LITMIR.BIZ

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Tabby, however, characteristically downplayed the episode and asked nothing of him, an acknowledgement that only increased his brooding discomfiture with the situation.

      ‘Where on earth are we going?’ Tabby enquired as he lifted her out of the limo and stowed her in the wheelchair already waiting for her use. ‘Is this the airport?’

      ‘Yes, we’re flying to Sardinia,’ Acheron said casually.

      ‘Seriously? I mean, like right now?’ Tabby stressed in disbelief. ‘It’s ten o’clock at night.’

      ‘Amber and her nanny are already on board the helicopter, as is your luggage,’ Acheron admitted.

      There were many things Tabby could have said but she was fighting a dropped jaw and had already learned to think twice before she spoke her mind around Acheron. She clamped her lips firmly together and assumed that he was bored at the villa and that the evident appeal of a change of surroundings had persuaded him to act on impulse. Not only was he dragging Amber out of bed, but he was also forcing Tabby to travel when she was exhausted and in pain. Her lush mouth down-curved: he was being selfishly inconsiderate but she supposed that was normal behaviour for a male accustomed to thinking only of his own needs.

      The helicopter was very noisy and Tabby, who hadn’t eaten since lunchtime, was almost sick with hunger. She insisted on taking Amber from Melinda, though, and soothed the overtired baby herself. She was surprised when Acheron eased the drowsing child from her arms and settled her on his lap instead. Amber looked up at him, stuck her thumb back in her mouth and closed her eyes again, seemingly content with the exchange. Tabby must’ve dozed off at that point because she wakened confused by the bright light on her face and the jabs of pain from her ankle as Acheron carried her into a house.

      ‘How do you feel?’ he enquired again, stunning gaze sweeping her pale, taut face.

      ‘I’ll be fine—’

      ‘Don’t be a martyr—you look like death warmed over,’ he countered impatiently. ‘You’re going straight to bed, yineka mou. I’ve organised food as well.’

      A bed and a meal sounded very appealing to Tabby at that moment. He mounted a staircase and a faint breeze cooled her cheekbone. Her lashes swept up on a tall open window framed by pale fluttering draperies just as Acheron laid her down on a ginormous bed and began to carefully ease the bedding from beneath her. It struck her that for once he was being very kind and that set her teeth on edge.

      ‘Why are you being so nice to me all of a sudden?’ Tabby demanded abruptly.

      That single question said so much that Acheron didn’t want to hear just then that he almost groaned his frustration aloud. Leave it to Tabby, he thought ruefully. Leave it to Tabby to say what nobody else dared to say to Acheron Dimitrakos. He breathed in slowly. ‘You’re hurt.’

      ‘You don’t do rules and I don’t do pity,’ Tabby told him, tilting her chin in challenge.

      ‘You’re my wife.’

      ‘Not really.’

      ‘Enough my wife that I want to treat you like one,’ Acheron contradicted almost harshly.

      Tabby screened eyes blank with incomprehension and she was horribly tempted by an urge to slap him. He should have come with a dictionary or some sort of instruction manual that explained how he worked because once again she was all at sea as to what went on his complex and infuriating head.

      ‘I want to make you feel better,’ Acheron announced.

      ‘No pity parties here, please.’

      ‘I haven’t behaved very well,’ Acheron muttered in a harsh driven undertone. ‘I am trying to make amends.’

      ‘Pity’s pity,’ Tabby told him, unmoved by that argument.

      Acheron came down on the bed beside her. There was something wild about the glitter in his seething golden eyes as he gently knotted one hand in the fall of her golden hair and closed his mouth hungrily over hers. He sent a jolt of such savage hunger rocketing through her that she froze in sheer fright.

      ‘Does that feel like pity?’ he growled.

      Tabby made no comment because she could barely breathe. She wanted him to do it again and for longer and was only just able to keep her hands off that lean, powerful body so very close to hers for the first time in a week. One little touch and he made her feel like a sex addict ready to run scarily out of control. In sudden retreat, she dropped her head and then mercifully they were interrupted by the entrance of a woman carrying a tray.

      ‘You need to eat,’ Acheron told her unnecessarily.

      With his assistance, Tabby leant back against the pillows and lifted the knife and fork. She literally didn’t dare look at him again, couldn’t trust herself that far, knew that she couldn’t risk reliving that burning, driving sensation of sexual need in his presence. Hungry though she undoubtedly was, she had to force herself to eat because the sheer level of tension holding her taut was suppressing her appetite. She ate in silence while Acheron paced restively round the big room, constantly drawing her eyes until she remembered that she couldn’t afford to look, and in fact had to blank him out to stay in control. And what did that say about her? Was she really that weak that she couldn’t withstand him? This guy who had virtually ignored her for the past week? The same one who had slept with her and then backed off at supersonic speed? Shame engulfed her, increasing the exhaustion she had been fighting to contain.

      The tray was removed from her lap. Her lashes drooped, eyes so heavy she literally couldn’t hold them open any longer.

      ‘Get some sleep,’ Acheron urged, and for once she was in the mood to obey.

      * * *

      Tabby awoke with a piercing need to go to the bathroom, eyes flickering open on darkness and a strong feeling of disorientation. She struggled to sit up and gasped in dismay at the pain that shot through her ankle while she stretched out a wildly flailing hand in search of a bedside light. Mercifully she found the switch attached to a hanging wire, and light illuminated the bedroom a scant second before the male lying on a sofa against the wall leapt upright.

      ‘Ash?’ she whispered in disbelief. ‘What are you doing in here?’

      Acheron was bare-chested and barefoot, low-slung denim jeans clinging to his lean hips. Her startled gaze clung to the muscled expanse of his magnificent bronzed torso and then flicked guiltily higher to take in the dark stubble masking his lower jaw and the unnerving intensity of eyes that glittered like black diamonds in the low light. ‘I couldn’t leave you in here alone.’

      ‘Why not?’ Tabby queried, her face hotter than fire as she forced herself to swivel her hips and shift her good leg off the edge of the bed. ‘Why would you sleep on a sofa for my benefit?’

      ‘What on earth are you trying to do?’ Acheron demanded, striding across the room.

      ‘I need the bathroom,’ she breathed between gritted teeth, mortification rolling over her like a tidal wave.

      ‘You are so stubborn, koukla mou. Right now, you need help and I didn’t want to put a stranger in here with you,’ he admitted impatiently, pushing the walking stick resting against the bedside cabinet into her hand and then slowly pulling her upright to take advantage of its support. ‘Now go slow or you’ll hurt yourself.’

      But Tabby had already worked out that there was no way of moving her leg without her ankle hurting her and she simply clenched her teeth and got on with it, tears stinging her eyes as she hobbled clumsily towards the connecting door he had already opened for her benefit.

      Acheron groaned something in Greek and carefully scooped her up into his arms to carry her into the bathroom and gently settle her down on the stool by the vanity unit. ‘Pain’s always worse in the middle of the night. You’ll feel better tomorrow,’ he predicted. ‘Shout when you’re ready to go back to bed.’

      Reckoning that there would be two blue moons in the sky

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