The Kyriakis Baby

by Sara Wood

  Ruthlessly he unpeeled her fingers, wet with salty tears, and kissed every inch of each breast. She winced and jerked back when his mouth brushed the scar but he was too strong for her and after a juddering moment of tension she gave in.

  ‘Is that good?’ he murmured.

  Emma couldn’t believe what was happening. It was good. She let out a low moan, revelling in the glorious feel of his firm lips touching where no one—even she—had touched with such gentle worship.

  It made her cry to see him loving her there, devoting delicate, sweet kisses to that cruel slash into her femininity.

  ‘Don’t cry,’ he murmured, raising his head. ‘It’s all over now. Isn’t it? It is, tell me it’s over,’ he demanded urgently.

  Bewildered, trying to stop her sobs, she found herself being crushed in his arms. He was trembling. She couldn’t understand why. And then he’d pushed her back a little, his eyes intent on hers.

  ‘Is it over?’ he repeated fiercely.

  She felt her heart beat faster. Had she got it wrong again? ‘Why does it matter so much to you?’ she asked breathlessly.

  Leon stared. ‘I—I’m just asking. It affects Lexi, doesn’t it?’ he said, sounding irritated.

  She hoped it was for another reason too. But she didn’t dare to totally trust her intuition. It had been wrong so many times before. Her imagination had leapt to conclusions that were way off the mark.

  ‘I’m in the clear,’ she assured him and couldn’t mistake the way he sagged in relief. He was stroking her breast again as if his caress could heal it. And perhaps he was right. She did feel whole again. Her delighted smile lit up her face. ‘I’m expected to live to one hundred and three providing I don’t break my neck doing cartwheels.’

  Leon felt his heart buck at her joke. All he wanted to do was to hold her close and block out the moment when he’d thought she, so passionate, such a lover of life, might die before her time. His eyes closed in a fervent prayer of thanks.

  When he opened them he saw that she was smiling, but wilting. ‘Come to bed,’ he said in a gravelly voice. ‘And tell me about it.’

  Tenderly he pulled back the sheet and helped her in, then joined her, drawing her into his arms and holding her as if she were fragile china.

  ‘When did it happen?’ he asked quietly. ‘You looked pretty rough when I visited you in prison. Was it then?’

  ‘Well, the shock of being charged with fraud can’t have helped, and I’d felt too sick with worry to eat, but it had started before then. Though I didn’t discover the lump till I was in prison. The oncologist talked to me and said it could have been due to the stress of my marriage…’

  She clamped her lips together but he put a questing finger beneath her chin and lifted it so that she was forced to meet his eyes.

  ‘What stress?’ he asked grimly.

  ‘You won’t want to know. Leave it. Best unsaid.’

  ‘No. I don’t want there to be any secrets, Emma. The time for that is past.’

  She lowered her lashes but his finger was insistent and made her look at him again.

  ‘I have to know,’ he said gently, his eyes soft with compassion.

  ‘I made an awful mistake,’ she said sadly. ‘Taki was very sweet and attentive when I was getting over you. I suppose I fell for him because he seemed to have some of your characteristics. But once we were married I realised that he was obsessively jealous of you, and had married me just to hurt you. I told him that was crazy, you’d dumped me.’

  ‘He was right. It did hurt me,’ he said, living that pain again. He’d hated his brother then, and had been ashamed of himself for feeling that way. It had seemed as if Emma had betrayed him, but logic told him that she had a right to fall in love with anyone she fancied. ‘You say he was jealous?’ It was news to him.

  ‘He talked about you all the time,’ she admitted. ‘It didn’t help our relationship. I kept comparing you two.’

  Something leapt within him. ‘Oh?’ he enquired casually.

  ‘Leon…I think you should know that he didn’t like you much. He thought his father favoured you. Teachers, friends…everyone.’

  He was stunned. ‘I never knew. Go on.’

  She bit her lip. ‘Oh. Well…our relationship went downhill.’

  It seemed she’d come to a halt in her story. ‘That was the stress?’ he asked with a frown. ‘I can see it was tough being married to someone you didn’t love, but not that bad, surely?’ His eyes narrowed as he read the expression in her eyes. ‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’

  ‘He was…rough.’

  Leon’s throat dried. ‘How rough?’ he growled.

  ‘He got drunk. Because he felt such a failure compared with you,’ she explained. ‘And he’d come home and shout and fling things and sometimes he’d hit me and—’

  Again the compression of her lips. God. Taki had struck her! He thought of her body being bruised, the fear on her face, the misery she must have suffered and could hardly contain his anger. ‘And?’ he prompted ominously.

  She jerked her head away, her eyes lowered. ‘He—he made me sleep with him when I didn’t want to.’

  His chest expanded with a huge, indrawn breath that rasped at his lungs like a saw. ‘You mean he raped you?’ he asked, clenching his fists in fury.

  ‘Only the once,’ she said, ridiculously down-playing what had been a sickening moment.

  ‘Oh, Emma!’ He groaned.

  ‘No. I’m not a victim, I refuse to be. I’m not making light of what he did, but he’s not going to ruin my life because of his jealous, drunken assault,’ she said quietly. ‘I’ve blocked it out of my mind. I don’t like to think about it. The past had some nightmare moments and I can only move on and keep fit if I put it aside and look to the future.’

  ‘You’re amazing,’ he found himself saying in wonder.

  She sighed and snuggled up, nuzzling her face into his neck. He couldn’t believe what she’d gone through. A rush of feeling filled his head, demanding that he protect her from harm in the future. She wouldn’t suffer any more. She’d had enough, he vowed.

  ‘How did you feel when you were told you had cancer?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Terrified. It was like walking into a brick wall. I have no recollection of the rest of that day at all. I was terribly emotional and went into a state of total depression, with days of crying.’

  ‘You were scared of dying,’ he said sympathetically.

  ‘No. Of not seeing Lexi,’ she cried. ‘The only thing I feared was that I’d die without ever seeing her again. That’s when I decided that come hell or high water I’d see her and form a relationship with her. So I set about making myself well. And here I am and now you know why I’m so determined that she should know I am her mother.’

  ‘She will. I’ll make sure of that,’ he said, terribly moved by her fortitude. Lesser women would have crumpled. Not Emma. His mind whirled with admiration. She deserved success. ‘One day, very soon, she will call you Mummy.’

  ‘Leon.’ She flung her arms around his neck, her eyes alight with joy. ‘You really mean that?’

  ‘Only,’ he protested, pretending to choke, ‘if I’m not throttled first.’

  Hastily she withdrew her arms. ‘I went too far again, didn’t I?’

  ‘You did.’ Laughing, he kissed her slowly and sweetly. ‘And now, let’s see if you can go too far in another direction.’

  ‘Oh, Mr Kyriakis,’ she whispered, hugely demure and fluttering her eyelashes frantically. ‘I thought you’d never ask.’

  He laughed again. ‘Wait there.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ she protested, as he clambered out of bed and grabbed his dressing gown for decency.

  ‘We’re going to celebrate.’

  ‘Celebrate what?’ she asked.

  He looked at her, golden and glowing, her skin so flawless, hair gleaming, eyes bright, and he could hardly breathe. Swallowing the extraordinary lump of emotion, he said softly, ‘Your life.�
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  She beamed. ‘That’s lovely, Leon. I’ll drink to that.’

  He was out of the room before she could say anything else. As he ran down the stairs he felt his spirits soar. Amazing, he mused, hauling a bottle of champagne from the cold store, how the probing finger of death could put life into perspective.

  He knew now that he wanted Emma. Wanted her to stay and live with him, to be in his bed.

  Eagerly he raced up the stairs again, two flutes and the champagne in his hand.

  ‘I’ve gone off the boil,’ she said haughtily.

  ‘No problem,’ he said with a grin.

  The bottle would have been nicely shaken up from all that running. Aiming it warily at the bathroom door, he eased the cork out. It exploded very satisfactorily and, as Emma squealed with excitement, he let it foam all over her, dragging back the covers to do a thorough job.

  ‘Brute. Look at the bed. And it’s all over me.’ She gasped.

  ‘So it is,’ he said in satisfaction, his voice suddenly husky as he leaned over her, and began to lick it off. He shrugged out of his robe and let his body slide over hers, enjoying her look of mute, shocked delight. ‘Perhaps,’ he said, almost losing his voice entirely as he began to work over her glistening skin, ‘you could do the same for me.’

  It took a long time. And he never finished. Before he’d even reached her knees she’d captured a crucial part of his anatomy in her hands and was stroking with such maddeningly strong rhythms that he couldn’t bear waiting any longer.

  He felt a great tenderness as he made love to her. Almost as if his heart was filled to overflowing with something intangible. The physical sensations were just as intense, his passion for her as volcanic, but an undefinable quality had entered their loving. Something profound and bewildering, a feeling of warmth and contentment. A feeling of coming home.

  He kissed her deep scar with great gentleness, wanting to take away all the pain it had ever contained. She shuddered with pleasure and the gaze she turned on him all but tore his heart asunder.

  ‘I love you,’ she whispered.

  Her mouth met his. For a moment he didn’t—couldn’t—respond. And then, swept away in an emotion he couldn’t explain, he kissed her back with a fierce poignancy that powered its way through his body until only physical energy could scatter its bitter-sweet pain.

  Their bodies were one. Every breath they took, every beat of their hearts, every sigh. Gently, with agonising slowness, he moved within her, showering her face with kisses as he did so, his hands caressing each swollen breast.

  He began to lose his mind, crazy thoughts darting through his brain. That they would be like this for ever. That he would do anything to make her stay, whatever her past. That this was love for him too. He wanted it to be. So badly. And he let himself pretend it was, because the mere thinking of it intensified his feelings and both fired and delighted his shuttered heart.

  Lying beside her afterwards, hearing her breathe, made him happier than he could ever remember. He watched as she fell asleep, kissing her nose on impulse and getting a grunt for his pains.

  If he loved her, he thought soberly, his conscience was in for a bumpy ride. He had to talk to her, see if there was anything in her claim that she was innocent. Find evidence. But how?

  Three weeks was a long time in politics. It was also a long time in a child’s life, Emma thought happily as she and Leon walked along the flower-decked street in pretty Alikes, with Lexi grasping their hands and being given swings in the air.

  ‘One, two, three…wheee!’ she and Leon went.

  ‘Again,’ demanded Lexi.

  ‘We’re at the taverna now, sweetheart,’ Emma said, gazing at her daughter fondly. Lexi looked adorable. She wore a baby-blue T-shirt with ‘I’m Gorgeous’ printed on it and matching pedal pushers dotted with ladybirds.

  ‘Ah,’ cried the meeter and greeter. ‘Good evening, beautiful lady.’ And he bowed to Lexi, taking her hand and leading her to a prime position.

  Emma beamed. Everywhere they went with Lexi she was met with smiles and admiration. And if there were tears, a dozen macho men would come running up to divert her, beating the women by a short head.

  This was their favourite restaurant. Lexi could watch the ponies go by and wave at them while she waited to eat, nearly falling off the balcony in the process.

  Not that entertainment was lacking. Almost immediately the waiter brought the menus, plus a paper turkey for Lexi, whose fantail could be opened and closed repeatedly. Till it broke, and the vigilant waiter brought her another. And later, Lexi’s ice-cream pudding managed somehow to support not only a paper parasol and flag, but a sparkler as well.

  Such simple things give pleasure, Emma thought, gazing at her daughter’s ecstatic face. For her, a sparkler. For me, seeing my child is happy.

  After their meal they strolled along the beach arm in arm by the calm indigo sea, with Lexi perched atop Leon’s shoulders. Emma was deeply content. Every night in Leon’s arms she saw a greater fondness in his eyes. It was almost like the old days.

  But not quite. He hadn’t given himself fully to her—and wouldn’t, till she was cleared of all her imagined crimes. Soon she must talk to him about the innocent part she played. And she could only hope that he’d believe her.

  ‘Haven’t seen that before.’

  She followed Leon’s gaze to an unlit children’s playground, lurking in the dark with just the moonlight illuminating it.

  ‘Whoopee!’ she cried, breaking away with Lexi and running to the slide.

  ‘Kids,’ called Leon scornfully after them.

  ‘That’s us,’ she said, unabashed.

  The two of them came down the slide squealing and Leon put aside his superior male act and joined in. It was all very childish and silly but Emma found herself laughing more than she had for a very long time.

  In the half-dark—which somehow made it all funnier—they sampled the swings, the roundabout and a rocker then the see-saw, laughing hysterically when Leon’s weight stranded Emma and Lexi high in mid-air.

  Gasping for breath and clutching aching stomachs, they walked back to the car, with Lexi chatting nineteen to the dozen.

  ‘Lovely day, lovely evening,’ Emma said dreamily as they drove back.

  Alerted by the sudden silence from Lexi, Leon looked in the driving mirror and smiled. ‘She’s asleep,’ he murmured fondly. ‘How about just you and me having a meal out tomorrow night?’

  ‘You only want to play on the slide without Lexi squealing in your ear,’ she teased.

  ‘I thought we’d go upmarket,’ he said with a chuckle. ‘Somewhere elegant where we can be grown up and you can wear that green dress that makes my knees tremble.’

  She was secretly thrilled to know that. ‘Don’t choose anything on the menu that requires a steady hand then,’ she advised.

  ‘I think I can control myself.’ He gave her a hot glance. ‘Till we get in the car.’

  ‘I’m too old for back seats.’ She sniffed.

  ‘It reclines.’

  ‘It would.’

  ‘Here we are, my darling,’ he said softly. ‘Home.’

  ‘Home,’ she repeated, awash with love.

  The next day was spent on a nearby beach, searching for crabs under rocks and fishing off a small jetty. Lexi loved the sea urchins that lurked like dark black blobs in the sea, and she never seemed to tire of watching the mullet and bream and wrasse swimming lazily by beneath their dangling feet.

  Donika, the caretaker’s wife, was now a firm favourite with Lexi and she had agreed to babysit for the evening. When Emma and Leon were ready they went to Lexi’s room to read the bed-time story and say goodnight.

  ‘Oh.’ Lexi gasped, looking at Emma in awe. ‘Poli oraya!’

  ‘Efharisto,’ Emma said, thanking her. And surveyed Leon, a feast for the eyes in his perfectly tailored oatmeal jacket, white open-neck shirt and biscuit trousers. ‘Leon’s beautiful too, isn’t he?’

  He went pink a
nd said something about choosing a story. But she noticed that when she and Leon sat on either side of Lexi, her daughter kept glancing up at them both and stroking their arms contentedly.

  ‘You’re quiet,’ Leon observed, when they were on their way to the restaurant.

  Emma turned shining eyes to him. ‘I was thinking how happy I am,’ she said softly. ‘You can’t imagine how much pleasure it gives me, to be with you and Lexi.’

  Yes, he could, Leon thought. And yet their growing intimacy as a family carried with it a bitter-sweetness. More than anything he wanted to help Emma to prove her innocence. Only then would his friends and relations accept her, and only when her reputation was clear could she be truly happy.

  He reached out a hand and held hers briefly. ‘I’m glad. I’d give you the world if I could,’ he said huskily.

  ‘I’ll settle for a souvlaki,’ she said, but her eyes were warm and she leaned her head on his shoulder in a gesture of affection.

  It was his favourite restaurant, high on a hill above Zante town, overlooking the sweep of the bay. From the vine-covered terrace where they sat they could see the whole town laid out before them, its lights gleaming in the sultry night.

  In the background a man was singing Kantathes, the love songs of the island. Emma looked more beautiful than he’d ever seen her. He could hardly take his eyes off her and all the time emotion was swirling inside him, depleting his appetite. They held hands across the table and he marvelled at the love in her sparkling eyes.

  He kissed Emma’s hand. ‘Would you like a brandy, or port, or a coffee?’

  Her face glowed in the candlelight and his breath caught at her vulnerability. He didn’t want her to be hurt, to be unhappy.

  ‘Let’s go home,’ she whispered.

  As they drove off, he felt his heart fill up. He had to help her. It was obvious to him that she was innocent of fraud—she was far too honest for that. He looked at her, singing softly beside him, and wanted desperately to make her life perfect.

  ‘Emma, tell me again,’ he said urgently, ‘how your job as financial director was arranged.’ The happiness in her face was erased in a flash. Her hands twisted in her lap. ‘Help me to understand,’ he said. ‘Start at the beginning so it’s clear in my mind.’