Hot-Blooded Husbands Bundle

by Michelle Reid

  ‘Welcome, kiria,’ the housekeeper answered politely. ‘Your guests await you on the terrace. I shall bring out the English tea for everyone—yes?’

  It felt odd to Isobel to be referred to for this decision while Leandros stood beside her. Agnes used to look to Leandros for every decision, even those simple ones regarding pots of coffee or tea. ‘Yes—thank you,’ she replied in a voice that annoyed her with its telling little tremor.

  ‘What happened to Agnes?’ she asked as Allise hurried back to her kitchen.

  ‘She left not long after you did,’ he replied, and there was something in his clipped tone that suggested it had not been a friendly parting of the waves.

  But this was not the time to go into domestic issues. Isobel had a bigger concern looming forever closer. It came in the shape of her mother, and how Silvia was going to take the news that, having watched her daughter go off this morning ready to end her marriage, Isobel was now agreed to trying again.

  Indeed, the marriage had again been consummated, as Leandros had so brutally put it.

  They took the direct route to the terrace, treading across cool tiling to a pair of French doors at the rear of the house that stood open to the soft sunlight. They didn’t speak. Isobel was too uptight to talk and she could feel Leandros’s tension as he walked beside her. Was he worried about her mother’s reaction? she wondered, and allowed herself a small, wry smile, because if she were in his shoes she would be more worried about his own mother’s response when she found out about them.

  The first person Isobel saw was her mother, sitting on one of the comfortable blue-covered cane chairs, looking a bit happier than she had done the last time she’d seen her. Lester Miles was there too, but he was wearing a brooding frown and he jumped to his feet the moment he saw them step outside.

  Her mother glanced around; a welcome smile lit her face. ‘Oh, there you are,’ she greeted brightly. ‘We were just wondering where you’d both got to!’

  The we didn’t register as meaning anything special until someone else began to rise from the depths of another chair. She was small, she was neat, she was dark-haired and beautiful. Even as she turned to them, Isobel knew who it was she was about to come face to face with. She had met her just once during a hastily put-together dinner party meant to celebrate Leandros’s surprise marriage. The dinner party had been a complete disaster, mainly because everyone was so very shocked at the news, none less than Diantha Christophoros.

  ‘I’ve just been explaining to Diantha how kind it was of you to put us up here after our dreadful experience at that awful hotel, Leandros,’ Isobel’s mother was saying with all the innocence of someone who had no idea whom it was she was giving this information to.

  Leandros allowed himself a silent oath, and decided that if lightning could strike Silvia dumb right now, he would lift his eyes in thanks to the heavens. As it was, even the older woman had to feel Isobel stiffen and see the faintly curious expression Diantha sent him that had a worryingly amused and conspiratorial gleam about it.

  He tried to neutralise it with an easy smile. ‘Diantha,’ he greeted mildly. ‘This is a surprise. I don’t think I recall that you were expected here today.’

  Wrong choice of words, he realised the moment that Isobel took a tense step away from him.

  ‘I know, and I am sorry for intruding like this,’ Diantha replied contritely. ‘Allise should have warned me that you had guests arriving unexpectedly, then I would not have made myself quite so at home.’

  ‘Oh, you’ve been a great help,’ Silvia assured in her innocence. Lester Miles was standing there looking distinctly ill at ease. ‘We hope you don’t mind, Leandros, but with stairs being a problem for me Diantha has arranged for your handyman to set up a bed in that nice little annexe you have attached to the main house. I think I will be very comfortable there until we catch our flight back to London.’

  ‘It was my pleasure, Mrs Cunningham.’ Diantha smiled a pleasant smile. ‘I hope you will enjoy the rest of your stay in Athens. Leandros,’ she turned back to Leandros without pause in her smooth, calm voice, ‘I need a private word with you before dinner this evening. Your mother—’

  His mother. ‘Later,’ he interrupted, feeling very edgy due to Isobel’s silent stillness. What was more apparent was the way Diantha was ignoring Isobel. Did she believe she had a right to do that?

  Had he allowed her to believe she had that right?

  ‘Isobel, darling, you look very pale,’ Silvia inserted. ‘Are you feeling OK?’

  No, Isobel was not OK, Leandros thought heavily. She believed Diantha was his lover. She had believed Diantha was the woman he had been about to put in her place. Her chin was up and her eyes were glinting. It was payback time for the way he had treated her Adonis and he did not for one moment expect Isobel to behave any better than he had done. But for all that he might deserve the payback, Diantha was innocent in all of this. He could not afford an ugly scene here, and turned urgently to face his statue of a wife.

  ‘Isobel…’ he began huskily.

  ‘Oh, you do look pale!’ Diantha exclaimed gently. Then she was smiling warmly as she walked forward with a hand outstretched towards Isobel, and Leandros was at a loss as to how to stop what he knew was about to take place. The air began to sing with taut expectancy; he felt the sensation attack his loins. ‘I don’t suppose you remember me, Isobel,’ Diantha was saying pleasantly. ‘But we met once, at…’

  Isobel turned and walked back into the house, leaving the horrified gasps echoing behind her and the sound of Leandros’s urgent apologies to his mistress ringing in her head!

  Striding back down the hall with the heels of her shoes tapping out a war tattoo against hard ceramic, she opened a door that led to one of the smaller sitting rooms at the front of the house. She stepped inside the room and slammed the door shut.

  ‘Get out of here,’ she lanced at Leandros when he managed to locate her several seething minutes later. ‘I have nothing to say to you, you adulterous rat!’

  ‘Back on form, I see,’ he drawled lazily.

  She turned her back to him and continued to glare out of the window that looked out on the front of the house. Her arms were folded beneath her heaving breasts and she could actually feel the fires of hell leaping inside.

  The door closed with a silken click. A shiver chased down the rigid length of her spine. He hadn’t gone. She could feel him standing there trying to decide how best to tackle the fact that his wife had just come face to face with his mistress!

  ‘You were very rude.’ He began with a criticism.

  Typical, she thought. Attack instead of defence. ‘I learned from an expert.’

  ‘I suppose you are referring to me?’

  Got it in one, she thought tightly. ‘I hate this house.’

  ‘As you hate me?’

  ‘Yes.’ Why bother denying it? She hated him and she could not believe she had let him seduce her into coming back here. She had to have gone temporarily insane. The whole day had been one of utter insanity, from the moment she’d got into that cab this morning with Lester Miles!

  She heard his sigh whisper across the room, then felt the smooth, steady vibration of his tread as he began to walk towards her, her fingers curled into two tight fists. Suddenly she was having to fight a blockage in her throat.

  ‘As soon as my luggage arrives I’m leaving,’ she muttered.

  He came to a stop an arm’s reach away; she could feel his presence like a dark shadow wrapping itself around her shivering frame. If he touches me I won’t be responsible for my actions! she told herself shrilly. If he dares make excuses I’ll—

  ‘Is that why you’re staring out of the window?’ He issued a soft, deriding laugh. ‘It is just like you, Isobel, to cut and run in the face of trouble. I now have this great image of you walking up that driveway dragging your suitcase behind you. It looks so pathetically familiar that it makes me want to weep!’

  His angry sigh hissed; she spun around to f
ace him. She was shocked by how pale he looked in the deepening glow of the evening light. His clothes had lost their normal pristine smoothness and he needed a shave. Sinister was the word that leapt up to describe him. Sinister and frustrated and so angry it was pulsing out of every weary pore.

  How could a man change so much in a few short minutes? It was this house, she decided. This hateful, horrible house. And that image of her that he had just conjured up was dragging on her chest and tugging out the tears.

  ‘Don’t you dare compare this with my life here before!’ she cried.

  ‘Our life!’ he barked at her. ‘Whatever happened here before happened to both of us! But we are not discussing the past.’ His hand flicked out in an irritable gesture. ‘We are discussing here and now, and your propensity to run instead of facing what threatens to hurt you!’

  ‘I am not hurt, I’m angry!’ she insisted. His mouth took on a deriding twist. The flames burning inside her leapt to her eyes.

  ‘Diantha—’

  ‘Is so comfortable here she instructs your staff on what to do!’

  ‘She is a natural organiser,’ he sighed out heavily.

  He was daring to stand here defending his mistress? ‘Just what you need, then,’ she said. ‘Because I can’t even organise a pot of tea!’

  He laughed; it was impossible not to. Isobel turned away again and managed to break free.

  ‘I did not marry you for your organisational skills,’ he murmured huskily.

  Sex; they were back to the sex, she noted furiously.

  ‘I married you because you are gorgeous and sexy and keeping my hands off you is like having an itch I cannot scratch.’

  Her spine began to tingle because she knew her husband and he had just issued fair warning that he was going to touch.

  ‘Get your mistress to scratch the itch,’ she suggested.

  ‘Diantha is not my mistress.’

  Scornful disbelief shot from her throat. ‘Liar,’ she said.

  The light touch of his fingers feathered her bare arms. Excitement shivered across every nerve-end. He was standing so close now her body was clenching in defence against that sensational first brush with his thighs.

  ‘She is a close family friend, that is all.’

  Isobel’s second huff of scorn sent those fingers up to gently touch her hair. She was suddenly bathed in a shower of bright static.

  ‘This conversation is developing a distinct echo to it,’ he then tagged on ruefully.

  He was comparing it with their row about Clive. ‘The difference here being that I know about Diantha. You just jumped to conclusions about Clive because you have that kind of mind.’

  ‘He was raw with desire for you,’ he growled close to her earlobe.

  ‘Whereas she only wants you for the prestige of your money and your exalted name.’

  His low laugh of appreciation brought his lips into contact with her skin, at which point she was about to turn, deciding that braving eye contact had to be easier to deal with than the assault Leandros was waging on other parts. But a noise beyond the window caught her attention. Leandros straightened when he heard it too, and both of them watched a van come trundling down the drive bearing the name of the Apollo Hotel on its side.

  Her luggage was about to arrive. Her heart began to thud. It was decision time. Did she stay or did she go?

  ‘I stayed, agape mou,’ Leandros said gruffly. ‘Despite the suspicions I still have about you and the Adonis, I am still here and fighting for what I want. Don’t you think it is about time that you stood still and fought for what you want?’

  Fight the mistress? She did turn and look at him. ‘Are you challenging me to go and throw her out of this house?’

  A sleek black eyebrow arched in counter-challenge. ‘Will it make you feel better about her if you did?’

  No, it wouldn’t, she thought bleakly, because throwing Diantha out of this house would not be to throw her far enough. ‘You hurt her once before by marrying me in her place. Are you really prepared to do that to her again, Leandros?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He frowned.

  Isobel’s sigh of irritation was smothered by the sound of the van coming to a shuddering stop outside the window. ‘I do know about your old romance with her,’ she told him heavily. ‘If an ordinary high-street lawyer like Lester Miles can find out about your present relationship, then we are talking about a serious breach of Greek family ethics here, of which—’

  ‘Just a minute,’ he cut in, and the frown had darkened. ‘Back up a little, if you please. What old romance am I being accused of having with Diantha?’

  He was going to make her spell it out. ‘The way your sister Chloe told it, you virtually jilted Diantha at the altar when you married me.’

  ‘Chloe?’

  ‘Yes, Chloe,’ she confirmed and could not stand still a moment longer looking into the clever face of confusion. Stepping round him, she put some distance between them. Outside a van door gave a rattling slam. ‘Within days of you producing me as your wife, Diantha’s family were shipping her off to Washington, DC and away from the humiliation you caused her.’

  He was following her tense movements with increasingly glowering eyes. ‘And my sister Chloe told you this?’ he demanded. Her shrug confirmed it. ‘When—when did she relay these things to you?’

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘Yes, it matters!’ he snapped. ‘Because it is not true! Nor is this—rumour, which seems to be everyone else’s property but mine, that I am about to divorce you to marry her! I do not know who began it, and I can positively tell you that Diantha has received no encouragement from me—at either time—to believe that I have a marriage between her and me in mind!’

  ‘Are you saying you have never considered marrying her?’ Her challenge was etched in disbelief. But when he released a hard sigh then turned his back to her, Isobel knew the truth.

  ‘Stop playing with people, Leandros,’ she snapped and walked towards the door.

  ‘I am likely to do a lot more than play, Isobel, if you try to walk through that door before we have finished this line of discussion.’

  A threat. She stopped. Somewhere beyond these four sizzling walls a doorbell gave a couple of rings. She turned to face him. He was furious, she saw. Well, so was she! ‘It was one thing playing the interloper here four years ago but to hell with you if you think I am going to go through all of that again!’

  Her eyes were bright, her mouth trembling. If he dared to, he would go over there and…

  And what? Leandros asked himself angrily. Force her to believe that which he could not deny outright? ‘I had no such relationship with any other woman before I met you,’ he announced thinly. ‘Diantha did not leave Athens nursing a heart broken by me,’ though he could tell who had broken her heart. ‘Before Diantha arrived on my yacht in Spain as a hurried substitute for Chloe, who was needed here by my mother, I had not set eyes upon her in four years. During the two weeks Diantha stayed with me, we neither kissed nor slept together and very rarely touched. But I did find her easy company to be with,’ he admitted. ‘And on an act of pure arrogance I made a decision that maybe—just maybe—she would eventually make a wife for me. The one I had did not, by that time, have much use for me, after all!’

  ‘So it’s my fault that you gave everyone the impression that you were divorcing me to marry her. Is that what you’re saying?’

  ‘No,’ he sighed. ‘I am saying that I was arrogant, but only within my own head!’

  ‘But she uses this house as if she belongs here because she is arrogant.’ If Isobel fizzed any more she was going to pop like a champagne cork, Leandros noted frustratedly.

  ‘She is a friend—that is all,’ he gritted. ‘A good friend, who has been helping me out by liaising between myself and my mother, who is a neurotic mess because of Nikos’s big wedding next week!’

  ‘Liaising,’ she scoffed. ‘That’s a good one, Leandros. Now I’m hearing repea
ted lies!’

  Oh, to hell with it, he thought, and began striding towards her. Someone rattled the handle on the door. It flew inwards, forcing Isobel to leap out of its way and bringing him to a stop almost within reach of his aggravating target.

  Isobel’s mother appeared in the opening, propelling herself in her wheelchair. She looked cross—everyone was cross!

  ‘Would you like to explain to me, young lady,’ Silvia flicked sternly at her daughter, ‘what happened to the good manners I taught you? How could you be so rude as to turn your back on that nice Miss Christophoros and walk away? I have just had to spend the last half an hour covering up for you!’

  ‘That nice Miss Christophoros you have been happily liaising with happens to be my husband’s mistress!’ Silvia’s furious daughter replied, and, having silenced her mother, she then stalked away, hair flying like a warning flag, long legs carrying her out of the room and—

  Leandros went to go after her…to stop her from leaving, then halted again when he saw her take to the stairs. A grin appeared. The minx might want to take his head off right now, but she was not going to leave him.

  ‘What was she talking about?’ Silvia demanded.

  ‘She’s jealous,’ he murmured. ‘She does not know what she’s saying.’

  ‘It sounded pretty clear-cut to me,’ Silvia countered. ‘Is that woman your current mistress?’

  Current? He pondered on the word while he listened for that old familiar sound of a door slamming somewhere. Rear bedroom, not his, he calculated when, as predicted, the sound came.

  Diantha, he noticed, had gone from being that nice Miss Christophoros to that woman. Silvia was nothing if not loyal to her own. Which brought forth another thought. ‘Where is Diantha?’ he asked sharply.

  ‘She left just as the luggage arrived. Didn’t you hear her car pull away?’

  No, he had been too busy fighting with Silvia’s witch of a daughter. ‘Silvia,’ he said, coming to a decision, ‘you may not like what I am about to tell you, but I suggest you come to terms with it. Isobel and I are not getting a divorce,’ he announced. ‘We are, in fact, very much a reunited couple.’