by Lynne Graham
‘Where are we?’ she demanded as they left the plane a few hours later and a hot golden sun in a cloudless blue sky warmed her skin.
‘Morocco,’ Sander supplied, retrieving their passports from the hovering official and tucking her into the waiting limousine. ‘A friend offered me the use of his villa on the Mediterranean coast.’
Tally, who had already made her own deductions from the heat, and the French language Sander had employed to communicate, relaxed in the air-conditioned cool of the limo. As they travelled towards the coast they followed a mountainous route that offered breathtaking views of terraced valleys planted with olive and fruit orchards. The almond trees were in full bloom with fluffy clouds of white blossom. Daylight was fading into dusk when the limousine finally rolled to a halt outside a sprawling white villa surrounded by lush gardens. As Tally stepped out she could hear the rushing sound of the tide hitting the beach somewhere close by and the evocative salty tang of the sea assailed her nostrils.
‘Have you been here before?’ Tally asked.
‘Once, when I was a student in sixth form. I went to school with Alexei Drakos. This property belongs to him,’ Sander told her, closing a hand over hers to walk her through the garden.
Tally was reluctantly impressed by that careless reference to one of the world’s richest men.
Sander came to a halt at the edge of an infinity pool that overlooked a secluded stretch of golden sand washed by whispering surf. ‘It’s a fabulous spot. In a perfect world I would have brought you here for our honeymoon.’
Tally thought back ruefully to the early weeks of their marriage when Sander had had to concentrate on saving the family shipping firm rather than on his new marriage. They strolled back towards the villa where they were greeted by a member of staff. Abu wore a long white djellaba. He was very proud of the villa and pleased to have guests to look after. While decorated in traditional style with strong colours, beautiful hand-painted tiles and opulent fabrics, the house was also blessed with every possible luxury and technological extra. Doors and windows opened and curtains closed at the press of a button. A state-of-the-art office sat next door to a master bedroom and en-suite breathtaking marble bathrooms straight out of the Arabian Nights.
‘You can use these rooms,’ Sander pronounced.
After a leisurely and beautifully cooked evening meal Tally made the most of that invitation. She enjoyed a shower in the walk-in wet room and then, clad in a thin cotton wrap, sat out on the wrought-iron balcony that gave a wonderful view of the sea and the mountains. A pretty town sat further round the bay. Mosque minarets and orderly ranks of painted villas encircled the steep hillside behind the harbour. She texted her assistant to let her know her whereabouts, then smothering a yawn, she finally climbed into the wide comfortable divan and closed her eyes, realising that she felt more relaxed than she had done in months. Why was that? Could it be the simple knowledge that Sander was nearby made her feel secure?
When she awoke, a pair of maids was engaged in hanging garments in a capacious wardrobe. Feeling deliciously rested, she got up, bid the smiling young women good morning in her slightly rusty French and examined the clothing that Sander had promised her. The selection of holiday apparel was impressive. Choosing an azure-blue bikini and a beach dress, she went off to freshen up.
Abu greeted her at the foot of the stairs and informed her that flowers had been delivered for her. He showed her the magnificent arrangement of elegant white roses in a tall vase. Smiling with pleasure, Tally walked out onto the terrace where Sander was having breakfast.
‘The flowers are gorgeous … thank you,’ she said softly.
Ebony brows pleating, Sander glanced up. ‘What flowers? I didn’t send any,’ he declared with a frown.
‘Oh …’ Tally flushed to the roots of her hair and walked back indoors to take a closer look at the flowers. This time she noticed the small discreet card and plucked it out to peruse it.
‘Thinking about you. Robert.’ Sander read the message over her slim shoulder in a growl of disbelief. ‘How dare he!’
Still mortified by her automatic assumption that Sander had sent her the roses, Tally bristled.
‘I will tell Abu to dispose of them,’ Sander pronounced.
‘No, you will not!’ Tally objected. ‘Why shouldn’t Robert send me flowers?’
‘It’s inappropriate.’ Lean strong face set like granite, Sander studied her with angry dark golden eyes. ‘You are my wife.’
Tally shrugged off the reminder with a carelessness that was a warning, because she had no intention of getting involved in a petty, macho-male stand-off over a small gift of flowers. She sat down on the terrace to a breakfast of yogurt, fresh fruit and a chocolate-filled croissant of which every bite delivered bliss. By the time she was ready to go for a walk Sander had recovered his temper sufficiently to ditch his glower and accompany her.
They strolled along the empty beach in the sunshine. Tally dug her toes into the silky sand and, ambling down to the water’s edge, took off her wrap and paddled with the simple enjoyment of a child.
‘We never got the chance to relax like this when we were first married. I was working long hours,’ Sander remarked with a roughened edge of regret to his deep dark drawl. ‘We’d only been together a few weeks when you fell pregnant, so we didn’t know each other that well either—’
‘Yes,’ Tally acknowledged wryly. ‘At the time, I didn’t think of it like that, but it was—’
‘And then we had to act like adults and I wasn’t ready for the responsibility,’ he breathed grimly as he gazed out to sea, his introspective mood unusual enough to attract her wondering appraisal.
‘You didn’t have enough time to get acclimatised to the idea of being a parent.’
His darkened jaw line clenched and he studied her heart-shaped face from below the black fringe of his fabulous long lashes. ‘When it came to how I felt about the baby it was more than that …’
When the silence dragged on she turned back to him to encourage him to continue. ‘More?’
Sander grimaced, his discomfiture with the subject matter obvious as he hesitated. ‘I didn’t have a happy childhood. Nobody ill-treated me, I just wasn’t a loved or wanted child. I don’t know what I did to make it like that. My mother seemed repulsed by me and my father had no time for me either, yet Titos got plenty of attention.’ He shrugged a broad shoulder in a surprisingly awkward gesture that didn’t quite succeed in dismissing the wounding mystery of his parents’ favouritism, as if it was beneath his notice to comment on it.
Tally bit back a feeling flood of sympathy because she could see just how difficult he was finding it to tell her such personal things.
‘I was quite young when I decided that I didn’t ever want children of my own,’ Sander admitted grittily. ‘I didn’t want to hurt any child the way I had been hurt and I was afraid that whatever was lacking in my parents might be missing in me too.’
Tally was shaken, for it had never occurred to her that he might cherish such deep-seated doubts about his ability to be a good father. She had attributed his reluctance to much more superficial and selfish reactions and she was ashamed of the fact.
‘I think … if you’d got the chance,’ she muttered awkwardly, ‘you would have made a great father. You’re not like your parents. I’d be the first to admit that I hardly know them but, from what I have seen of them, they do seem rather cold and detached.’
Absorbing the anxious light in her gaze, Sander gave her a sizzling smile of appreciation. ‘You have such a tender heart.’
He bent his proud, dark head and kissed her with a hungry fervour that made her tummy somersault and her knees wobble. Her hands sliding up to his shoulders to steady herself, she stared up at him, her heart thumping as if she had been running. It was a fake reconciliation, she reminded herself doggedly. She didn’t want to be married to him any more and she no longer loved him, she truly didn’t. But he didn’t know that and the acknowledgement fille
d her with guilt, for dishonesty did not come naturally to Tally. His wide sensual mouth found hers again and the world spun on its axis leaving her dizzy. Heat surged in her pelvis, her nipples tightening into taut straining buds. While she was wondering in some shame if she had to love him to sleep with him again, Sander released her from that inner conflict by walking her back up to the pool and suggesting they have a swim. There was not even a hint that he might wish to engage in anything of a more intimate nature.
Two days later the second bouquet of exquisite roses was delivered.
‘Missing you. Robert,’ it said on the accompanying card.
‘This is totally out of order!’ Sander launched at Tally, crumpling the card in a strong brown hand while regarding her with a censorious frown.
‘Our reconciliation took Robert by surprise,’ she confessed uncomfortably. ‘He’s being deliberately provocative, which is unlike him. But it has to be my fault that he feels he was treated badly.’
‘What does Miller mean to you?’ Sander demanded starkly, dark eyes bright with subdued heat.
Tally was stiff with discomfiture. ‘I’m very fond of him but I don’t want to talk about him. Now that I’m with you again, everything’s changed.’
Although visibly challenged by her reticence, Sander veiled his incisive gaze and compressed his mouth and the subject was dropped. He spent the afternoon teaching her to scuba dive and the day ended with dinner in a restaurant on the quayside overlooking the bay. When they returned to the villa, Abu served them with mint tea and delicate little pastries that melted in the mouth. Sander handed Tally a small leather box.
‘I bought it in London. When you feel ready I’d like you to wear it.’
Tally opened the box to reveal a new wedding ring. Taken aback, she paled, giving him an uncertain look.
‘Is it too soon?’ Raw frustration edged his voice and clenched his strong facial bones. In an abrupt movement he sprang upright and strode to the end of the terrace, glancing back at her, his lean darkly handsome face hard with impatience. ‘I’m trying to play by your rules but it goes against the grain. I don’t want to be your new best friend, moli mou,’ he confided bluntly.
Embarrassed and confused by a powerful urge to throw herself in his arms, Tally cradled the ring box in the palm of her hand, truly shaken by its presentation. It was such a traditional move for a guy who was rarely predictable.
‘I want to be your lover, your husband, the father of your second child,’ Sander declared huskily.
His declaration sent a quiver of deep longing rippling through Tally. As a lover he was superlative and resisting his powerful charisma became daily more difficult as she was no longer the innocent she had once been. She lay alone in her big bed questioning whether or not she was faking anything with Sander. Certainly she was not faking her enjoyment. He was incredibly good company. He had confided in her about his childhood. That demonstration of trust and his evident intent to do things differently meant a great deal to her when it came from a guy who was resolutely independent and unsentimental and ungiven to self-examination. Once again Sander was becoming the first thing she thought about when she opened her eyes in the morning and the last at night.
The separate bedroom idea had never been designed to run and run. Sander might not be aware of it, but that had been Tally’s quiet way of declaring her independence in spite of the manner in which her father had forced her to return to her marriage. But intelligence warned her that it would be unwise to use sex as a reward system when it was always so very easily available in Sander’s world. To ignore that salient fact would be very foolish indeed.
The father of your second child. His careful acknowledgement of their first child made her eyes sting and she could no longer deny her intense yearning for another baby. There was an empty space inside her that could only be warmed by a child, she acknowledged painfully. Maybe that was the real healing that she needed and before she could change her mind, she scrambled out of bed and crossed the corridor into the room that Sander occupied.
Sander was lying back on the bed, his lean bronzed body sprawled on top of the sheet, watching the business news. He wore only black boxer shorts. His handsome dark head turned, dark golden eyes bright with surprise. But Sander was, as always, a quick study. Powerful muscles flexing, he sat up and extended a hand in invitation. Her heart thumping like a piston engine, she grasped his fingers.
Eyes screened to a golden glimmer by his black lashes, Sander murmured, ‘There’s no going back from this, yineka mou. No half measures.’
It was so typical of Sander’s aggressive style to take advantage of a vulnerable moment by laying down conditions that Tally almost laughed. ‘All right,’ she whispered.
A long finger brushed her still bare wedding finger. ‘And tomorrow you put my ring back on and you don’t take it off again.’
Tally gazed into his dark deep-set eyes, her heartbeat racing inside her chest. She could not believe his nerve: he was offering her sex only if she signed up for the long-term haul of marriage. If anything showed her how much Sander had matured and changed, that proposition did. But she had gone back to live with him in return for her father settling her mother’s debts and she had not thought through what she was doing. Now it was make-your-mind-up time and she realised in that instant that she had never had a moment of doubt. There was only one man in the world who could make her feel as she felt just then and she couldn’t turn away from him, no matter what the cost of the decision. She still loved Sander, she still loved him more than she had thought she could ever love anyone and that was her bottom line.
Sander leant forward and circled her lush pink lips with his, very gently but that teasing contact awakened the fire she had kept banked down inside her and she shifted, immediately tilting towards him, her hand rising so that her fingers could lodge in the depths of his thick close cropped black hair. She kissed him back passionately and he spread her knees to arrange her over him. His hand glided up the slender length of her thigh to caress the slick honey-dewed folds of her womanhood.
She was already so tender there that hunger flashed through her like a forking stab of lightning. A flood of response engulfed her when he rubbed the tiny bud of her arousal. He pushed a finger into her tight wet sheath and she gave herself up to sensation, her hands clutching at his hair and his shoulders, her womb contracting with excitement. The waves of desire came faster and faster as her hips squirmed. She came with explosive intensity in an erotic release that went on and on and on and long before it had finished Sander had divested himself of his boxers and pushed into her slick wet heat with forceful male energy.
He felt so unbelievably good she breathed urgently, ‘Don’t stop!’
‘I won’t.’ His hands anchored to her hips to control the pace of their lovemaking, Sander ground his body into hers so that she writhed in ecstasy, her body incredibly sensitive to his every movement. With superb sensual timing he lifted her and brought her down again. Catching his primal rhythm, she rejoiced in every ravishing plunge of his strong male body up into hers. Excitement hurtled through her like an express train, racing faster and faster. Suddenly it was a challenge to breathe and as he shuddered under her with an uninhibited shout of satisfaction her body convulsed again and the world splintered around her.
‘I didn’t use a condom,’ Sander gasped, struggling to catch his breath.
Tally smiled dreamily against a satin smooth brown shoulder and went totally limp in acceptance. ‘That’s all right.’
The following day she staged a couple of video conferences with new clients and then left the office free for Sander’s use and spent the afternoon engaged in sketching out preliminary designs. For the first time in more months than she cared to count she felt free and happy and she knew she owed that renewed zest for life and sense of completeness to being with Sander again.
In the month that followed that contentment only deepened for Tally. Most weekends they spent a couple of days staying in a hotel
in Marrakesh where they visited art galleries, dined at fashionable restaurants and mingled at trendy clubs. During the week they fell into a routine of working long-distance several hours every morning at their respective jobs, sharing the office facilities with only occasional clashes. They went scuba diving, walked in the oak forests and explored tiny isolated villages in the mountains where time seemed to have stopped somewhere around a century earlier. When they felt lazier they relaxed by the pool and picnicked on the beach. They became lovers again, easy in each other’s company, touching without a questioning look to see if the approach was welcome, comfortable with the silences.
By the time they returned to London, their reconciliation had lasted six weeks and Tally was already secretly nourishing the hope that she might have conceived again …
CHAPTER FIVE
AT LUNCHTIME on the first day of his return to the office, before he could step into the lift and leave to meet Tally, Sander was signalled by his highly efficient senior PA to return to his office. Having become accustomed to having his wife within easy reach while they had been in Morocco, Sander was planning to surprise her. But aware that his PA only ever called him back to deal with critical issues, Sander wasted no time in retracing his steps to take the phone call that she had decided was worthy of his attention straight away.
Disconcertingly, he found himself talking to a French lawyer who, ignoring Sander’s initial response in the same language, insisted on speaking in heavily accented English on a frustratingly poor line. Sander was forced to ask the man to repeat himself several times and what Edouard Arpin had to tell him came as an unpleasant surprise. Evidently Oleia Telis had died in a Paris hospital of pneumonia and her burial had taken place the day before. Sander was shaken enough by that startling news about the young Greek woman he had loved as a teenager, but he was also astonished to learn that Oleia had made him the sole beneficiary of her estate. Apparently his presence was urgently required in Paris.
