Читать книгу Greek Bachelors: In Need Of A Wife: Christakis's Rebellious Wife / Greek Tycoon, Waitress Wife / The Mediterranean's Wife by Contract - Линн Грэхем, Kathryn Ross - Страница 16

CHAPTER EIGHT

OVER BREAKFAST ON the sunlit terrace the following morning, Betsy studied Nik’s lean bronzed face with its sleek yet hard-edged charisma, feminine appreciation sending prickles of awareness slivering through her pelvis. At the same time she was wondering why he hadn’t joined her in bed the previous night. She assumed it was because her long and very sound sleep had convinced him that her need for rest was more important.

‘So, what would you like to do today?’ Nik enquired lazily.

‘Obviously I want to see where you grew up...in fact every place on this island that’s associated with your childhood!’ Betsy confessed with helpless enthusiasm.

Seriously taken aback by that chirpy admission, Nik briefly froze. A split second later he concealed his reaction by forcing a transient smile to his lips while he scanned Betsy’s happy and relaxed expression. No, she had not the slightest suspicion that she had dropped a brick. And Vesos was, after all, where he had grown up. Her expectation that, having brought her here, he would want to share childhood experiences was simply normal. Acknowledging that truth, Nik cursed his decision to come to the island in the first place. Why hadn’t he just hired a villa somewhere? Vesos and this house had seemed the most sensible choice when they were already in Greece. But it had also been the very last place he had wanted to revisit, he reflected grudgingly.

Rising with something less than his usual grace from his seat, Nik stood gazing out through the trees towards the sea, mastering the powerful emotions threatening to roar through him like a hurricane, his broad back and wide shoulders rigid with tension. My mistake, he conceded heavily, and what could he do but play along to satisfy her natural curiosity? And why not when he was an adult now and no longer a weak and frightened child? Betsy wanted pretty, cosy pictures and he would give her pretty, cosy pictures, not the awful, pity-inducing truth.

‘You started school here?’ Betsy prompted over an hour later as she studied the small brick-built building beside the harbour and the young children playing outside with fascination.

Nik nodded and barely repressed a shudder. He thought of the bruising a teacher had once questioned and the lies he had been forced to tell to hide the reality of what went on within his own home. School had been difficult, not, of course, in academic terms but in the pain of the gradual dawning realisation that other children did not appear to suffer the treatment that he did. It had been a challenge for him to make friends, set apart as he was by his family’s wealth, even more of a challenge to play when he didn’t know how to play.

‘I really wish we could go and see your grandfather’s house—’ Betsy admitted.

No, no, no, no, Nik reflected sickly, nausea stirring at such a disturbing prospect.

‘But I know it’s your mother’s house now,’ Betsy allowed ruefully. ‘Couldn’t we drive past it?’

Nik was willing to settle for that less menacing suggestion. He drove along the coast road towards the cliffs.

‘Did you play on this beach?’

‘I was never allowed to leave the grounds of my grandfather’s home unless I had an adult with me,’ Nik fielded wryly, struggling to think of some single sunny recollection of his earliest years that would satisfy her desire to know more, but coming up with nothing.

Betsy peered at the house through the tall wrought-iron electric gates while Nik stared out through the windscreen without turning his dark head, lean brown hands flexing round the steering wheel of the sports car. ‘It’s an enormous place,’ she commented, glancing at him, wondering why he was so quiet and so... She struggled and failed to come up with an adequate label for his attitude. ‘Which bit of it did you live in?’

‘The wing furthest away from the gate,’ Nik related flatly. ‘It was entirely self-contained—my mother insisted on having her privacy.’

‘Were you happy here?’ Betsy prompted gently.

‘Of course I was,’ Nik lied.

* * *

‘So, when are we leaving?’ Betsy asked casually over dinner almost a week later.

Nik frowned and studied her with questioning green eyes clear as emeralds ringed by spiky black lashes. ‘Why would we be leaving?’

It was Betsy’s turn to be disconcerted. ‘Because we have to be back for Belle’s birthday party on Friday night,’ she pointed out.

‘I don’t see why,’ Nik countered, cradling his wine lazily in one lean, elegant hand. ‘We’ll send her a special present instead—’

Betsy stiffened. ‘No. I want to attend her party. I always assumed we’d be returning in time for it.’

Nik shrugged a broad shoulder while studying her with quiet satisfaction. Even in the short time they had spent on the island Betsy had blossomed. Her skin had acquired a light golden tint and her eyes were no longer shadowed. Her face was fuller, softer, the previous tension etched there banished by a regime of good food, afternoon naps and regular swimming sessions. When the local doctor had checked her blood pressure the day before, the reading had been normal and Nik believed that his decision to stay on Vesos had been fully vindicated. Here on the island, Betsy had nothing to do but get out of bed in the morning. Rest and relaxation had proved to be all she truly needed to regain her strength.

‘It never occurred to me that you would want to attend Belle’s party,’ he admitted levelly. ‘You’re doing so well here. I think we should stay on for at least another week.’

Betsy had stiffened defensively. ‘No, I can’t do that—’

‘Of course you can,’ Nik told her in a ‘subject closed’ tone of voice lightly tinged with impatience and dismissal. ‘Belle will understand that your health must come first—’

‘For goodness’ sake, there’s nothing wrong with me any more!’ Betsy argued, planting her hands firmly to the table and pushing herself upright as she thrust her chair back. ‘I’m feeling a lot better and you know it!’

Nik uncoiled his long, lean length from the seat opposite with a positively slothful grace that mocked her angry, impatient movements. ‘I don’t understand why you’re getting so annoyed—’

‘Of course you don’t. You’re too accustomed to me doing everything you ask!’ Betsy condemned, angry with him, angry with herself, for hadn’t she taken the path of least resistance too often in recent days? For almost a week she had been painfully sensible and she had followed all Mr Xenophon’s advice while at the same time taking on board Nik’s suggestions. ‘But I’m not going to go on acting like a doormat!’

His lean dark features hardened. ‘I have not treated you like a doormat—’

‘That’s what I used to behave like and how you’re used to dealing with me,’ Betsy reasoned bitterly. ‘But I’m not the same woman I was before you started the divorce, so laying down the law, giving me your opinion and making it clear what you want isn’t going to make me change my mind about what I want to do!’

Nik ignored that direct challenge and said instead, ‘Why is this party so important to you?’

‘Because it’s important to Belle and she and Cristo are family, not to mention my best friends...or haven’t you realised that?’ Betsy prompted, happily leaping off on another tangent because even before he had spoken she had not been in the best of moods. ‘Who do you think supported me when the divorce started? Your brother! Cristo was really, really good to me—’

Nik chose not to mention that he had encouraged that connection but he was taken aback by her vehemence. ‘Don’t think I’m not grateful for that—’

‘Like you cared at the time!’ Betsy slung back at him in furious rebuttal. ‘Cristo listened to me, talked to me, helped me through the worst period of my life. And Belle was generous enough to offer me her friendship from the very beginning—’

‘Well, she never offered it to me,’ Nik responded drily.

‘Belle resents the fact that you’ve never shown the smallest interest in her mother and your father’s children!’

‘I never knew Gaetano. Why would his other children interest me? It’s different with Cristo—he’s an adult and we have a genuine bond—’

‘Well, just you remember that those same children are going to be our babies’ uncles and aunts!’ Betsy reminded him tartly. ‘Let’s hope they feel friendlier towards our children in the future than you are to them.’

Lean dark features clenching hard, Nik gazed steadily back at her and slowly compressed his sculpted lips. ‘I hadn’t thought of that aspect. It does put a different complexion on the situation.’

Disconcerted by that concession though she was, Betsy made no comment. Instead she said, ‘Why are you always so negative about Gaetano Ravelli?’

‘Why wouldn’t I be? As a father, he was an embarrassment. He lived off women like a gigolo—’

‘But he was married to your mother, Cristo’s mother and Zarif’s,’ she contradicted in surprise at his opinion.

‘Surely you must have appreciated that Gaetano only ever married rich women for what he could get out of them? He got no money from my mother solely because their beach wedding in South America wasn’t legal,’ Nik advanced with derision. ‘Helena deliberately neglected to file the right documents because she already suspected Gaetano of infidelity with Cristo’s mother. Once she had the proof of it, she got rid of him and he couldn’t claim a penny from her. How can you expect me to have any respect for a man that calculating and greedy?’

‘Well, hopefully Gaetano’s children by Belle’s mother will grow up into decent people. You shouldn’t hold their parentage against them. After all, you don’t hold it against Cristo or Zarif,’ she reminded him.

His mobile phone rang and she walked away, leaving him to answer it, and went out to the terrace. There she perched on a low wall to listen to the distant sound of the surf washing the shore beyond the trees while striving to breathe in deep and let her bad mood simply evaporate.

His unbuttoned shirt blowing back in the breeze, Nik strolled along the terrace talking on the phone in measured Greek. His strong shoulder muscles bunched and kicked back as he gave a languorous stretch, arching his long spine so that his washboard abs pulled tight into mouth-watering definition. Betsy couldn’t take her eyes off his spectacular body or the downy little furrow of hair that swam into view above his shorts as he breathed in, chest swelling, stomach tightening, causing the waistband to drop even lower on his lean brown hips. Heat flooded her face and her body and, half angry, half amused at her own behaviour, she tore her gaze from him and stared out into the darkness instead.

Considering that ‘later’ had never come around a week ago, looking was the only sensual pleasure she had, Betsy reflected, tensing at the thought and the feelings of hurt and rejection it evoked. For some reason, Nik had backed away from the idea of intimacy. Not only did he cart her up and downstairs with the detachment of a block of wood but he had also chosen to sleep in the bedroom next door. His retreat on that front had taken Betsy by surprise because Nik had always been very highly sexed. Even worse from her point of view, her body was awash with hormones and raring to go with an enthusiasm she had never experienced before.

She remembered that sexy little interlude on the evening of their arrival and breathed in deep and slow to cool her rising temperature. What had changed for Nik since that night? Did the very fact that she was pregnant make her less attractive on his terms? She supposed that was perfectly possible, particularly to a male who had never wanted children. Now that children were on the way, Nik might be ready to take responsibility as a parent but who was to say how he really felt about the development? A man wasn’t committed simply because he said and did the right things. It was even possible that her less than enthusiastic reaction to the offer of reconciliation had annoyed and offended him. Nik was a proud man. He had tried to build a bridge between them and she was still standing frozen in the middle of that bridge, moving neither forward nor back, paralysed by indecision and terrified of doing the wrong thing.

Yet he had given her every opportunity to discuss her insecurities. Only, when had deep, meaningful conversations ever worked with Nik? When he didn’t talk back it was a waste of her breath and when he brooded in silence she felt even worse. And when, as now, he might feel that for the sake of her health and peace of mind he had to tell her whatever she wanted to hear, how likely was it that he would feel that he could be honest? Throughout the week, Nik had displayed endless concern about her well-being. Fortunately her appetite had returned and she was sleeping soundly again, pleasantly tired after daily swimming sessions and walks on the beach. But the emergency, such as it had been, was over now and he needed to accept that and stop treating her like an invalid.

Tossing his phone down on the table, Nik came to a sudden halt in front of her. His wide, sensual mouth compressed. ‘Look, if Belle’s party is that important to you, we’ll leave tomorrow,’ he delivered grimly. ‘But I don’t agree with it—’

Surprise and pleasure darted through Betsy that he had given way. He might not understand the depth of her friendship with Cristo and Belle but he was trying to respect it. Without thinking about it, she stretched up on tiptoe to link her arms round his neck. ‘You’ll enjoy seeing Cristo, and Belle told me that Zarif is trying to clear his schedule to attend as well...’

The warmth of her smile lit up her heart-shaped face. It was relatively easy to make Betsy happy; Nik had realised that a long time ago but he had fallen out of the habit. But then in the early days he had had to negotiate a welter of misapprehensions before he had found the right path. It was not the cost of the gift that mattered but the thought and the effort behind it. It could be as simple as making a phone call, regardless of how busy he was, or of sharing the minutiae of his busy day to make her feel a part of it. Back then an unexpectedly sunny morning, the random kindness of a stranger or a casual compliment could leave Betsy wreathed in smiles.

‘Oh, joy, my brother the king with the big mouth,’ Nik derided as he looked down at her and slowly closed his arms round her slight body.

Betsy groaned out loud, having forgotten that complication. ‘I think Zarif did you a favour, so cut him some slack. I had to find out about the vasectomy at some stage,’ she pointed out ruefully. ‘You had backed yourself into a corner by not telling me about it and I don’t think you knew how to get out of it.’

Nik was genuinely stunned by that shrewd assessment of his behaviour. Ebony lashes shielded his reflective gaze but his thoughts were short-circuited by the soft, full mouth pressing to the corner of his with unstudied warmth. Betsy smelled of peaches and vanilla, and every barrier he had raised against temptation was washed away as if a tidal wave had engulfed him. His hands slid down to her delicately curved hips and he hoisted her up against him and brought his mouth crashing down on hers with hungry enthusiasm.

‘Why did I have to wait so long for that?’ Betsy moaned helplessly, struggling to relocate her breath while every skin cell in her body erupted into sudden life.

Nik stiffened defensively at the question and then set her circumspectly down again. ‘Because if I can’t finish, I don’t want to start,’ he told her frankly.