by Sharon Ihle
"How can you go to hell for lying with your husband?" He sat up and helped himself to a bunch of grapes. "And as for eating in bed, I think it's allowed—especially on a honeymoon."
Husbands and honeymoons. Shylo could claim neither excuse for her behavior, which meant she probably would go to hell, but she shrugged off the thought and the shame that went with it. She was here now, Dimitri's bride for the time being, and by God she was going to enjoy herself. Lord knew that wasn't too difficult—especially if he touched her again.
"It seems to me," she said as she nipped off the tip of a ripe strawberry with her teeth, "that married legal and proper or not, it's as wicked as all get-out to be lolling around in bed when the sun's up and shining." She thought of her years on the farm and the cows she'd have milked by now, not to mention the hogs she'd have slopped and chickens she'd have fed. Again she laughed. "Wicked and just about the best morning I've ever had in my entire life."
Dimitri pulled her across his chest and kissed her. "Me, too, kouklitsa," he murmured. "Me, too."
"What's that you've been calling me?" she asked, toying with a curl on his chest. "Coo-oo?"
"Kook-leet-saw. It means 'little doll.'" He chuckled, then tapped the tip of her nose with his finger. "That's what you are. A wicked little doll—the best kind." She giggled softly, her cheeks glowing with a still innocent blush, and settled into the crook of his arm. "And by the way, that reminds me of something you said last night. Why were you so concerned about our wedding papers?"
"Huh?" She raised her head and looked into his eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Last night you mentioned something about not touching our nuptial agreement, I believe. Did you think I would tear it up if you didn't let me make love to you?"
Shylo burst out laughing, and then blushed at the memories. "Oh, that. It's just a word Cassie and I made up for, you know, the, ah... nether regions."
Her cheeks were bright red, and that crooked little smile he adored was more twisted than ever. Her expression telling him all he had to know, Dimitri reached beneath the sheet, coaxed her legs apart with his fingers, and then caressed her lightly. "You mean the nuptials you were talking about are right down here?" She nodded, and her breath came out in a halting sigh.
"Ahh, I see. I'm afraid that I misunderstood you last night. Please accept my apology for the error."
"You're..." She shuddered. "F-forgiven."
By the time Dimitri bestowed all the apologies he could manage upon his wife, and she had given him a wealth of forgiveness in return, she was sitting on the plate of fruit she'd carelessly left lying beside her, and three perfectly beautiful strawberries had been ground into the white linen sheet beneath her. After another brief rest, Dimitri felt relaxed enough in her company to broach a few new subjects—namely those of a financial nature.
"Kouklitsa?" he called, blowing her a kiss. "Are you awake?"
"Uh-huh," she murmured. "I was just lying here wishing this day would never, ever end."
It was a thought he shared, but Dimitri knew he really had no choice but to move on to more serious things. "I'll do my best to keep to you feeling like today has never ended, but I'm afraid we must take some time out of that fantasy to talk about things of this world as well. I refer to your dowry."
Sudden anxiety turned her daydream to dust. "My... dowry?"
"Yes. I think perhaps it is time we sent a wire to your father informing him of our marriage. I need to know the terms of your dowry and when we might expect to see at least part of it. I wasn't able," he added, trying to explain their circumstances without alarming her too much, "to solicit much of my money from Greece. We'll be needing more funds soon."
"Oh... hell." Shylo covered her face with her hands, forcing herself to clear her mind. She had to think—think.
Dimitri would not be put off. "Is there some problem with wiring your father that I should know about?" he asked.
Not too much, she thought to herself, except that it's all a big fat lie. It was a considerable problem no matter who was looking at it or from what angle, but she couldn't tell him the truth—not yet. So out slipped another lie.
"You can wire my... father if you want to, but it won't do us much good. If you're expecting money by way of a dowry, I guess I'd better tell you now that my family doesn't have any. Not even two nickels to rub together."
"No money?" Dimitri could hardly believe it. "But what about your ties to the White House, and what about—"
"My uncle Grover—" She paused to swallow, the taste of her lies suddenly bitter on the tip her tongue. "The president has plenty of money, I suppose, but my family is certainly not entitled to any of it. Neither am I."
With a heavy sigh, Dimitri flopped over on his back and stuck both hands beneath his head.
Sure that she'd gotten past another barrier, Shylo concentrated on Dimitri's reactions to her news. He was disappointed, naturally, but he seemed almost too disappointed. Why?
"Dimitri," she began, careful of her wording, "I'm sorry about the dowry, but it doesn't really matter too much—does it?"
"Well, no," he said, hedging, "but Ari and I did assume that you were, well..."
"Rich?"
He nodded, adding yet another piece to the surprising puzzle. She, at least, had a good reason to be looking for money from him, but why on earth would he want money from her?
"I, ah, thought you were rich enough for the both of us. What difference does it make if I'm not?"
He groaned, his hopes for hiding the truth dashed. "I'm not rich, my sweet little kumquat. Far from it, in fact."
Her eyes bulged. "But what about your big fancy business back in Greece, your imports and exports and all that stuff you and your uncle went on about back in New York?"
He decided right then to tell all, to clear up any misunderstandings he—and particularly Ari—may have initiated. It would feel good to have everything out in the open, the way it should be between husband and wife.
"Adonis Imports is failing. That's why Ari and I came to the United States in the first place—to get financial backing from American investors or banks. If that didn't work out, we figured I could always..."
He gave her a sheepish grin.
"Oh, Lord—marry a rich debutante?"
"Yes," Dimitri admitted. "Such an arrangement is common in my country. I told you that back in Winslow."
"But you didn't tell me you were broke, or that you were only marrying me to use me."
Dimitri sat up abruptly. "It wasn't that way. There were other reasons I asked you to be my wife, even though perhaps the main one was to replenish my bank account with your money. I have been honest with you. There is nothing to be so upset about."
"No? What about this?" She rose to her knees, oblivious of her nakedness. "You can't have married me for my money, because I married you for yours."
"What?" English and Greek collided in his brain as he tried to make sense of what was going on. "I'm not to understand."
"Well, I do—you pretended to be rich, so I figured you were. You tricked me."
"No more than you tricked to me."
They sat staring at each other for a long, awkward moment. Then the corners of Dimitri's mouth began to waver and he started to laugh. Shylo, who was unable to find any humor in the situation, became even angrier and let off steam in another way.
"Oh... this is one hell of a mess. Shit."
Pleased to see the startled look on her husband's face—not to mention the fact the oath had cut his laughter short—she threw herself back down on the pillow, muttering under her breath about Greek gods, money, and matrimony. The man she'd married was no better off than she was, and no more an aristocrat, either. How had she managed to delude herself so badly and bungle everything all at the same time? She had thought she was smarter than this.
A shadow suddenly came over her. Shylo opened her eyes to find Dimitri hovering over her, staring down into her face like a great vulture.
"What did I just hear you say?" he demanded.
She didn't care for the look in his eye or his attitude. She gave him a flippant reply. "Nothing."
"Hah. You said shit. I heard you loud and clear."
She thought of lying again, but what did his opinion of her matter now, anyway? In a tone as insolent as her mood was black, she snapped, "So what?"
"I won't have a wife who speaks such filthy words, is what. Now apologize and promise you'll never say it again. Such words are not becoming on you."
Shylo was sorely tempted to tell him that he didn't have to worry about having a wife with a filthy mouth because they weren't really married, but then she would be back where she'd started—alone and penniless. Not that she was a hell of a lot better off than that now. Lord, what should she do? How could she present this man to her mother and still claim wealth and success?
She cocked her head, studying him, and said, "I'll do my damnedest not to cuss in front of you or anyone else, if you'll make a little promise to me."
Although Dimitri didn't consider this to be an area for discussion or barter, he nodded. "Perhaps. What is it you want me to do?"
"You've done a pretty good job of it so far—can you at least keep up appearances and pretend to be rich until after Colleen and Niko get into town—until I say that it's okay not to pretend?"
This made Dimitri madder than her foul language had. His lip curled at the corner as he rolled off the mattress and onto his feet. What a fool he'd been to think that Shylo was different from the other society darlings. How could he have thought for one minute that she had a head that couldn't be turned by wealth and status? He really was an idiot, he decided as he climbed into his clothes. An idiot and a fool.
"Did you hear me, Dimitri?" she asked as he finished dressing. "Will you agree?"
"I'll do the best I can." He stalked to the bedroom doorway, then glanced back to where his wife lay. "I think my best should be good enough. After all—I fooled you, didn't I?"
Then he left the room, the echo of his angry footsteps filling Shylo's ears long after the door had slammed shut.
Chapter 13
Downstairs in the hotel bar, Dimitri had just finished telling his tale of woe to his uncle, who'd immediately ordered cognacs for them both, and doubles, no less. After the drinks had been served, they moved to a more private table in the corner of the room, where the stained-glass windows looked out on Horton's flowering plaza across the street.
Dimitri decided it was a far better view than gazing upon Ari, who hadn't completely recovered from the injuries he'd received in Winslow. Though the old man's nose was no longer dripping or overly sensitive to movement, it was still swollen and misshapen. His eyes were clear save for a small clot at the corner of the left, but the puffed flesh beneath them had faded from midnight blue to a ghoulish shade of green. Despite his physical appearance, Ari's mind seemed unharmed as he offered his thoughts for solving their newest problem.
"To learn that your bride has no dowry is indeed a blow, my son, but all may not be lost." As usual, he spoke his native language when alone with his nephew. "Just the fact that you are now related to the president should be enough to help Adonis Imports find the backing it needs after we return to New York."
There was wisdom in those words, but they didn't solve everything. "And what do you suggest we do for money in the meantime, dear Uncle? Between meals for four, clothing for my wife, who has no trousseau and no way of finding her old trunk of clothes, two rooms at this hotel plus a suite, and passage back to New York and Greece, I think you'll find that we aren't going to last much longer with the funds I have left at my disposal."
"You have a definite point, my son." Ari tossed down his brandy, then shook his head with robust enthusiasm. "As I see it, we have only one choice. We must return to New York with all due haste, and forget about confronting this Pappas fellow, whoever he may turn out to be."
Dimitri hadn't considered this, but now that his uncle suggested it, the idea really did seem like the only plausible solution. Besides, he'd done enough foolish things of late. Spending his last drachma in San Diego while waiting for a man who might or might not be the person responsible for the downfall of Adonis Imports seemed the most foolish of all.
After downing his cognac, Dimitri banged the glass against the table. "I agree. We must head back to New York on the first available train. Then, on to Greece."
"An excellent decision, my son." Ari wriggled his eyebrows. "Now on to more interesting matters. How was the night with your new wife? Did all go well at last?"
Dimitri glanced across the table at his uncle, who eagerly awaited an answer, then turned his gaze toward the window. To say that things had gone well would have been a gross understatement, he realized with a start. He never would have believed it possible, but his wedding night turned out to be one of the most, if not the most, profoundly intense experiences of his life—including its rocky beginning. He'd been embarrassed at first to have lost control, but Shylo was so responsive to him, so innocent and eager to learn, that his chagrin, if that's what it was, hadn't lasted any longer than he had.
That, along with the many wonders the night had to offer, had been an enormous surprise to Dimitri. Since he'd been anticipating the consummation of his marriage for so many days, he'd expected a tremendous feeling of relief—and in that way he hadn't been disappointed. What he didn't expect was the overwhelming sense of responsibility that came with the consummation of his marriage or the dredging up of new emotions, confusing emotions.
The union between himself and Shylo was supposed to have been a business deal, one that, as it turned out, wasn't quite as lucrative as he'd hoped. That fact alone should have kept his mind clear and his concentration where it belonged—on his studies and on the committee he headed back in Greece—but it seemed that all Dimitri had to do was hear Shylo's name, and he became consumed by thoughts of her instead.
Even now, as he found himself wondering how she was doing upstairs alone in their room, his chest tightened and his heart pounded, making him feel weak all over—a strange and unwelcome sensation for a man as emotionally guarded as he. Perhaps, he thought, he was coming down with a terrible American virus. But somehow he knew that was not the case.
Ari's impatient nature could wait no longer for an answer. "You look distraught, my son. Surely there were not problems with this part of your marriage, too?"
"No. No, of course not." Still troubled by his thoughts and the odd way they made him feel, Dimitri forced a grin. "Everything between us is fine."
"Then we have much to celebrate." Ari signaled the waiter for another round of cognacs. "We must drink to good fortune, which surely will be just around the corner."
* * *
Since Shylo had lolled around in her bed about all she could stand—especially now that she was alone—she decided to dress and then headed up the hallway to check on her sister. Testing the doorknob as she always did when Cassie was alone in a room, she found it unlocked—as usual.
Shylo, already in a foul mood, let her anger race out of control as she burst into the room and shouted, "Have you no brains at all? How many times must I tell you to lock up after yourself."
Cassie, who'd been leaning back on a nice soft Queen Anne chair with her feet propped on her bed, flung the magazine she'd been reading into the air, and then tumbled over backward, chair and all. With the breath knocked out of her, she lay on her back, her petticoats inverted over her face, her legs sticking straight up in the air.
Filled with instant regret, Shylo rushed to her aid. "Oh, my God." Pulling Cassie by her hands, she dragged her away from the chair. "Are you all right, sis? Talk to me."
Cassie looked up at her, batted her lashes, and groaned.
More panicked now, Shylo gripped her sister beneath the armpits and pulled upward. "Come on, test your legs a little and you'll see—you're just fine."
After Cassie finally got to her feet and regained her breath, she tore herself loo
se from Shylo's gasp. "Why in God's green earth did you come in here hollering like that? You went and scairt hell out of me."
"I'm sorry, truly I am." She reached for Cassie, who sidestepped her embrace. Following her sister around the room instead, Shylo tried to explain. "I was worried about you after leaving you alone for so long last night, and I got kind of upset when I found you'd left your door unlocked—again."
"So? Nothing happened to me, and near as I can figure, nothing ever will in this godforsaken, falling- off-the-end-of-the-world town."
"Don't talk like that—if you dare bad luck, it just might come your way."
"I'll dare bad luck if I want to." She flounced away and headed for her dressing table. "I'm tired of you telling me what I can do and can't do. I'm a grown woman now who can do what I damn well please without a big sister who thinks she's my mother telling me what to do all the time." Out of breath from her tirade, Cassie fell onto the tufted vanity stool.
Surprised to see this new side to her sister, Shylo held back a retort and approached her from another angle. "I'm sorry if I seem too motherly at times, but I'm only repeating what my husband said to you as he carted me out of here last night. Don't you recall hearing Dimitri give you strict orders to lock this door?"
Cassie remembered all that and more. Her mood considerably brighter, she swiveled on her little stool and offered her sister a somewhat less than remorseful expression. "I'm sorry about the lock. I took care of the door last night like Dimitri said, but I went downstairs for some breakfast this morning and must have forgot to lock up after I got back." Grinning, she stood up and sashayed over to her sister. "Speaking of your husband..."
"He's not really my husband," Shylo reminded Cassie, but once the words were out, they felt like another of her lies. It was odd, Shylo thought. Was she more like her sister than she realized? She was beginning to believe her own fantasies?
"So tell the truth," Cassie said. "Being trapped alone in a bedroom with a handsome man like that wasn't near as bad as you thought it'd be, was it?"
