The Unfaithful Wife(22)

The percale sheet was cool on her back as he laid her down on it. A convulsive shiver racked her. She looked up at him, a kind of desperation in her beautiful eyes even as he smoothed a possessive hand over the pouting swell of her breasts and her heart lurched violently against her ribcage, the sensation tearing a response from her which she couldn’t hide.

‘This isn’t what I want...’ she whispered fiercely, fighting the drowning desire which threatened her.

‘But you want me.’ Smouldering dark eyes struck hers on an almost physical collision course, denying her concealment, holding her gaze entrapped.

‘No!’

‘Yes.’ The hard, vibrant contours of his face were uncompromising. He played with her lips and she tasted the tang of whisky on his breath as she accepted the sudden thrust of his tongue, sudden pliancy, sweet as honey, flooding her susceptible body as he held her on the heights of anticipation with the skill of an expert lover. ‘You want me...you want this as much as I do...’

A stifled moan was wrung from her as he dropped his dark head and covered a taut nipple with his mouth, making every muscle she possessed jerk tight in instant, terrifying reaction.

‘Admit it,’ Nik demanded, sinking his hands below her hips and pulling her to him.

‘Yes...yes!’ It was a cry of defeat as she surrendered to the hot enticement of his mouth and his sure hands but deep down inside her she feared that she had just given up something vitally important to her own survival...





CHAPTER EIGHT


LEAH SAT on the beach with her arms wrapped around her raised knees, watching the surf whisper up on to the shore. The eternal rhythm of the waves was soothing. Heat beat down on her, filling her with languor. In a matter of days her skin had turned a pale gold under the kiss of the sun. How many days...ten, eleven? She didn’t know. She had stopped watching clocks and studying calendars. Nik was here, not about to arrive, not about to depart, not about to leave her alone for endless weeks, and that knowledge filled her with an increasing sense of security.

She was happy, and sometimes, as now, when she was briefly free of the spell cast by Nik’s vibrant proximity, being so happy frightened her. Looking back down through her life, she could never recall feeling like this. And if she allowed herself to think of the ruthless practicality which had motivated Nik into making their marriage a real marriage she marvelled at her own contentment.

But then she loved Nik Andreakis. If she kept her pride and her fear of the future out of the balance, it was natural that she should be happy when he spent practically every hour of the day with her, when he made love to her over and over again with an insatiable hunger which made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world. So, she had compromised her own ideals; so what? she asked herself.

Nothing was perfect; nothing was without flaw. When you got down to basics, she had what she had always wanted. She had Nik. She was his wife. She probably had more of him than any other woman had ever had. And he was behaving like a husband. He was starting to talk in terms of ‘we...us...ours’, no longer separate in thought and deed but patently rearranging his thinking to see them as a couple. And that was a big stride for him.

Close family or not, Nik was very much a loner, and she had never seen that in him until now. The extrovert front concealed that inner wariness of his. He found it so much easier to be sarcastic than candid where emotions were concerned. Deep down inside he had an innate reserve which astonished her. It was so foreign to the arrogant, brash image of him which she had cherished for years.

Why didn’t she just admit it? she asked herself. She smiled and let her fingers trail through the silky sand. She was more in love with Nik than she had ever been. He had told her that they could have a very good marriage and this far he had proved his point. Did it really matter that he didn’t love her? He wanted her...all the time. Her cheeks burned. But would that last? Would it be enough for him? Would he get bored? A year from now, where would they be? That was an answer nobody got to know in advance, she scolded herself.

Crunching footfalls interrupted her troubled thoughts and she turned her head. Dimitri, one of the youngest of the household staff, was crossing the beach towards her, laden with what looked like the provisions for a picnic lunch. He greeted her in careful English and then with great ceremony proceeded to spread an immaculate cloth over the sand. Two bottles of wine in cooling-sleeves and crystal glasses were produced.

‘Kyrios Andreakis will be here directly,’ Dimitri imparted, and hovered with the corkscrew.

‘Thank you. I’ll see to the rest. It looks gorgeous.’ Leah peered into the yet to be unpacked box and her mouth watered. ‘Cook has surpassed herself.’

‘I not wait, kyrie?’

‘There’s no need.’ With difficulty, Leah hid her amusement as he laid down the corkscrew with a deep air of uncertainty. Just for once Nik could open the wine and they could serve themselves.

It was their last day on the island, she reflected sadly. Tomorrow they were flying to Athens and she would meet the rest of his family. Ponia had returned home a few days earlier. Leah had protested until the girl had grinned and said, ‘Two’s company, three’s a pair of lovers and one gooseberry!’

Nik strolled across the sand towards her, blatantly aware of her intent absorption in his approach, and he smiled, unashamedly basking in her appreciation. In a pair of faded, tight cut-off jeans and nothing else, he looked nothing short of spectacular but there was something about that smile, something about that light in his lustrous dark eyes which clutched at her heart and squeezed it hard.

For an instant, an almost boyish vulnerability was etched in the electric charge of his answering appraisal and then it was gone, wiped out by a thick cloaking veil of ebony lashes that any woman would have killed to possess, and she told herself she had imagined it.

‘You’re wearing white,’ he murmured, dropping down beside her in a sprawl of long, golden limbs. ‘It suits you.’

‘I was wearing white the first time you saw me.’ She didn’t know why she said it; it was just one of those instant thought connections which flew off the tongue.

Nik tensed and lifted the corkscrew. ‘Yes.’

It was not something he wished to discuss. He didn’t have to tell her that. Nik could put out warning flares without opening his mouth. Impulsively, she ignored the atmospheric vibrations. ‘You went to a lot of trouble to meet me—’

‘Did I? Give me your glass.’

Leah nibbled at her lower lip and lifted both glasses, her attention resting on the set line of his sensual mouth as he poured the wine. Frustration coursed through her. He shut her out, held her at a distance. The closer they got, paradoxically the more he withheld, as though he didn’t trust her. And why should he trust her? She was an idiot. How did she expect Nik to trust her when he no doubt believed that in some corner of her heart she was still pining for Paul?

Why hadn’t she told him the truth yet? Pride? Ego? Or the fear that Paul’s very existence had partly spurred Nik into claiming her as his real wife? Nik was highly competitive, possessive, territorial. Keeping her pinned like a specimen butterfly to a board for five years hadn’t bothered Nik but when the butterfly flapped its wings and without warning tried to fly away he had been challenged, not to mention staggered by the idea. Take the challenge away, tell him he had vanquished the opposition...would he lose interest? That was what had kept her quiet and suddenly she wasn’t very proud of that reality. Game-playing wasn’t very wise with someone as volatile as Nik.

‘This is for you.’ A fancy little box was laid beside her bare toes.

Leah gave him an astonished glance and lifted it almost shyly. She flipped open the lid and the sunlight glanced blindingly off the sapphire and diamond ring within. Slowly she breathed in and drew it out. ‘It’s exquisite,’ she whispered a little hoarsely, turning to look at him again.

Faint colour emphasised his hard cheekbones. ‘It’s an eternity ring.’

‘Yes.’ She swallowed the thickness of tears in her throat. ‘I know.’

‘Why are you shocked? It’s just a present. Drink your wine before it gets warm,’ Nik urged with a rough edge to his voice.

He knew damned well why she was shocked. Apart from the wedding-ring proffered at the altar, Nik had never given her anything but money. Christmas and birthdays, great fat inputs into her bank account, nothing to unwrap, nothing to get excited about, an acknowledgement of her existence and his wealth, nothing more. She had bought her own jewellery and when a piece was admired at a dinner party she would say, ‘Nik bought it for me,’ reasoning that that was not a lie when it was his money which she had used. But now the memory of that proud and empty pretence just made her want to cry.

‘You don’t want it,’ he condemned with an abruptness that startled her and made her flinch.

‘Of course I do!’ Without any hesitation, she threaded the ring on to her wedding finger for she had the terrible suspicion that if she didn’t move fast he would snatch it off her again and throw it out to sea.

He released his breath in a hiss, the harsh angle of his jawline easing, and she realised that he was, if anything, even more on edge than she was and guiltily aware of those five years of impersonal cash influxes.