Читать книгу Modern Romance December 2016 Books 1-4 - Кейт Хьюит - Страница 20

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AS SOON AS the sailboat reached the jetty, Angelos leapt out and tethered it before turning to Talia, his arms outstretched. She fell into his embrace clumsily, because her legs were so shaky, and heat scorched her once pale face as her panic started to recede, replaced by an almost as awful embarrassment.

‘You must think...’ she muttered as she stepped away from him.

‘I think you’re very brave, to go on this boat for my daughter’s sake,’ Angelos murmured. His hands still rested on her shoulders, his palms warm through the thin fabric of her sundress. ‘Thank you,’ he added, and then he released her to help Sofia out of the boat.

His words whirled through her mind as they set up camp on the stretch of beach by the harbour, the sand soft and warm beneath her bare feet.

‘I think you’re very brave.’ Did Angelos really mean that? She didn’t feel brave. She felt like the worst wimp, unable to hack so much as an hour in a sailboat. What kind of sad sack wasn’t able to manage that?

Talia had accepted her limitations for so long they had stopped bothering her. At least, she’d thought they had. But now that she was experiencing more of life, both with Sofia and Angelos, she was coming to realise how little she’d had these last seven years...and how much she still wanted.

They spent the morning on the beach and then walked into the town of Chora for lunch. As they approached the whitewashed buildings, colourful cafés with striped awnings and tables outside, Talia watched as Sofia seemed to shrink into herself. Her hair slid in front of her face, her shoulders hunched, her whole demeanour making Talia think the girl wanted to hide herself.

In the nearly two weeks since she’d been on Kallos, Talia had grown so used to Sofia’s face, to her bright smile and beautiful eyes as well as the puckered, reddened flesh that covered her entire cheek. She’d stopped noticing it at all, and Sofia had been much less self-conscious. But now she saw the shyness and insecurity come back, and she could tell Angelos noticed it too. As his daughter hid behind a curtain of curly dark hair, Angelos’s scowl deepened, a deep furrow carved between his straight eyebrows.

‘Where shall we go?’ Talia asked brightly. She was determined to rescue this day and keep it special and happy for Sofia’s sake. It wasn’t every day a girl turned nine, after all. In hesitant, clumsy Greek, she asked Sofia where she would like to eat.

‘There,’ Sofia said, pointing to a café at the end of the street, and they headed towards it.

‘You have learned some Greek,’ Angelos remarked as they took their seats at one of the tables outside.

‘Ava has been teaching me. I did ask Maria to ask you—’

‘Yes, I remember. I said yes. And I am pleased you have made the effort.’ He smiled, his eyes crinkling up at the corners, and Talia just about melted into a pool of slushy sentimentality.

She’d known she’d be a sucker for Angelos’s smile.

In fact, as they ordered their meals and enjoyed the sunshine, chatting in a mixture of English and Greek, she started daydreaming that they were actually a family. That Angelos actually loved her.

The realisation of what she was fantasising about had her jolting upright, nearly spilling her drink.

Angelos’s smile disappeared as he took in her pale face and slack jaw. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked in a low voice. ‘This isn’t too much for you?’

‘It’s fine,’ Talia assured him with a shaky smile. And actually it was fine. She, who avoided crowds and cities, was actually enjoying sitting in a restaurant like a normal person.

It was Sofia she had been concerned about, until her fantasies about Angelos had derailed her whole thought process. Did she really want him to love her?

Did she love him?

‘Talia?’ Angelos’s voice was tight with tension as he frowned at her, clearly concerned.

‘It’s okay.’ She rested her hand on his, and then snatched it back when just the slide of skin across skin sent sensation skittering through her nerve endings. ‘I’m fine. Really.’

Yet thoughts continued to zing through her mind as they ate lunch and then wandered through the town’s street market. Love was such a huge concept, and one she didn’t have a lot of experience with. Not romantic love anyway.

And you can’t be in love with Angelos. You barely know him. A week together, a single night of comfort...

Mindlessly she studied some fabric piled on a market stall, green silk shot through with gold thread. Angelos joined her, standing so close she could feel the heat of his body, inhaled the scent of his aftershave, and had to close her eyes against the wave of desire that crashed over her.

‘You would look lovely in that,’ he said, gesturing to the silk.

Talia’s heart lurched alarmingly. ‘Oh, I don’t know...’ she demurred. She had a crazy and near irresistible urge to lean against him, to have him wrap one strong arm around her.

What was happening to her?

‘Why don’t I buy some for a dress?’ He spoke to the shopkeeper in Greek, who was more than happy to accommodate him.

‘I don’t need a dress...’

‘You are wearing the only one you brought,’ Angelos reminded her. ‘And perhaps you will go somewhere special. Perhaps we all will.’ He pointed to another fabric, this one bright pink. ‘And that for Sofia,’ he said, and addressed the shopkeeper again in Greek.

Impulsively Talia put a hand on his arm. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly, and Angelos turned to her, his mouth turning down in self-deprecation.

‘It is only a bit of silk.’

‘I don’t mean that. I mean the way you are with Sofia.’ She nodded towards the girl, who was inspecting some cloth dolls hanging from pegs on the other side of the stall. ‘She is so pleased to have this time with you. I know it means a lot to her.’

Angelos shrugged, his gaze sliding away. ‘It is very little.’

‘Even so...’

‘It is you I should thank, for making me realise she wants to spend time with me.’

‘Why would you think she wouldn’t?’

Angelos turned back to her, his gaze dark, his frown deepening. ‘Because I disappointed her terribly. I have not been the father she wants or needs.’

‘But you are, Angelos, because you are her father. No mattered what happened before—’

He shook his head, the movement abrupt, as he handed some euros to the shopkeeper and took the cut fabric, now wrapped in paper. ‘We will not talk about this.’

Talia watched as he strode towards Sofia, and then showed her the fabric he bought. Her shy, answering smile lit up her whole face and made Talia ache. Why did Angelos think he wasn’t a good father? Why had he virtually ignored his daughter for so long? She wanted to know the answers, but she doubted she’d get them from him.

By early evening they were all feeling pleasantly drowsy. As they walked back towards the boat, Angelos tapped his finger against Talia’s nose.

‘You’re a bit burned.’

‘Which means more freckles,’ she answered with a playful grimace.

‘I like your freckles,’ Angelos replied, and while Talia gaped at him he turned back to say something to Sofia.

He liked her freckles? Was she crazy, thinking that Angelos might like her? She had no experience with flirting or romance or love. She had no idea how to gauge Angelos’s feelings, or even her own. And yet his simple statement had sent bubbles of excitement racing through her, as if she’d just imbibed a bottle of champagne.

‘Will you be all right on the journey back?’ he asked in a low voice as he helped Sofia scramble into the sailboat.

‘I think so.’ She smiled at him, trying not to let her gaze rove helplessly over his rugged features as those bubbles fizzed and popped. He’d had a bit of sun too, and his skin was even more bronzed and beautiful, the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the golden brown of his eyes making her breathless. ‘Actually, I’m amazed at how easy this whole day has been,’ she confessed. ‘I haven’t wandered around a town like this, in the crowds, for years.’

‘Since...?’ Angelos asked, his eyes darkening, and she nodded.

‘I couldn’t stand crowds. But I didn’t mind them today.’ Because I was with you. Because you made me feel safe and protected. She swallowed down the words and smiled instead. ‘Thank you.’

‘I didn’t have anything to do with it—’

‘You did,’ she asserted, and then, throwing caution to the winds, she explained, ‘When you held me that night...it was the first time I’d felt truly safe, really protected, in seven years. It gave me a confidence, Angelos, that I never thought I’d have again. So you see, you did have something to do with it. And I thank you for that.’

She didn’t dare look at him, afraid she’d revealed too much, and so she scrambled into the boat by herself and sat next to Sofia, her face hot.

The moon rose over the Aegean as the boat skimmed the placid, dark waters and the breeze cooled their sunburned skin. Talia put her arm around Sofia while the girl dozed against her and Angelos sat down, one hand resting on the tiller. He nodded towards Sofia.

‘It’s been a big day for her.’

‘A big day for all of us.’

‘Yes.’ He paused, and in the gathering twilight she couldn’t see his face. ‘I’m proud of you, Talia. For facing your fears. Not everyone has the courage to do so.’

‘I said before, you’re the one who helped me.’ She was glad for the darkness that hid her blush. ‘The truth is I didn’t plan on facing them. It’s being here and seeing how Sofia...’ She paused, afraid this might be too sensitive a subject for Angelos.

‘What about Sofia?’ he asked.

‘She reminds me of me,’ Talia said softly. ‘How I’ve been inside for so long. Hiding myself. Ashamed of who I am.’

She felt Angelos stiffen even though he was several feet away from her. Pain emanated from him, seeming to tauten the very air. ‘You think Sofia is ashamed of herself?’ he asked, his voice low and aching. ‘Of...of her scar?’

‘She’s certainly self-conscious about it,’ Talia said carefully. She didn’t have the courage to add, Especially when you’re around. ‘Have you noticed the way she hides her cheek with her hair?’

‘Of course I’ve noticed it.’ Angelos pressed his lips together and looked away. ‘But she has no reason to be ashamed. None at all. She is a beautiful girl, inside and out.’

‘Maybe you should tell her so,’ Talia suggested. ‘I think she’d like to hear it.’

‘I do tell her,’ Angelos answered, and she wondered if he wrote as much in her letters. ‘Let us not talk of this any more,’ he added, his tone final, and Talia knew she would have to let it go.

Neither of them spoke as Kallos appeared on the horizon, the villa washed in moonlight. Angelos moored the boat and then carefully scooped Sofia up into his arms; in sleep she snuggled against her father, her scarred cheek resting against his chest.

Seeing him acting so tenderly with Sofia made a lump form in Talia’s throat. This man had so much love to give, and yet he seemed determined to lock it all away.

Or was she simply being foolishly hopeful, to think such a thing? To think he could fall in love with her?

Because she knew she was falling in love with him, whether it made sense or not. She might be inexperienced, but even she could recognise the ache in her heart, the hope in her soul and the need that flooded her body, all of it overwhelming, undeniable. Silently she followed Angelos across the beach and up to the villa.

The house was quiet and dark as they entered, Maria having already gone to bed. Angelos went upstairs to put Sofia to bed and Talia followed slowly, reluctant to end what had been, on the whole, a wonderful day. She wondered if she’d pushed Angelos too hard. Would he retreat back into his brusque, businesslike shell tomorrow, and once again ignore her and Sofia? She hated the thought.

Sighing she turned to her bedroom, only to still when she heard Angelos’s voice, soft and disembodied in the darkness, coming from down the upstairs hallway.

‘Thank you, Talia.’

‘For what?’ She turned around, her heart bumping hard as she saw him standing in the darkened corridor. Moonlight streamed through the high windows, touching his hair with silver. She couldn’t see the expression on his face, but she felt his sincerity.

‘For making this day possible,’ he said. ‘For making me realise it was necessary. I do take your point, you know. Sofia needs me, even if I’m not...’

‘Not what?’ Talia prompted softly when he’d trailed off with a little shake of his head.

‘Not the father I want to be. The father I should be.’ He’d stepped closer to her, close enough that she could touch him if she simply reached out one hand. Her fingertips tingled with the need to do so, to feel his solid strength beneath her palm, to comfort him as well as herself.

‘You’ve said that before, Angelos, and I don’t understand it. I’m not sure I believe it. I know you love Sofia. Why can’t you be the father you want to be? The father Sofia needs?’

‘Too much has happened,’ he murmured. ‘Things that can’t be forgiven.’

‘Anything can be forgiven.’

‘Do you really believe that?’ His voice had sharpened. ‘Could you forgive the men who kidnapped you?’

Talia blinked, startled. ‘How can you compare yourself to those brutes?’

‘You don’t know me, Talia. You don’t know what I’ve—’

‘I do know you,’ she interjected, her voice turning ragged with the force of her conviction. ‘I’ve seen you these last few days, Angelos, and I do know you. I know you love Sofia. I know you can be the father she needs, the man I—’ She stopped suddenly, horrified by what she’d been about to blurt. The man I love.

‘The man you what?’ Angelos asked. He took a step closer to her, heat and intent evident in his hard stare.

‘The man I’ve—I’ve come to know,’ Talia answered, stammering in her embarrassment and anxiety. ‘I have come to know you these last few days, Angelos. And I... I like the man I know.’ And so much more than that. But she’d admitted more than enough already.

‘Talia...’ Angelos’s voice broke on her name, and then, before she could even process what was happening, he pulled her towards him, his hands hard on her shoulders as his mouth crashed down on hers.

It had been ten years since she’d been kissed, and then only a schoolboy’s buss. She’d never been kissed like this, never felt every sense blaze to life, every nerve ending tingle with awareness, nearly painful in its intensity, as Angelos’s mouth moved on hers and he pulled her tightly to him.

His hard contours collided against her softness, each point of contact creating an unbearably exquisite ache of longing as she tangled her hands in his hair and fit her mouth against his.

She was a clumsy, inexpert kisser, not sure what to do with her lips or tongue, only knowing that she wanted more of this. Of him.

She felt his hand slide down to cup her breast, his palm hot and hard through the thin material of her dress, and a gasp of surprise and delight escaped her.

That small sound of pleasure was enough to jolt Angelos out of his passion-fogged daze, for he dropped his hand and in one awful, abrupt movement tore his mouth from hers and stepped back.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice coming out in a ragged gasp.

‘No...’ Talia pressed one shaky hand to her buzzing lips as she tried to blink the world back into focus. ‘Don’t be sorry,’ she whispered. ‘It was wonderful.’

‘I shouldn’t have—’

‘Why not?’ she challenged. She felt frantic with the desperate need to feel and taste him again, and more importantly, not to have him withdraw from her, not just physically, but emotionally. Angelos didn’t answer and she forced herself to ask the question again. ‘Why not, Angelos?’

‘Because you are my employee, and I was taking advantage of you,’ he gritted out. ‘It was not appropriate...’

‘I don’t care about appropriate,’ she cried. She knew she sounded desperate and even pathetic but she didn’t care. She wanted him. She needed him. ‘I care about you,’ she confessed, her voice dropping to a choked whisper, and surprise and something worse flashed across Angelos’s face. He shook his head, the movement almost violent and terribly final.

‘No, Talia,’ he told her flatly. ‘You don’t.’

And without giving her a chance to reply, he turned and strode towards his bedroom.

Talia remained in the darkened hallway, her body still throbbing with the need Angelos had lit inside her. She heard his door close, a soft, final-sounding click, and then with a shuddering sigh she turned towards her own bedroom.

She peeled off her clothes in the dark, gasping as the simple movements made the ache of need flare up inside her. She wanted Angelos to be the one to undress her, to touch her in ways she’d never been touched but now felt as if she couldn’t live without. His mouth on hers, his hands on her skin...

But he obviously didn’t feel the same way, and she’d humiliated herself in practically begging him to keep kissing her. In telling him she cared.

Cringing at the memory, Talia curled up on her bed, her knees tucked to her chest, and tried to will herself to sleep. It seemed to take an age before she finally fell into an uneasy, restless doze, only to wake to sunlight streaming through the shutters and the staccato sound of a helicopter whirring in the distance.