Читать книгу The Kyriakis Baby - Sara Wood - Страница 9

SECURE within the walled grounds of Leon’s country mansion, the two-and-a-half-year-old Alexandra slept contentedly in Leon’s arms while he laid plans for her to inherit his domain. When, he reminded himself grimly, he’d dealt with the problem of his ex-wife and her child.

He returned to more pleasant thoughts, planning for the day when he’d tell Lexi how his family had been rewarded with land for outstanding bravery. Like his father before him, he’d show his niece the hill where a lookout had spotted the Saracen pirates who’d roamed the seas of Greece in the sixteenth century, and who’d threatened to capture the entire island of Zakynthos.

And they’d walk from the beach where Kyriakis ships had set out for the decisive battle, to the shady, vine-covered terrace where he now sat. There, he would tell her, in his late father’s words, that the land would be hers, all the way from the coast, across the fertile plain and to the hills beyond.

She murmured in her sleep and burrowed deeper, her wilful little face soft with dreams. Smiling down at her, he stroked the silky blonde curls and had a sudden, sharply painful recollection of caressing Emma’s shining hair long, long in the past.

The rosy image was brutally replaced by Emma’s shocking appearance more than two years ago, when he’d confronted her in that unspeakable prison. He shifted, uncomfortable with the memory. In a moment of weakness he’d almost given in to her, his intentions shaken by Emma’s distress and her alarming physical deterioration.

But she had shown no penitence and he couldn’t ignore the facts. Lexi’s moral welfare had been threatened. It had been his duty to protect his brother’s child in accordance with his promise to his ailing father.

He looked down as Lexi stirred, her eyes opening to show the same cerulean blue as those of her mother. He smiled fondly. Reluctant to take on another child, he’d nevertheless been enchanted by her.

‘Mama,’ she whimpered, her face crumpling in bewilderment.

He winced as if from a body blow. ‘It’s OK. I’m here, sweet pea,’ he said softly, holding the tiny body close.

He knew she wasn’t properly awake and was likely to sleep for another twenty minutes or so. She was dreaming. At her tender age she couldn’t have any memory of a mother who’d last held her when she was still a baby. Could she?

Alexandra curled up grumpily and her eyes closed again, soothed by his stroking hands. But Leon felt disturbed and unsettled.

When she seemed to be safely asleep again he headed for his study where he placed her carefully on a wide sofa at the far end of the room, protecting her with a barricade of pillows.

The house slumbered, silent and hushed. Marina, who was sharing the big house with him still, insisted everyone took a siesta after lunch and he’d often had cause to be grateful for the respite it afforded him.

Frowning hard, he strode up and down, thinking. The moment he’d dreaded was almost upon him. Lexi would soon ask questions about her mother. He needed to know what to say. Or…what to show her.

His eyes slewed to the locked drawer in his desk. Something other than his own will compelled him to stride over and slip the key in the lock. His fingers shook with impatience. Nothing could stop him now, not even the need to protect his own bruised heart.

With his pulses pounding loudly in his ears, he removed the home video from the drawer and slotted it into the machine. After a quick glance at the sleeping Lexi, he pulled up a leather armchair and focussed tensely on the unfolding pictures.

A slow hiss escaped his lips. He’d forgotten how beautiful Emma had been when they’d gone out together. She’d been twenty, studying economics on day-release at the college where he was taking a postgraduate course.

Her sense of fun and joie de vivre lit the screen and Leon found himself on the edge of his seat watching avidly as her supple and voluptuous body dipped and swayed in a laughing parody of a belly dancer. Sex oozed from every pore of her body, heating him, tugging at his loins.

Giggling, she ruined the profoundly erotic effect by whooping and turning a series of exuberant cartwheels.

‘Mama!’

‘Lex!’

Leon jerked around, poleaxed. Alexandra was sitting up and staring wide-eyed at the screen. His heart pounded hard as the hairs stood up on the back of his neck. She didn’t know what she was saying.

Cursing himself for being careless, he hit the off button. Lexi scrambled over the cushions and ran to him. Before he knew what she was doing she had reached across his knee and switched the video on again.

‘Mama,’ she said in firm defiance when he snapped it off for the second time.

He stopped breathing. It was a coincidence. She was copying Marina’s child who was always yelling for her mother. Only the other day Lexi had called his ex-wife Mama and had been quickly corrected, only to repeat the word again and again until the edgy Marina had screamed in exasperation.

He smiled wryly, remembering how secretly amused he’d been by his bolshie little niece. Lexi was strong-willed; as stubborn and as determined as any Kyriakis male.

And, he acknowledged, with the added advantage of devastatingly female weapons. Already she’d climbed onto his lap and her arms were twining around his neck pleadingly.

‘Lexi see,’ she coaxed, showering his face with kisses.

Melting already, he considered this. The damage—if any—had been done. If not, they could both enjoy the remainder of the video. And he wanted to, very much.

Brushing aside the danger to his peace of mind, he nodded. ‘All right,’ he conceded.

‘Thank you very much,’ she chanted solemnly, remembering her manners.

He grinned and hugged her. ‘Minx,’ he murmured fondly, curling up with her to watch.

He could see that Lexi was enraptured by Emma’s virtuoso performance for the camcorder. As always, Emma went too far—this time, one cartwheel too many—and to the little girl’s delight Emma rolled helplessly into a nearby duck pond before emerging hooting with laughter, her eyes sparkling, pearly teeth glistening and her hair festooned with pondweed.

‘Finished,’ he announced tautly, when the screen went blank.

His memory furnished the rest. He’d put down the camcorder and dragged Emma into his arms. He’d kissed her till she couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, he remembered so well!

Seven years later he could still smell and taste the pondweed and feel the indescribable warmth and softness of her welcoming, laughing mouth as she’d lured him into the woodland beyond.

Grimly he swung Lexi into his arms and suggested a swim, relieved that she had asked no questions. He wasn’t ready to supply answers.

As she tugged him along excitedly, he reflected that he would have to decide how he should handle the question of Emma. Did he tell his niece the truth one day about her jailbird mother? Or should he give a sanitised version? And should he ever reveal who the woman in the video was?

His brow furrowed deeply. If he did the latter, Lexi would be captivated. She’d want to meet her mother—whereas he intended to keep them apart as long as possible.

He felt a chill steal over him despite the heat of the early afternoon. Emma would be released in a couple of years or so. And then Lexi would no longer be safe from harm.

He looked at her sweet face as she sang happily to herself, absorbed in ‘helping’ her to wriggle into a bathing costume which sported a large daisy cutely adorning her small bottom. His heart lurched. Ever the attentive, doting uncle, he swept her curls up and expertly fastened them with a scrunchie.

He loved this little scrap. From day one she’d wormed her way into his frozen heart and with every flutter of her lashes and big, gummy smile she had set about thoroughly defrosting it. Now she meant everything to him—and life without her would be untenable.

He made a silent pledge. Emma would never get her daughter back. Not while there was still breath in his body.

‘And…Mrs Kyriakis,’ murmured the smooth, young immigration officer, ‘what are your plans now you are on Zakynthos?’

Emma remained composed, even though her heart and stomach seemed to have shot down an elevator into her trainers and were now sending alarm signals through her entire system.

She’d had a lot of practice in self-control over the past two years—and getting into the country was far more important than some of the things she’d silently borne in prison. Consequently she managed to flash a warm smile.

‘Simple. I’m going to get a tan!’ she announced airily.

With a show of cheerfulness she indicated the sun cream, lodged precariously on top of her belongings which had been tipped unceremoniously out of her case.

‘I see. Staying…where?’ enquired the officer idly, scanning a list.

She craned her neck. It looked like the names of people. Her dramatically fertile imagination provided details. Drug dealers and terrorists. Rapists. Paedophiles, whatever. Her heart leapt back into her chest with an unnerving suddenness and sat there palpitating. Maybe she was on that list as an undesirable!

‘Your hotel?’ prompted her interrogator.

Emma forced another broad smile. ‘Hotel! I wish. I’m looking for something cheap. A friend of mine said it was easy to find rooms to rent,’ she confided. ‘Can you recommend anywhere?’

He studied her thoughtfully and ignored her attempt to disarm him. ‘You have a Greek name.’

She’d been ready for that one. Nodding slowly, she gave herself time to calm her leaping nerves and to steady her voice. ‘My husband…’ she frowned at the shaky delivery but plunged on ‘…he…he died in England more than two years ago.’

Unfazed by her apparent agitation, the officer gave her a calculating stare. She recognised in him the same detachment as that adopted by the prison officers. They’d heard too many lies and too many sob stories to be anything but suspicious of emotion.

‘He has family here?’

Emma tensed. Her solicitor had said there were many people in the phone book with the name Kyriakis and her arrival shouldn’t provoke comment. She hoped this officer was merely bored and was using her to hone his interviewing technique.

‘My late husband lived and worked in England. His family—wherever they are,’ she said, suggesting a vagueness as to the Kyriakis whereabouts, ‘were opposed to our marriage. They never came to the wedding.’ She allowed a puzzled frown to ripple her forehead. ‘What is this? Everything’s in order, isn’t it? All I want is a holiday in the sun. I’ve had an operation. I need rest and no hassle—’

‘Ah. The pills.’

Emma watched as he curiously fingered the homoeopathic remedies for sickness and exhaustion. Her prison sentence had been cut short on compassionate grounds because she’d been so ill. She had her solicitor to thank for that. Dear John! Bless him for his support. She glanced at her watch and bit her lip. He’d be waiting for her, wondering where she was…

‘Someone meeting you?’

She blinked. He was good! Someone ought to promote him to head inquisitor, she thought wearily.

‘I’ve never been here before,’ she said, evading the question with a politician’s skill.

‘You looked at your watch.’

‘Yes. I need to eat at regular intervals and take my pills at certain times. With the two-hour time difference, I was anxious not to get in a muddle.’

‘Really.’

This man would have made an angel edgy, she thought sourly. She felt suddenly weak and passed a hand over her hot forehead.

‘I need to sit down,’ she muttered. Without waiting for permission she went to a bench against the wall and sank onto it, leaning her back against the cold stone, terrified of failure. ‘I don’t understand the problem,’ she said quietly. ‘I can’t be the only person who arrives without any definite accommodation. I don’t have enough money or clothes to stay here for long, you can see that. I’m not carrying drugs, or anything else illegal. I’m just an ordinary woman hoping for some sun, sea and sand to help me become well.’

Indifferent to her evident frailty, the officer turned over the contents of her case with a desultory hand.

‘I see. Would you wait here?’ he asked politely.

As if she had any choice! Patiently she waited. An hour. Two. Exhausted from her four a.m. start, she curled up on the hard bench and promptly went to sleep.

‘Mrs Kyriakis?’ The officer was shaking her shoulder. ‘You can go. Enjoy your holiday.’

Relief brought her fully awake. She was free! A joyful smile began its journey across her face but she lowered her sparkling eyes hastily and tried to think how an ordinary holiday-maker would feel.

‘About time,’ she grumbled. Getting up stiffly, she saw that she’d slept for nearly an hour. ‘Some welcome!’

The officer gave an only-doing-my-duty shrug and she continued her show of irritation as she repacked her case then trudged out of the room.

She couldn’t believe it. She was here. Really here. And not far away was little Lexi. Soon she’d be holding her baby in her arms again. Excited, Emma thought blissfully of the moment when Lexi would call her Mummy.

‘Wonderful!’ She breathed ecstatically.

Back in his office, the officer punched numbers on his mobile. ‘She’s on her way,’ he warned.

Leon thanked the officer, tucked his mobile into the pocket of his linen jacket and waited tensely beneath the shade of the tamarisk and pine trees opposite the airport entrance.

The first call, some two hours earlier, had come out of the blue. For a moment he’d thought the officer had made a mistake but the name, the age and the description had been spot on. If this was Emma, then the young man’s alertness had possibly prevented an attempted abduction.

Leon thrust his shaking hands into his pockets and forced back the flash of fear. A tiny child’s happiness depended on his ability to handle this situation. Caught off guard by the unexpectedness of Emma’s arrival, he’d had only a short time to decide his plan of action. But he must make no mistake in its execution.

He stiffened, every muscle in his body creaking with strain. His heart raced. It was Emma.

Like a butterfly spreading its wings, she drew herself up, took a deep breath and flung her head back to absorb the sunshine, her whole body language exuding uninhibited joy.

‘Entirely misplaced,’ he muttered.

If she thought she was free to snatch her daughter, she was wrong! He’d watch her every step of the way. She might be devious and driven by revenge to cause him the maximum amount of trouble, but he was on his home ground and had a whole raft of people looking out for his best interests.

And Lexi’s. God keep her safe. How could Emma drag a child away from the only home she’d ever known? Her lawyer, John Sefton, had hinted something like this might happen but he’d never believed she could ignore her daughter’s needs so ruthlessly.

Emma set off as if she knew where she was going. Interesting. He kept his distance as she headed for the taxi rank—which she ignored. The drivers didn’t ignore her though, and he didn’t blame them for staring in admiration.

‘Poli oraya,’ they murmured, seeking his agreement as he drew level to them.

Yes, she was strikingly attractive, he acknowledged grudgingly. Prison had obviously been no hardship and the gaunt, sick woman had become a beauty again.

Her long-legged stride was fluid, giving an impression of suppleness and energy. Leon’s mind, perhaps overwhelmed by those lushly swaying hips, translated that vigour into Technicolor visions of athletic sex.

‘Forget it. You’re celibate,’ he muttered under his breath, reluctantly amused by his astonishing arousal.

But he couldn’t. She’d gained weight—though not the plumpness of her youth. To Leon’s hot appraisal her figure was more spectacular than ever before: full breasted, yet slim, and with a tiny waist above those eye-catchingly seductive hips.

She wore a blindingly blue sundress the same colour as her eyes and her blonde hair swung around her shoulders in a thick and glossy cloud. Her skirt was being whipped by the wind around her long, bare legs and afforded breathtaking glimpses of firm and shapely thighs.

Leon tried to normalise his thudding pulses as she stopped and looked about her—clearly waiting for someone. Caught between desiring and despising her, he allowed himself the brief luxury of letting his sexual imagination run riot.

He wished he hadn’t. His libido seemed to be making up for lost time and it was taking over his mind as well as his body.

With hazy eyes, he saw a car come to a stop alongside her. A man clambered out. Emma opened her arms in welcome, her face wreathed in smiles.

Leon’s vision sharpened. John Sefton, Emma’s lawyer. He knew him well from the custody discussions they’d had over the past two years. And that was no proper greeting between a professional man and his client, he thought darkly. Too much hugging. Too much delight.

Spurred by an anger which had come from nowhere, Leon noted the stubby male fingers gravitating slowly towards Emma’s highly touchable rear and strode forwards before the roving hand reached its target.

His heart pounded like a trip hammer in his chest and he had to concentrate hard on containing the overwhelming emotions which battled for supremacy in his seething brain.

‘Well! They’re letting jailbirds into my country now!’ he drawled.

Emma gasped at the venom-laced voice, detached herself from John’s enthusiastic embrace and whirled around.

‘You!’ she said stupidly.

Leon’s cynical eyes lingered mockingly on her parted lips and she felt a flush creeping up her body as he began to investigate the rest of her with breathtaking thoroughness.

‘Yes, me. I live here,’ he observed when his tour had climbed to her cleavage. ‘What’s your excuse?’

She bristled, wanting to shout, My child, dammit! What do you think? Instead, she summoned her new and remarkable self-control, raised an eyebrow and with cool composure murmured, ‘I’ve come to arrange access.’

Custody was out of the question. John had fought for that on her behalf ever since she’d been sent to prison and he’d hit a brick wall. Access was a different matter—though she intended to remove Lexi from the island, once they had got to know one another well.

‘I was going to call you. I wanted time with Emma first,’ John said to Leon, looking flustered.

‘Oh, yes?’ Leon drawled coldly and turned to Emma. ‘I’ve got half an hour free. We’ll discuss it. Without your boyfriend.’

Emma let her mouth tighten with irritation. ‘You’ve met John several times. You’re perfectly aware that he’s my legal adviser—’

‘And hopes for more,’ Leon murmured, his gaze challenging John’s.

‘Don’t be ridiculous—’ she protested indignantly.

‘Ask him,’ drawled Leon.

‘My relationship with my client is her own business,’ John said rather pompously.

And, she felt, defensively. She looked up at him with different eyes. Could Leon be right? And then she frowned. Of course not! It would suit Leon to cause trouble between herself and John, who’d become her friend and ally.

‘John has worked long and hard on my case. He’s good and kind and worth ten of you,’ she declared loyally. ‘Without him I’d have been alone in the world.’ Her face flushed when she thought of those terrible, heart-breaking days and her voice faltered. ‘John was there for me. He stood by me and encouraged me when I was desperate. And he never gave up fighting for my early release.’

‘How dedicated. And, I trust, well-paid?’ Leon said purring.

But the look he gave her lawyer was one of pure menace and she felt John shrink back in apprehension. That bothered her. She needed her lawyer to be more than a match for Leon.

‘That’s none of your business,’ she replied. Selling her house had been a price worth paying. ‘The sun is too hot for me. Can we find some shade?’ she suggested and slipped in a crafty, ‘Or perhaps we could go to your home now?’

Leon’s dark eyes considered her for a moment. She met them boldly at first, confident of her hard-won protective shell. But slowly his eyes seemed to melt and she felt as if she was floundering in fathoms-deep water. A silky sensation seemed to be flowing up her body, softening her tense muscles and turning her brain to treacle.

The heat. It was melting her as though she were an ice cream. She licked her dry lips and lifted her hair from her damp neck.

‘I will talk to you and you alone,’ Leon said, his voice low and rolling through her unnervingly. ‘Otherwise…nothing.’

‘That’s not on, Emma!’ John began in protest.

She gave him a particularly dreamy smile, partly because of the warm liquidity of her body and partly because her friendship with John seemed to annoy Leon.

‘What does it matter? It’s what we want and I’ll come to no harm,’ she said affectionately. John didn’t look too sure. Amused, she rested her hand on his arm and fondly kissed his cheek. ‘I’ll see you later. I’ve got your number. I ought to speak to Leon if I’m to visit Lexi before…’ she gave him a conspiratorial smile ‘…before I return to England.’

‘I don’t like it. Don’t make any decisions. Don’t agree to anything. Remember his agenda,’ John advised sullenly.

‘Of course,’ she said soothingly. ‘I’ll—’

‘Can we get on?’ interrupted Leon irritably.

‘We have a man in a hurry!’ She smiled at John. ‘See you later.’

Leon pointedly opened the door of her lawyer’s car but his bad temper didn’t disturb her at all. As John drove grumpily away she reflected that this was more than they’d hoped.

Leon’s intransigence had been so deeply rooted that she’d thought he’d refuse even to see her. She and John had consequently planned on resorting to the courts for access and they had been resigned to a lengthy legal battle.

In preparation two weeks previously, John had brought in everything she’d need: extra clothes and medication, the dwindling remainder of the money from the sale of the house where she and Taki had lived—and a selection of toys and clothes for Lexi.

But now Leon was agreeing to talk to her! Unable to hide her delight, she turned starry eyes on him.

‘I’m grateful for your time, Leon.’ Longingly she added, ‘How is she?’

Hard eyes sliced into her delight, reminding her that she had a long way to go before she got what she wanted.

‘Very well.’

She hesitated, needing to know more. ‘Happy?’ she asked lightly.

‘I’m delirious, thank you,’ he mocked, looking nothing of the sort.

Emma bit back her irritation. She’d be able to judge Lexi’s state of mind soon enough. Leon might do everything in his power to restrict access, but surely no court would support him? A mother must count for something out here.

‘I wondered,’ she asked hesitantly, ‘do you have any photos?’

The need in her voice was more than obvious. Let him know how much she cared, she thought, wondering why he didn’t answer straight away. Leon ought to know how badly she wanted to see Lexi. He might then realise that the courts would recognise that too—and therefore be persuaded that Lexi’s life would be enhanced by visits from her birth mother.

She held her breath when his hand slipped into the inner pocket of his jacket. Without a word he handed over a slim leather case. Emma’s fingers shook as she slid the photos out and looked at her daughter for the first time in two long years.

‘Oh!’ she said breathily.

Still a sunny-faced child. Sturdy, laughing, obviously happy. In cute bathing costumes or sweet dresses, with her hair up in delightful bunches or dancing on her shoulders. On a boat, in a pool, surrounded by presents…

So many photos, she thought in wonder, blinking through her tears. Her heart somersaulted. Bleakly she realised that Leon must adore his niece. And…Lexi…would she adore him?

A pain scythed right through her. She fought back a moan. Perhaps she was making a mistake! Horrified, she raised her head to meet his devil-dark stare, her eyes huge with distress.

‘Yes, Emma. She’s happy. So why smash a child’s carefree life?’ he asked quietly.

She couldn’t answer. A lump sat hard and hurting in her throat. She blinked at him in acute misery as her carefully constructed plans began to tumble down on her head.

John had insisted that Leon always spoke of Lexi as a chattel. Never with love. She knew that Leon had talked about doing his duty in looking after Lexi, and honouring a promise he’d made to his father.

Based on the fact that he’d told her he’d never wanted to assume responsibility for his niece, Emma had assumed that his interest in Lexi was minimal. Naturally she’d believed that Leon’s own child must be the favourite and that little Lexi came a very poor second-best.

Whereas the opposite seemed to be true. Leon apparently kept the contents of a photo album on him, every picture depicting Lexi. Her mouth trembled and she touched her injured breast with a faltering hand. Briefly a flash of something indefinable flickered in Leon’s eyes. A glint of…triumph?

‘Go home,’ he murmured softly. ‘Save yourself grief. And Lexi. Think of her feelings if you suddenly appear on the scene. The upheaval, the shock…’

He sounded confident, utterly sure that she’d accept the wisdom of his words. She frowned, trying to iron out the discrepancy between John’s report and the lovingly collected photographs kept close to Leon’s heart.

John wouldn’t lie—he had her own best interests at heart. Whereas Leon would do anything to dissuade her. So what was the truth of the matter? How could she be sure that she wasn’t about to tear her daughter’s life apart?

Her heart cramped. If she ever thought she’d damage Lexi, she’d abandon all plans of abduction. Maybe, she thought in dismay, her journey had been all for nothing!