Читать книгу Irresistible Greeks Collection - Кэрол Мортимер, Кэрол Мортимер - Страница 53
ОглавлениеIT WAS DISORIENTATING being back in the house where Xenon had once carried her giggling over the threshold. Lexi stood in the high-ceilinged hallway of the beautiful nineteenth century building and felt little beads of sweat pricking at her forehead. She knew Xenon was watching her, just as he’d been watching her during the drive from his office to his home in the classical terrace overlooking Regent’s Park. She wondered if he had a clue how weird she found it being here again, after all this time. Did he realise that, behind the smile she’d managed to produce from nowhere, her heart was thudding with pain?
Glancing around the hall, she tried to concentrate on the practical—telling herself that it was only bricks and mortar. But it seemed so much more than that. The air was scented with cinnamon and the walls were hung with beautiful paintings, many of them depicting Greece. There was one with the famous view of the St Nicolas Bay, which could be seen from the terrace of the Kanellis estate in Rhodes. She’d always loved that one.
Silken rugs from the East were strewn over the polished floors and the overriding impression was one of solid wealth and stability. But the décor was as masculine as she remembered and little seemed to have changed since last she’d been there.
Lexi gave a wry smile. This had been their home but it had never really felt like her home. Her sometimes brash and streetwise persona had deserted her when it came to soft furnishings and the truth was that she’d been intimidated by what to put in the Grade I listed building. She’d been terrified that her lack of historical knowledge would cause her to make some basic error of taste, which would have everyone laughing at her. That was why she’d never dared put her mark on the house. Why she hadn’t bought so much as a single vase when she’d lived here.
‘It looks exactly the same,’ she observed as she brought her gaze back to rest on his face. ‘You haven’t done much to it.’
‘No.’ His expression suddenly became closed.
‘Why not?’
‘Well, masterminding the Kanellis empire takes up most of my time. You know how it is, Lex.’
‘Of course. How could I ever forget something as fundamental as that?’ She kept her words as flippant as his. ‘My mother was an alcoholic and I married a workaholic. Must be something in me that brings out the obsessive in a person.’
He stiffened, as if her words had shocked him—and maybe they had. ‘Why are you saying something like that?’
‘Because it’s the truth and neither of us have to pretend any more. We both know I was the world’s most unsuitable wife for you. I’m just reminding us of one of the reasons why.’
He saw the sudden sharp anxiety on her face and something inside him wanted to wipe it away. ‘Stop winding yourself up for no reason,’ he said gently. ‘Try taking a deep breath and calm down.’
‘You think that being back here is contributing to my levels of serenity?’
‘I don’t think anything could do that when you’re so uptight. Come on, let’s go and sit down and you can relax.’
Having little choice but to obey, she followed him into the garden room at the back of the house, the one which had always been her favourite. She wondered if he’d done that on purpose—to remind her of all the things she’d lost?
Two green velvet sofas overlooked a garden filled with white flowers. White roses scrambled up a far stone wall and tall white daisies stood behind neat hedges of white lavender. She walked over to the French windows and unlocked them, and a mixture of scents and the sound of birdsong filtered into the room.
It felt unbearably poignant. She used to sit here during her second pregnancy, making plans and knitting minuscule little bootees—even though nobody else she knew ever knitted. While Xenon was away on business she would dream about what it would be like when their baby was born. When, magically, he would let go of his heavy workload and the three of them would go walking in the nearby park, just like a proper family.
She turned back to find Xenon’s gaze fixed on her and for a split second she thought she saw a flash of understanding in his eyes. But that was nothing but an illusion. She knew that.
Xenon didn’t understand how she’d felt—understanding women wasn’t something he had been brought up to do. He had fixed and old-fashioned views about the opposite sex and the way they should be treated. He wasn’t intentionally cruel, just thoughtless. Women existed to look pretty and have sex with and produce strapping sons and pretty daughters. But she couldn’t even do that bit right, could she?
She realised how quiet the house was; none of the usual staff had appeared offering drinks. There was no smiling Phyllida—his long-serving housekeeper—eager to do her master’s bidding. No discreet sounds of food being prepared in the large basement kitchen. They seemed to be completely alone.
‘So where is everybody?’ she asked. ‘Is Phyllida still with you?’
‘Indeed she is. Her daughter has married an Englishman, so she has no intention of moving, but I sent her and the rest of the staff over to Rhodes to help prepare for the christening. I thought you might prefer to acclimatise yourself before having to face everyone again.’
‘Is that what you call it?’ she questioned.
‘It might help if you tried to relax a little, instead of looking like a moth dazzled by bright lights. Pretend they’re spotlights instead. You’re used to those.’
‘Not any more, I’m not!’ she retorted.
Slowly, she walked around the room, running her fingers across pieces of furniture as if she were reacquainting herself with them, but in reality moving away from the infinitely more disturbing spotlight of his gaze.
She felt like someone visiting one of those museums where rooms were created to represent different eras. She felt as if she’d stepped back into the past. There was that exquisite bowl from China and a carved piece of African wood, which she remembered from her days as mistress of the house, but the silver gleam of a photo-frame was a new addition and contained a photo of a baby. A tiny baby with jet-black hair and a snub button for a nose.
‘That’s Ianthe,’ Xenon was saying. ‘My niece.’
Sadness welled up inside her and there didn’t seem to be a thing she could do to stop it. She wondered if he had somehow forgotten, or whether he just never stopped to think that their own little boy would be two now. That if things had been different, he might have been running around in that garden—swiping at the tall daisies with a chubby little fist. If he had lived.
But no—Xenon didn’t seem to have made that fundamental connection. It didn’t seem to have occurred to him that a new Kanellis baby might make her yearn for the babies who would only ever be memories. He had never talked about it at the time. He had closed himself off from her and she had felt as if an invisible wall had slid down between them. Why would he want to talk about it now, when to him it was simply something from the past? A disappointment, yes, but something he would have moved on from with that restless shark-like nature of his.
‘She’s beautiful,’ said Lexi brightly.
‘Yes. She is very beautiful.’
But Xenon couldn’t help noticing the distracted way she was pushing her fingers through her hair. And some age-old instinct made him want to take her in his arms and stroke away some of the brittleness which was making her hold herself like an unexploded grenade.
He hadn’t touched her since she had lost the second baby. She hadn’t wanted him to and, if the truth were known, it had seemed somehow obscene to touch her intimately after what had happened. He had found it easier to give her the space he’d thought she’d needed and she had seemed to want that, too. Until he’d realised that they’d each been locked in their own, private sadness. That it had made a wedge between them which could not be filled. She had left him soon afterwards and for a long time his anger at her desertion had eclipsed all other feelings. But later they had returned, and when they had...
His determination to get her here had been fuelled by those feelings and for once in his life he hadn’t really thought beyond that. He hadn’t thought past that first moment of triumph of having her exactly where he wanted her.
But now?
Now he realised that it was more complicated than he had anticipated. He still wanted her, yes—he just hadn’t realised quite how much. And deep down, he wondered if it was too late. She was staring at him with a mixture of defiance and wariness, like a small trapped animal—and he wasn’t quite sure how to handle her.
‘You might want to go and freshen up,’ he suggested. ‘And decide where you’d like to sleep.’
Their eyes met and Lexi felt the sudden tension between them as he dropped the word into the conversation like a rock into a pool. She forced a smile. The kind she used to use if she was being interviewed and wanted to keep the journalist at a distance. A smile which said don’t you dare come too close.
‘And where are you sleeping these days?’ she questioned in a voice so careless she almost convinced herself it was genuine. ‘Still in the guest bedroom, or have you moved back into the marital bed?’
Xenon’s mouth hardened, her remark making him feel as uncomfortable as no doubt she had intended it should. Would she be surprised to learn that he had never slept in their old bed again? That it had been too full of memories of her. That the fragrance from her skin had still lingered there; the memory of her body beside him too vivid to be tolerated.
He gave the ghost of a smile. ‘I’m in the blue room these days. Or should I say, nights.’
‘Then I’ll have the rose room,’ she said, choosing one at the other end of the upstairs corridor. ‘That’ll be perfect.’
But Lexi was lying, because sleeping at the opposite end of the house wasn’t perfect at all. Not when he was standing there full of vibrant life—reminding her of all his dark and golden promise.
He was the only man she had ever loved. The only man she had ever wanted—and that feeling had never gone away. She could feel her sadness being stretched and weakened by a powerful moment of desire. She could feel the soft cloak of intimacy settling around them and she tried to push it away.
‘The rose room is all yours. All ready and waiting,’ he said sardonically. ‘If that’s what you want.’
‘Of course it’s what I want.’ Deliberately, she widened her eyes. ‘Unless you were labouring under the misapprehension that I was going to fall straight into bed with you?’
‘I think I know you well enough to know that instant sex was never going to be a certainty, Lex. Even though right now it’s the thing which is uppermost in our minds.’
His frankness shocked her but it also excited her. And that was dangerous. ‘It might be on your mind—’
‘Come on, Lex,’ he said softly. ‘You’re surely not going to deny that you want me, that you aren’t standing there wondering what it would be like to kiss me again?’
‘I’m not.’
‘I don’t believe you.’
‘Believe what you want. It’s no—’
He silenced her by placing a finger over her lips and Lexi felt an instant, trembling response. Her eyes met his with a powerful feeling of recognition and she knew she should have protested. But she didn’t. She didn’t do a damned thing. Not even when he moved his finger to trace it slowly along the outline of her still-trembling lips.
It had been so long since he had touched her. She’d turned her life around and made the best of what she had but sometimes it just wasn’t enough. Outwardly she might look as if she was getting on and being successful, but wasn’t the truth that sometimes she felt cold and empty and only half alive?
She could feel the stir of her breath against his finger and he must have felt it, too, because she saw his eyes grow smoky. Another danger sign—because she knew how quickly he could become aroused. She knew how effortlessly he could carry her along on that urgent flare of heat. And then what? her conscience screamed. Then what?
She wanted to pull away, but she couldn’t. He might as well have turned her into a marble statue. But marble didn’t ache, did it? And marble didn’t feel this hot flood of desire, which was pulsing inexorably through her body. Lexi closed her eyes, biting back the gasp of longing which was threatening to spring from her lips. What did it say about her, that the tip of his finger edging almost innocently against her mouth could make her want to melt?
‘Stop that,’ she said indistinctly.
He splayed his hands around the span of her waist in a movement of unthinking possession. His head dipped forward so that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘I do.’
‘Then say it like you do.’
‘I don’t have to say anything.’
‘In that case I might be tempted to take your silence as compliance. Although on second thoughts, I might just admit to being tempted and leave it at that.’
She opened her eyes to see that he was lowering his head towards her and all she could read was the sexual hunger written on his face. There was all the time in the world to stop him but she didn’t. Of course she didn’t. Even when she said his name, it came out more like a plea than a protest. ‘Xenon...I... Oh.’
Their lips met in a kiss which was hard and hot and hungry. A kiss which shot right off the scale. She could hear the slam of her heart as he pulled her roughly against him. She could taste the warm mingling of their breaths and suddenly a sob was torn from her throat as she flung her arms around his neck and clung to him, railing against him even while he continued to kiss her.
Her words were muffled against his mouth. ‘You bastard. You complete and utter bastard.’
‘Call me all the names you like if it makes you feel better,’ he groaned. ‘But don’t deny you want me.’
‘No. I. Don’t.’
‘Yes. You. Do.’
His hand was cupping her breast and she was letting him do that, too. She could feel her nipple peaking against his palm and the rush of blood which engorged it so that it felt weighted and full. But this was wrong. She knew it was wrong.
‘Xenon.’ So why was his name coming out as a sultry moan as she curled her fingernails around his neck?
‘Don’t fight it, Lex. Just remind yourself how much you’ve missed this.’
‘But we’re getting a divorce.’
His answer was to pick her up and carry her over to one of the velvet sofas before lowering her down onto it. The soft pile contrasted with the hardness of the body which was pressing down on top of her and she was unable to hold back her excitement as he removed her glasses and put them carefully on the floor.
He turned back to give her his full attention, pushing her hair back from her face so that he could look at her properly, his blue eyes a blur as they burned into her. She felt exposed. Naked. A warm helplessness flooded through her as he bent his dark head to kiss her again but this time the kiss was charged with purpose.
She let her hands splay over the hard musculature of his back. She revelled in the weight of him; the scent and the taste of him. She felt the jut of his hipbones and the heavy weight of his erection as it pushed against her thighs.
It had been a long time since he had made love to her and, oh, she could tell. Her body felt as if it were on fire and her senses seemed to be sizzling into life in a way she’d forgotten could feel so good. She could feel his hand rucking up her dress and the coolness of the air as it hit her bare knees. An insistent heat began to coil through her as he parted her thighs and the pooling of heat at her feminine core was making her squirm. She wanted him to take off her panties. She wanted him deep inside her. Whispering her hands over his silk-covered torso, she heard him suck in a ragged breath. Dragging her nails over his diamond-hard nipples, she began to circle them over the straining material of his shirt and she could feel his helplessness, too.
‘Lex,’ he groaned.
She thrilled at the husky way he said her name. She lifted her hand up to his head, cradling it against her palm so that she could crush his lips even closer. She could feel the silent, slow entry of his tongue and now it was her turn to groan. She felt all her strength melting away as she reached up to grip his powerful shoulders, encountering the structured lines of his jacket as she did so. And suddenly her eyes fluttered open and she pictured what they must look like. She saw herself as if she’d just floated up to the ceiling and were looking down on the scene below. A man still in his work suit, grappling with his estranged wife on the sofa as if she were a cheap date. Starting to have sex with her right there and then, without any preamble or attempt at wooing.
And she was just lying back and letting him.
She pushed him away and this time he must have sensed that she was engaged in more than provocative play-fight, because he didn’t object. His breathing was laboured and his smoky eyes were narrowed as he stared at her.
‘What’s the matter?’
Lexi struggled to sit up, fury heating her blood as she grabbed her glasses and put them on. She wondered, if she hadn’t stopped him, whether he would have simply unzipped himself and impaled her right there on the sofa.
‘You really need to ask that?’ she breathed.
‘I’m not in the mood for riddles,’ he said, frustration making him snap the words out.
‘It’s not a riddle and you’re not stupid. Think about it, Xenon. You bring me into your house, knowing that this is an already complicated situation which might require a little consideration on your part. But consideration has never been part of your vocabulary, has it? Even after I expressly told you that this wasn’t going to be anything other than a masquerade marriage—you leap on me with all the finesse of a sixteen-year-old boy.’
He watched as she got up from the sofa and began to smooth her dress down, his gaze following her as she went to stand in front of the French windows. The light from the garden highlighted the outline of her long, shapely legs and the strands of hair which had worked themselves free from her plaited hair. He felt the painful twist of lust deep inside him as he glared at her. ‘Maybe that’s because you make me feel like a sixteen-year-old boy again—with all the corresponding doubts and insecurities.’
‘Doubts and insecurities?’ She gave a short laugh. ‘I don’t think so. You were born knowing how to handle a woman.’
‘Except perhaps for you,’ he said. ‘You were my one failure in a long and glittering career.’
Exasperated, she shook her head. ‘You see? Even when you’re making what might almost pass for an apology, you’re turning it into some kind of macho boast!’
‘I am what I am, Lex.’ He shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘I am Greek and to be macho is woven into my DNA. I thought that’s what you liked. Don’t you remember telling me that my mastery turned you on?’
Lexi bit her lip. Yes, she’d said that, and more. Much more. Things which now made her wince. But at the time she had meant them. After years of having to cope and be strong for other people, she had fallen for a man who was just as strong. Someone who was looking out for her for a change. For once it had been blissful to let someone else take charge. To let someone else make all the decisions. She just hadn’t realised that she needed to keep her own strength and that it was wrong to rely on Xenon’s. That once you gave someone else permission to take control of your life, you ended up weak and helpless. So that she seemed to have no reserves left to cope with the misfortune which had befallen them.
‘I was younger then,’ she said. ‘And naïve.’
‘And now?’
She reminded herself that she was a grown-up and not some simpering girl. She was a woman who had found her own way in the world. Just because an incompatible marriage had thrown her temporarily off course, that didn’t mean she needed to hurl herself straight back into it. And hadn’t she made a deal with him? Wasn’t she doing this for Jason? For the baby brother who’d had such an unspeakable childhood?
She fiddled with her plait, and shrugged. ‘Now I’m just doing the best I can.’
Xenon felt a sudden wave of remorse wash over him because in that moment she seemed as fragile as he’d ever seen her. ‘You look tired,’ he said.
‘I am.’ The sudden compassion in his voice disarmed her. She saw the anxiety in his face and some stupid moment of weakness made her want to reach out to him. ‘There’s no need to look so stricken, Xenon. I was just as complicit as you in what just happened. And I’m not denying that I enjoyed it—I don’t think I’d get away with a lie that big.’
His blue eyes burned with intensity. ‘So share my bed tonight.’
She shook her head. ‘I can’t. You know I can’t. It would cause too many problems and open up too many wounds. And we can’t risk that kind of pain again, for both our sakes.’
His narrowed gaze was thoughtful. ‘Then you’d better go upstairs and get some rest,’ he said. ‘And I’ll see you later at dinner.’
She straightened her dress and looked up. ‘We’re having dinner?’
‘Of course we are. We have to eat. Now go,’ he repeated roughly, forcing himself to turn away from her. Because her body was sending out a siren song so loud that it was almost deafening him. And he couldn’t trust himself not to pull her back in his arms and finish off what they had started.
