Millie pulled her robe more tightly around her. ‘My accident just brought that home to me.’

  ‘You’ve just made a great number of assumptions.’

  ‘Did you come after me, Leandro?’ Gently withdrawing her hand from his, she stood up. The soft lap of water against the side of the pool mingled with the sounds of the Mediterranean. In the distance she could hear the hiss of the sea on the sand, the chirping of the cicadas as they sang their night-time chorus. ‘If you’d wanted me, you would have tracked me down. You’re that sort of man. You go after what you want. And you didn’t go after me.’ Whatever doubts might be in her head, that, at least, she was sure about. ‘Not even when my sister sent the baby to you.’ She managed to keep the emotion out of her voice. ‘I’m going to go to bed now. We can talk about what you want to do in the morning. Can I ask you one favour?’

  His jaw tightened. ‘Ask.’

  ‘Whatever happened before is irrelevant. What matters is how things are now. Who I am now. You’ll want to divorce me, and I understand that.’ She stumbled over the words. ‘But will you let me have custody of Costas? Whatever the will said, you have good lawyers and I’m his blood relative. I can’t afford to fight for him.’ She glanced at his face and saw the tension etched there. ‘Just think about it.’ And then she turned and walked back into the villa.

  CHAPTER
NINE

  LEANDRO stood in the doorway of the guest bedroom, staring at the slight figure under the silk sheet.

  She reminded him of an animal that had crawled away to die. And he knew she wasn’t asleep.

  She was hurt.

  Because of him.

  His tension mounted. Wasn’t he the one who had told her that there was always more going on in a picture than first appeared? And had he taken his own advice? No. He’d seen and he’d judged.

  And he knew why. No matter how distasteful it was to admit it, his own past had coloured the present. When she’d walked out…

  Guilt, an unfamiliar emotion, clawed at his body but he thrust it away, knowing that regret would do nothing to fix the current situation.

  So many words unspoken, he thought grimly, closing the door quietly and walking towards her. His bare feet made no sound on the cool tiles but he knew she’d heard him because he saw the defensive movement of her shoulders.

  ‘I have lost count of the number of times you’ve turned your back on me in our short marriage, Millie,’ he said softly, ‘and I allowed you to do it. But I’m not allowing it any more. Those days are over.’

  ‘Go away, Leandro.’ Her voice was muffled by the pillow and he saw her curl up just a little bit tighter, as if trying to make herself as small as possible.

  This less than flattering response to his presence sent new tension through his already rigid frame. ‘I’m not good at apologies,’ he confessed, and then frowned as she curled up smaller still. ‘But I know I owe you a big one.’

  ‘You honestly don’t have anything to apologise for. No man in their right mind would find me attractive.’

  She thought he was apologising because he didn’t find her attractive?

  Stunned by her interpretation of his remark, Leandro struggled to find a suitable response and decided that, whatever he said, she wasn’t going to believe him.

  Abandoning words, he lay down on the bed next to her. He felt her shrink and saw her try and shift away from him but he placed his hand firmly on her hip, halting her slide to freedom. Used to negotiating himself out of difficult situations, it was a struggle to stay silent, but he knew that the time for slick verbal patter was long past. She’d made up her mind about herself and the way he saw her. Words weren’t going to make a difference.

  Applying a different tactic, Leandro slid his arm round her, drawing her rigid, defensive body against his. Through the thin silk robe he could feel her shivering and he frowned because the evening was hot and the air-conditioning in the unoccupied guest bedroom had been switched off. She wasn’t cold. She was afraid.

  Of him? Of rejection?

  Taking unfair advantage of the differences in their physical strength, Leandro rolled her onto her back and shifted himself on top of her, his body trapping hers against the silk sheets.

  ‘Why won’t you leave me alone, Leandro?’ Her voice was a broken plea and he stroked her damp, tangled hair away from her face with a gentle hand.

  ‘I tried that,’ he said softly. ‘It was my biggest mistake.’ Although there was just enough light shining in from the pool area for him to be able to make out the outline of her body, what was going on in her eyes was a mystery to him. He contemplated turning on the bedside light and then decided that it wouldn’t be a good move. Maybe, this time, the dark would be helpful.

  She tried to wriggle away from him but he was too heavy for her. ‘Leandro, please. Don’t do this.’

  Leandro curved his hand around her cheek and drew her face back to his. He wanted desperately to see her expression. He also knew that if he turned that light on, her distress would stop him in his tracks.

  ‘Don’t do this, Leandro,’ she whispered, trying to move her head.

  Leandro silenced her plea with the warmth of his mouth. And what had begun as an attempt to silence her objections quickly turned into a sensual feast. With a groan, he deepened the kiss, wondering how he could have forgotten how good she tasted. She was strawberries and summer sunshine, honey and green English pastures. But, most of all, she was innocence. And he took ruthless advantage of her lack of sophistication, pushing aside the niggling thought that perhaps it wasn’t entirely fair of him to use every erotic skill at his disposal when she was this emotionally vulnerable. They were past being fair, he reasoned, feeling a rush of satisfaction as her mouth moved under his, allowing him the access he was demanding.

  Without breaking the kiss, he eased the sheet down her body and untied her robe one handed, careful to keep his movements slow and subtle. But slow and subtle could only take him so far, and he identified the exact moment she realised that he’d undone the robe because she suddenly stiffened under him.

  Her arm lifted, but he anticipated her urge to cover herself and closed his fingers around her wrist. Drawing her arm above her head, he restrained her gently, feeling her tug against his grip as she tried to free herself. She writhed under him, the unconsciously sensual movement sending his blood pressure soaring. Just to be on the safe side, he drew her other arm above her head, holding both with one hand, leaving the other free to explore her quivering frame.

  Leandro dropped his mouth to her throat, feeling her pulse pumping against the hot probe of his tongue. Her soft groan was half encouragement, half denial, and he gently moved her robe aside, exposing the soft curve of her breast.

  She tugged at her wrists and he tightened his hold, feeling her instant response as he closed his mouth over the jutting pink tip of one swollen breast. Millie arched in an involuntary movement that brought her into direct contact with the hard thrust of his erection. Denying her feminine invitation, Leandro pressed her down against the bed with the power of his body, suppressing her attempts to relieve the sexual ache he’d created.

  Soon, he promised himself. Soon, he’d give her what she wanted. And himself too. But first…

  Dragging his tongue over the rigid peak of her nipple, he stroked his free hand over the flat, trembling planes of her stomach, feeling the ridge of the scars under his seeking fingers. He lingered for a moment, infinitely gentle—did it hurt?—and then moved his hand lower still, this time to the tops of her thighs. Another scar here, and he explored it with the tips of his fingers and then shifted his weight to give himself the access he wanted.

  His fingers rested at the top of her thigh and he felt the tiny movements of her pelvis as her body begged. Taking her mouth again, he moved his hand, encountering soft curls, damp now with the response he’d created. Stroking her gently, he felt her gasp against his mouth and then the gasp turned to a moan as he explored her intimately with sure, confident fingers. She was warm and slick, and he took his time, using all his skill and expertise to arouse her body past the point of inhibition. Her moan of desperation connected straight to his libido and suddenly it wasn’t enough to touch. He wanted to taste—all of her.

  Easing his mouth from hers, Leandro looked down at her, but he couldn’t make out her features. Responding to her soft moans, he released her hands, and this time she didn’t move them. She just kept them stretched above her head, like some pagan goddess preparing herself for sacrifice.

  Leandro slid down her quivering, sensitised body and gently spread her thighs. He’d expected resistance, but her eyes were still closed, her body compliant as he arranged her as he wanted her and then lowered his head. The touch of his mouth drew a soft gasp from her and he closed his hands around her thighs, holding her still while he subjected her to the most extreme sexual torture, his touch so gentle and impossibly skilled that he turned her from doubtful to desperate within seconds. The air was filled with her cries and he continued his determined assault on her senses, sliding one finger deep inside her, the feel of her slick femininity challenging his own control. His libido bit and fought but he continued to touch, stroke, taste until the excitement was a screaming force inside him and she was mindless and compliant under him.

  Like a man clinging to a ledge with the tips of his fingers, Leandro refused to al
low himself to fall, and then he felt her hands in his hair and on his shoulders.

  ‘Now—Leandro, please…’ Her broken plea was all he needed and he shifted over her, sliding his hand under the deliciously rounded curve of her bottom and lifting her.

  He wanted to speak—he wanted to tell her what he was feeling—but he was afraid of anything that might disturb this fragile connection he’d created between them, so he stayed silent, rejecting the words that flowed into his brain, reminding himself that there would be time enough for talking later.

  Her damp core was slick against the tip of his erection and he gritted his teeth in an effort to hold back and do this gently.

  ‘Leandro…’ Her hips thrust against him, the movement sheathing him sufficiently to rack up the sexual torture a few more notches. Keeping his weight on his elbows, he eased into her slowly, the sweat beading on his brow as he forced himself to take it slowly. Her body gripped his like a hot, tight fist and his reacted by swelling still further, drawing a gasp from her parted lips.

  ‘Leandro…’

  ‘It’s all right,’ he breathed, ‘just relax—your body knows how to do this. Relax, agape mou, and trust me.’ He licked at her lips, nibbling gently, coaxing and teasing until he felt her respond. But he didn’t move, holding himself still until she moved her hips in a tentative invitation.

  By a supreme effort of will, Leandro held onto control, keeping his own ravenous libido in check as he waited for her to reach the same point of desperation.

  Millie groaned his name, arched and shifted, but still he didn’t move, the muscles in his shoulders pumping up and hard under the effort of holding back. Only when she sobbed out a plea and rubbed her thigh along the length of his did he allow himself to move again, and this time her body drew him in deep, her slick delicate tissues welcoming the hard thrust of his manhood.