The Greek's Bride 0f Convenience (HQR Presents)

by Helen Bianchin

  His eyes seared hers, hardening with frightening intensity. ‘Can you give me any reason why I should?’

  Lexi closed her eyes against the compelling sight of him, then slowly opened them again. The air between them seemed alive with latent emotion, and her heart gave a lurch as she glimpsed a muscle tensing along his jaw.

  She was dangerously close to tears, and she looked at him, silently begging for his understanding. ‘I spent every waking minute thinking about you while I was away, remembering, examining everything you said, all that had happened between us,’ she began slowly. Her eyes unconsciously beseeched him to understand, but his expression remained an inscrutable mask. ‘I even managed to persuade myself before Paul’s revelation that marriage to you would have its compensations.’ A hollow laugh rose in her throat to escape as a strangled sound, and she lifted her hands in a gesture of self-deprecation. ‘Heaven knows, I’d rushed into my first marriage ignoring everything except my heart. There seemed to be some sense in using some caution with regard to a second attempt, and at least you had Jonathan’s wholehearted approval. I even dared to think we might be happy together, and I began to relax, lulled into a state of contented acceptance. I felt I could trust you, and I became very—’ she hesitated, hardly wanting to lay bare her heart ‘—fond of you.’ Oh, dear lord, if only he knew just how fond!

  She waited for him to say something, to give her some reassurance, but he remained silent.

  ‘After Paul, I didn’t want to trust any man again. I didn’t even feel I could trust myself.’ She swallowed painfully, and felt the ache of unshed tears as she gathered the strength to continue. ‘I hated having to live a lie, even for Jonathan’s sake, and I especially hated you for taking me through the threshold of pain and showing me what pleasure could be.’ Her mouth trembled as it tried for a smile and lost miserably. ‘Must you have it all?’ she demanded shakily, and it seemed a lifetime before he spoke.

  ‘Yes.’

  It took an inordinate amount of courage to continue, but she managed—just.

  ‘When I discovered there was a deliberate conspiracy I was so angry, so disillusioned, so incredibly—hurt,’ Lexi admitted poignantly.

  His eyes never left hers for a second. ‘And now?’

  This was no time to be faint-hearted, and with a sense of trepidation she took the greatest gamble of her life. She lifted a shaky hand, then let it fall helplessly down to her side, and her eyes shimmered with the force of her emotion. ‘I discovered I can’t live without you.’ She attempted a faint smile and failed miserably as her lips trembled. ‘Don’t you understand? I love you.’ The words were torn out of her in a flow of wretched emotion, and she looked at him blindly through a well of tears. ‘What more do you want?’

  Georg carefully placed his glass down on a nearby table, then he caught hold of her shoulders and pulled her close, lifting a hand to catch hold of her chin and tilting it so that she had no option but to look at him.

  ‘You,’ he accorded softly. ‘As my wife, by my side, always.’

  There was no way she could still the silent trickling flow of tears as they spilled and ran slowly down each cheek, and her mouth shook almost beyond control.

  His eyes darkened until they were almost black. ‘Don’t,’ he groaned, gathering her close. ‘Cristos, don’t cry!’

  His hands were gentle as they slid through her hair to hold fast her head, and his mouth lowered to nuzzle the sweet curve of her neck, his lips caressing the softly throbbing vein until he felt the faint tremor in her throat; then he began a tantalisingly slow path to her mouth. He kissed her gently at first, then with increasing hunger as he sought to remove every last vestige of doubt.

  It seemed an age before he relinquished her lips, and she could only look at him in total bemusement as he trailed a finger down the slope of her nose, and traced the soft, swollen contours of her mouth.

  She was unable to prevent the slight shiver that raked her slender body, and he slid his hands up to frame her face.

  ‘You’re beautiful,’ he accorded gently. ‘So generous and warm and giving. A joy only a fool would discard.’ He smiled as her eyes widened, and his thumb gently probed the tremulous curves of her mouth, then began tracing their outline with tactile exploration. ‘It was impossible for me not to be aware of your existence,’ he owned huskily. ‘You intrigued me, and I wanted to get to know you better. Under normal circumstances Jonathan would have arranged for us to be formally introduced over dinner at his home, but both he and David knew you would see it as a deliberate guise. As soon as I learned of Jonathan’s ill-health it was my suggestion to involve you in attempt to halt Paul’s meddling.’ His mouth moved to form a wry smile. ‘I knew within days of going public with our supposed romance that only the reality would suffice, and I used every weapon at my command.’ He laughed softly at her expression of disbelief. ‘I knew I had insufficient time to afford you a gentle seduction. My pursuit had to be swift and blatant.’ He paused to bestow a brief hard kiss to her soft mouth, thereby preventing any response she might have made. ‘In my arms your body was its own traitorous mistress, alive and gloriously vibrant beneath my touch, and every time we made love I was sure you must know the extent of my feelings.’ His lips touched hers, light and as fleeting as a butterfly’s wings.

  ‘I was sufficiently naïve to think it was merely sexual expertise,’ Lexi admitted with a faint smile.

  ‘I wanted to kill Paul,’ Georg went on to reveal, and his eyes hardened with latent anger. ‘A few days ago I had to physically restrain myself from going after him and committing serious bodily harm,’ he asserted bleakly, and there was an inflexible quality evident in those tautly chiselled features that she longed to ease.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t matter,’ Lexi assured him, conscious of his darkening gaze.

  ‘He’ll never have the opportunity to hurt you again.’

  She looked at him, loving the strength, the sheer animal magnificence that set him apart from other men. Her heart swelled, and her lips parted to form a soft tremulous smile.

  ‘You’re determined to play the role of my guardian angel?’ she couldn’t resist teasing, and received a husky growl in response as he gathered her close against him.

  ‘Husband; lover,’ he corrected, his expression softening miraculously, and she felt herself begin to drown in the warmth of his eyes. ‘Friend; confidant,’ he added, moulding her slim curves against his hardened frame. ‘Yours, for a lifetime.’

  Her eyes clung to his, and for a moment she was unable to speak, then any words she might have said were lost as he lowered his head and kissed her with such gentle evocativeness that she almost cried.

  ‘I love you,’ he accorded gently. ‘So much. These past few days have been hell. When I arrived home tonight and found you here I was so desperately afraid you had come to demand your freedom.’

  Lexi lifted a hand to his lips, and her eyes widened measurably as he caressed each finger in turn, drawing first one, then the other into his mouth and gently biting each tender tip. A shaft of exquisite pleasure unfurled deep inside her, slowly radiating throughout her whole body until she was filled with delicious expectant warmth.

  ‘Will you do something for me?’

  His smile held such a degree of latent passion that she melted into a thousand pieces.

  ‘What is this thing you want me to do?’ He leaned forward and brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth in an evocative, deliberately tantalising gesture. ‘Tell me.’

  For a moment she almost hesitated, wondering if it was really important any more. ‘Would you ask me to marry you?’ Her voice was serious, and as he lifted his head she looked into his eyes, begging him to understand. In a defensive, unbidden gesture she edged the tip of her tongue over the soft curve of her mouth.

  He stood regarding her in silence, his expression unusually grave. ‘It means that much to you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He caught hold of her hand and placed i
t against his chest so that she could feel the strong beat of his heart. ‘Dear, sweet Lexi. Will you marry me? Let me love you, treasure you for the rest of my life?’

  Her mouth shook a little, and her eyes ached with the wealth of her own emotion. ‘Yes. Yes.’ She slid her arms up round his neck and pulled his head down to hers. Then she kissed him, glorying in taking the initiative for a few long minutes before he became caught up with the strength of his own passion, wreaking a devastating assault on her feelings, plundering until she clung to him, unashamedly as anxious as he for a complete satiation of the senses.

  It seemed an age before he slowly broke the kiss, and she gave a murmur in protest as he disentangled her arms from around his neck.

  ‘Carla said you were going to cook,’ she voiced reluctantly, wanting only to be close to him.

  With infinite care he slid the jacket from her shoulders, then set about loosening her top.

  ‘We’ll have a midnight snack, and wash it down with champagne.’ His hands slipped inside the waistband of her silk trousers and pushed them gently down over the slight curve of her hips. ‘But right now all I want to do is feast myself on you,’ he husked emotively, and she almost died at the wealth of passion evident in those dark eyes so close to her own.

  Lexi gave a soft delighted laugh, and an inner radiance was responsible for the twinkle of utter bewitchment in the depths of her beautiful eyes. ‘Here, in the lounge?’

  With an exultant chuckle he swept her into his arms and carried her effortlessly down the hall to the master suite where he let her slip to her feet mere inches from the large bed.

  ‘In my bed, minx,’ he chided gently, shrugging out of his jacket in one easy movement. Her fingers began undoing the buttons on his shirt, dealing deftly with the belt buckle, and as she reached for the zip fastening on his trousers a long shudder shook his powerful frame.

  Unbidden, she traced a slow pattern through the dark springy hair whorling on his chest, beginning a tactile exploration that brought a strangled sound from the depths of his throat.

  ‘Do you have any conception of what you’re doing to me?’

  A shaft of exquisite pleasure exploded deep within her, radiating through every nerve until she felt incredibly alive, for it was a heady experience to imagine she held any power over him.

  ‘I think the feeling is mutual,’ she managed shakily some minutes later as his lips trailed an evocative path to her breasts, and she cried out as his tongue savoured one taut roseate peak, then drew it gently between his teeth to suckle, creating such delicious torture that it was almost impossible not to cry out at the degree of ecstacy spiralling through her body.

  Gently he pulled her down on to the bed, and their loving became a long slow pacing of each other’s pleasure that surpassed anything they’d previously shared.

  Afterwards they rose and shared a leisurely bath, delighting in creating new depths of sensual arousal, and it was a long time later, cradled close in the protective circle of Georg’s arms, that Lexi lifted her head towards his to voice quietly, ‘Thank you.’

  His lips trailed gently across her forehead to settle at her temple. ‘For what, specifically?’

  ‘Loving me,’ she accorded simply. She felt his mouth begin a slow caressing path down to her cheek until it reached the curve of her lips.

  ‘You’re so unbelievably beautiful that you take my breath away.’

  She smiled beneath the witching touch of his mouth, and a delicious laugh bubbled to the surface. ‘Do you think you can summon sufficient energy to sizzle two steaks while I toss a salad?’

  ‘Sizzle?’ He caught her lower lip between his teeth in subtle punishment, and growled softly, ‘A gourmet chef creates magic with food.’

  ‘Not merely with food,’ she declared solemnly, slipping easily from his grasp, but only, she suspected, because he let her.

  She walked unselfconsciously into the en suite bathroom and plucked a large bath-sheet to wrap sarong-style round her slim curves, then she emerged into the bedroom to see he’d risen from the bed and was in the process of donning a silk robe.

  Georg held out his hand and she placed hers into that strong warm enveloping grasp, then together they walked out of the room.

  All the self-doubts, the pain, were gone, and in its place was love—everlasting.

  * * * * *

  Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Caitlin Crews’ next book,

  SECRETS OF HIS FORBIDDEN CINDERELLA

  Overwhelming. Irresistible. Off-limits. Teo de Luz was all those things to innocent Amelia. Until she attends his opulent masquerade ball, and they share a deliciously anonymous encounter! Now Amelia must tell this brooding Spaniard he’s the father of her unborn child.

  Teo can’t forget his runaway Cinderella, but discovering her true identity stuns him. His loathing of Amelia’s family means he cannot dismiss her deception! He will marry her. He will claim his heir. And he’ll exact a sensual revenge on Amelia, one pleasurable night at a time…

  Read on for a glimpse of

  SECRETS OF HIS FORBIDDEN CINDERELLA

  CHAPTER ONE

  “HIS EXCELLENCY IS not at home, madam.” The butler sniffed, visibly appalled.

  HE DID NOT so much bar the door to the grand and ancient palatial home as inhabit it, because such a glorious door—crafted by the hands of long-dead masters and gifted to the aristocratic occupants likely on bended knee and with the intercession of a heavenly host, because that was how things happened here in this fairy tale of a place that had claimed this part of Spain for many centuries—could not be blocked by a single person, no matter how officious or aghast.

  And the butler was both, in spades. “One does not drop in on the Nineteenth Duke of Marinceli, Most Excellent Grandee of Spain.”

  Amelia Ransom, considered excellent by her closest friends instead of an entire nation and with decidedly lowbrow peasant blood to prove it, made herself smile. Very much as if she hadn’t, in fact, turned up at the door of a house so imposing that it was unofficially known as el monstruo—even by its occupants. “I know for a fact that the Duke is in.”

  An old acquaintance of hers still lived in one of the nearby villages—“nearby” meaning miles upon miles away because the Marinceli estate was itself so enormous—and had reported that the Duke’s plane had been seen flying overhead two days ago. And that the flag with the Marinceli coat of arms had been raised over the house shortly thereafter, meaning the great man was in residence.

  “You mistake my meaning,” the butler replied, his deep, cavernous face set in lines of affront and indignation that should have made Amelia slink off in shame. And might have, had she been here for any reason at all but the one she’d come to share with Teo de Luz, her former stepbrother and the grandiose Duke in question. “His Excellency is most certainly not at home to you.”

  It was tempting to take that as the final word on the matter. Amelia would have been just as happy not to have to make this trip in the first place. It had been a gruesome red-eye flight out of San Francisco to Paris, particularly in the unappealing seat that had been all she could get on short notice. The much shorter flight to Madrid had been fine, but then there was the drive out of the city and into the rolling hills where the de Luz family had been rooted deep for what might as well have been forever, at this point.

  “I think you’ll find he’ll see me,” Amelia said, with tremendous confidence brought on by fatigue. And possibly by fear of her reception—and not from the butler. She stared back at the man with his ruffled feathers and astonished air, who did not look convinced. “Really. Ask him.”

  “That is utterly out of the question,” the butler retorted, in freezing tones. “I cannot fathom how you made it onto the property in the first place. Much less marched up to pound on the door like some…salesman.”

  He spat out that last word as if a salesman was akin to syphilis.

  Only far more unsavory.

  If only he knew the sort of news Amelia h
ad come to impart. She imagined he would cross himself. Possibly spit on the ground. And she could sympathize.

  She felt much the same way.

  “I expect you go to great lengths to keep the Duke’s many would-be suitors from clamoring at the door,” she said brightly, as if the butler had been kind and welcoming or open to conversation in any way. “He must be the most eligible man in the world by now.”

  She’d personally witnessed the commotion Teo caused when enterprising women got the scent of him, long before he’d assumed his title. That was why she hadn’t even bothered attempting to get in the main gates, miles away from the front entrance of the stately home that was more properly a palace. The grand entrance and gates were guarded by officious security who could be reliably depended upon to let absolutely no one in. Amelia had therefore driven in on one of the forgotten little medieval lanes that snaked around from the farthest corner of the great estate, there for the use of the gamekeeper and his staff. Then she’d left her hired car near the lake that had been a favorite reading spot of hers back in the day.

  That way she could walk to clear her head from the flight and so little sleep, prepare herself for the scene before her with Teo and best of all, actually make it to the soaring front door that would not have looked out of place on a cathedral. Her car would have been stopped. A woman on foot was less noticeable. That was her thinking.

  She hadn’t really thought past getting to the door, however, and she should have.

  The butler was slipping a sleek smartphone from the pocket of his coat, no doubt to summon the security force to bodily remove her. Which would not suit her at all.

  “I’m not another of Teo’s many groupies,” Amelia said, and something flashed in her at that. Because that wasn’t precisely true, was it? Not after what she’d done. “I’m his stepsister.”

  The butler did not do anything so unrefined as sneer at her for the unpardonable sin of referring to Teo by not only his Christian name, but a nickname. He managed to look down his nose, however, as if the appendage was the highest summit in the Pyrenees.