Читать книгу Latin Lovers: Greek Tycoons: Aristides' Convenient Wife / Bought: One Island, One Bride / The Lazaridis Marriage - Rebecca Winters, Jacqueline Baird - Страница 10

HELEN LOOKED AT her reflection in the mirror, and almost groaned out loud. She looked like a child in fancy dress; why on earth had she given in to Nicholas? He was a little boy—what did he know about clothes?

The answer came to her as quick as a flash. She had given into him because she loved him and always would. He was the reason she was standing on her own in a huge bedroom suite in this nineteenth century mansion, set in elegant gardens overlooking a tree-lined square in Athens, about to be married to a man she didn’t love, and who certainly didn’t love her.

The past couple of weeks had been chaotic. Tracy and the friends Helen had made on the hotel staff had turned up at her door at the weekend and insisted on throwing a wedding shower for her. They had pooled their resources and given her a present of some skimpy lace briefs and the most revealing negligee she had ever seen, well aware of her penchant for delicate underwear. Not that Leon was likely to see her wearing them, but just the thought made her blush. If that was not bad enough Tracy had brought a bridal magazine and declared she must choose a glamorous wedding dress. When Helen had said no, it was to be a simple civil ceremony, Tracy had declared that as she was marrying a filthy rich man the least she could do was look the part, and had left the magazine behind when she’d left in case Helen changed her mind.

Which was why she now looked so juvenile. Nicholas had seen the pictures in the magazine and decided one model was wearing the exact same dress as the fairy on his bedroom wall. He could be as stubborn as a mule and she knew where he got that from, she thought dryly. He had gone on and on about wanting to see her wearing the fairy dress, until finally she had given in. On a visit to London to keep her appointment with Mr Smyth the lawyer, she had bought the gown.

Leon had telephoned frequently and visited them again earlier in the week. With ruthless efficiency he had made a deal with the hotel management to take care of her house and arranged for the transportation of all the items Helen had decided were essential for their relocation to Greece. Then he had spent most of the afternoon with Nicholas before leaving at six for a pressing engagement in Paris.

Helen had not seen him again until late yesterday afternoon. His PA, Alex Stakis, had arrived yesterday to escort her and Nicholas to Athens in the Aristides private jet. Apparently Leon had been too busy. Well, that was fine by Helen; the less she saw of him, the better.

He had the uncanny ability to make her very aware of him and, worse, aware of herself in the most peculiar way. Her body seemed to have taken on a life of its own at odds to the dictates of her brain, and she didn’t like the feeling. Last night, after charming Nicholas into agreement, he had ordered an end to her early suppers with the boy and insisted she dine with him later after Nicholas was in bed. Bitterly resenting his overbearing attitude, but powerless to argue with him in front of Nicholas, she had reluctantly agreed.

Dining alone with him had been an ordeal. Leon had been perfectly polite, the conversation mostly confined to the wedding arrangements for the following day with a few social niceties thrown in. But somehow every time his dark eyes rested on her she had to battle down the embarrassing heat that threatened to colour every inch of her pale skin.

It was galling to have to admit that Leon could make her feel physically conscious of him without any effort on his part. Her only comfort was the knowledge that he wasn’t in the least attracted to her. He had as good as told her so the one time he had kissed her. All she had to do was control the odd feeling of panic that he aroused in her and concentrate on Nicholas, and everything would be fine.

She glanced at her reflection again, a wry smile curving her lips. She certainly had no fear of inciting the interest of any male over the age of seven in this gown. Fashioned in silk, the sleeves were long and wide at her wrists. The bodice embroidered with silver thread skimmed her breasts and narrow waist ending in a point over her flat stomach. The skirt of the gown fell in fine panels of cobweb silk of varying pointed lengths around her ankles. Not something Helen would ever have chosen. Plus the jewel encrusted satin slippers with upturned pointed toes she wore on her feet instead of the high heels she usually favoured did nothing for her lack of height, but at least Nicholas would be happy. She was totally unaware of how the gossamer fine fabric sensuously caressed her slender body with every move she made.

The door opened and the housekeeper, Anna, a tall, grey-haired woman of about sixty, walked in, closely followed by Nicholas.

‘Oh, Helen, you look beautiful.’ He gazed up at her, his dark eyes shining like jewels. ‘Exactly like my fairy picture.’

‘Thank you, darling.’ She bent down to give him a hug.

‘Uncle Leon sent me to get you ‘cause it is after two,’ he said, puffed up with importance. ‘Everyone is waiting.’

Anna looked at her. ‘He is right, madam, and there has been a slight change of plan. The ceremony is to take place inside instead of in the garden,’ she said with a telling glance at the rain lashing the window.

Helen smiled. So much for Leon’s assertion that the sun always shone in Greece. ‘That’s fine,’ she reassured Anna, glad that at least she spoke excellent English. The other members of staff she had met last night did not.

‘Lead on, Nicholas.’ She grinned down at him and taking his hand in hers, she headed for the door.

Standing in the hall, Leon greeted the last guests, and glanced around the group of about thirty people. He had invited only those friends and business colleagues that he deemed absolutely necessary. To the distant relatives and acquaintances he had excluded, he had used the valid excuse of the recent deaths in the family as the reason for keeping the ceremony small and low key. At some later date he knew he would have to host a party to introduce Helen and Nicholas, but right now business came first. His priority was to make sure his marriage to Helen Heywood was completed without a hitch and she was legally tied to him as his wife. For that he did not need a great show. He had already had the huge society wedding with Tina; he didn’t need another one.

He moved to speak to his PA, Alex Stakis, who was also acting as his witness, and was suddenly aware of the strange silence that had fallen over the assembled guests. His PA was staring straight past him, an expression of avid male appreciation lighting his face. Leon turned and followed the line of Alex’s gaze and stiffened.

Descending the marble staircase was a vision of loveliness, a girl that looked as if she had just stepped out of any red-blooded man’s dream. Helen Heywood, his soon-to-be wife, and the knowledge sent a surge of pleasure through his powerful frame that had nothing to do with business and everything to do with the tightening in his groin in anticipation of the night ahead.

Her ash-blonde hair was loose and fell in ringlets around her slender shoulders. Her gown was a fantasy in white and silver, long-sleeved with a deep vee neckline that revealed the creamy curves of her breasts, and faithfully followed every exquisite line of her body. The skirt skimmed her hips and floated in a stream of flimsy panels around her legs and thighs revealing tantalising glimpses of pale flesh as she descended the marble staircase. Her small feet were encased in harem styled slippers and to top it all off on her head was a silver garland of tiny rosebuds. She was laughing down at the little boy holding her hand and he was grinning back.

For a long moment Leon simply stared, and he had a fleeting sense he had seen Helen like this before. But he couldn’t have, she looked ravishing, and he certainly had not seen her wearing make-up; even though she wasn’t wearing much, the effect was stunning.

Her sparkling violet eyes were accentuated by a misty shadow and a touch of mascara exaggerated her incredibly long lashes. Her full lips were coated in a deep rose gloss and her pearly white skin was tinted by the faintest of natural blushes. She looked bewitching, the perfect bride. Innocent, and yet sensual, and the way the flimsy material clung to her petite body was as sexy as hell.

But she also looked as out of place in the small, sophisticated civil ceremony he had arranged as snow in summer, he realised grimly and frowned.

He had told her it was to be a simple ceremony, and it had never occurred to him she would dress as a bride. But this was her wedding, the only one she was ever going to have if he had his way, and he always did.

Inexplicably Leon felt guilty. His mouth tightened as he walked forward, his eyes focused on her lovely face. ‘Helen you look beautiful,’ he stated, and bared his teeth in a smile.

‘Thank you.’ She glanced at him and didn’t bother to return the smile. Instead she immediately gave her attention to the little boy holding her hand. ‘Nicholas chose my dress, didn’t you, darling?’

A wry smile quirked his mouth. If that was true the boy had a heck of a precocious view of the female form for one so young. Then abruptly he stiffened as he saw more of her breasts than was safe in his semi-aroused state. And the luminous look of unconditional love in her eyes as she bent towards the boy as he cheerfully agreed didn’t help his condition.

No woman, not even his own mother, had ever looked at him like that. Not that he would want them to, he thought cynically. He had all he wanted, or he would have tonight, he amended, and reached for her hand, enfolding it firmly in his own. ‘The celebrant is waiting.’

Helen listened to the bearded little man reel off the service in Greek with a little English thrown in for her benefit and responded appropriately, not looking at Leon unless she had to. When he had taken her hand at the foot of the stairs she had felt a sudden quickening in her pulse and almost panicked. But one glance at his set face, his broad shoulders and solid, muscled body immaculately clad in a sombre dark suit had been enough to calm her nerves.

Leon Aristides looked about as happy as the condemned man heading for the electric chair, his attempt at a smile a mockery. However, this was a marriage of convenience, they had both agreed, so she had nothing to worry about.

Finally when the gold band was firmly on her finger, and surprisingly a gold band on Leon’s as well she heaved an inward sigh of relief. Then the little man instructed Leon to kiss his bride.

Leon took her chin in his hand and tilted her face up to his. Their eyes met and for an instant she saw a flare in the ebony depths of his that made the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end. It took all her self-control not to flinch when his dark head lowered and he brushed her lips briefly with his own.

‘Now that wasn’t as bad as you expected,’ he said softly, his eyes gleaming with sardonic amusement as he curved an arm around her waist and turned her to face the guests, well aware of her initial reluctance.

And it wasn’t so bad, Helen conceded a few hours later. She had managed to control her urge to flinch every time Leon looped an arm around her waist, reminding herself it was necessary for Nicholas’ sake. If she had to grit her teeth occasionally to subdue the little nervous tremors that afflicted her when he laid his hand on hers at the table or touched her cheek in an apparently affectionate gesture for the benefit of the guests, nobody seemed to notice. And after a long, leisurely meal and two glasses of champagne Helen was convinced she was over the worst and her self-confidence was restored.

Alex Stakis had made a speech, and Leon had said a few words, and then the party had moved from the dining room into a huge drawing room and become more informal.

She had met Leon’s friend and lawyer, Chris Stefano, and his wife Mary who was English and also a lawyer before her marriage. Helen liked her and quickly discovered Mary was the proud mother of an eight-year-old boy, Mark, and twins, a boy and a girl who were the same age as Nicholas, and, as they were all bilingual, the children quickly made friends.

Alone for a moment, Helen allowed herself a sigh of relief. Thankfully Leon had finally left her side and was deep in discussion with Chris Stefano and another man. She glanced around the room. Sophisticated, elegant people stood around in groups chatting and drinking. Not really her scene at all, and thanks to Nicholas she was hopelessly overdressed.

‘You look a little lost.’ Mary Stefano approached her. ‘Don’t worry, you will get used to it,’ she said with a glance across to the group of men. ‘I have been married to Chris for nine years and in all that time I have never been to a party, wedding or baptism where the men haven’t ended up discussing business, especially Leon and Chris.’ She grinned.

‘I can see that.’ Helen smiled back.

‘Well, look on the bright side—at least you will have Leon to yourself on the honeymoon.’

‘We’re not having a honeymoon,’ Helen declared quickly, the very thought made her inwardly shudder. ‘Leon is far too busy, and I have to take care of Nicholas.’

‘Not much of a wedding night with your son around to wake you at the crack of dawn.’

‘Oh, Nicholas is not my son,’ Helen declared swiftly. ‘He is Delia’s child, but I have always helped to look after him while she studied.’ A sad smile curved her lips. ‘Now with Delia gone—’

‘Delia’s, you say?’ Mary cut in and gave her an odd look. ‘I see, well, I’d better go and find my brood. It is almost seven, time we left.’

Puzzled by Mary’s comment, Helen paused for a moment. Surely Leon must have told his friends Nicholas was Delia’s child. She was about to follow Mary and ask her, but before she could move the celebrant appeared at her side and began a long conversation in a mixture of English and Greek. Good manners dictated she stay and listen. Her own command of Greek was slight, only what she had picked up from her grandfather and Delia when she had been teaching Nicholas.

He, on the other hand, being so young, had grasped the language remarkably well, and Helen had no doubt after a few weeks living in Greece he would be speaking it like a native.

Finally the celebrant left to refill his glass and Helen turned towards the door, intending to look for Nicholas.

‘Helen.’ A long arm snaked around her waist. ‘Going somewhere?’

She stiffened automatically and tilted back her head to glance up into the hard face of Leon. ‘I’m going to find Nicholas, it is past time he was in bed.’

‘There is no need. Mary and Chris are taking him to stay at their house for the night.’

‘Whatever for?’ And not giving him time to respond, she said swiftly, ‘Nicholas has never been away from me for a whole night before.’ She felt his hand tighten on her waist and saw the mockery in his dark eyes and suddenly the old tension Helen felt around him returned.

‘Then it is about time he was. I know you love him, but you are in danger of smothering him,’ he told her bluntly. She opened her mouth to object but he cut in dryly, ‘Before you say anything else, Mary offered to take him after you told her we had no honeymoon planned. Nicholas is delighted at the idea, and here they come.’

Helen walked into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. It was over. She pressed a light switch and the room was dimly illuminated by a couple of bedside lamps. For the first time in over three and half years there was no Nicholas to check on, and the knowledge was saddening. From being virtually the centre of his universe she had to accept he was growing up; his life, his horizons, were expanding, which was as it should be.

Leon had been right about Nicholas; with a kiss and a hug for Helen, he had left happily with Mary and her family. It had taken another few hours and another buffet-style meal before the final guest had departed, and she had been left alone with Leon. She had refused his offer of a nightcap pleading exhaustion, which wasn’t far from the truth.

Sighing, she pulled the garland from her head, a brief smile curving her lips. Well, at least Nicholas had got his wish. She walked into the huge en suite bathroom that was bigger than her bedroom at home. Along with the usual luxurious fixtures there was a huge circular spa bath almost big enough for her to swim in.

Helen slipped out of the dress and her briefs, dropping them on the floor. She piled her hair into a shower cap, and took a quick shower, before wrapping a huge bath sheet sarong-style around her naked body. She crossed to the double vanity basin where she had left her toiletries and picking up a brush, swiftly brushed the carefully contrived ringlets out of her hair until it fell in its usual soft waves around her shoulders. No sign of a bride remained, she thought, tucking her hair behind her ears, and picking up her discarded briefs, she dropped them in the laundry bin before gathering up her dress and entering the adjoining dressing room.

They were the only rooms, plus the nursery suite across the hall that was Nicholas’ that she could safely say she knew how to find. Tomorrow morning she really must get Anna to give her a guided tour of the house. There had not been time yesterday and today she had merely gone where she was told.

Helen opened the closet where her clothes had been stowed with Anna’s help the night before and hung the dress up. Opening a drawer, she ignored the flimsy negligee and withdrew a knee-length cotton nightshirt she usually wore around Nicholas. A tender smile curved her lips as she glanced at the print of the two teddy bears on the front. Nicholas had told her the first time he had seen her wearing it that the shirt made her look doubly cuddly.

She was smiling as she wandered back into the bedroom, and tripped over the bottom of the bath sheet.

‘Careful.’ Two strong hands grasped her shoulders and steadied her. ‘There is no need to kneel at my feet just yet,’ a deep voice drawled mockingly.

‘You!’ she exclaimed, looking up into the amused dark eyes of Leon. ‘And I wasn’t,’ she snapped, shrugging his hands off her shoulders and stepping back. ‘This sheet is too big.’ And so was he.

Helen’s heart skipped a beat as her startled gaze swept over him. His tall, lithe body was clad in only a black towelling robe that exposed a large area of hair darkened chest and ended mid-thigh, revealing his long legs. For a banker, a man who did no physical work, he had a magnificent physique, the thought came unbidden to her mind.

Then suddenly she realised the only thing protecting her own naked body was a towel—a towel that, following her tripping over it, had slid perilously south. She dropped her nightshirt and hastily hauled the bath sheet as far up as it would go.

‘This is my room and I would like you to leave,’ she declared a little shakily.

‘It is also mine, the master suite,’ Leon said with a soft, husky laugh and she was struck dumb by his outrageous declaration. Before she could even get her head around the fact, never mind object, his strong hands spanned her waist and he swung her off the floor.

With her feet dangling in the air, she instinctively reached out and grasped his broad shoulder to steady herself. With her free hand she hung onto the knot in the towel as if her life depended on it. She had never been on eye level with him before, his face suddenly only inches from her own. Her shocked gaze met the glittering intensity of his night-black eyes and her heart lurched in panic. Her position had just become a heck of a lot more perilous, she realized, swallowing hard. His hands were burning into her waist, and her breathing was suddenly erratic.

‘What on earth do you think you are doing?’ Red-faced with embarrassment and something more she refused to recognize, Helen tried to wriggle free. ‘Put me down.’

‘Certainly.’ He moved and somehow instead of his hands on her waist one long arm held her clasped firmly against his big body. His other hand twisted in the waving mass of her hair, tipping her head back.

She stared at him like a mesmerised mouse. She saw his dark head lower. He wouldn’t… he couldn’t be going to kiss her…

‘But first…’ Even as her own lips trembled in expectation of his kiss his firm lips brushed the tender skin of her throat.

The warm moist flick of his tongue seared her skin, sending a starburst of tiny tremors racing along every nerve in her body. His sensuous mouth closed over the suddenly racing pulse in her neck and paused to suck lightly before trailing a string of kisses up her throat in a slow, seductive path to her lips.

‘No.’ Helen choked and tried to resist but a strange warmth began to unfurl in the centre of her being, her body betraying her as a rising tide of totally new emotions flowed through her.

‘No,’ she murmured again, but it was more of a moan, her lips helplessly parting beneath the heady pressure of his mouth to accept the subtle penetration of his tongue. His hand tightened on her nape and he kissed her with a slow, seductive passion that stoked the unfamiliar warmth into a flame that seemed to melt her bones. She had never known a kiss could be so exquisite she thought dreamily, never known anything so pleasurable existed.

She sighed when he broke the kiss, and groaned as he bit the soft lobe of her ear, his warm breath curling around the inner whorls.

‘Do you still want me to put you down?’ His deep, husky voice resonated through every cell in her body.

Helen stared dazedly into the smouldering blackness of his deep set eyes, and the temptation of total capitulation to the unknown pleasure he was offering urged her to say no. His hand at her nape stroked down to splay over her bare shoulder blades holding her close to the muscular wall of his chest, her breasts inexplicably tightening at the contact. His mouth covered hers again and he was kissing her as she had never been kissed before, deeply, erotically. She shuddered and clung to him, the flames of desire burning ever higher, and when he finally lifted his head she was helpless against the storm of heated sensations roaring like wildfire through her.

He lifted his head and drawled thickly, ‘Well, Helen, must I put you down?’

The ‘no’ of surrender hovered on the tip of her tongue. His hand slipped down and drew her into the hard heat of his lower body. Crushed against him, she felt the rigid length of his masculine arousal against her churning stomach, and in a moment of clarity she realised what she was inviting.

‘Yes. You—you…’ She panicked, and, lost for adequate words, she shoved her hands against his chest and began to struggle like a deranged idiot. ‘You animal.’

Something deadly flickered in the depths of his eyes, then it was successfully masked. ‘All right, I heard you,’ he drawled mockingly and lowered her to the floor.