‘I am telling you the truth, damn it.’ Theo winced at the strength of his emotions, his firm lips twisting bitterly at the irony of the situation. The one and only time in his life he had told a woman he loved her, and she did not believe him. ‘I admit Christine was my mistress, but I abandoned any thought of continuing the relationship as soon as I saw you again in London.’
‘But you were going to marry her?’
His dark face tightened. ‘The thought had crossed my mind. I wanted a child, but I sure as hell never proposed to her, whatever you may have heard.’
‘Only because you found you had a ready-made son with me,’ Willow countered. Deep inside she wanted to believe his avowal of love but she was determined not to be conned again.
‘Damn it agape mou! What do I have to do to convince you?’ he demanded, any trace of vulnerability vanishing as his expression changed to one of frustrated cynicism. ‘I met you when you were a teenager and I retained a vivid memory of a beautiful girl who caught fire in my arms, and fulfilled my every desire. Only to discover the next morning you had run away from me. I have told you all this before,’ he declared, shooting her a dark glance. ‘I don’t deny there have been other women since, even a wife. I’m not a monk and nine years is a long time. But they were all the same: I provided them with a wealthy lifestyle and they provided me with sex.
‘The same as me, then,’ she said flatly.
‘No.’ Theo put an arm around her slowly, as if afraid she would push him away. ‘Never think that. You are different,’ he told her huskily as he gently brushed his fingers over her cheek. His dark eyes burned down into hers, so she had to look away, afraid of what he might make her believe, make her feel.
‘Yes, different because I had your son,’ she countered swiftly and wrenched out of his arms.
‘No,’ he denied adamantly, frustration getting the better of him. Willow had already admitted without realising that he had been her one and only lover, so she had to at least care for him, even if she did not love him. He could live with that. It was persuading Willow to do the same that was his problem. He reached for her again, raking not quite steady hands through her glorious hair as he cupped her head and tilted her face up to his so she had to look at him. He was fighting for his life here, and he had never been more afraid.
‘No, not because of Stephanos. But because for years I carried the image of you in my head and heart. A bewitching black-haired creature. Sometimes in my worst moments I thought I had imagined you, and your perfection was a dream. And then I saw you again at the hotel, and it was the same all over again.’ He closed his eyes for a brief moment and when he opened them the flame of possessive passion in the black depths transfixed Willow.
‘I looked at you and I wanted you, and I knew that I would move heaven and earth to get you back, and this time for good. And before you say it again…not because of Stephanos, because at the time I did not know you had a child.’
Willow’s eyes widened on his. He was right, he had wanted her without knowing about Stephen, and a slight ember of hope ignited in her heart.
‘If you recall when we were alone in my suite I wanted to make love to you then, and if you are honest so did you,’ he prompted, his hands dropping from her face to settle lightly on her shoulders. ‘I could have persuaded you, but I didn’t, because I felt I had rushed you the first time. I did not want to make the same mistake again and have you run away. I thought we had all the time in the world,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘Much good my restraint did me. You still ran off like a thief in the night.’ He was right again, she had run away, and suddenly his eyes, burning with a fire he made no attempt to hide, seared into hers. ‘Do you have the slightest notion of how badly I want you?’
‘Not really,’ she whispered, her mouth dry. Some of her uncertainty must have shown in her face because he smiled down at her, the grim smile of a man under intense pressure.
‘No, you probably don’t,’ he said gently. ‘You were so young when we first met…too young. But when you left me I thought I was not quite a man because I ached for you so much. For my sins I even married another woman to try and forget you but still your image haunted my dreams. In the end finding Dianne in bed with another man was a relief—it gave me an excuse to divorce her.’
‘But I thought—’
He cut her off before she could finish. ‘Oh, I know what you thought; you laughed when I told you on our wedding night. But I have only myself to blame. It is what almost everyone else thinks as well. I allowed the rumours to circulate about another woman—some thought it was Christine—and I did nothing to disillusion them and I got a no-fault divorce.’
‘That’s what Charles said.’ She agreed with him again.
His mouth twisted in a self-derisory smile. ‘A sop to my ego.’
‘That is so chauvinistic,’ she declared in horror.
His dark brows rose. ‘Oh, Willow, you are so naive,’ he taunted and his hands drew her closer. ‘A man is just as vulnerable as a woman, and in matters of sex probably more so.’
‘Wait a minute,’ she cried as a horrendous thought struck her. ‘Did you sleep with Christine because Dianne slept with another man?’ she asked. Her disgust was clear to see in her expressive eyes.
‘No,’ he breathed, his dark eyes gleaming with outrage. ‘Are you determined to misunderstand everything I say?’
Willow took a deep unsteady breath and managed to keep her voice cool with the greatest difficulty. ‘Well, that is what it sounded like to me.’
‘If you knew me at all then you would know I would never use a woman that way.’ His hands tightened over her shoulders. ‘I swear I never slept with Christine until over two years after the divorce. Before that we were just friends and nothing more.’
‘So you say,’ she snorted.
‘When have I ever given you reason to think so badly of me?’ Theo demanded with barely leashed fury. ‘You’re my wife, the mother of my son, you belong to me.’ His eyes darkened bitterly.
‘Damn it, Willow.’ He swore. ‘I know I have made mistakes—this house, for a start. But the journalist in that magazine got it wrong—I did not build it for Dianne. It was a present from my father when I was twenty-five. The whole magazine story was Dianne’s idea after Christine finished decorating the place for her. You were right about that, but all you had to do was tell me you didn’t like it, instead of being so damn secretive. You can rip the place apart for all I care. I have already bought a small private island in the Aegean. The architect is drawing up plans for our house as we speak, and you will be the first to approve them. Is it too much to ask for a little trust?’ he demanded roughly.
He had bought an island and was building them a house; Willow studied him with wide, wondering eyes, unable to think of a word to say.
‘I swear I have not touched my ex-wife since the divorce and I have never touched another woman since the moment you walked down the stairs in the hotel, and back into my life,’ Theo continued, completely misreading her silence and incensed by what he saw as her stubborn belief in his womanising ways. ‘I have explained about Christine, damn it! And I’m sorry if you were hurt. I love you… What more do you want from me? Just tell me and it is yours.’
The breath caught in her throat as she saw the naked vulnerability and the pleading in his gleaming black eyes. The small ember of hope in her heart burned into a glorious flame. When she had met Theo again she had told him, ‘I try never to dwell on the past but prefer to look to the future.’ Maybe now was the time to take her own advice and try to forget their past and put her trust in the future he was offering. ‘Say that again?’ she said softly.
Theo’s devastatingly handsome features clenched in a frown. ‘What…?’ She infuriated and confused him, enraged him even.
Sometimes it was necessary to take a leap in the dark instead of always procrastinating and Willow realised that this was one such moment. ‘That you love me, of course.’ Instinctively she placed her trem
bling hands on his broad chest, feeling the thunderous pounding of his heart under her palms, and held her breath.
‘Love you?’ he launched back at her. ‘I love you so much I can’t live without you,’ he affirmed, his black eyes glittering intently on her sparkling blue. ‘I can’t let you go, Willow,’ he declared with savage determination. ‘Not in eight years, not ever, and if that is selfish of me, so be it.’
‘I have heard better ways of declaring one’s love.’ She smiled brilliantly at him, and slipped her hands up and around his neck. ‘How about I will love you until the sea runs dry?’ she suggested. ‘Or until the stars cease to shine? Or maybe until the moon loses its glow?’
Theo’s arms tightened around her convulsively. ‘If that is what you want,’ he said slowly, completely confused by her attitude. At least she was in his arms and smiling at him, which was a vast improvement on the past few hours.
‘I don’t know.’ She looked at him through her lowered lashes. ‘Perhaps something more like, until the universe implodes,’ she teased, a tiny secret smile curving her luscious lips as she swayed into him. ‘Or perhaps best of all…’ she paused dramatically for a long moment ‘…I love you, Theo. Four words, simple and concise.’
With a throaty growl, Theo swept her up in his arms and, tripping over the end of the sheet that was wrapped haphazardly around her, he tumbled them onto the bed and all the breath was knocked out of her.
‘You little witch—you love me,’ Theo declared, his glorious dark eyes gleaming down into hers, and she nodded, too breathless to speak.
‘Thank God! I think I have loved you from the first moment I saw you. But in my wildest dreams I never imagined you could feel the same way. You have no idea how often over the years I have wanted to come looking for you. But I told myself there was no such thing as love, especially at first sight. I want to be honest with you,’ he said, suddenly serious. ‘I was a complete cynic. A marriage for business, and, yes, perhaps for children, I could understand.’ He gave a wry grimace. ‘But love did not enter the equation as far as I was concerned. It was only tonight, when I was forced to face the prospect of losing you, that my head finally accepted what my heart has always known, and I was terrified.’
‘It didn’t stop you, though.’ Willow reached up her hand and traced the strong line of his jaw in a loving gesture. He was a proud, arrogant man and he was hers.
‘Where you’re concerned nothing will ever stop me loving you,’ he vowed, his heart and soul in his eyes as he leant over her and kissed her with an exquisite, possessive tenderness that told her better than any words he truly loved her. And the small bed proved more than adequate for the rest of the night.
But not so convenient the next morning when she woke enfolded in Theo’s arms. He nuzzled her neck and murmured, ‘So what was all that about using me as a serial killer in your first book?’
She tried to wriggle free but there was nowhere to go. ‘I was hoping you had forgotten about that.’ She raised laughing eyes up to his.
‘I never forget anything about you, surely you know that by now.’ He kissed her with breathtaking tenderness, and, lifting his head, he smiled. ‘Did you really dislike me so much you had to have me killed off?’ he prompted with a chuckle, but his dark eyes were oddly guarded, and Willow realised her arrogant husband was nowhere near as amused as he appeared.
‘Dislike you, no, but to dismiss you from my mind, yes,’ she said honestly. ‘I started writing that book when Stephen was a year old, and I was just beginning to get over the grief and pain of the past two years. I knew I had to get on with my life, but I wasn’t sure how.’
‘God, I wish I had been there for you.’
‘Well, in a way you were. I didn’t realise as I wrote the book that my villain bore a striking resemblance to you. A psychiatrist would probably have a field-day discerning my motive. I think killing you off in fiction acted like a catharsis, and I was able to move on with my life in a much happier state of mind.’ Willow looped her arms around his neck. ‘In fact you could say my success as a writer is really all down to you, Theo,’ she declared with a brilliant smile.
‘Thanks, I think,’ Theo said with a rueful shake of his dark head. ‘I don’t know how you do it but you can make me believe anything.’ And his hands stroked the lustrous black hair back from her face, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. ‘But no more using me in your books.’ His hand, on the move again, stroked down her throat and lower to cup her breast. ‘Or I might have to take serious measures to stop you.’
Willow’s hands caressed down his back, and as she looked up into his face her blue eyes sparkled with mischief. ‘Now that is a pity. I was thinking of incorporating romance into my next manuscript—my publisher tells me sex sells.’ She trailed a finger down his spine, and felt him shudder. ‘And as my only experience is with you, and you say I can’t use you…’ She paused to press a soft kiss on his broad, tanned shoulder. ‘It’s going to be hard, but I will have to find someone else to practise my fictitious sexual moves on.’ She sighed theatrically.
Theo gave a shout of laughter and his hand tightened in her hair, his intent clearly written on his face, and in the depths of his glorious eyes. ‘I already am hard, and you are not practising your moves on anyone else but me, from now to eternity. Is that imaginative enough for you?’ he husked.
Willow smiled as his mouth claimed hers… And it was…
ISBN: 978-1-4268-7101-6
THE GREEK TYCOON’S LOVE-CHILD
First North American Publication 2004.
Copyright © 2004 by Jacqueline Baird.
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