Читать книгу His Pregnant Bride: Pregnant by the Greek Tycoon / His Pregnant Princess / Pregnant: Father Needed - Ким Лоренс, Robyn Donald - Страница 14

CHAPTER ELEVEN

GEORGIE walked into a room full of people and blinked.

‘Look at her,’ Robert Kemp teased. ‘She forgot we were coming.’ He enfolded his startled daughter in a bear hug.

‘No, of course I didn’t, Dad,’ Georgie lied. ‘How are you?’

‘We’re fine…but never mind us. How’s my favourite grandson? More to the point, where’s my favourite grandson?’ he asked, looking around the room expectantly.

Her more-observant stepmother laid a concerned hand on Georgie’s arm. ‘Is anything wrong, Georgie, dear?’

‘I’m fine, thanks, Mary. He’s in the garden, Dad.’ On cue the sound of Nicky’s high-pitched laughter drifted in through the open door. ‘No, don’t go yet,’ she added, catching her father’s arm as he headed towards the French door. ‘I need to tell you something.’ Deep breath…keep calm, be firm…don’t get apologetic. ‘No, actually I need to tell everyone something,’ she corrected.

‘Well, go on, then, don’t keep us in suspense,’ her father urged impatiently.

‘Sit down, Robert,’ his wife, her eyes on Georgie’s tense figure, instructed sharply. ‘Can’t you see there’s something wrong?’

‘There’s nothing wrong exactly, I’ve just made a decision.’

Her grandmother spoke for the first time. ‘It’s that man, isn’t it? You’ve seen him again. Oh, yes, and I’ve heard that he’s been here. You can’t drive around in a flashy car like his and not get noticed.’

‘What man?’ Robert Kemp demanded in exasperation. ‘Will someone please tell me what’s going on?’

‘The Constantine creature.’

Robert turned to his daughter, his face stern. ‘Tell me this isn’t true, Georgie.’

Georgie scanned the three faces staring accusingly at her. No wonder I feel as if I’m on trial, she thought wearily. ‘Angolos has a right to see Nicky, Dad.’

Her father groaned and clutched his head in his hands. ‘He’s sucked you in again, hasn’t he? That man has caused this family nothing but heartache since the moment he appeared and I for one wish you’d never laid eyes on him.’

‘Well, if I hadn’t I wouldn’t have Nicky, would I?’

‘Don’t be smart with me, my girl. I hope you’ve told him we don’t need him.’

‘Not exactly,’ Georgie admitted uneasily. ‘Actually,’ she added, ‘I agreed to go back to Greece with him…’

There was a stunned silence.

Her father was the first to recover his voice. He jerked his head towards the window. ‘Is he here now?’

‘Dad, please…?’ Georgie begged.

‘Were you born stupid?’ he wanted to know.

Her grandmother reached for her pillbox and popped a pill with her hand pressed significantly to her heart. ‘If that man suggested you jump into the nearest lake you would.’ There was nothing frail about her contemptuous observation. ‘All he has to do is get you into bed and you’d sell your own soul or, in this case,’ she declared dramatically, ‘your son.’

Georgie flushed at the accusation. ‘Nicky has a right to know his father, Gran.’ Does he? Didn’t he lose those rights…?

‘This isn’t about Nicky, it’s about you,’ the old lady retorted.

Georgie coloured guiltily. This was a charge she had levelled at herself. And she still couldn’t swear, hand on heart, that there wasn’t an element of truth in it. She wanted to do the right thing for Nicky, but, when the right thing involved being back with the man who was the passion of her life, could she ever be sure her decision was totally objective?

‘If that man goes near my grandson I’ll…’ Robert added.

Georgie lost her patience. Her family had been there when she’d needed them, but this was her life they were discussing.

‘You’ll what, Dad?’ she asked. ‘Teach him a lesson? Do you really think you could? Sorry.’ She bit her lip. ‘I shouldn’t have said that. I know you have my interests at heart, but this is my life. This isn’t an impulse, you know. I’ve given it a lot of thought.’

‘Well, in that case there’s no more to be said.’

Georgie heaved a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, Dad. I really appreciate this.’

Robert looked at the hand extended to him and deliberately ignored it as he walked to his wife’s side and placed an arm around her shoulder. ‘You go to Greece with your so-called husband if that is what you want, but if you do you are no longer my daughter.’

‘You can’t mean that, Dad,’ she said, even though she knew he did.

‘Robert!’ her stepmother protested. ‘You can’t make her choose this way… He doesn’t mean it, Georgie, dear.’

‘I do mean it. You go to Greece and I wash my hands of you.’ He patted his wife’s hand. ‘Sometimes tough love is called for, Mary. This is a matter of loyalty.’ Face set in stone, he turned to his daughter. ‘What is it to be, Georgie? Your family or this man who cares so much about his son that he’s been too busy for the last three years to notice he’s alive?’

‘I’ve made my decision, Dad.’

An expression of blank amazement spread across Robert Kemp’s florid face. ‘You’re going to Greece?’

Her grandmother, who had been watching proceedings from her armchair, reached for her walking stick and rose majestically to her feet. ‘You ungrateful child.’

‘Please, Gran…’ She slid an anguished look in her father’s direction. ‘I know what it’s like not to see a parent. I don’t want Nicky—’

‘You think your father stopped your mother seeing you?’

‘I don’t blame Dad. I know Mum hurt him badly.’

‘Your father is too soft to tell you. He didn’t. The fact is she didn’t want to. My daughter-in-law didn’t care about you at all,’ the old lady spat contemptuously. ‘The only thing she cared about was her pretty-boy waiter and he didn’t want a baby. I think,’ she added, her normal strong voice quivering, ‘this could be called history repeating itself.’

Shock had drained the colour from Georgie’s face. Her eyes darted from one person to the other without really seeing them. Silly, really. She knew that if her mother had wanted to contact her she would have, but like any child she had nursed her fantasies. And those images had persisted into adulthood: her mother a victim of cruel fate, separated against her will from the daughter she loved.

‘I wouldn’t leave Nicky, not ever, not for anything.’

‘Of course you wouldn’t, Georgie,’ her stepmother soothed. ‘You’re a marvellous mother.’

‘I couldn’t agree more.’ Angolos waited until every eye in the room was fixed on him before continuing. ‘Georgette has been doing the job of two parents for three years. I think it’s time she was relieved of some of the load.’

Georgie turned towards the sound of that deep, confident voice. She experienced a wave of inexpressible relief as their eyes connected.

‘Angolos, I…’ How much had he heard?

‘I think this young man needs a clean-up.’ Acting as if there weren’t an atmosphere you could cut with a knife in the room, Angolos slanted an amused look at the grubby figure in his arms. The love in his face was so palpable that Georgie couldn’t believe she was the only one who could see it.

That was why she was doing this.

Angolos shared his smile between the three other occupants of the room. ‘I will wait here.’

‘I don’t think that’s such a good idea,’ Georgie said dubiously as he transferred their restless son to her arms.

‘You’ve got him?’

She nodded. ‘I think it might be better if you just went. You can ring me later.’ He simply couldn’t be oblivious to the hostility aimed at him, but from his manner you’d never have known it.

Her father, apparently sharing her view, muttered under his breath, ‘He’s got a nerve.’

‘You haven’t changed a jot, Robert—are you working out?’ While the other man pressed a hand to his expanding middle and turned dark red with incoherent rage, Angolos turned calmly to Georgie. ‘Go on,’ he urged. ‘It will be fine.’

Throwing a last worried frown over her shoulder Georgie mounted the staircase.

Angolos’s smile lasted until he heard the sound of a door opening and closing upstairs. ‘Right, you can’t stand the sight of me—I can live with that. I have an incredibly thick skin and I am not at all sensitive,’ he admitted. ‘The only person your insults hurt is Georgette and I don’t actually think you want to do that…?’ He arched a dark brow and levelled a questioning look at his father-in-law, who glared at him with venomous dislike.

‘In your place,’ Angolos admitted, ‘I would probably feel the same way. You would like me to disappear from your lives. It isn’t going to happen, so I suggest you get used to it.’

‘Never!’ Robert Kemp grunted.

‘I have no particular fondness for you either, but I am prepared to tolerate you for Georgette’s sake. You are my son’s grandparents and I hope you will remain an important part of his life. I realise that you spoke in the heat of the moment and you have no wish to disown your daughter or grandson, so I think it will be best all around if we forget you ever said it.’

‘You…you think…?’ Robert blustered, ignoring his wife’s agonised aside to leave it be. ‘What makes you think I give a damn what you think?’

‘I don’t. But I think you care about what Georgette thinks. Perhaps we should concentrate on what we have in common.’

‘And what would that be?’ Robert sneered.

‘We both want Georgette to be happy. I can make her happy.’ With that he walked out of the room leaving a stunned silence behind him.

Though his approach had been silent Georgie sensed his presence at her shoulder. ‘He fell asleep.’

‘So I see,’ Angolos said, looking at the sleeping child. ‘Amazing,’ he breathed softly. ‘How are you?’ he added, not taking his eyes from Nicky’s cherubic face.

‘As well as could be expected considering my family have cast me off.’ Despite the tough words, he could feel the waves of hurt emanating from her.

‘And that would bother you…?’

Narrow shoulders hunched, she picked up a stuffed toy from the floor and tucked it in beside the sleeping child. ‘Do one thing for me,’ she husked, not turning around.

‘It’s possible I might do one thing for you.’

‘Please don’t be nice,’ she pleaded from between clenched teeth.

His expressive lips quirked. ‘You want me to be unpleasant?’

‘I want you to be yourself, which amounts to much the same thing.’

‘I will do my best to behave with the callous lack of consideration you expect of me.’

Georgie whipped around and promptly forgot the acid retort that had hovered on the tip of her tongue. He was closer than she had anticipated…very much closer. Close enough to feel the heat rising off his skin, smell the warm, male, musky scent of him. She couldn’t summon the strength to fight as she felt herself sink beneath a wave of enervating lust.

‘I only want you to hold me because I’m temporarily feeling alone and sorry for myself.’ Did I really say that out loud?

Angolos cupped her face between his big hands. ‘You’re not alone,’ he rasped.

Yes, I said it! ‘I’m not normally a needy person,’ she promised, feeling weak tears squeeze out from her closed eyelids. ‘I just need a tissue and possibly a drink.’

Something flickered in his deep-set eyes. ‘But not me?’

‘I make mistakes,’ she told him. ‘But not twice,’ she added grimly as she pulled back from him, back in control—or as much as she ever was around him—of her feelings.

His expression hardened. ‘I will make the flight arrangements and contact you with the details. I’m assuming you don’t travel light with a child?’

‘What flight arrangements?’

He looked irritated. ‘What flight arrangements do you think I mean? I will fly over later tonight and organise things that end, then—’

‘You think I’m going to drop everything and leave immediately?’

‘Not immediately, but I see no reason to delay.’

She stared at him incredulously. ‘No, of course you don’t.’ How could I have forgotten how selfish and single-minded he is…?

He shook his head and sat down on the bed. Something she immediately wished he hadn’t done. ‘What is your problem? I have acceded to all your demands, placated your family… Do not push your luck, Georgette,’ he advised.

‘Oh, the “I’ll do anything to be with my son” didn’t last very long, did it?’ she observed with withering scorn. ‘I have commitments here.’

Angolos’s facial muscles clenched, giving his face the appearance of stone as he asked in a voice devoid of all emotion, ‘Does he know you are married?’

Georgie shook her head, frowning. ‘He…? Will you stop talking in riddles…?’ Then as his meaning hit her angry heat flooded her face! ‘I don’t believe you! Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to commit to another man? After you!’ she stressed.

‘You don’t have a boyfriend.’ He sounded cautious, but not unhappy with this information. ‘Then what commitments are we talking about?’

‘I have a job, I’m contractually obliged to give the school notice and even if I wasn’t I wouldn’t dream of leaving them in the lurch.’ She made a quick mental assessment. ‘I won’t be able to leave until half-term at the earliest.’

‘And when is half-term?’

‘The end of October.’

‘That is not acceptable.’

She shrugged and thrust her hands in the pockets of her jeans. ‘Tough.’

‘You really have changed.’

‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’

‘I’m sure I would be able to get the school to release you immediately.’

Georgie had no doubt he could, though he would probably delegate the task. ‘And I suppose that would involve throwing sacks full of money at them.’ Sometimes the Constantine name was enough.

‘Not sacks full.’

‘Typical!’

The way he was looking at her made it obvious he was totally mystified by her anger. ‘Don’t take that “I’m being reasonable and you’re being irrational” tone with me; I always hated it!’ she told him.

‘Thank you for sharing that with me.’

‘I’m not your sister. I don’t want, or need, you to make my problems go away by producing your cheque-book. Besides, this time I’m not burning my bridges. If things don’t work out I’m going to need a reference.’

‘To anticipate failure is hardly a positive attitude.’

‘Maybe not, but it’s a practical one,’ she said, responding to his criticism with a careless shrug. ‘I’m a mother now. I can’t act on a whim—I have to consider the consequences of my actions.’

‘And you married me on a whim—is that what you’re saying?’

Her mouth twisted in a cynical smile of self-derision. ‘I like to think of it more as temporary insanity.’

Oblivious to the fact that her confidence had caused Angolos to stiffen, she took the top item on a pile of freshly laundered clothes waiting to be put away and began to fold it with geometric precision. The mundane action helped steady her nerves.

‘It’s a pity really we didn’t just have sex as my dad suggested.’

‘Your father told you to sleep with me?’

His outraged tone brought her head up and she found herself looking into eyes that had narrowed into icy, incredulous slits.

‘Well, wouldn’t you prefer your daughter to sleep with the wrong man rather than marry him?’ she charged impatiently.

‘If my daughter was involved with the wrong man I would not advise her to have sex with him,’ he assured her grimly.

‘What would you do?’ she asked, even though she could hazard a guess from his expression.

‘I would remove the man from her life.’

‘And if he didn’t want to go?’

He looked astonished that she needed to ask. ‘I would not give him a choice.’

She shook her head. ‘I think it’s just as well that Nicky wasn’t a girl.’

‘Our next child might be, though.’

The colour drained from her face. ‘What did you say?’ she choked.

His brows lifted. ‘Would you condemn Nicky to be an only child?’ he wanted to know.

‘Me condemn…! You really are a piece of work. Don’t you dare try and use moral blackmail on me.’

‘Moral blackmail.’

‘Don’t give me that innocent look. I’ve seen wolves who looked more innocent than you.’

The accusation drew a grin from him. ‘I believe that wolves suffer from a very bad press. They are not the bad guys of popular fiction. Did you know they mate for life?’ he asked.

‘I’m willing to give wolves the benefit of the doubt,’ she gritted. ‘But we both know that you’d do whatever it took to get what you wanted.’

‘You don’t want another baby?’ Despite his mild tone his eyes were fixed with a curious intensity on her face.

She blinked; the question took her aback. Did she want another baby? ‘That’s not the point—’

‘I would say it’s very much the point,’ he inserted drily.

‘It’s far too early…’ She stopped and angled a searching look at his lean face. ‘Do you want a baby?’

‘And if I said I did, would it make a difference to you?’

She looked from the sensual curve of his mouth to the velvety darkness of his eyes and felt her concentration slipping… Her expression hardened.

‘You expect me to believe you give a damn about what I think?’ She released a scornful trill of laughter and saw the anger flicker in his liquid dark eyes. ‘Let’s not drift into fantasy land here…’

Angolos cut across her. ‘Actually I don’t feel that having a baby at this time would be a sensible idea.’

The colour in her cheeks receded. She ought to welcome his comment, she told herself crossly. Anyone would think I wanted to have his baby. ‘When we don’t even know if we’ll be together in two weeks’ time, let alone two years, I couldn’t agree more,’ she contended coolly.

‘The positive attitude again. You know, Georgette, cynical doesn’t suit you.’

‘Get used to it, Angolos,’ she suggested, maintaining her indifferent pose.

‘Do you realise that the moment I start to get close to you…’ He took an actual step towards her and without thinking Georgie retreated two steps. ‘I was going to say, you push me away, but maybe that should have been you run away.’

A defiant frown formed on her face as she met his ironic smile. ‘I’m really not in the mood for your silly games.’

‘I’m not playing games, Georgette. I know you want to punish me,’ he revealed in a harsh voice, ‘but hasn’t it occurred to you that I’m not the only one suffering here? You’re hurting too. You want me, Georgette. We both know that.’

She opened her mouth to angrily rebut this claim and stopped. She released a long, slow, shuddering breath. ‘I am hurting, but there’s not a lot I can do about it. And I doubt very much if getting into your bed is going to make that hurt go away. I will probably sleep with you, Angolos.’ She saw triumph flare in his eyes and added with a self-derisive shrug, ‘You’re right—I have very little self-control where you are concerned. But I can’t let myself trust you again, Angolos; you hurt me so much.’

The taut silence lengthened. Angolos walked over to the window. ‘That cuts both ways.’

Bewildered, she stared at his broad back. ‘I hurt you…?’

Angolos turned back; he didn’t want to hear another denial. ‘I really think there is no point dissecting what went wrong between us.’

On one level he could recognise how the situation could have driven her into another man’s arms: she had felt isolated; he had been too busy with work to give her the attention she needed…recognise but never forgive.

‘I thought you wanted to talk,’ she protested, bewildered by his swift change of mood.

‘I think we should talk about the future.’

‘Suits me.’ She shot him a wary glance. ‘But let’s not go over ground we’ve already covered,’ she cautioned.

‘What ground would that be?’

‘Babies,’ she elaborated.

‘I was not…I actually think you’re a marvellous mother.’

Georgie’s eyes widened. Coming from Angolos, who didn’t throw around the compliments, this was praise indeed. ‘I’m a fairly all right mother,’ she corrected. ‘I’m a long way from marvellous. I make loads of mistakes. I expect you will too. It’s a steep learning curve so don’t expect to get it right the first time. I suppose it’s not unlike riding a bike or…’

‘Or?’

‘I forget,’ she said, unable to think on the spur of the moment of a more convincing lie. Angolos didn’t look convinced.

She released a hiss of angry frustration and she shot him a look of fulminating frustration. ‘I was going to say making love, but I’m sure you were always perfect at that, damn you!’ she added with a resentful sniff.

The look of astonishment that spread across his face was swiftly supplanted by a slow, sensual smile. ‘There’s no need to look so smug.’

‘I don’t feel smug. I’d just forgotten how much you always made me laugh.’ Then to her dismay he did just that in a loud and uninhibited way.

Hell, she thought, he really did have the sexiest laugh in the world.

‘Shut up,’ she hissed, ‘Nicky will wake up, or someone will come up to see what’s going on.’

‘Is this better?’ he asked.

Georgie studied the sober face he showed her. ‘Your hair’s sticking up,’ she said. It wasn’t, but it helped her not say what she wanted to. You’re beautiful might take this conversation in a direction she really didn’t want to go!

‘Thanks,’ he said, drawing a hand over the neatly trimmed pelt. ‘Has your family got something against laughter?’

‘No, just you.’ The rueful smile created a brief sense of unity. ‘Do you remember…?’ she began, then stopped.

‘What?’ he prompted.

‘I was just thinking about the first time you met the family, and your face when Gran asked you if you worked in a bar. You looked so astonished.’ She shook her head. The memory of his aghast expression was so strong that it was hard to keep the quiver of amusement from her voice. ‘And you said no, but you thought that you might own a vineyard, but you’d have to ch…check.’

‘I did check and I own two, but they are very small.’