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

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‘It was not safe. It was a stupid lie, and a dangerous one. You thought I would not know?’

      She bent her head. ‘I—I didn’t think so. I didn’t realise it would make any difference…’

      She heard him whisper something sharp and violent, then he was beside her again. He drew her towards him, cupping her face gently between his hands, making her meet his searching gaze.

      He said quietly, ‘It makes all the difference in the world, agapi mou. But I am also to blame. I should have realised that you were claiming a sophistication you did not possess.’

      She said tautly, ‘Of course, you know so much about women.’

      ‘More than you know of men, certainly.’

      Cressy bit her lip, unable to deny his curt response. Her voice shook slightly. ‘Draco—I’m so sorry…’

      ‘Sorry?’ he repeated, his voice incredulous. ‘You offer me the ultimate gift—and say you are sorry?’

      She said flatly, ‘But it’s a gift you don’t seem to want.’

      His mouth relaxed into the shadow of a smile. ‘You think I don’t want you, agapi mou?’ He took her hands and carried them fleetingly to his body. ‘You are wrong. But a woman’s innocence should not be thrown away to feed the hunger of the moment. You deserve better.’

      His lips touched hers, swiftly and gently. ‘Now dress yourself, and we will go back to the town, where there are more people and less temptations.’

      He got to his feet and walked down the beach, where he stood, his back turned, gazing at the sea, while Cressy huddled into her clothing.

      When he came back to her, she said, ‘I think I’d better go back to Alakos.’

      ‘Why should you do that?’ His dark brows drew into a frown.

      ‘Because I’m very embarrassed.’ She made a business of folding her towel. ‘I’ve made a real fool of myself.’ She added carefully, ‘And I’d just be in the way if I stayed.’

      ‘Ah,’ Draco said softly. ‘You feel you might hinder my search for the next willing body.’ He cast a despairing look at the heavens. ‘Is that truly what you think of me?’

      She said, ‘Draco—I don’t know what to think. I don’t know you.’

      ‘Then why did you come back?’ He spoke gently, but there was an inflexible note in his voice. ‘Just so that I could rid you of your unwanted virginity? I don’t believe that.’

      She bit her lip. ‘Because I found I couldn’t stay away. And now I’ve ruined everything.’

      He sighed. ‘Nothing is spoiled—unless you wish it to be.’ There was a silence, then he stroked the curve of her face with one long finger. ‘Is that what you want, pethi mou? Or shall we begin all over again? Start to learn about each other, not just with our bodies, but our minds?’

      She said on a little sob, ‘Oh, Draco, please.’

      ‘Then so be it.’ He took her hand, held it in his, his fingers strong and warm. ‘But understand, Cressida, that this changes everything. And if you leave me now, I shall follow. However long, however far.’ He paused. ‘You accept this?’

      And, from some great distance, she heard herself answer, ‘Yes.’

       CHAPTER SIX

      IT HAD just seemed a romantic thing to say on a beach, Cressy told herself as she drove home from the hospital. After all, they’d both known that their time together was going to be limited. That sooner or later the idyll would end, and she would fly back to real life.

      What she hadn’t foreseen was that it would indeed be much sooner.

      At first, as the sunlit days had passed, she’d felt she was living in a dream, or under a spell that Draco had cast around her.

      Most of her waking hours had been spent in his company, and even when she’d been asleep the image of him had never been far from her mind.

      The first part of the morning she’d usually spent alone. She’d assumed that Draco was out in his boat, fishing, but when she’d mentioned this to Yannis he’d shrugged and said, ‘I think he is at his house, Kyria Cressida. He is having some building done.’

      Cressy understood. A lot of local houses seemed to be built in instalments, the owners occupying the ground floor until they could afford to add further storeys.

      Draco had clearly made enough money to build another floor on to his, and if there was a vaguely troubling query at the back of her mind as to exactly where that money came from, she dismissed it. Nothing was allowed to impinge on her happiness.

      Sometimes she wondered wistfully whether she would ever be asked to see his house, but assumed it would never happen. These close-knit village communities might not be pleased to see one of their number with an anglitha, especially if he’d been earmarked for one of their daughters, she thought with a pang.

      Anyway, if Draco wished to keep his private life to himself, that was his concern. He would have to go on living here after she’d gone…

      She sighed. The realisation that her time in Greece was running out was causing her real pain.

      I didn’t really want to come here, she thought, grimacing. Now I don’t want to leave.

      It was hard to separate one day from another, when all of them were touched with gold. Sometimes they went out on the boat, landing on some quiet beach to swim, and cook the fish they’d caught over a wood fire.

      At other times Draco drove the pick-up to the island’s peaceful beauty spots, along the coast, or up into the high bare hills. And at night they danced together.

      She was relaxed with him now. They shared a lot of laughter, but they could be quiet together too. When he teased her, she teased back. They had, she thought, become friends—and that was good.

      But she couldn’t deny the painful, ecstatic lift of her heart that happened each time he strode into the courtyard of the taverna to find her. Or the sweet, sensual ache that any physical contact with him seemed to evoke.

      For much of the time he kept her at a distance, and she knew it. Just sometimes, in the drowsy afternoons, he would draw her into his arms and explore her mouth gently with his. Her hair seemed to entrance him. ‘Like pale silk,’ he would whisper, winding strands round his fingers and carrying them to his lips.

      But—so far and no further, it seemed. The merest touch of his lips could ignite her desire, making her burn and melt with longing for the intimacy of his touch, for the consummation that her aroused flesh had been denied, but if he was aware of that, he gave no sign.

      Just once, when he’d kissed her goodnight, she’d tried to hold him, pressing herself against him, her lips parting in mute invitation beneath the pressure of his. Longing to spark the passion that she knew lay just beneath the surface.

      But he’d gently detached her clinging hands and stepped back, bending his head to drop a kiss on each soft palm before he let her go. And she had walked away up the stairs, knowing that he would not follow.

      His control seemed to be total—and yet there were occasional moments when she felt him watching her. Was aware of a strange tension quivering along her nerve-endings, as if her body had somehow discerned the naked hunger in his and was responding to it.

      Someone else was watching her too, she thought. Maria. The older woman was still warmly friendly, but once or twice Cressy had caught an anxious glance, or a little worried frown, and she wondered why.

      But not too deeply. Her only real concern was the moment when she would see Draco again—would hear his voice and feel his smile touch her own mouth.

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