He sat there staring out at the reddening skies for a long time before he walked over and watched her sleeping. She was curled up into a ball, hanging off the end of the vast bed, defensive even in sleep. Xante couldn’t believe the effect she had on him.
He wanted to lean over and kiss her, to wake her up with soft kisses and make love to her. Never had he wanted a woman more—it was the reason she was here, after all—yet he wanted her to want him too.
Stretching out on the bed beside her, still fully dressed, he reached for her and felt her stiffen and tense even in her sleep. He pulled her from the edge towards the centre of the bed then lay and silently watched until finally she relaxed a touch, her dressing gown falling open to reveal the plain camisole beneath. Her damp hair was splayed on the pillows, her face void of make-up. The scent of soap and toothpaste in the air was such a contrast to the scent of glossy beauties he was used to bedding, and never had so little effort been more endearing or confusing.
Enough of this softness, Xante told himself. When they awoke, normal service would be resumed.
But for now she needed to rest…
CHAPTER SEVEN
IF SHE’D had sunglasses handy, she’d have put them on. Waking to the brilliant, dazzling light, it took a moment for Karin to orientate herself.
The clock was nudging nine, and even if she had only slept for a few hours it was still the first proper rest that she’d had in ages—and for once she felt wonderful.
Wrapping her dressing gown tightly around her, she headed out to the terrace to join a very surly Xante, who was reading the paper.
‘Thanks for letting me sleep.’
‘No problem. Your luggage has arrived.’ Xante looked up and gave a tight smile at her frown of confusion. ‘I rang ahead on the plane,’ he explained. ‘If the clothes are not suitable, I can send someone out this morning.’
Her smart new luggage had been unpacked and put away and Karin went and flicked through her new wardrobe. Oh, it was more than suitable; his shopper had thought of everything. The wardrobe was filled with gorgeous dresses, two linen suits, underwear that made her eyes water, skirts, pretty tops, shoes and a couple of pretty camisoles. Suddenly feeling rather guilty, Karin wondered if she got to keep them! There was even a pretty white bikini, which Karin hoped she wouldn’t be expected to put on.
Xante had no shame, though.
Dropping his towel, he headed for the pool, and she sat wearily on the bed. Her flimsy gown was wrapped to the neck, and she watched his lithe, toned body doing laps, wondering if he expected her to join him. A knock at the door made her jump, but it was just the waiter arriving with breakfast. Xante carried on swimming. He was so utterly uninhibited, so Mediterranean, that it only accentuated her English awkwardness. Karin busied herself flicking through her new wardrobe, trying not to think about him so close and so naked, trying to decide what would be best to wear for the christening.
‘Don’t bother getting dressed yet,’ Xante drawled with clear intent, climbing out of the water once the waiter had gone. Dripping wet, he walked towards her and, even though she quickly averted her eyes, it was too late—because one look was enough to tell her he was gorgeous. There was just a small smattering of dark hair on his chest that led a dangerous trail down his body. She’d tried to tear her eyes away, but she’d seen him.
Had seen the thick length of him that awaited her later. Her throat felt impossibly tight, her voice too high for normal. She chatted nonsense about whether one tipped the waiters here, and how nice the breakfast looked; anything other than look down! Without a word of response to her nervous twitter, he picked up a towel and wrapped it around his hips, then headed out to the terrace, where Karin followed.
He motioned to the table, to the spread of yoghurts and fruit, and Karin realised then that she was hungry. Stirring berries into yoghurt, she took a sip of the strongest, sweetest coffee she had ever tasted, and promptly settled for juice.
‘So what time is the christening?’
‘Two,’ Xante answered. ‘The hairdresser is coming to fix you at eleven.’ Even allowing for poor translation, his words stung. ‘Then we will leave at one.’
‘It’s on another island, though.’ Karin frowned. ‘Isn’t that cutting it a bit fine?’
‘They’ll wait for us if we are late.’ He saw her eyes narrow. ‘We are in Greece now, Karin, not London, and as I have already explained things move slower here. Given today is my first morning off in more than three months, I intend to relax.’
Which she assumed meant going back to bed.
‘So who’s getting christened?’ Karin attempted anything to stave things off.
‘My friend Stellios—it’s his son Christos.’
‘And you’re the godfather?’
‘We’ve already established that.’ He refused to make small talk, to be drawn into her games. Reminding himself what she was here for, he drained his coffee and stood up. ‘I’m going to have a shower.’ As he walked out of the balcony, he called over his shoulder, ‘Feel welcome to join me.’
She couldn’t.
She could hear the gush of the water, as the door was left ajar and she sat, trailing her spoon through her yoghurt, feeling sick.
She could never walk in and join him. Massaging her temples and her forehead now, for once she prayed to get her period, for any excuse, any reprieve…
‘Don’t tell me.’ Xante stood in the doorway, scowling and wet, but thankfully wrapped in a bathrobe. ‘You’ve got a headache.’
‘A small one.’
She heard him swear as he dressed, and sat frozen on her seat as he slammed out of the villa. She knew she couldn’t put it off for ever.
It was actually very hard work being a playboy’s plaything, Karin soon realised.
Even having managed to dodge the morning sex, she still had to look the part of his groomed lover. The thrill of getting her hair and make-up done, just so she was deemed good enough to appear by his side, was fast wearing off.
His mood hadn’t improved after his walk, or wherever he’d been. She was dressed and made up now, wearing a pale, lilac linen suit with soft, grey stilettos on her feet. Her hair had been put up, but much more loosely this time, blonde ringlets falling over her eyes. As the hairdresser added the final touches, Xante paced, appalled that his butler hadn’t packed his silver cufflinks, completely dismissing the fact that he had given him just two minutes’ notice to pack. An angry phone call ensued as some poor islander was no doubt hauled from his bed or the beach to open up shop and rescue the situation.
‘I have one white shirt with me,’ he said to her raised eyebrows and pursed lips as the hairdresser fussed ever on. ‘Do you expect me to be sponsor to Christos with my shirt arms flapping?’
For the first time since they’d landed in Greece, she actually giggled.
‘No.’
Silver cufflinks were duly delivered, and as they were leaving Xante picked up a white basket. ‘As sponsor, I am supposed to bring certain things.’ Even Xante managed a half-smile as he walked out with his basket. ‘I know it looks irregular.’
Strange that, as much as she didn’t want sex, somehow she still fancied him.
Strange that she was as angry with him as he was with her.
Sparks were flying off both of them as they boarded the luxury boat that would take them to his home island.
‘What will I say?’ Karin was beside herself with nerves as they left the safety of the villa behind. ‘If they ask how long we have been seeing each other?’
‘Two, maybe three months.’ Xante gave it a second or two’s thought. ‘That is a long time for me.’
‘Wouldn’t you have told your family and friends?’ Karin asked.
‘I do not bore them with my relationships. That I am bringing a partner to a family function is enough.’
‘Enough for what?’ Karin asked, but Xante didn’t answer.
The boat slid through the sea. The waiter brought them over champagne, but
Karin declined, requesting instead a glass of mineral water. ‘Such a lady,’ Xante drawled once her water had been poured and the waiter had bobbed below deck. ‘Would you like some whisky with it?’
‘Water’s fine,’ Karin snapped back.
‘You don’t want to taste me again, then?’
He grinned at her blush, and then thankfully dropped it, explaining a little more about his family. ‘Stellios is more than a cousin; we grew up together. I was his koumbaro, or best man at his wedding, which means I am now godfather to their first child. It is a big honour. Our families are close, so most of my extended family will be there to celebrate too. Christenings are very important in Greece. My ex-fiancée, Athena, will be there also.’ How casually he said it; Karin’s eyes jerked up as Xante continued. ‘There may be some tension.’
‘You could have warned me.’
‘I am warning you now.’ He gave an easy shrug. ‘It was a long time ago; we were engaged for a year.’ He really wasn’t comfortable discussing this. But forewarned was forearmed, and maybe Karin did need to be aware of a few pertinent facts before he exposed her to the snake pit. ‘I called things off a week before the wedding. Our families and friends did not take it too well.’
‘A week before?’ Karin croaked. ‘Why?’
‘Because…’ Xante flicked his hand as if he were flicking a fly, dismissing the hurt he had surely caused as easily as he would probably dismiss her right now if he knew the truth.
‘What about your mother?’ Karin swallowed hard before changing the subject. ‘I’m assuming that she isn’t going to like me?’
‘Correct,’ Xante said bluntly, then grinned. ‘My mother wants me to marry, to give her grandchildren. In Greek families, the mother often lives with the son and his wife. It is natural she would prefer a daughter-in-law that spoke her language, one that was aware of our ways and traditions.’
‘It’s fortunate for her, then, that this is just a charade,’ Karin answered. ‘Because I have no intention of ever living with my mother-in-law.’
‘Our ways have merit.’
‘For you, perhaps.’ Karin smarted. ‘Two women devoted to your every whim.’
‘It is good for the children.’ Xante shrugged, infuriating Karin. ‘A mother knows best what her son likes to eat, how he likes his food prepared.’
‘It’s archaic.’
‘I agree.’
‘I mean…’ Karin wasn’t listening, warming to her subject, ‘What if you want to have a row? What if you want to walk around naked?’
‘I said, I agree!’ And she realised he had been teasing her; a reluctant smile played on her lips as he continued. ‘I just haven’t told my mother that yet. So, you want to walk around naked?’ She could feel the colour flood her cheeks as he took the glass from her hand.
‘I was making a point.’
‘You certainly were.’ A slow smile curved on his full mouth, the suggestion clear. Karin didn’t know where to look, had to fight with her eyes to stay looking at his, despite the burn of her blush. ‘You confuse me, Karin,’ Xante admitted, except he didn’t sound confused at all. In fact, both his voice and actions were assured as he took her hand. ‘You tremble like a frightened rabbit, you pretend you are not interested, yet I have seen you watching me.’ He took her clenched hand and pressed it against his shirt, splaying out each finger as she sat there burning, trying not to listen, trying to pretend he wasn’t reading her mind. He took her unyielding fingers and slipped them between the button of his shirt, her fingers greeting the warm, silken skin, and then he pressed her hand harder so she could feel the slow thud of his heart. At the touch of his skin, Karin’s own heart began fluttering like a trapped bird. ‘You were looking at me here.’ He pressed her hand harder to his chest, dragging it over his warm skin. ‘I know you want me, Karin.’
‘Why do I have to want you when I’ve already agreed you can have me?’ Her eyes shone with tears at the cold brutality of their agreement. She held onto her heart because she couldn’t give it to him, couldn’t let herself admit how much this man moved her.
‘You lie even to yourself,’ Xante said. ‘I would never want a woman who didn’t want me.’ He was holding her hand, guiding it to his crotch, making quite sure that Karin hadn’t misunderstood the point she had made. ‘You were looking here too.’
‘You’re disgusting.’ She went to pull her hand away, but he held her wrist, his eyes burning into hers.
‘You didn’t find it so disgusting when you were looking before,’ Xante said.
‘Someone might come.’
‘Don’t worry. I pay them well so that they disappear.’ She could feel him hard through his trousers, feel him rubbing her hand against him, could feel the power of him. And despite herself there was excitement building inside. Now she looked, looked at her manicured fingers tensed and rigid against the swell of him through his trousers. She could hardly breathe as, still, he stroked her hand against his erection, his eyes boring into the top of her head. Then he removed his hand from hers. If it had been a moment earlier, without the pressure of his hand holding her wrist, she would have pulled instantly away as if burnt. But instead, for a telling time, her hand remained, feeling him of her own accord.
‘Any time you’re ready, Karin.’ His voice mocked her. Her hand felt four times its normal size as it returned to her lap, her palm burning as if branded. ‘I’m looking forward to tonight.’
A car was waiting for them, the driver taking them through the streets to a pretty traditional Greek church. Nerves caught up with Karin as she saw the crowd gathered outside, felt every single eye as every head slowly turned towards her.
‘Did you tell them you were bringing me?’
‘What, and spoil the surprise?’
His hand duly held hers as they approached the wary gathering, and Karin stood with a fixed smile as Xante was warmly greeted.
‘Karin?’ She heard the question in the voices as Xante briefly introduced her. Thankfully there was no sign of a wronged fiancée, but it was his mother’s black eyes that unnerved her the most. Dressed from head to toe in black, she seemed at odds with the buoyant mood, warily accepting her son’s embrace, but not even acknowledging Karin. She was much younger than Karin had expected and, though she was dressed in black, there was a modern, vibrant edge to her that defied Xante’s rather somber, old-fashioned description.
As they walked into the church, Karin shivered a touch. The weather was good for this time of year, but inside the church it was certainly cool, and Xante’s hand suddenly tightened around hers.
She wondered if she’d done something wrong—maybe she had to bow or cross herself, or something—but, turning, she knew somehow his grim expression had nothing to do with her.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Fine.’ It was Xante with the clipped response now, but, though their worlds might be far removed, grief was a place she had visited, and Karin instinctively held his hand tighter. She saw the slight frown of surprise on his features but she didn’t loosen her grip, and neither did he, till protocol dictated.
As godfather, it seemed Xante had many duties, and he moved to the front of the church, leaving her sitting rigid as the proceedings commenced. Karin was aware of eyes burning into her from the back, and Xante’s mother occasionally turning from the front; it was going to be a long afternoon!
‘Do you speak any Greek?’ A woman slipped into the pew beside her and Karin shook her head, turning gratefully at the sound of the heavily accented English voice. Karin was taken aback by the beauty that greeted her, and knew without introduction who the other woman was. She was stunning. Thick, black hair fell in heavy ringlets, her make-up perfect, her lips painted a vibrant pink, and she was wearing a bright, fuchsia dress that was perfect against her olive skin. ‘I’m Athena.’ She smiled. ‘A friend of the family.’
The service took for ever, but it was very, very beautiful, and Karin was actually grateful for Athena’s loose translation of the proceedings. A
s Karin watched there was a certain pride, a seriousness to Xante, that surprised her.
‘He faces west,’ Athena quietly explained. ‘To the Gate of Hades. Now he stands before the font, the divine womb.’ There was so much tradition. The papas anointed little Christos with pure olive-oil, and then Xante himself oiled the infant as Athena explained, ‘He oils him so that evil slips away.’
Three times the baby was fully immersed, and Karin watched as he was tonsured, his hair cut to form a cross, before being dressed in white.
She felt like a fraud, an unfitting observer at this most intimate, spiritual gathering, but she was enthralled—not just with the proceedings, but observing Xante too.
The ruthless maverick had been left at the door. Now he stood proud, sombre and knowledgeable in his role, fulfilling it with so much more grace than the token effort Karin had made on occasion. At that moment, she was assailed with jealousy, almost—jealous of this family that maintained its traditions, a family that stuck together, a family so far removed from the one she had grown up with.
And then Xante looked over, gave her a smile that wasn’t anything other than nice—‘a just checking that she was okay’ smile—and she burnt in her seat as she smiled back. Felt tears sting her eyes when he looked away. Because she was jealous now of the woman who would one day get Xante. Lucky the woman who would regularly receive that smile, because when he was nice there was no one nicer. Lucky the woman who got to join this fiercely tight circle, and lucky the woman who got to be made love to by that man instead of sleeping with him for dues.
She had only herself to blame for his low opinion of her—and that was what hurt Karin the most.
There was a party back at Stellios’s home. The cool air was warmed with chimineas as evening crept upon them. A lamb spit slowly turned, and the table was laden with the freshest seafood. It was a feast made in heaven and a day to remember. Karin had one sip of ouzo to be polite as they toasted the baby, and then settled happily back to her water. Xante surprised her again. He was more relaxed than she could ever have imagined, chatting and laughing with family and friends, including her.
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