Читать книгу His Contract Christmas Bride - Sharon Kendrick - Страница 12

LUCY’S MOUTH FELL open as she stared into the face of the powerful Greek billionaire, the flickering firelight illuminating the ebony and gold of his rugged features. She couldn’t believe what Drakon had just asked her and his question made her feel as if she was taking part in a dream. An extra-surreal dream. But surely he wouldn’t be looking so serious if he hadn’t meant it. ‘You want me to marry you?’ she verified slowly.

He nodded—though his brief frown suggested he didn’t quite agree with her choice of words. ‘I do.’

Lucy shook her hair and her heavy ponytail slithered like a thick rope against her back. Wasn’t it crazy—and sad—how, in life, timing was everything? If her brother hadn’t been in the wrong place at the wrong time, he would still be here. And if Drakon Konstantinou had asked her this very question a few months earlier, her reaction to it would have been totally different. Because when she’d returned home after her brief excursion to his island home—high on a mixture of raging hormones and a heady introduction to multiple orgasms—she had prayed for a scenario just like this. She’d nursed the unrealistic fantasy that what she and Drakon had shared had been special. Super-special. She had longed for him to suddenly decide his life was empty without her and that he wanted them to make a go of things. Why wouldn’t she, when he was like every woman’s dream man—despite his undeniable arrogance and detachment? When she’d always had a secret crush on him...

Of course that had never happened. He had cut her out of his life as abruptly as he had blazed into it again—at a school reunion where she’d been employed by Caro’s Canapés, the local catering firm for which she worked. In her plain green dress, she’d been serving sandwiches just before the pin-drop silence which had followed Drakon Konstantinou’s entrance into Milton school’s famous and historic hall. She remembered the way all the other men had consciously or unconsciously pulled back their shoulders and sucked in their stomachs, as if to big themselves up or look taller. But it had been to no avail because the Greek tycoon had still dominated the vast room without even trying. Like a black star, dark brilliance had radiated from his powerful body and drawn every single eye to him. Yet for some crazy and inexplicable reason, he had been looking at her.

Lucy remembered blushing deeply as she’d offered him an egg and cress sandwich because she’d been acutely aware of the time, years ago, when he’d gashed his leg while rowing for the first team and, eager to be a nurse herself, she had been helping her mother, the school matron, in the school sanatorium. Drakon had been lying on a narrow trolley, with blood seeping from his gaping wound, and Lucy had thought how much it must hurt as her mother had dabbed at it with antiseptic. But he hadn’t shown it. He hadn’t even winced, not once. She’d given him her fingers to grip and he had opened his eyes and stared at her. Stared at her with eyes as black as the night. A ripple of something unfamiliar and exciting had whispered its way down her spine and she had never forgotten that feeling. She had been only fourteen at the time, and Drakon a crucial three years older—it had been Lucy’s first experience of physical attraction towards a member of the opposite sex and it had stayed with her, all those years. Why, it had fired straight back into life when she had extended the silver platter of sandwiches towards him and met the velvety blackness of his eyes.

Was it her corresponding blush which had amused him—which had deepened when he’d pointed out, in his drawling Greek accent, that it was a rare thing to see a woman blush these days? Or was it simply curiosity which had made him hang around as the reunion was coming to an end, and the headmaster was imploring him to join him and his wife for supper? But Drakon hadn’t stayed. Amid a torrent of thundering rain, he had insisted on giving her a lift home in his fancy car and naturally Lucy had been tongue-tied by all that opulence.

It had been pretty scary to discover that her crush on him was as powerful as ever, and slightly unsettling that she couldn’t seem to keep her gaze from straying to the muscular thrust of his thighs. She remembered the potent rush of warmth deep at her core, which had made her feel both excited and a little bit embarrassed, because she wasn’t the type of person who usually thought about stuff like that. She never really came across eligible men and certainly nobody of Drakon’s calibre ever entered her life. Even the ones who were more her type tended to glance over her shoulder whilst chatting at parties, as if searching the room for someone more interesting to talk to.

Yet after the reunion, when the throaty car had slid to a halt outside her tiny riverside cottage, Drakon had turned to her and said, ‘So how are you, Lucy? I mean, really?’

Was it the sense of what had sounded like genuine interest—something she suspected was rare for a man like him—which had made her blurt out everything which had been on her mind? Well, not everything. She’d missed out the part which explained why she’d given up her beloved job in midwifery—because the reasons for that made her feel even less of a woman, and who in their right mind would wish to do that in the presence of such a gorgeous man? Instead Lucy had found herself telling him about her brother in the army, who had lost his life in that awful conflict, just as her father had done in a different war before that. And how afterwards her mother had seemed to lose the will to live and had just faded away—like one of those dusky pink roses which bloomed in the lavish walled gardens of Milton school.

She remembered the deep frown which had crossed the tycoon’s face as he’d studied her admittedly pale skin and told her that what she needed was a holiday in the sun. Had she explained that such luxuries were far beyond her grasp on her wages as a waitress, or had he just guessed? She wasn’t sure. All she knew was that he had extended a careless invitation for her to holiday on his own personal Greek island.

‘You actually own an island?’ she remembered querying in disbelief.

‘Sure.’ He had glittered her a smile. ‘And my house is empty a lot of the time. It’s yours any time you want to use it.’

So she had gone. It had been an uncharacteristic response to what had probably just been a throwaway gesture on his part, but it had been too good an opportunity to miss. Although he had casually mentioned that his private jet was available, Lucy had scraped together enough money to fund a cheap flight to Athens instead and then caught the staff ferry to his private island of Prasinisos, with a pile of engrossing books to read. It had been the most impetuous thing she’d ever done and she wasn’t sure what she had expected. She certainly hadn’t expected Drakon to suddenly arrive on a glittering super-yacht the size of Jupiter later that day, when she was emerging from the swimming pool looking like a drowned rat. Nor for him to join her beside the aqua glitter of the infinity pool once she’d showered all the chlorine out of her hair and the fierce beat of the sun had made her feel all lazy and laid-back.

For a while she’d said nothing, because instinct had told her he was a man who valued silence, and gradually she had seen Drakon relax—something she’d suspected he didn’t do very often. He’d shown her the faint scar from the gash on his leg which she’d helped her mother to suture all those years ago, and something about that distant memory had made them both laugh. She remembered their eyes meeting and something intangible shimmering in the air around them. Lucy had been inexperienced, innocent and slightly out of her depth—all those things, yes. But she had also been excited and eager for what had happened later, after a delicious dinner on the terrace once his housekeeper had gone home. For Drakon to fold her into his arms and kiss her and then kiss her some more. It had been as if her every dream had come true in that moment. As if her body had been poised on the brink of something very beautiful.

She’d thought he would quickly get bored with someone who wasn’t at all experienced but her tongue’s tentative exploration of his mouth had caused a low growl of pleasure to rumble up from his throat. He’d held her so tight that her soft body had moulded into the muscular hardness of his, so that when he had carried her off to his bedroom it had felt nothing but right. Even that slight awkwardness when he had stilled inside her and momentarily glared at her hadn’t lasted longer than a couple of seconds.

The following morning she had woken naked in his bed and he had brought her dark coffee, which was thick and sweet, before taking her in his arms again, and the next few days had passed by in a sensual blur. He’d made love to her on the terrace, and in the cabin of his yacht as he’d sailed her round his island and showed her all the little bays and coves. He’d fed her grapes and trickled Greek honey onto a belly which had quivered as he’d licked it off.

And three days later it had all been over, without anything actually being said. There had been no awkward conversation or protracted farewells. He hadn’t insulted her by telling her that his diary was too jam-packed for him to be able to see her again. He’d just given her a deep kiss, said goodbye and dropped her off at the airport by helicopter so at least she hadn’t had to endure that rather bumpy ferry ride back to Athens. She hadn’t heard a squeak from him since and, once she’d realised it wasn’t going to happen, her hurt and disappointment had gradually faded into the recesses of her mind, because Lucy was nothing if not practical. She’d told herself to remember all the good bits and she’d tried not to have unrealistic expectations, because that way you could avoid hurt and disappointment as much as possible. She had been getting on with her life—her rather ordinary and predictable life—until the Greek tycoon had blazed back into it with the most implausible suggestion she’d ever heard!

‘I can’t believe you’re asking me to marry you,’ she breathed.

‘Well, believe it,’ he returned softly. ‘Because it’s true.’

‘But why me?’ she questioned, wishing that her heart would stop thundering. ‘There must be a million women who would make a more suitable wife for a man like you.’

He didn’t even pay her the compliment of pretending to consider her remark and certainly didn’t bother to deny it, just answered with a bluntness which somehow managed to be supremely insulting.

‘There are indeed,’ he agreed. ‘In fact, if I were to measure suitability in terms of sophistication and familiarity with my world, you would be right at the back of the queue, Lucy.’

She swallowed. ‘You don’t pull your punches, do you, Drakon?’

‘Do you think I should?’ he mused. ‘I’ve always been of the mindset that life is too short for prevarication and Niko’s death has only confirmed that.’

He paused and as his night-dark gaze shimmered over her, Lucy wanted to tell him not to look at her like that—yet the craziest thing of all was that she wanted him to carry on doing it and never stop.

‘I’ve never wanted to marry anyone nor have children of my own,’ he said. ‘Despite the fact that I have a vast fortune just waiting for someone to inherit.’

‘Why not?’ she asked quietly.

His black gaze seared into her, as if he was deciding how much to tell her. ‘Because I don’t believe in love. It’s something I’ve never felt nor wanted to feel. To my mind, love is nothing but an invention which seems designed to excuse the most outrageous forms of behaviour.’ His black eyes narrowed. ‘But now I have an heir whether I like it or not and, because I am a twin, this child almost completely carries half my genes. So in a way, I have a ready-made family. I may not have wanted or planned it but now that I have it, I will make the best of it because that is how I operate. Providing Xander with a suitable mother and giving him some sort of grounding is the least I can do to try to compensate for such a horrible start to his young life. And while you may not have much money or be familiar with the world’s high spots, you have something which makes you extra-special, Lucy.’

‘Really? And what might that be?’ Lucy’s heart quickened, though afterwards she would be ashamed of her needy desire to have him shower praise on her, because it didn’t happen. Instead, he listed her credentials like an employer telling her why she had surprisingly beaten the other candidates.

‘You’re a trained nurse for a start,’ he drawled, his Greek accent deep and velvety. ‘A midwife as I recall, which makes you extra-suitable. And you are both pure and respectable, if what I discovered about you back in the summer was anything to go by. Once I started considering you for the role, I realised that your virginity was actually a great asset.’

He didn’t seem to notice that his last remark had made her cheeks grow heated. Of course he didn’t. He was talking at her instead of to her, wasn’t he? He didn’t really care about her thoughts and reactions—nor about the fact that he was making her sound like an upmarket brand of soap. To Drakon Konstantinou she was nothing more than a commodity.

‘Rather than being a bit of a bore, which was how you seemed to regard it at the time?’ she questioned rather snappily.

‘Yes, you could put it like that,’ he said, without missing a beat. ‘Your purity now takes on an entirely different aspect, Lucy, and it has become important to me. It’s an indication of the way you’ve lived your life. You haven’t had a vast number of lovers before me, and such reserve is rare among women.’

‘But what difference does my lifestyle make to what you have in mind?’ she questioned. ‘Why does it matter that I was a virgin?’

His mouth had hardened so that suddenly it resembled a savage slash across the lower part of his face and she could see coldness and calculation enter his black eyes.

‘Because you will be able to lead by example. I want an old-fashioned woman with old-fashioned values and you are the perfect fit. This baby carries the genes of two addicts who were willing to put their own pleasure before his welfare,’ he continued bitterly. ‘Not only do I need to ensure that never happens again, I also need to stack the odds in Xander’s favour from now on.’

Lucy didn’t say anything. Not straight away. Not when he was looking so forbidding and so...angry—though she realised he was angry with his brother and not with her. She rose to her feet from the fireside chair because she felt at a psychological disadvantage having to stare up at him like that and it was making her neck ache. And she needed to put some distance between them. Some very necessary distance to get her thoughts in order. Away from the spell of his proximity and coercive weave of his words.

She walked over to the opposite side of the small room and stared out of the window at the river. The moon was beginning to rise and was forming a dappled silvery path on the darkening water and she could see that a cottage on the opposite bank must have put up their Christmas tree. She blinked as she stared at the glittering lights—rose and gold and green and blue—but felt none of the prescribed magic as she turned to meet Drakon’s hooded gaze. ‘Isn’t the normal thing in these kind of circumstances to employ a nanny?’ she questioned. ‘Which you already have done, by the sound of it. You can afford to engage a whole battery of staff, Drakon. Why do you need a wife?’

He shook his head, like a man who had all the answers—but hadn’t he always seemed like a man with all the answers? ‘Obviously the child will need a full-time nanny and Sofia is eager to continue in that role,’ he said, and paused. ‘But that isn’t the point, Lucy.’

‘Isn’t it?’ she asked quietly.

‘No.’

He shook his head and Lucy could see the bleakness in his eyes. She thought how empty his face looked. As if he’d been drained of all emotion so that he resembled some dark and forbidding statue. As if his body were composed of cold marble instead of flesh and blood, and a sudden trepidation whispered over her skin as she realised there was no real warmth in this man. ‘I don’t understand,’ she breathed.

‘Then let me make it clearer for you. I don’t want this child to grow up in that kind of world—the adopted child of a single billionaire,’ he bit out. ‘I don’t want him looked after by a series of employees with no emotional investment in his future, like I was. I don’t want him sent away to school like I was. Xander needs a family. A real family.’

Lucy swallowed, wondering which of them was being naïve now. Did anyone truly know what a real family was—or did they all just rely on the slushy default version you saw in films, or read about in books, with people clustered round a fire, throwing their heads back in mutual laughter? Yet having a family was the bedrock of society, wasn’t it? It was the dream which the majority of people aspired to, even if the reality was often so different. Was he really suggesting that the legal union of two people who had briefly been lovers could magically create some sort of fairy-tale household?

But then her mind began to focus on something else. On a single word the Greek tycoon had just uttered and which now lodged itself deep in her mind.

Xander.

Xander, his nephew and innocent little baby.

A motherless baby.

Lucy’s heart clenched with a pain she should have anticipated because unwittingly Drakon had stumbled across her Achilles heel. The reason why she always felt as if something inside her was missing and incomplete. The one part of her life which could never be fulfilled, unless...

Her mouth dried.

Unless she was brave enough—or crazy enough—to accept the billionaire’s bizarre offer. Because wasn’t he offering her the magic-wand solution she had once yearned for in the form of instant motherhood? Her mind began to race. Could it work? Could she provide what little Xander needed—and in so doing gain for herself what she thought had been lost for ever?

Take it slowly, she told herself firmly.

Slowly.

‘This sounds like a very long-term plan,’ she suggested carefully.

‘It is.’ Some of the coldness had left his face and in its place she could see conviction. And persuasion. ‘I’m talking endurance, Lucy. About putting a child’s needs first and making a promise to each other that neither of us intends to break. About commitment and stability.’

‘How can you be so sure you could find that with me?’ She stared at him. ‘When you don’t really know me. At school you were years ahead of me. I was just the school nurse’s daughter who was allowed to take certain classes with the boys. Apart from those times when you were having the wound on your leg attended to, you didn’t even notice me. We were just ships which passed in the night and, apart from that, we’ve only spent a few days together.’

‘You think that time we spent on Prasinisos didn’t provide me with the opportunity to discover something of what makes Lucy Phillips tick?’ he enquired softly.

Lucy wanted to turn away from the mocking look in his eyes but that would be an immature response to a perfectly reasonable question. Because they had been intimate—and it would be hypocritical to pretend they hadn’t.

‘I can’t deny we were lovers,’ she husked. ‘But physical intimacy during a mini-break on a Greek island is one thing. Real life is another. We’re strangers, Drakon. How do you know I wouldn’t drive you crackers before the first month was up?’

His eyes narrowed but Lucy couldn’t mistake the brief flash of surprise which had gleamed there. As if he couldn’t quite believe that she was prevaricating instead of instantly accepting his offer.

And wasn’t there a part of her which couldn’t quite believe it herself? Making out as if there were men lining up and asking her to marry them every day of the week!

‘We would have to work at it, in the way that people with arranged marriages have always done,’ he said. ‘And we will be walking into it with our eyes open—without any of the myths of love and romance which set people up for disappointment, and failure. If we refuse to have unrealistic expectations about each other, then we should succeed.’ He slanted her a smile. ‘Does that reassure you?’

Lucy thought how clever he was. And how controlling, too. That slow smile—she was certain—had been angled at her deliberately in order to pump up her heart rate and it had worked, hadn’t it? Was that the main reason he was here—because he thought of her as passive? Wasn’t it time to demonstrate that while she might be poor and unglamorous, that didn’t necessarily mean she was a complete pushover? ‘So what’s in it for me, Drakon?’ she questioned. ‘What made you think you could turn up without warning and ask me to become your wife? Were you so certain I’d say yes?’

Drakon’s eyes narrowed. He felt a certain responsibility towards her because he had unwittingly taken her virginity and had quashed his desire to see her again because he’d known he was capable of hurting her. He’d suspected that someone like her would be unable to cope with a commitment-phobe like him, even though he’d been sorely tempted to have sex with her again. But that had been back then—when his life had been free and unfettered. This was now, when he had an unexpected burden of responsibility to shoulder.

His mouth hardened. ‘I had an idea you might be tempted.’

‘Because?’

Would it be cruel to point out that without him a limited future inevitably beckoned for someone like her? But wouldn’t any future be limited compared with the one he was offering her with all the money she could ever desire? He looked once again at her bare fingers. ‘You don’t show any signs of settling down,’ he observed.

‘Not at the moment, no.’

‘So do you see yourself continuing to make ends meet as a relatively hard-up waitress?’ he mused. ‘Is that how you want the rest of your life to pan out?’

There was anger on her face now. And something which looked like pride. ‘I don’t just waitress. I actually help Caroline with all the cooking,’ she declared icily. ‘And she’s indicated that she’d be prepared to let me buy the business when she eventually retires, which is what I’ve been saving up for. The waitressing is just a means to an end.’

‘And that’s what you really want, is it, Lucy? Resigning yourself to a life of relative poverty. Of a futile wait for Mr Right, perhaps—’

‘Excuse me?’ She pulled back her shoulders and glared at him. ‘You think all women are just waiting around for a would-be husband to leap into their life?’

He gave a careless shrug. ‘I’m saying that plenty of them are, yes—at least, in my experience. But if that’s what you’re hoping for, let me enlighten you. That man is just fantasy. He’s someone who may or may not materialise,’ he said softly. ‘Whereas a rich man with whom you’re sexually compatible—a man who really needs you—he’s here. Right here.’

His words had got through to her, he could see that. Just as he could see the temptation which flickered in her blue eyes.

‘And if I were to agree...’ Her voice tailed off. ‘What kind of marriage would you expect?’

Drakon heard the uncertain note in her voice but her darkening eyes told a different story. And suddenly he found himself being sucked into a vortex of erotic recall. He remembered the softness of her thighs and the untamed bush of hair which concealed her untouched treasure. For perhaps the only time in his adult sexual life, he had been momentarily astonished—and not just because she hadn’t waxed—because what woman of twenty-eight was a virgin in this day and age? He remembered the soft gasp she’d given when he had entered her, the faint pain of her initial response quickly giving way to breathless murmurs of encouragement and then, to her first sweetly sobbing orgasm. And hadn’t that felt sublime? Hadn’t he experienced a deep satisfaction as she had choked out her pleasure against his bare shoulder, her ecstatic response filling him with a rush of primeval pleasure?

He’d made love to her countless times during those few short days—justifying his seemingly insatiable appetite with the assurance that he was simply enjoying introducing her to sex. But it had been more than that, even though he’d been loath to admit it then and was even less inclined to do so now. Her untutored eagerness had lit a strange yearning inside him—one which was being ignited right now.

He felt the exquisite throb of desire at his groin and heard the powerful thunder of his own heart. Maybe it was wrong to be thinking about sex at a time like this, but didn’t they say the life force was at its most powerful during periods of grief and loss? Wasn’t it nature’s way of sustaining the human race, as well as reinforcing that, while his twin brother might be lying cold and dead beneath the hard earth, he, Drakon, was very much alive and at the mercy of his senses?

He began to walk towards her, noticing the instinctive tremble of her lips as he grew closer, but she didn’t stop him, nor show any signs of wanting to. She just stood there, her blue eyes bright and questioning, her thick dark hair spilling out of the untidy plait which snaked down her back.

‘I would expect the usual things which marriage entails,’ he said huskily. ‘Physical intimacy, for a start. I think that’s one thing we both know we really do have in common.’

Distractedly, Lucy rubbed her toe against the rug, scarcely able to believe they were having this kind of conversation. Normally she didn’t have to deal with anything more taxing than someone asking whether there were any gluten-free sandwiches available. Yet Drakon Konstantinou had just come right out and told her they were sexually compatible—him with a vast cast of ex-lovers and her with only one! She had no experience of such things but instinct told her that his words were true.

But was it enough for her to accept his offer of marriage? Enough for her to turn her back on her old life and enter a new one, which might be exciting but was tinged with uncertainty? With a father and a brother in the military she had grown up surrounded by uncertainty and she’d hated it. She’d longed for a safer world. A more predictable world. It was one of the reasons why she’d never really made waves in her own adult life. Why she’d always followed the rules and played safe.

Until she’d bumped into Drakon Konstantinou one balmy summer evening and the world had spun on its axis.

She knew she should say no. She should retreat back into her comfortable little world and try to forget the sexy billionaire and his bizarre offer.

But Lucy had been badly affected by what had happened to her family. In a few short years it had been wiped out as if it had never existed. Her father, brother and mother had all died in relatively quick succession. Orphaned and alone, she’d felt as if she had no real place anywhere. Sometimes she’d felt invisible. She still did. As if people were looking right through her. And all these feelings were compounded by the fact that she could never have children and be able to create a family of her own.

She stared into Drakon’s rugged face, hope flaring inside her despite all her misgivings. Because the Greek tycoon was offering her exactly that. Something she’d once thought impossible but which, unlike him, she had wanted. An instant family. A baby to love and to care for. Her mouth dried. Could it work? Could she make it work? And by doing that give them both what they needed—he a wife and she a child?

She licked her lips. ‘When do you need an answer by?’

‘I don’t see any point in waiting. I am a man who likes to settle a deal as quickly as possible. Now would be ideal.’

She shook her head. ‘Now is too soon, Drakon. I need a few days to process this. To mull over everything you’ve said and decide whether or not it could work. It’s too big a consideration to just toss you an answer.’

His black eyes narrowed and in them Lucy could see speculation.

‘Of course, there’s another factor which needs to be considered. I’d hate you to overlook that, Lucy.’

She asked the question without really thinking about it. ‘Which is what?’

He gave a slow smile. ‘Use your imagination.’

The dip in his voice and the suddenly smoky light in his eyes made Lucy realise he was going to touch her and on one level she recognised that it was studied and manipulative. But it still worked, because Drakon knew how to press all her buttons. Even though an inner voice was urging caution, Lucy let him pull her in his arms to kiss her and, oh, she was hungry for that kiss.

So hungry.

Her fingers coiled around his broad shoulders as the voice of reason tried to warn her this was only going to confuse matters. But her body was refusing to listen to reason—its hungry demands silencing every sensible objection. Because this was amazing. Sweet sensations were flooding her body and her newly awoken sexual appetite—honed by five months of aching absence—made her think she might faint if Drakon didn’t quell this sudden urgent need inside her.

His hand drifted up underneath her baggy sweater, his fingers encountering the shivering flesh of her torso before moving upwards to cup the straining mound of her breast. It was exquisite torture to feel her nipple pushing greedily against the lace of her bra, and all the while his lips were gently prising hers open. Exploring. Probing. Making her melt with the sensual flicker of his tongue. Making her writhe her hips in wordless appeal. She could feel the tension in his powerful body as he levered one powerful thigh between hers and it eased some of the pressure, even as it managed to build some more. She could feel the hardness at his groin. A hard ridge pressing urgently against the immaculate cut of his trousers, which told her graphically just how much he wanted her. She should have felt shy but that was the last thing she was feeling and Lucy knew that if the Greek had ripped off her jeans and panties before positioning himself where she was aching most, she would have taken him deep inside her.