Aristide's Convenient Wife

by Jaqeuline Baird

  The wedding dress yesterday and now this, his image of her, first as a young Lolita, devious and money-hungry, and then as an earth-mother type in jeans and sweater, was constantly changing and it worried him.

  He was a man renowned for his brilliant analytical brain, a man without emotion who made decisions in the realms of big business on a daily basis with an absolute conviction that was always successful. So why could he not read his own wife so easily?

  ‘Would you like a drink?’ he demanded curtly.

  ‘No, thanks. I’ll have a glass of wine with dinner.’ She glanced at him and sat down at the table, ignoring him.

  Taking the seat opposite her, he filled their wineglasses and as Anna served the first course he watched Helen through thoughtful if frustrated eyes. She was an enigma to him. Like no other woman he had ever met. Beautiful and surprisingly innocent, caring and compassionate as was evident from watching her interaction with the boy. Then add secretive and avid little sensualist and the mixture was dynamite and dangerous to his peace of mind.

  He ate the seafood starter deep in thought. He had never given the women in his life more than a passing thought outside the bedroom. But Helen troubled him, and he did not like the feeling.

  As Anna removed the plates and set down the main course he thanked her and, glancing at his silent wife, he had the distinct impression she was here on sufferance, and he did not like that either. Nor was he entirely comfortable with the semi-aroused state that afflicted him every time he set eyes on her.

  ‘Tomorrow, Helen, I am in meetings all day until the evening,’ he said decisively. She was his wife and he was worrying about nothing, he decided. All he had to do was carry on as before, working all day, only now he could look forward to sating himself in her luscious little body all night.

  ‘I have arranged for Mary Stefano to take you and Nicholas to see the nursery school I have enrolled him in. Mary’s youngest children already attend and they love it.’

  After eating in silence Helen was surprised when Leon spoke. She looked across the wide expanse of the formal dining table to where he sat. He was forking steak into his mouth with obvious enjoyment, completely unperturbed by her presence. Unfortunately she did not have the same luxury. The tension she always felt around him had returned in spades as soon as Nicholas was tucked up in bed asleep.

  ‘And have I no say in the matter?’ she demanded.

  ‘In this case, no, it is done.’

  ‘And if I don’t like it?’ she asked coolly, but inside she was burning with anger. He was so damned autocratic. ‘I am his guardian just as much as you. You should have at least consulted me first.’

  He looked over at her, a frown crossing his broad brow. ‘Take my word for it, the nursery school is the best in Athens, and as the boy already knows Mary’s children he will have no trouble settling in quickly.’

  ‘Why should I?’ What he said made perfect sense, but Helen was spoiling for an argument. From the minute Leon had walked into her life he had taken her over, as he did his blasted banks, with a forceful, single-minded determination it was almost impossible to fight. Resentment bubbled up inside her, as much at her own weakness as his strength, and changing tack she said bitterly, ‘You railroaded me into having dinner with you rather than with Nicholas the night I arrived.’ She shoved her plate away.

  ‘Well, I don’t want to do it your way. I don’t like to eat late. I prefer to have a light lunch and an early supper, not huge meals twice a day, and I can’t eat another thing.’ She knew she was being petty but she couldn’t seem to stop herself, and, reaching for her glass of wine, she took a long swallow.

  ‘How we got from choosing schools to what time dinner is served I won’t even try to discern. The female mind is a mystery to me.’ His dark eyes roamed slowly over her, lingering on the shadowed cleavage displayed by the neckline of her dress, before he raised his gaze to capture hers. Something flashed in his eyes that looked like amusement.

  ‘But in case you had not noticed I am a large man, Helen. A cheese sandwich and scrambled eggs on toast and a bit of bacon does not come anywhere near to satisfying me for a day.’ His dark eyes gleamed with rueful amusement. ‘Though I can see how it would satisfy Nicholas and someone of your stature.’

  She resented the dig about her size—though she hadn’t minded thema petite when he made love to her, the treacherous thought popped into her head. Then Helen recalled serving him just the food he had mentioned the day he had turned up at her house and she was mortified and angry at the reminder, a telling tide of pink washing over her pale cheeks.

  ‘You should have said at the time if you were still hungry. You are certainly not shy of saying exactly what you want in every other respect,’ she declared bluntly.

  ‘True.’ He chuckled. ‘But as soon as I reached the hotel I ordered room service, so don’t beat yourself up about it.’

  She saw the humour in his dark eyes and was infuriated. ‘As if I ever would over you,’ she snorted. She might have guessed Leon was not the type of man to do without anything he wanted.

  ‘Stranger things have happened,’ Leon remarked. Her violet eyes were bright as sapphires against her flushed skin, the blue dress folded low between her pert breasts revealing the blush covered more than her face and was not solely with anger, and his body responded accordingly.

  ‘You never know—one day when you get to know me a little better you might feel differently. But in the meantime finish your meal. I don’t want you weak with hunger for what I have in mind.’

  His taunting, none-too-subtle innuendo was the last straw for Helen. ‘I have finished,’ she shot back, flashing him a furious glance. The dark eyes that met hers gleamed with a sensuality she could not help but recognise. Her heart raced and her mouth went dry and she hated her own weakness. Leaping to her feet, she pushed back her chair. ‘I am going to check on Nicholas—after all, that is the only reason I’m here.’

  ‘As you say.’ He cast a knowing look up at her, before glancing down at the watch on his wrist and then back to her flushed face. ‘I have a few calls to make to the Far East. I will be up in an hour or two.’ And with a dismissive nod of his dark head he returned to his steak.

  Helen hoped it choked him, and slammed the door behind her as she left.

  She looked around the huge reception hall and sighed. She had probably overreacted slamming the door, but she didn’t care. She stopped by the kitchen and told Anna she had had enough to eat and was going to bed with a mug of cocoa, much to Anna’s disgust.

  She made her way upstairs, and, ignoring the master suite, she glanced in on Nicholas, and then continued along the hall to the room at the end. Closing the door behind her, she quickly undressed and then had a quick wash in the smallensuite and, slipping on a plain white nightshirt she crawled into the queen-sized bed.

  Settling back against the pillows, she cast a satisfied glance around the room and took a sip of her cocoa. It was much smaller than the master suite, but it had a small bathroom and was subtly decorated in cream and buttercup yellow. Along one wall was a chest of drawers, dressing table and a wardrobe. A sofa and chair and small table had been arranged by the window, but she had pushed them to one side and set up her portable easel and placed her sketch books, pencils, pastels and paints on the foot-deep window sill. It wasn’t perfect, but the light was good and it would do, she thought complacently.

  She eased back against the headboard and took another sip of hot chocolate feeling calmer than she had done since the moment she had set foot in Greece two days ago. She had to accept this was her life now if she wanted to stay with Nicholas, and she did. She loved him to distraction; he was the only child she would ever have and it would kill her to be parted from him.

  As for her hard-headed husband, surely he would see the sense in keeping their relationship one of friendship rather than sex. From her very limited experience sex simply caused unwanted tensions in a relationship, which could not be good for Nicholas.


  After all, he was the only reason for their marriage. She was under no illusion that Leon cared for her. She was probably a novelty to him, an inexperienced little innocent that happened to live in his house. He was a man of the world who could take his pick of beautiful women. It would be no hardship for him to find someone else to sate his overactive libido with. For all Helen knew he probably had a mistress or two waiting for him somewhere.

  Why her heart sank at the thought she didn’t want to examine too closely, and sipped some more cocoa.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THE SUDDEN CLICKof a door opening made Helen’s heart skip a beat and she looked warily across the room. Fury rippled through her as she saw Leon’s tall frame outlined in the opening and unconsciously she pulled the cover up higher.

  ‘What do you want?’ she demanded and silently cursed her choice of words as one dark brow arched eloquently in her direction. But defiantly she held his gaze as he walked towards her.

  ‘Now that is a leading question if ever I heard one,’ he drawled, and stopped by the side of the bed. ‘And one I am sure you can answer if you care to try,’ he prompted silkily.

  Leon’s hard black eyes swept over his errant wife. He noted her scarlet face framed by the silken mass of her ash-blonde hair tumbling over her shoulders, the prim cotton nightshirt skimming over her firm breasts, and he wanted to strangle her.

  How dared the little witch try to defy him again? Last night he had taken her innocence with perhaps not as much finesse as he would have liked. But after the initial shock she had been with him all the way and later he could have sworn he had calmed any virginal fears that still lingered. He had the marks to prove it, so what the hell was her game? A cold, disdainful smile twisted his wide mouth. He had had more than enough with his first wife trying to tie him in knots with sex. He had soon disillusioned her and he was damned if he was going to let this one try the same tricks.

  With each passing second Helen was conscious of the building tension. She could feel his barely leashed anger almost physically, but she refused to respond to his suggestive jibe. Instead she simply stared up at him. Her heart was pounding in her chest, her conviction of moments ago that Leon would see reason taking a nosedive. And what had happened to the calls he was supposed to be making? He’d said hours and it was barely thirty minutes.

  ‘Nothing to say, Helen?’ His black eyes, cold and hard as stone, stared down into hers.

  ‘You said you were going to work,’ she snapped back and tried to ignore the trickle of fear snaking its way down her spine.

  ‘So I did, but Anna, while berating me on allowing my very new bride to go to bed on her own, also let slip that you had chosen a bedroom for a study.’ His hard mouth twisted in a derisive smile. ‘She is a trusting soul and I doubt it ever crossed her mind you would sleep in the room. But, surprise, surprise, I am nowhere near as trusting and decided to check.’ ‘Oh.’

  ‘Oh.’His dark eyes mocked her ruthlessly. ‘Is that all you have to say for yourself?’

  Helen swallowed down the nervous lump in her throat and said bravely, ‘I told you last night I was not sharing your room again.’

  ‘Why?’ he demanded with an arrogance that maddened her. ‘After last night there is not a part of your body that I don’t know intimately.’

  It was true. But it did not help her precarious hold on her temper to be reminded and she dragged an angry breath into her oxygen-starved lungs. ‘You are disgusting,’ she spat, and tore her gaze away from his harshly attractive face.

  Leon moved closer, his big body looming over her intimidatingly. His black shirt was pulled taut across his broad shoulders, the top three buttons were undone, revealing his black curling body hair. At least he had not undressed, she thought, a sudden shameful image of him naked flashing through her mind. ‘Go away.’ And she meant from her mind as much as the room. ‘Just go away.’

  Without a word he reached down and wrenched the covers from her grasp.

  ‘Don’t you dare,’ she cried, grabbing the cover with her free hand before flinging the mug of cocoa straight at him.

  The mug bounced off his chest, spreading hot chocolate all over him. She saw his head jerk back and she stared in absolute horror at what she had done. Usually she was the calmest, most even-tempered of women. She had never committed a violent act in her life. Oh, my God! She might have scalded him; a little higher, she could have scarred his face.

  ‘I’m sorry, so sorry,’ she said, her guilt ridden gaze fixed on his.

  Leon’s face was as black as thunder, his dark eyes hard as jet.

  ‘You damn well will be.’

  He swore and hauled her out of the bed, throwing her over his shoulder. She tried to struggle, suddenly very afraid, but he was far too powerful for her. He stormed straight into the bathroom and, dropping her to the floor, he locked the door behind him.

  Dizzy from being held upside down, the blood pounding in her head, she took a moment to focus. When she did she saw he had removed his shirt and his chest hair was damp and sticky with cocoa.

  ‘I really am sorry.’ She tried to apologise, but she was too late.

  He gave her a killing look. His arm clamped around her waist, and, kicking off his shoes, he herded her into the shower.

  He turned on the water, and spun her around to face him. He grasped her hand and slapped the soap in her palm. ‘Now you are going to wash off every drop of your crazy handiwork,’ he hissed with a sibilant softness that was more frightening than his anger.

  The water pounded down on her, and she stared at him wide-eyed and terrified. He was only inches away from her and she did not need her contact lenses to see every muscle and sinew in his great body was taut with rage. For once she thanked the Lord she was small. Her head barely reached his shoulders and she did not have to look at his hard, furious face. But her embarrassment was acute as the water plastered her shirt to her skin revealing every curve and hollow of her body.

  ‘What are you waiting for?’ His hands caught her wrist and lifted her hand to his chest. ‘Wash.’

  She swallowed down the refusal that sprang to her lips, and began lathering his chest. The feel of his warm, wet skin beneath her palm, the hard musculature of his chest, were a sensual torture that made her heart race.

  ‘Use both hands. I am a big man,’ he ordered harshly.

  She closed her eyes and, rubbing the soap between her palms, she splayed her hands on his chest and moved them in ever-widening circles. He felt so good and, appalled at where her thoughts were taking her she gasped.

  ‘There.’ Her eyes flying open, she moved back until the wall of the shower stopped her. ‘It is done.’

  Drenched and battling to keep his rage under control, Leon stared furiously down at her. She was done when he said so. He caught the shimmer of sexual awareness in the darkening depths of her violet eyes. Saw her small, perfectly formed breasts peaking against the wet shirt and suddenly, from being rigid with fury at her wild action, he felt his body hardening with a totally different emotion.

  ‘Not yet, it isn’t,’ he told her. ‘Not to my satisfaction.’

  Shedding his trousers, he reached for her and stripped the shirt from her body.

  ‘No,’ she tried to object.

  But her denial was weak. Triumph surged though him along with a devilish desire to possess her so completely and utterly that she would never again try to defy him. Sliding an arm around her back he drew her against him.

  ‘Yes, Helen,’ he drawled and, taking her chin between his fingers and thumb, he forced her to look at him.

  ‘The chocolate flowed down my body. You need to wash lower,’ he commanded silkily, stroking a hand up her back before trailing down the indentation of her spine to finally curve her pert rear. For a moment he felt her slight resistance. He pressed her closer against his now throbbing arousal and felt her shudder in helpless response.

  Wet, naked and held against his big body, Helen was vitally aware of the hard strength of him a
gainst her belly. She stared up at him and the mocking eyes that held hers gleamed with a molten sensuality that made her stomach somersault. With her whole body reacting treacherously to the sliding caress of his hand against her naked flesh, she could barely breathe. Desire lanced through her, weakening her resistance, still she tried to shake her head free from his hold. But his grip tightened on her chin.

  ‘Every action has a reaction. Remember that, Helen, and we will get along fine.’ He moved his hand from her chin to sweep the wet hair from her face.

  ‘But I’ll spare your blushes this time,’ he declared softly his dark eyes gleaming with an unholy light. Taking the soap from her unresisting hand he stroked it down his chest and lower between their bodies.

  She was pressed against the impressive length of him, and the back of his hand trailing down her quivering stomach ignited a burning desire in her trembling body that shook her to the depths of her being. She did not want to feel this way about him. Then, turning his hand, he cupped her between her thighs and it was so shockingly intimate Helen couldn’t hold back a moan.