Reunited by the Greek's Vows

by Andie Brock

  Slowly, deliberately, he raised his eyes to meet hers.

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  Kate’s voice was wary, but the wild flash in her eyes shot a message straight to Nikos’s groin.

  ‘I mean that now we’ve become reacquainted I find there are ghosts that need to be put to rest.’ He held himself still.

  ‘There’s no such thing as ghosts.’

  Pulling her hands free, Kate folded them across her chest, pushing up the soft swell of her breasts. The amber light played across the angles of her bare shoulders, her breastbone, shadowing the hollows, emphasising the pale, silky skin.

  ‘I’m sure your mother told you that.’

  ‘My mother never told me anything.’ The need to control that kick of lust made his voice harsher, more impassioned than he’d intended. ‘She upped and left long before we had the chance to have cosy bedtime chats about such things.’

  ‘I thought you said she died when you were a teenager?’ Immediately Kate pounced on his confession.

  ‘She did.’ Nikos held his voice firm. ‘But she left me and my father long before that. On my second birthday, in fact. Impeccable timing. From that day on I never saw her again.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Nikos. I didn’t know.’ Kate’s green eyes filled with concern. ‘Why have you never told me that before?’

  Nikos let out a sharp breath. ‘I hardly think you’re in a position to criticise me for withholding information about my family.’ His mocking jibe hit its target full-on. ‘And, just in case you were in any doubt, I don’t want your sympathy either. If anything, I should be feeling sorry for you.’

  ‘Me? Why?’

  ‘For having a mother like Fiona. If she’s an example of maternal virtues, I’m better off without.’

  He saw Kate flinch, almost as if he had hit her. Maybe his comment had been below the belt, but Nikos told himself that didn’t mean Kate didn’t deserve it. She had sided with her mother right from the start, and made no attempt to ease the shock of that first meeting—a hugely awkward situation entirely of Kate’s making. Not only that, but she had bundled him away out of sight like a dirty secret, like something shameful. She had given him no chance to try and win Fiona round.

  Nikos didn’t give a damn what Fiona O’Connor thought of him. He hadn’t back then and he didn’t now. Sure, he’d been shocked by her reaction to him. But he would have brushed that aside, ignored her vituperative comments, laughed them off—if he’d had Kate’s support. He’d naively thought the love they shared was rock-solid, for ever, strong enough to withstand the strongest onslaught. Let alone a self-obsessed middle-aged woman with a dislike of young, penniless Greeks.

  How wrong he’d been. Kate’s love had disappeared at the first sign of trouble. Or maybe it had never been there at all.

  As he stared at her now he felt memories flooding back unbidden, the old anger slamming into him hot and hard, tightening his skin. What was he talking about? Of course it had never been there. Hadn’t Kate made that perfectly obvious when he had walked into her room on the night of her father’s funeral?

  That torturous day.

  Seeing Kate in such agonising pain had been terrible for Nikos to watch. She had seemed so alone—as if she’d had to shoulder the weight of Bernie’s death for both her and her mother. Nikos had seen that she was completely consumed by her sorrow, hollowed out by it, a mere shell of the warm, vibrant, funny young woman he had met in Crete. He had longed to comfort her, to support her, to be there for her as her fiancé.

  But Kate had pushed him away, rejected everything he had tried to do for her, all his attempts to comfort her—almost as if she’d blamed him for her father’s death. Or just blamed him for being there. For turning up in New York when she had told him to stay at home. For threatening the precariously balanced equilibrium of the O’Connor family. For being the lowly, worthless no-hoper they clearly thought he was.

  Completely sidelined, Nikos had swallowed his pride and retreated into the shadows, not wanting to cause Kate any more grief than she’d been suffering already. Their engagement had been conveniently pushed aside, with Kate telling her mother with flustered insistence that she wasn’t to worry about it, only just stopping short of saying Nikos had made it all up. And Nikos had been effectively banished. Ignored.

  He had slept in the spare room, sat at the back at the funeral service, kept out of everyone’s way at the wake, watching from a distance as Kate behaved socially, comforting her wailing mother, playing host to all the mourners. But by the time the last guest had gone the strain of the day had been written all over her face, pulling her facial muscles taut, hollowing her cheeks. And Nikos had hated to see her like that.

  So that night, after Kate had excused herself and gone to her room, he had decided to go after her, intending to do nothing more than put his arms around her, hold her tight, try and take away a little of her pain.

  There had been no reply when he’d tapped on the door, so he had quietly let himself in. The room had been empty, but as Nikos had stood there in the doorway Kate had appeared from the bathroom, with something in her hand. She had jumped when she saw him.

  ‘Nikos!’

  ‘Hi.’ He’d advanced into the room, itching to put his arms around her. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. I just wanted to check you’re okay.’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Her hands had gone behind her back.

  ‘No, you’re not Kate.’ He had stood in front of her, looking down at her slender figure dressed in cream satin pyjamas. ‘You are far from fine.’

  ‘I just need to get some sleep, that’s all.’

  ‘Right.’ Nikos had put his hands on her shoulders, and as she’d tensed beneath his touch she had inflicted another wound on his pride. ‘So I’m being dismissed, is that it?’

  Kate had given a heavy sigh. ‘I don’t want to argue, Nikos.’

  He’d felt her shoulders shrug.

  ‘Neither do I. I’m trying to help, Kate, to do whatever I can to support you.’

  ‘Like I said, I just need some rest.’ She’d released one hand from behind her back and tucked her hair behind her ear. ‘It’s been a long day...’ Her voice had tailed off.

  ‘Very well.’ Nikos had swallowed down the hurt of her words. ‘I’ll go. Right after you’ve told me what you’re hiding behind your back.’

  Kate had flushed. The first colour he’d seen in her cheeks since he’d arrived.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Holding out his hand, palm upright, Nikos had done his best to suppress his irritation. He’d already had a good idea what it was, and he’d had no intention of being frozen out. He’d felt his heart begin to thud.

  Realising there was no way out, Kate had slowly brought her arm round to her front. Nikos had seen the pale column of her throat as she’d swallowed, but it had been the look in her eyes that had sent ice through his veins. Fear. No—more than that. Panic. She’d been almost shaking with it.

  He’d looked down at the little plastic stick in her hand. A swirl of emotions had run through him, too fast and too unexpected to be able to process in the time allowed.

  Instead he had cleared his throat. ‘Let me see.’

  He had fully expected Kate to argue, but instead she had submissively handed it over, as if all the fight had left her.

  A diagram beside the little window on the stick had helpfully explained the result. Two pink lines; pregnant. One pink line; not pregnant.

  Nikos had raised his eyes to find Kate staring not at the test stick but straight at him, a wild look in her eyes.

  ‘Well?’ Her anguished cry had made it clear she didn’t know the result.

  ‘You are not pregnant, Kate.’

  ‘Oh, thank God.’ With a gasp of relief Kate had taken the test from him, stared at it, then sunk to her knees.

  Nikos had stared do
wn at the top of her head, at the way the overhead light shone on the glossy chestnut hair that fell over her shoulders. And something had stirred inside him. The unfamiliar sensation had quickly gathered power as the events of the past few days had flashed before him, firing his temper, draining his self-control.

  Suddenly he’d seen the way he had behaved for what it was—weakness. Not the compassion he had convinced himself he had to find as he had bitten his tongue, turned the other cheek. He had been treated like dirt by Fiona. Coldly distanced by Kate as if he was nothing...no one...their engagement brushed under the carpet. All this he had accepted because Kate had lost her beloved father. Telling himself she was grieving. That he had to give her time.

  But this. This was the final straw.

  ‘I take it you’re pleased?’ His voice had been dangerously thin as he’d tried to gather together the threads of his composure.

  ‘Of course.’ Kate had looked up at him in surprise. ‘To get pregnant now would have been a disaster.’

  ‘A disaster?’

  The word had felt like a stone in his mouth. With a sickening wave of realisation, Nikos had known he would never have seen it like that. Far from it. After the initial shock he would have been pleased, proud. Ecstatic, even. The thought of creating a new life with Kate, of being a father, would to him have been an exciting adventure he couldn’t wait to embark on. A few weeks ago he’d have been sure that Kate would react the same way. And yet here she was, treating the idea of being pregnant with his baby as if it would be some sort of ghastly ordeal.

  With a bitter twist of resentment Nikos had seen that once again he was being betrayed by a woman he loved. His mother had rejected him as a son—now Kate was rejecting him as a father.

  He should have dropped the subject, walked away, left the discussion for another more appropriate time. But somehow he hadn’t been able to. His pride hadn’t let him.

  ‘Can I ask why you would have considered it a disaster?’ There had been an edge of warning in his tone.

  ‘Well, that’s obvious, isn’t it?’ Kate had clearly chosen to ignore his warning, which had only inflamed his temper still further.

  ‘Not to me, it’s not.’

  ‘I could never have coped with a baby on top of everything else.’ She’d sighed heavily. ‘Now that Daddy is...no longer here, I’m going to have to take over the running of the business, concentrate on looking after my mother. She needs me now more than ever.’

  ‘And our family? Or what might have been our family...?’ He’d gestured to the test stick that had lain discarded on the sumptuous cream carpet. ‘That would count for nothing?’

  Kate had wearily shaken her head. ‘Look, I can’t do this now, Nikos. Just be grateful that I’m not pregnant and let’s leave it at that.’

  She’d extended her arm, her palm facing him, the gesture intended to tell him to go away. To shoo him out like a worthless piece of garbage. As if he was nothing.

  And something inside Nikos had snapped. Because if he hadn’t already been infuriated enough, in Greece that gesture meant something else entirely. It was about as insulting as you could get. And even though he’d known Kate wasn’t aware of that, Nikos had still found himself seething with anger, the pride in him rising to the surface.

  ‘Trust me—I am grateful!’

  He’d taken hold of her hand, dropping it down by her side. Kate’s eyes had flashed with surprise and something else—shock. Good. It was high time she took notice of him. Showed him some respect. Nikos had had precious little of that since he’d arrived at the O’Connor residence.

  ‘No doubt you are relieved that I won’t be tainting your precious O’Connor blood with my lowly genes, but let me tell you this.’ He’d pointed a finger to where Kate stood rooted to the spot in shocked silence. ‘I am glad you are not pregnant, because I wouldn’t want any child of mine burdened with you as a mother.’

  ‘Nikos!’

  ‘I mean it, Kate.’ The fire raged had through him, ringing in his ears, scraping his skin. ‘You may think you’re better than me. That all this...’ he’d gestured to the opulent room, the enormous windows offering a panoramic view of Central Park and the New York skyline ‘...makes you superior in every way. Well, let me tell you something. You are mistaken. I may not come from a moneyed family, and I haven’t had a privileged upbringing like you, but you know what? I’m glad. Because I have something way more important—principles, honour and integrity.’

  ‘And you think I don’t?’ Her voice had been very small.

  ‘I think you’ve lost sight of what matters, Kate. You can’t see what’s right in front of you.’

  ‘Which is...?’

  ‘That you are nothing more than the spoilt little girl of a doting daddy and a manipulative mummy.’ His mouth had hardened. ‘I didn’t know your father, but...’

  Kate had made a low noise, like the soft grunt of a wounded animal. Her hand had felt for the dresser beside her. ‘D-don’t you d-dare disrespect my father.’ She’d gulped out the words.

  Nikos had paused, Kate’s paper-thin fragility momentarily halting the rollercoaster of his rage at the top of the track. He’d lowered his voice. ‘All I’m saying is, if he was the great guy you say he was he didn’t deserve a wife and daughter like you.’

  Silence had fallen between them as sharp as jagged glass. Kate had taken a staggering step away from him.

  ‘I see now that the woman I met in Crete—the woman I fell in love with—never really existed.’ Nikos had ruthlessly continued. ‘She was a fake, a phony. Beneath that free spirit hid the real Kate O’Connor. Someone who was just having bit of fun before settling down to marry a rich banker from a nice solid American family. Am I right?’

  Kate’s eyes had darted frantically across his face. ‘If you truly believe that, Nikos, then you don’t know me at all.’

  ‘No?’ He would show her no mercy. ‘Or does being faced with the truth hurt, Kate?’

  ‘Everything hurts.’

  Her simple statement, the tortured look on her face, had torn into Nikos so that he’d almost weakened. Almost.

  But suddenly Kate had rallied, moving over to the door and flinging it open with the last of her strength.

  ‘Get out.’

  ‘Very well.’

  He had been beside her in a couple of strides. When she’d refused to look at him he’d reached out, gently raising her chin with a single fingertip, searching her eyes. His heart had slowed to a dull beat at the huge significance of that moment.

  ‘But just so you know, Kate, if I leave now I won’t be coming back.’

  He’d waited, his breath locked in his chest. Waited for Kate to say something, to do something to stop this landslide of misery.

  But instead she had remained silent. A silence that had pressed down on him more firmly with every passing second.

  ‘If I walk out now our relationship will be over.’

  He’d driven home the point to make sure she understood, forcing the words through a closing throat, through lips tight with concealed emotion.

  And as Kate had looked up at him he’d seen the truth, heard the words before they were spoken.

  Her lower lip had wobbled, her voice had cracked, but her eyes had been like stone. ‘Our relationship is over already, Nikos.’

  Three years might have passed since then, but as Nikos stared at Kate now he knew that the brutal emotions of that night were not dead and buried. Far from it. One heavy look from those sea-green eyes, one whisper of her breath against his cheek, one pout of those soft, sexy lips and he was right back there. Caught up in her power. He might be older now, and he was certainly richer, but where Kate was concerned he was no wiser.

  He took in a breath of the sweet night air, silently cursing the way Kate held his gaze, looking at him with a wide-eyed honesty that was guaranteed to mess with his head ev
en more. She wasn’t being deliberately provocative. If anything she appeared nervous, unsure, standing there with the whole of Paris behind her, her head slightly to one side, her mouth tightly closed.

  She held herself carefully, as if she didn’t trust her high heels on these uneven ancient steps. Or she didn’t trust herself. Which made Nikos’s libido soar even further off the scale.

  He had to find some control—fast.

  Pushing back his shoulders, he marshalled his behaviour into line. ‘It’s getting late. We should be heading back to the hotel.’

  He turned abruptly and started down the steps, without looking at Kate, without waiting for her to reply. Because if she subjected him to so much as a hint of temptation as to what might happen back at the hotel, where this night might end, he was a dead man.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RAISING HER CAMERA, Kate took another great shot. It was almost too easy—Venice had to be the most beautiful place in the world. Paris had not disappointed her, nor Rome, from what she had managed to see during the whirlwind couple of days she and Nikos had spent there. But Venice took her breath away.

  Behind her the gondolier, wearing the traditional blue-and-white-striped jumper, skilfully manoeuvred their gondola through the busy traffic of the Grand Canal, pointing out various landmarks. The grand palazzos and the Baroque churches, the Doge’s Palace, the Rialto Bridge... There was something stunning everywhere she looked—like the most glamorous film set brought to life.

  Taking a sharp turn off the main thoroughfare, the gondolier started down a smaller canal, so narrow in places that he had to use his hands to push away from the sides of the ancient buildings to keep their course straight. Away from the hustle and bustle, all was peaceful—just the soothing sound of the oar in the water, muffled voices in the distance. These were the back streets of Venice and, to Kate, every bit as fascinating as the showy Grand Canal.