The Greek's Forbidden Bride

by Cathy Williams

  Abby was on the sofa, her legs stretched out in front of her, the injured one slightly raised on a cushion. She had used the tape he had purchased to wrap it herself and he resisted the temptation to tell her that he could have done a better job if she had dropped her pride and asked him to.

  Her face was soft and flushed as she looked up at him from her book. Her hair had been neatly tied back into braids and she was back to being the fragile child-woman he had first clapped eyes on in Greece, stepping out of the taxi and looking around her with an air of open wonderment.

  ‘Yes?’ she asked, raising her eyebrows in a question. ‘Do you want something?’

  ‘Aren’t you bored sitting in here by yourself, reading? Would you like me to fetch you the remote control for the television?’ He dumped his laptop on the table by the sofa and began walking round the room restlessly, pausing by the windows to peer outside at the little back garden with its collection of plastic toys neatly stacked away to one side of the gravelled patio.

  ‘I wish you’d stop prowling, Theo. It makes me feel tired.’

  Theo stopped and turned around to look at her. ‘How can you feel tired looking at someone?’

  ‘I know you’re feeling cooped up being here and I’ve already told you that you’re free to leave. I’m managing just fine on my own. In fact, the swelling’s all but gone and I can function. Not very quickly, but then I’m in no rush at this particular moment.’

  ‘I’m staying until your foot’s completely healed.’

  ‘Completely healed?’ Abby’s mouth dropped open in shock. ‘I thought you were leaving tonight.’

  ‘Would that be conveniently before my brother arrives?’

  ‘Why would I want you to leave before Michael comes?’

  ‘Maybe you’re afraid that I might ask him one or two pointed questions…?’ He knew that he was angling for an argument and he knew why. He was jealous of his brother! There was no longer any engagement, but it irked him that there was still that warmth between them. He couldn’t understand why that was the case but the nasty suspicion that maybe he had made a mistake in doing what he had known he had to do, for the sake of protecting his brother, lingered somewhere at the back of his mind. Maybe friendship without sex had been the perfect basis for a permanent relationship. Sex, after all, was transitory. How many times had he made love to a woman, had a full and passionate relationship with her, knowing all the while that the relationship was destined to end? ‘Anyway, that’s beside the point. You still haven’t answered my question. Are you bored?’

  ‘No, of course I’m not bored.’ Abby gazed past the imposing figure by the window to where a light drizzle was threatening to turn into something more substantial. After a prolonged period of fine weather, the English sun was now doing what it did best, namely go into hiding. The forecast for the next few days was dismal. ‘It’s a perfect day to be laid up at home with a dodgy foot,’ she said wistfully. ‘Maybe if it was sunny I would be itching to be outside, doing something useful in the garden, but in weather like this it’s wonderful being indoors.’

  It was the most she had said to him all morning. Theo abandoned all thoughts of work, at least for the moment. He pushed himself away from the window and took up a position on the chair facing her, stretching out his long legs in front of him.

  ‘Indoors doing nothing.’

  ‘I’m reading.’ Abby held up the book for him to see the boldly emblazoned title of a crime novel. ‘I don’t get enough time to read. I’ve been reading this for nearly six months and I’m only halfway through. In case you hadn’t noticed, time rushes past at a frantic rate the minute kids are involved in the equation.’

  ‘Yes, I had noticed, as a matter of fact,’ Theo said dryly.

  ‘Jamie wasn’t too much trouble, was he?’

  ‘He was very well behaved. Actually, I think he enjoyed having me around.’

  ‘He enjoyed having a man around,’ Abby corrected quickly. Gut instinct warned her that it would be a fatal error to slot Theo Toyas into the role of domesticated twenty-first century man. ‘He’s getting to an age when he’s interested in cars and football and he’s envious of his little friends who have fathers to share those interests with him.’

  ‘Michael has never been interested in cars and football,’ Theo felt constrained to point out. ‘He might have been a male presence and a good meal ticket, but that would have been about it.’

  ‘That’s not why…’

  ‘No? Tell me why then…’ Theo interrupted her outburst quick as a flash.

  ‘You’re right. Michael isn’t much into cars or football. Well, at least not the football. He drives a very nice Porsche, which Jamie insists on sitting in every time he comes over.’

  It hadn’t escaped his notice that she had avoided his very pointed question, but he let it go. ‘I don’t suppose you have a lot of free time,’ he conceded. ‘You must have known what life would have been like with a baby. Did you ever contemplate…?’

  ‘Getting rid of it? No, never! I wanted this baby the minute I knew I was pregnant. Maybe terminating a pregnancy is something that works for other people, but it would never, ever have worked for me and I would never have contemplated it!’

  ‘Whoa! It was just a question!’

  ‘Well, would you ever think of asking your girlfriend or partner or wife to terminate a pregnancy because it didn’t suit you?’

  ‘No, of course I wouldn’t. I would just make damned sure that the situation never arose in the first place. That’s the beauty of contraception, isn’t it? It allows a man to take control of his own virility.’

  The direction of their conversation suddenly had Abby becoming a little too aware of a certain man’s virility and she lowered her eyes. ‘Anyway, I’m not bored. I like the sound of the rain outside and I find it very relaxing doing nothing. You should try it yourself some day.’ She was rewarded with a smile of such dazzling amusement that her breath caught in her throat.

  ‘I think that’s what I’m doing at the moment,’ he commented. When she turned her head like that her neck looked so delicate and vulnerable. His desire to go up to her, kneel alongside the sofa and brush back some of those loose strands of pale hair, was so overpowering that he had to clench his fists on the thought.

  ‘You’ve brought your computer in with you.’

  ‘But I’ve only glanced at it this morning and it’s now…nearly midday…a personal record for me…’

  Abby felt herself soften at the admission and she racked her brains to think of something prosaic to say that would dilute the sudden intimacy of their conversation.

  ‘Well, you’d better get started,’ she joked lightly, ‘or else you might find you get used to doing nothing.’

  ‘Oh, but I haven’t quite been idle, have I?’ Dark eyes narrowed wickedly on her face. ‘I’ve been waiting on you hand and foot…’

  ‘I never asked you to!’

  ‘You can be extremely predictable in your responses…’

  ‘Which is good,’ Abby tossed back at him. ‘Predictability is nice. I like that trait in a person.’ Her immobility was beginning to get to her. She couldn’t dodge his conversation nor could she physically walk away from it.

  ‘Do you?’ Theo murmured, then he sighed elaborately. ‘Well, much as I would love to carry on sitting here and chatting away the remainder of the morning, I can’t avoid work indefinitely.’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Which brings me to the reason I barged in on you in the first place, disturbing your peaceful, solitary interlude…’

  ‘Yes…?’ Abby looked at him warily.

  ‘As I haven’t been able to physically get into the office today…’

  ‘Which wasn’t technically my fault…’

  ‘And will most likely not be going in tomorrow either…’

  Abby took a few seconds to digest the sinking inevitability of that statement and only caught on to the rest of what he was saying when he had completed his sentence and was watc
hing her, waiting for her input. Even then she had to reconstruct his words in her head before she grasped the meaning.

  ‘You want me to work for you?’

  ‘Just while I’m here. I have a number of things to dictate and my typing tends to involve two fingers and a great deal of wasted time.’ He leant towards the table, picked up the computer and strolled over to where she was sitting. ‘I think the kitchen table might get a little uncomfortable after a while. Here. You can rest it on your lap and as soon as you think it’s beginning to feel a little awkward, just tell me.’

  He settled the slim gadget on her lap and Abby’s teeth snapped together as his fingers brushed against the fleecy cotton of her track pants.

  ‘You know how to use one of these things, I take it…?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do! But I’m really not sure I’m up to your standard of expectations.’

  ‘You don’t know what my standards of expectations are,’ Theo pointed out, moving behind her and then leaning down so that he could manipulate the keyboard from behind. ‘Is this okay for you? Tell me if the pressure of it on your foot is too much, won’t you.’ She must have washed her hair. It smelled of mint and eucalyptus. Fresh and clean. Like all true blondes, even the roots of her hair were fair. He surfaced to realise that she was asking him something about which files he needed to access.

  Theo reached over her shoulder and moved the icon to open the relevant box. Her fingers, doodling invisible patterns on the sides of the computer, were long and slender. He had a powerful image of those long slender fingers stroking him and he felt himself harden in immediate response to the mental image.

  ‘Will you miss him?’ he murmured, and Abby inclined her head with a little start at his question. His utterly irrelevant question. She felt her heart skip a beat, then begin to thud inside her.

  ‘Miss who?’

  ‘My brother. No engagement, no Michael. Will you miss him?’ His breath gently blew strands of hair that tickled his face, but he didn’t straighten up. He liked leaning over her like this, breathing her in, waiting for her reply. He could feel her tension. It was there in the stillness of her body. Her fingers were no longer doodling.

  ‘Michael and I will always see one another.’ Abby cleared her throat and tried hard to pretend that the big man behind her wasn’t making every nerve in her body unravel in jittery awareness. Why was he standing so close to her, breathing over her? She couldn’t think properly when he was this close. Her head felt as though it was stuffed with cotton wool. The fact that she had managed to speak at all was something of an achievement, as far as she was concerned, because her vocal cords seemed to be undergoing some weird drying up process.

  ‘We’re friends,’ she said, stumbling over her words, ‘and you don’t just deposit friends by the wayside when they no longer suit you.’

  Theo pulled back but, instead of walking away, he swooped round so that he was squatting by the side of her. ‘It’s not just a friendship thing, though, is it? It was a bit more than that. You might think that there would be some bad feeling between the two of you over a broken engagement. Even if the relationship was never…shall we say, consummated?’

  ‘Perhaps we should leave this for the moment and get on with the work,’ Abby mumbled, reddening. ‘I’m not a PA. I know a bit about computers but…’ Those fabulous eyes staring at her made her feel uncomfortable. She almost squirmed in the chair. ‘And anyway, I don’t know how long I can remain here without moving. My foot’s beginning to feel a little stiff…’

  ‘Is it?’ Immediately he was all concern. ‘Maybe an ice-pack will do some good.’ Before she could refuse any such offer of assistance, he was on his feet and heading out towards the kitchen. It gave her approximately three minutes of blissful relief before he was back in the sitting room. He had rigged up a strong plastic bag with ice inside and he proceeded to gently place it on her foot. The thing was freezing!

  ‘It’ll help,’ Theo said, sensing her reaction without having to look at her. ‘And I’ll only leave it on for five minutes. You paint your toenails.’

  ‘Lots of women do.’

  ‘And so do some men.’ Theo looked up and gave her a wicked smile. ‘Paint their women’s toenails, that is…Has a man ever done that for you?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ Abby spluttered, utterly at his mercy as he continued to manoeuvre the ice-pack around her foot.

  ‘You sound horrified. Why? It’s a very sensual thing to do.’

  ‘My foot feels a lot better now, thank you,’ she squeaked.

  ‘Looks a lot better.’ He removed the ice-pack and gave it a professional, measuring look. ‘Right. Back in a minute. Don’t go away!’ He vaulted to his feet, ice-pack in hand, disappeared, only to return moments later with a pot in his hand. ‘Cream,’ he said, holding it up. ‘I noticed you had some in the bathroom. Inertia is very bad for the circulation,’ he carried on, opening the pot. ‘Did you know that?’

  ‘Maybe if you’re bedbound for weeks,’ Abby contributed desperately. ‘But I’ve been off my feet for less than a day! I don’t think my circulation is going to be affected. What are you doing?’

  She knew exactly what he intended doing but her body still reacted with hot shock when he slid his fingers over her good foot and began massaging the thick cream into it, doing a very thorough job while keeping up a running commentary on the miracles of massage for easing away aches, pains, stress and, naturally, the non-existent circulation problem he claimed she was having.

  ‘Relax,’ he told her. ‘I can feel your tension.’

  ‘What do you expect?’ But his hands were horribly relaxing and she gradually felt herself begin to enjoy the movement of his fingers between her toes, along the sides of her foot, against her heel. She leant back against the sofa, curving into the puffy cushion, and half-closed her eyes. His hands on her foot, working her ankle and calf, were magical. She pictured him painting the toenails of a woman, some voluptuous Greek goddess. She imagined he would make a meal of something like that, taking his time, turning it into a slow, languorous part of his fore-play. She felt herself soften inside at the thought and abruptly opened her eyes to see his dark head, still down-bent as he concentrated on what he was doing. And doing so well.

  ‘That was very nice,’ she said crisply.

  ‘Nice? I never liked that word.’

  ‘I’m ready for some hard work now.’ Abby ignored his attempt to prolong a conversation she didn’t feel capable of dealing with. She struggled into a semi-sitting position, which was hardly satisfactory, and Theo obligingly pulled the central coffee table closer to her so that she could swivel into an upright position. Of course, she had to allow him to manoeuvre her foot on to the table. More touching. Innocent touching, she reminded herself. Just like the foot was innocent touching.

  ‘You know which program to log into?’

  When she nodded he proceeded, thankfully, to give her concise instructions on what to do, and he kept a safe distance. Never had she felt so grateful for the safe haven of having to stare at a computer screen.

  He dictated exactly as she had known he would. Word perfect, without the need to ponder over what he intended to say. It was one-thirty by the time he broke off and told her that she had to have something to eat.

  ‘I’ll take you out,’ he announced, forestalling her objection with his hand. ‘I’ll make sure it’s a pub and I’ll park outside so you’ll only have a short walk in leaning against me.’

  ‘You don’t know anywhere here. Really, this isn’t a very good idea…’

  ‘Why not? It solves the problem of you having to eat my food.’

  ‘But…’ But all this time in his company frightened her. But she didn’t want to see these sides of him that she couldn’t categorise and immediately dislike. But the way he touched her made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. A thousand buts that she couldn’t put into words. ‘But you need to get back to your own life in London…I mean, you really don’t owe me all t
his attention! I’m nothing but a gold-digger. Have you forgotten?’

  ‘I made assumptions and I’ve revised them.’ Theo looked at her in silence for a few moments. Even his silence made her skin prickle. ‘Are you scared of being in my company?’ he asked softly, and Abby rushed in with a hot denial of any such thing.

  ‘Good. Then where’s the problem?’

  Which meant that twenty five minutes later they were sitting at a corner table in a very chic French restaurant. He had located it on his little hand-held device, which apparently did a very good job of supplying lists of highly regarded restaurants and was invaluable for him, bearing in mind the amount of time he spent in London. Which led to the inevitable questions about where he stayed when he was in London, whether he found his nomadic lifestyle tiring, whether he missed his mother country when he was away. Harmless questions that met with amusing replies that kept her thoroughly invigorated for the duration of the drive and throughout the superb meal. The one-dimensional cut-out figure she had assumed him to be when she had first encountered him was rapidly turning into a three-dimension flesh and blood man, and one who was sharp, witty, urbane and nothing, she told herself weakly, like the kind of man who should be interesting her.

  ‘Now, I suggest we collect Jamie on the way back,’ he told her, when he was paying the bill. Abby realised, disconcerted, that the time had disappeared.

  ‘What about your work?’ she asked. ‘Once Jamie’s home there’s no chance of getting anything done.’

  ‘Then I suppose we’ll have to pick it up later.’ He stood up and helped her to her feet. She had kept on the shirt she had been wearing in the house, but had managed to change into a skirt, which made her feel a great deal less constrained. ‘Or maybe,’ he murmured, easing her into his car, ‘even tomorrow.’