The Greek's Marriage Bargain

by Sharon Kendrick

  And he hadn’t laid a finger on her.

  He had lain awake as he’d felt the slide of her pyjama-clad body occasionally brushing up against him and the temptation to imprison her beneath him had been overpowering. He’d had to resist the urge to bury his fingers into her thick hair and to open his mouth over hers, kissing her until he had melted away every single one of her reservations.

  He uttered a growled curse in Greek.

  Would he see any signs of change in her this morning? he wondered. Would the frank discussion they’d had last night under cover of darkness have softened Lex’s stance towards him?

  She must have used the second bathroom because when he returned to the bedroom with only a white towel wrapped around his hips she was no longer lying in bed where he’d left her. Wise woman, he thought grimly. It was probably safer to stay away from him when he was feeling like this.

  He dressed and walked out onto the terrace to find her sitting at the table, wearing a simple cotton dress with her ponytailed hair hanging down her back. In front of her was a pot of coffee, a dish of Greek yoghurt and a platter of fruit. She looked up as he approached and, although her sunglasses concealed the expression in her eyes, he saw the way that her teeth chewed nervously at her bottom lip.

  ‘What a touchingly domestic scene,’ he drawled.

  ‘I went over to the main house and got all this stuff from Phyllida,’ she explained a little defensively, in response to the arrogant rise of his eyebrows. ‘I thought it might be nice to have breakfast here, since the gardens are so pretty.’

  He sat down and took the cup which she slid towards him. ‘I imagined my mother planned for us to eat in the main house—but if you’re planning to play housewife, that’s fine by me.’

  ‘I’m planning a little space,’ she said firmly, wishing he wouldn’t do that. Acting as if she had some sort of hidden agenda when she definitely didn’t. Hadn’t she made that clear enough last night? ‘I’m sure Marina doesn’t want me hanging around all the time. But don’t let me stop you from doing your own thing. I’m perfectly happy with my own company.’

  He smiled as he poured them both a coffee. ‘I like it,’ he said. ‘Quite like old times.’

  For a moment she said nothing because this was nothing like old times. She’d woken this morning feeling disorientated, aware that she’d spent the night in bed with Xenon but that he hadn’t touched her. Or rather, he had. He’d touched her in a way which was completely out of character. He’d held her. Just held her. And it had been tender rather than sexual. More than that, he’d actually listened to her and then had gone out of his way to explain some of his more controlling behaviour.

  Didn’t he realise how confused that made her feel?

  She shot him a quick glance. ‘Phyllida also said that we can go and see your grandmother after breakfast.’

  ‘Right.’

  She saw the sudden tension which had darkened his face. ‘I hope she’s not in any pain.’

  He shook his head. ‘The doctors are very good about managing the pain these days and at least we are able to care for her here at home.’ He put his cup down. ‘It was last time I was here that she began asking about you. You know, she liked you, Lex. She liked you a lot.’

  Lexi met his eyes, incredibly touched by his words because she had liked Xenon’s ghiaghia, too. She hadn’t known any of her own grandparents—maternal or paternal—and maybe that was why she’d enjoyed the company of the Greek matriarch so much. She’d loved hearing about her own far-off childhood here on this island and her long and subsequently happy marriage. ‘What did she say?’

  He looked at her with the expression of a man weighing up his options. ‘She said that I was a very clever man, but that sometimes I could be a fool. And that I was a fool to let you go.’

  ‘Xenon.’ Her voice rose with sudden anxiety. ‘I don’t want to lie to her.’

  ‘I’m not asking you to. But do you think you could manage to do a convincing enough impression of still caring for me?’

  She met his gaze. If only he had said it with his habitual arrogance—an attitude which sprang from the certain knowledge that pretty much every woman he met cared about him. But he hadn’t said it in that way. For a minute back then he’d sounded almost vulnerable.

  Her untouched peach seemed to stare balefully at her from the plate. Maybe he was feeling vulnerable—or as close to it as someone like him could get to such an emotion. His beloved grandmother was dying and Lexi knew she had to stand by him. She owed him her support at this time because she had loved him and had married him. She would be there for him.

  Some impulse made her stand up and reach out her hand to run her fingers through the tangle of his ebony hair. ‘Oh, I think I’m a good enough actress to put on a convincing enough performance of caring for you.’ She smiled.

  But something in the air had changed. Something she had said or done had clearly angered him, for he rose to his feet and suddenly he seemed huge as his shadow fell over her.

  ‘Good enough actress?’ he echoed. ‘Is that a fact?’

  Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her and it was as if someone had opened a floodgate. His lips were hard on hers as he explored her mouth with an urgent kind of hunger. The man who had lain so chastely beside her during the night had gone and in his place was the Xenon she remembered best.

  He pressed his body closer. She could feel the jut of his hips against hers and the heavy weight of his erection pressing into her belly. She could feel the insistent tug of desire melting insistently at her core—a hot ache which was clamouring to be released. His hand cupped her breast and she groaned, wriggling luxuriously as he played with one peaking nipple. Restlessly, she moved her hips in silent invitation. Wanting him to slide his hand up underneath her dress to where she was wet and waiting. Wondering if she dared touch him. To stroke him as he loved to be stroked. To take the heavy weight of him in her hand and to whisper her fingertips over his silken length until he moaned something guttural in his native tongue in response. Yet something stopped her from initiating that next step towards total intimacy—for wouldn’t he interpret such a move as weakness or reliance on him?

  So why didn’t he make a move instead? Why didn’t he push her back inside the villa and slide her onto the cool marble floor and take her without further ceremony in that hungry macho way of his? If he’d straddled her right there and then, she would have eagerly welcomed him into her body because she wanted him so badly it felt almost like pain.

  But he didn’t do that. Instead he drew his head away from hers, although his blue eyes were almost black with lust. And although she could see the faint tremble of his hands, his voice was quite calm when he spoke.

  ‘I must say, Lex,’ he observed, ‘that you put on a pretty convincing performance of “caring for me”—even without the benefit of an audience. Don’t you think?’

  And Lexi knew she’d walked into a trap of her own making. A stupid and cheapening trap. She’d shown him she still wanted him and that was bad enough—but she prayed that he wouldn’t guess the real reason behind her passionate response to him.

  That she was still in total thrall to her husband.

  ‘Fifteen-love,’ she said.

  ‘I’d say it was closer to set point.’ His voice was dry. ‘Come on, let’s go and see Ghiaghia.’

  She asked for five minutes to compose herself, to tidy her hair and smooth down her dress, and was quiet as they walked across the courtyard to the side of the house where they’d eaten dinner last night. Her heart was in her mouth as they walked into the large bedroom whose shutters were half closed and where his grandmother now lay.

  Sometimes Lexi was grateful that she hadn’t had a sheltered upbringing and this was one of them. As a child she had seen things no child should ever see—shocking, brutal things—but
she found herself thinking that nothing was more shocking than the inevitable approach of death.

  Like her daughter, Sofia had once been a great beauty but her exquisite bones were now cruelly defined by the waxy skin stretched tightly over them. Her once-lustrous eyes were dulled by morphine and her body was as insubstantial as a sparrow’s as it lay beneath the white sheet.

  Her eyes tried to focus on the couple as they walked into the room and for a moment she frowned, as if she was examining her failing memory for clues. But then came the hint of a smile as she stared at Lexi. The faintest fluttering of bony fingers as she attempted to lift her hand from the bed in greeting.

  Lexi went straight over to her, wanting to hug her tightly but, mindful of her frailty, she bent down and took her hand before bending to kiss each shrunken cheek.

  ‘Ghiaghia,’ she whispered. ‘It’s me, Alexi.’

  ‘Alexi.’ The Greek matriarch struggled a little and Lexi glanced over at the nurse, who nodded, and the two women helped move the old lady further up the bed, positioning her feeble body against a deep pile of pillows. ‘I am happy to see you.’

  ‘And I you. Oh, Ghiaghia.’ Lexi’s voice cracked, just a little. ‘I’m...I’m so sorry that you’re sick.’

  For a moment, Sofia looked into her eyes and there was a trace of humour on her face as well as sadness. ‘It happens to us all,’ she said gently.

  ‘Yes.’ Still holding onto the old lady’s hand, Lexi sat down on the chair beside the bed. ‘Can I get you anything? Can I do anything for you?’

  There was a pause and then a croak as Sofia sucked in a breath. ‘Love my grandson,’ she said, on the outbreath. ‘As he loves you.’

  For a moment Lexi felt scared. She was here because Xenon had wanted her to be and she could see exactly why. Sofia had obviously wanted to say what was on her mind and no words were more powerful than those spoken on the deathbed.

  But she was also aware that she could not tell a lie—not even at a time like this. Yet the stupidest thing was that she had no need to lie. That what she was about to say came straight from the heart. She was grateful that Xenon was standing on the other side of the room and could not hear their whispered exchange as she bent her head to speak. ‘I love Xenon more than I have ever loved any man, Ghiaghia,’ she said. ‘Please know that.’

  For a moment there was silence and Lexi was left wondering if Sofia had actually heard her, or whether she had fallen asleep. But then the fingers which she was holding gripped hers with a sudden fierce show of strength and Lexi saw her smile.

  The old lady’s breathing grew shallow—and then she did fall asleep, though Lexi didn’t move from her place by the bed. For a long time she sat there in silence as thoughts flew through her mind. She thought of Sofia as a young bride, and then a mother. She thought how quickly a life could pass. She was barely aware that Xenon had walked from the far side of the room to stand behind her and had put his hand on her shoulder.

  ‘Come on,’ he said.

  His voice was gentle and so was the hand which helped lever her to her feet. He moved to take her place by the bed and leaned over to kiss his grandmother tenderly on the forehead. And Lexi could feel a terrible, aching sadness.

  Outside the day seemed bright—almost too bright—and the intense beauty provided an exquisite contrast to what she had just witnessed. She stood there, unsure what to do next, and when Xenon stood behind her and wrapped his arms around her, she didn’t have the strength to oppose him. She leaned against him, breathing in his distinctive scent and allowing some of his strength to flow into her.

  She didn’t know how long they stood like that—maybe only for a couple of minutes, but when she tried to pull away he turned her round so that she was facing him and his blue eyes looked very bright.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said.

  ‘I was glad to do it. She is a remarkable woman.’

  But she found herself thinking that he was showing emotion—real emotion. And some lingering sense of resentment began to bubble up inside her. Because he hadn’t shown emotion over their baby, had he?

  ‘Lex?’

  She swallowed. She couldn’t go back and she couldn’t keep blaming him for the way he’d been. She guessed he had coped in the way only he knew how to cope, as had she. It was just that they hadn’t managed to cope together.

  ‘Lex?’ he said again. ‘We need to think about how we’re going to spend our day and you look like you could use a little sun on your face. How about a trip around the island?’ A dry, teasing note entered his voice. ‘Maybe take the bike out?’

  She looked at him suspiciously. ‘You’re not still riding that clapped-out old motorbike?’

  ‘Actually no, I have a new one. All gleaming black and chrome and much more comfortable than the last. It’s the only way to travel.’

  ‘Thankfully, it’s not.’

  ‘Oh, come on—you know you always secretly liked riding pillion.’

  She met the mockery in his eyes and told herself this was dangerous. That a sensible person would change into a bikini and take a book down to the pool and maybe spend the rest of the day reading. But then she thought about Sofia. She thought about an island she had missed and a beautiful day which might never come again.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Why not?’

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  IT WAS A long time since Lexi had been on the back of a motorbike. Not since her last visit here, just before she’d become pregnant. Before the pressure had become so intense and they’d started to treat her as if she had been made of porcelain. When she’d been made so aware of the significance of the child she carried...

  Squashing the helmet over her ponytailed hair, she wriggled onto the pillion seat behind him.

  ‘Where do you want to go?’ he threw over his shoulder.

  ‘Surprise me.’

  ‘Okay.’ He kick-started the bike and it pulled away with a throaty roar as the electronic gates swung open.

  They headed off down the road, with dust billowing up in clouds as they passed and Lexi felt the first heady rush of freedom as they headed down the hillside.

  She noticed that he avoided the busy coastal road and wondered if he might take her to the famous Acropolis of Lindos, with its Knights’ stairway and view over St Paul’s bay, which was considered one of the most stunning in all Greece. But that would have been an unwelcome surprise because it was the place where he’d asked her to marry him, during an unforgettable day of high romance and promise. And an overwhelming sense of relief washed over her when he headed inland, through the tiny hillside village of Laerma and then out onto the Profila road.

  Xenon’s new bike was powerful, but Lexi realised that he must have remembered her fear of high speed, because he quashed his dare-devil nature and took it at a relatively easy pace. Which meant that she was able to enjoy the breathtaking views of an island which the ancient Greeks had described as ‘more beautiful than the sun’.

  The only trouble with motorbikes, she reflected, was that you had to get close. Like, really close. As a passenger you had to grip the waist of the person in front and cling to them like glue. She was being given a legitimate reason to touch her husband and she couldn’t decide if it was heaven or hell.

  Her senses felt as if they were being assaulted from all sides. The beauty of the island and the sense of freedom which warmed her skin as she hung onto Xenon was heady stuff. And she wasn’t naïve enough to deny that the throb of the powerful machine between her legs was making her think about things she definitely shouldn’t be thinking about.

  They drove for about twenty miles before he brought the bike to a halt on the dusty road close to the monastery of Moni Thari and turned his head to look at her. ‘Do you want to stop and go inside?’

  She’d been here before, too. In fact, Lexi realised that there were fe
w places on the island she hadn’t visited, but today it seemed appropriate to go inside that spiritual place and to think of Sofia.

  ‘I’d like that.’

  He parked close to the monastery and they went inside. The thickness of the ancient walls meant that the interior was cool and welcoming and the echoing silence seemed to seep into her skin and fill her with a strange sense of calm.

  But as they paused to study the exquisite frescoes, Lexi felt as if she was being emotionally tugged in all directions. She was acutely aware of Xenon at her side, his motorcycle helmet tucked beneath his arm. With his dark hair ruffled and windswept, he looked dressed-down and casual. But no matter what he wore or how he presented himself, he always drew the eye.

  She could see a couple of beautiful Swedish women turning to stare at him and she saw the expressions on their faces. And it was always like that. Women always looked at him and wanted him. Yet there was nothing to suggest that the man studying the frescoes with such rapt curiosity was a powerful billionaire with global influence. He just looked so very Greek.

  Afterwards, he drove them back to Laerma, only this time they stopped for a drink in the little village. Under the dappled shadows of the trees, they sat outside a small restaurant whose owner came out to greet Xenon, shaking his hand enthusiastically, as if he was an old friend.

  It appeared he was, because Xenon introduced him to Lexi as Petros. He served them with thick coffee, water and a plate of salty olives and went inside, only to reappear a few minutes later holding a small plastic bag, which he handed to Xenon.

  ‘Efharisto,’ said Xenon, inclining his head slightly as he glanced inside.

  ‘Parakalo.’ Petros gave him a questioning look. ‘Ine simantiko?’

  ‘Ne.’

  Lexi waited until they’d finished their drinks and were walking back towards the bike before she brought the subject up.