Greek Tycoon's Disobedient Bride

by Lynne Graham

  The clothing discarded in the master bedroom spoke of Ophelia’s recent presence and Lysander breathed a little easier. Her priceless pearl and diamond necklace lay on the dressing table alongside her wedding ring. He fell still, his attention welded to the ring, his wide shapely mouth tightening. There was no sign of luggage, no suggestion that she was packing to go anywhere this time around. Why should she run away? he asked himself angrily. She had no reason to take off again. Why was he even thinking this way?

  Ophelia was potting up plants she had divided in one of the newly renovated Edwardian greenhouses. The work had cost a fortune, but the previous poly-tunnels had offended Lysander’s aesthetic sensibilities. Her eyes were still overflowing. She sniffed and wiped them irritably on the sleeve of her oversized sweater. She was annoyed that she was being so emotional. She had got the man of her dreams and the baby of her dreams was probably on the way as well. Wasn’t there always a serpent in paradise? So, it was a tad demeaning to learn that the man you loved was only making the best of things with you. Well, what had she expected?

  Lysander thrust open the door of the greenhouse.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Ophelia spun back to the bench in haste before he could notice her damp eyes. He looked outrageously out of place in his formal business suit with a striped silk tie and gold cufflinks gleaming at his wrists.

  ‘When you said you wanted a break from me, what did you expect me to do? Just get on with my working day?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Feeling the full injustice of that comment, Lysander breathed in slow and deep. ‘Did Virginia upset you?’

  ‘She’s lovely—and, no, she didn’t upset me.’ Her golden head was bent as she potted up another plant. ‘But realising why I’m still your wife came as something of a shock.’

  ‘So, let me into this secret and the shock it dealt you,’ Lysander invited.

  ‘Don’t be flippant,’ Ophelia warned him shakily, scooping up compost and piling it into a pot. ‘Let me tell you how it went. Virginia was ill and you were ready to move heaven and earth to buy this house for her. That’s why you married me and why you said we had to pretend it was a genuine marriage after the paparazzi reported our wedding. You didn’t want her to find out how far you were prepared to go on her behalf.’

  ‘Yes,’ Lysander agreed without a shade of hesitance.

  Ophelia had hoped he would argue and tell her she had got it all wrong. His agreement of those facts cut her to the quick. The pot she was filling furiously with compost began to resemble a miniature Mount Everest. ‘Then you realised that Virginia was delighted that you had married and you decided you might as well hang on to me to keep her happy.’

  ‘No.’

  In the tense silence, Ophelia continued to build the compost mountain to a towering height. ‘Why are you saying no?’

  ‘I hope I am a good son, but I’m not an idiot. It would be insane to stay married to a woman I didn’t care about. When did you get the impression I was that much of a wimp? Or so unselfish? You’re underestimating me, yineka mou,’ he told her softly.

  Ophelia stole a wary glance at him. ‘So tell me your side of the story…’

  Lysander paced forward and gently turned her round, turning up her wrists and tugging off her gloves. ‘My well-laid plans went belly-up around the same day that I decided I had to buy a four-poster bed in which to put you—’

  Pale blue eyes perplexed, Ophelia stared at him. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘And that was the day after I met you. My reasoning processes were operating on a different frequency from that moment on. I should have stuck to business. You were supposed to be a business arrangement.’ His lean, darkly handsome features were grave. ‘But even though I believed you’d tipped off the paps, I still couldn’t wait to get you into bed.’

  Ophelia had turned pink.

  ‘I began to make strange decisions. I forgave you for the tabloid interview you did. I decided we had to have a honeymoon. When you walked out on me on Kastros, there was nothing I wouldn’t have done to get you back, up to and including cancelling the island’s ferry service—’

  ‘Really?’ Ophelia was perking up, flattered by that confession. ‘Would you have sunk that low?’

  ‘It comes naturally.’ Metallic-bronze eyes raked over her heart-shaped face. ‘Like loving you.’

  ‘Loving me?’ she squeaked half an octave higher. ‘Since when?’

  ‘It feels like for ever, agape mou. How should I know? I never felt this way about any woman before, so obviously you were very special from the start. You wrecked my favourite car and what did I do? I laughed when you told a bad joke about it!’ Lysander curved his hands to her slim hips and lifted her up onto the high stool by the potting bench so that their heights were more on a par. ‘We have a great time together. I miss you when you’re not with me. I can’t wait for you to have my baby.’

  It was a declaration of love beyond what she had ever hoped to receive from him. Yet no sooner had she heard it, than she knew she should have realised how much he cared simply by the way he was treating her. The passion had long been blended with warmth, tenderness and respect. Her heart was singing with happiness inside her. ‘I guess you’re not just with me because your mother likes me—’

  ‘I would just have kept you apart if she hadn’t. It would not influence how I feel about you.’ Long brown fingers framed her cheekbones and tilted her face up. ‘For better or worse, you are my choice and my wife.’

  ‘And totally, madly in love with you,’ Ophelia confided unevenly, emotion clogging up her vocal cords. ‘I felt so lonely until you came along. That’s one of the reasons I was so desperate to find Molly—’

  ‘In another year she’ll be eighteen and hopefully she’ll decide to look into her past. I’m having enquiries made about her early years with you. It could be helpful to establish who her father is, in case there’s a connection. But your details are waiting for Molly on the adoption contact register,’ he reminded her as he leant down to her, brilliant eyes intent. ‘Now tell me how much you love me.’

  There was a hunger in his beautiful eyes that touched Ophelia and she reached up and kissed him with fierce love and appreciation. ‘So much a whole lifetime wouldn’t be enough to show you,’ she swore passionately. ‘Do you really think my sister will get in touch?’

  ‘I believe so, but you may have to be patient.’ Lysander smoothed her golden hair back off her brow. ‘You should have told me that Aristide had an ongoing affair with Cathy.’ As her eyes widened he sighed. ‘Virginia thought I should know. No wonder you were so hostile when we first met. Aristide really did work your family over—’

  ‘He got in touch with Mum again when I was a toddler and it wrecked my parents’ marriage. He wandered in and out of her life for about ten years. I only saw him a couple of times because they met up in hotels. It was kind of sleazy…’

  Lysander pressed a reassuring fingertip to her tremulous lower lip. ‘It was love of a kind. Obviously he couldn’t stay away. I know the feeling. I can’t stay away from you, agape mou.’

  He bent his handsome dark head and claimed her soft mouth with a ravishing sweetness that left her trembling. They walked hand in hand back to the car and he settled her in and drove off down the lane that led back to the house. She watched him with her heart in her eyes, every fear assuaged, secure in his love and loyalty.

  ‘Oh, yes, there’s just one more thing…I may be pregnant!’ she announced.

  Lysander took his attention off the rough surface of the lane to look at her in surprise and pleasure. His charismatic smile lightened his lean dark features.

  ‘We’ll know for sure in another few days…oh, no, watch the wall!’ Ophelia shrieked as the nearside wing of the big car grazed the stone boundary.

  ‘No goat jokes, agape mou,’ Lysander warned as he braked to a halt.

  But Ophelia was having a hopeless fit of the giggles and although she tried to be tactful and hold them in, she could
n’t.

  Eighteen months later, Ophelia lifted her daughter out of Lysander’s arms.

  Shush…, she mouthed in silence, but there was no need to warn him. The entire household knew that Poppy only slept a handful of hours a day and was very demanding in between times. She had her father’s live-wire energy—and his adoration. A nanny had joined the staff, but only when Lysander had managed to persuade Ophelia that she didn’t need to exhaust herself to prove that she was a good mother.

  Weary after a busy afternoon sitting in her buggy watching her mother working in the garden, Poppy snuggled into her cot. She had blonde curls, big dark eyes and an adorable smile, a combination that Ophelia reckoned would someday make her a stunningly attractive young woman. Just now she was a very pretty baby, much admired by everyone and positively worshipped by her grandmother. Lysander was totally enjoying being a father, and Haddock was singing nursery rhymes again.

  Ophelia had had a straightforward pregnancy, although she had got fed up with the physical restrictions created by her bulky shape in the later stages. Putting her feet up and resting had proved a severe challenge for someone who preferred to be active. Lysander had gone to great lengths to keep her entertained while Virginia and Pamela had proved wonderfully supportive.

  Virginia was maintaining her good health and spent regular weekends at Madrigal Court. Ophelia had persuaded the older woman to help her with the redecoration and colour schemes for the house and had soon left her in complete charge, for Virginia had great taste and Ophelia much preferred to be outdoors. The once-glorious gardens were in the process of being restored and Ophelia now had a team of gardeners to help her. She got on very well with her mother-in-law. Encouraged by Virginia’s simple elegance, Ophelia dressed up a little more often and could now handle all sorts of social occasions without batting an eyelash. At the centre of her assurance was the reassuring knowledge that her husband loved and wanted her no matter what she wore and no matter what she did.

  Lysander and Ophelia had only recently returned from a week on Kastros. They walked downstairs and out onto the newly built terrace that overlooked the moat and the glorious gardens. The lush grounds were full of spectacular colour and provided a magnificent setting for the wonderful old house. Pre-dinner drinks were served. Lysander reached for Ophelia’s hand. ‘I have something I want to tell you and I don’t know how you’ll take it.’

  Ophelia tensed. ‘Is it about Molly?’

  ‘No, no further advances in that field, I’m afraid,’ he admitted ruefully. ‘But what I have to tell you does relate to your family. There is a slight chance that you have another sibling.’

  Ophelia held tight to his hand and frowned up at the lean, strong face that she loved so much. ‘Another sibling? Are you serious?’

  Lysander began to explain. He had been over in New York on business where he’d met the man who was to have been Aristide’s best man when he married Ophelia’s mother, Cathy. ‘In those days, Petros was a close friend of Aristide’s and I asked him if he knew why they broke up. I wasn’t really expecting an answer,’ he said wryly, ‘but Petros told me that Cathy had admitted to Aristide that she had given birth to a child before she met him and that it had all been hushed up. Aristide was shocked and furious and immediately broke off the engagement.’

  ‘My word…’ Ophelia raised her hand to her parted lips, her astonishment unhidden. ‘Did you believe him? Do you think it was only a nasty rumour that he heard? Or did he genuinely believe in the story?’

  ‘Petros is no gossip and it was Aristide who told him. Aristide shared only the barest facts: that a little boy was born to your mother at a private hospital and the baby’s father took charge of him.’

  Ophelia shook her head in wonderment. ‘You’re saying that I may have an older brother out there somewhere.’

  ‘It’s a possibility. Don’t get too excited until we have something more solid to go on,’ Lysander warned her. ‘You’re not upset?’

  ‘My goodness, no. It’s very sad, though. My mother could only have been a teenager.’ Ophelia sighed as they walked back indoors for dinner. ‘She really wasn’t very good at picking men—’

  ‘But you are,’ Lysander cut in, lowering his handsome dark head to claim a long, drugging kiss that reduced her to quivering compliance in his arms. ‘You picked me, agape mou.’

  Her crystalline eyes danced. ‘Only because you were willing to pay the water charges. But you didn’t accept the cash I offered you.’

  Much amused, Lysander grinned down at her in the Great Hall. ‘No, and then you used the money for something else!’

  ‘Did I?’ Ophelia was very much disconcerted by that information. ‘Oh, that’s right—I gave the money I owed you to the vicar for the church roof fund.’

  ‘It was still the best investment I ever made, Mrs Metaxis.’

  ‘Lysander’s my hero!’ Haddock carolled on cue from the corner, carefully coached as he had been to react to the name Metaxis with what Ophelia deemed to be a more socially acceptable response.

  Unfortunately, Lysander had proved less impressed than she had hoped.

  ‘Well, you are my hero,’ Ophelia pointed out, leaning against her husband and gazing up at him from below her lashes with a look of unashamed admiration and contentment. ‘I love you very much.’

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-2506-4

  THE GREEK TYCOON’S DISOBEDIENT BRIDE

  First North American Publication 2008.

  Copyright © 2008 by Lynne Graham.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

  ® and TM are trademarks of the publisher. Trademarks indicated with ® are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office, the Canadian Trade Marks Office and in other countries.

  www.eHarlequin.com