‘We are married and married couples share a bed.’
‘So why can’t I come in at dawn?’
Helen glanced at Leon and hid a smile. He looked so adorable with his black hair curling haphazardly over his brow, and so magnificently male. His broad, muscular chest gleamed in the morning light and the swiftly placed coverlet he had dragged over his thighs did not quite hide the embarrassing state of his sex. The perplexed, frustrated expression on his dark face said it all. He was about to discover sex was not everything in a marriage. He was being thrown into fatherhood at the deep end and he hadn’t a clue, she thought, and waited to hear her very new husband’s answer.
‘Because Helen is my wife now, and I said so.’
What a cop-out. She watched with interest as the man and boy with almost identical eyes stared at each other, fully expecting Nicholas to yell his displeasure at being denied his early-morning cuddle.
But to her amazement he rested a hand on Leon’s chest and turned his big eyes to her. ‘Mark said that now you two are married that makes you my mum and dad. Is that right?’
It was Helen’s turn to be lost for words. But Leon had no such problem.
‘Mark is right,’ he said. ‘We are officially your mother and father.’
‘Then I can call you Mum and Dad?’
Helen was stunned and watched as Leon simply ruffled the boy’s hair with a gentle hand and smiled.
‘If you want to call us Mum and Dad, that is fine.’ Turning his head, he fixed dark eyes on Helen’s, a challenging light in the inky depths that she could not ignore. ‘Isn’t it, Helen?’
She tore her gaze from his and pushed a shaky hand through her hair, sweeping it from her face, and looked at Nicholas. His big eyes were dark and softly pleading and she knew she had reached the ultimate point of no return.
She had married Leon so she could stay with Nicholas, be a mother to him, but she had not really considered Leon as anything other than his uncle. In the back of her mind she had thought a man like Leon would not want too close a commitment to another man’s child—after all, he would probably want to father a child of his own one day.
He had shocked her with his instant acceptance of Nicholas’ request. Some day maybe she had thought Nicholas would accept them as his mum and dad. But that it had happened so quickly surprised her. His biological mother had died only two months ago, and though she knew Delia would only ever have wanted what made Nicholas happy she could not help feeling guilty. The death of her best friend had given Helen her dearest wish and the thought played on her conscience, life seemed so unfair.
Not just because of her guilt that Nicholas had accepted her as his mum so swiftly, but also because it had suddenly occurred to her that Leon had not used any protection after the first time they had made love. If he harboured some misguided belief that she would provide him with a child he was in for a big disappointment.
She would have to tell him.
‘Helen.’
She heard Leon prompt, and knew now wasn’t the time. And unless she wanted to look like a wicked witch of the west to Nicholas, she had to agree, and in her heart of hearts she knew it was what she wanted, and with a silent prayer of thanks to Delia she agreed.
‘Yes, darling.’ She reached for Nicholas and cuddled him against her, tears of sadness and joy stinging her eyes. ‘Uncle Leon and I love you very much and we would be honoured to be called Mum and Dad, if that’s what you want. But you do understand you must always remember Delia with happiness and joy as the mother who gave you life. Okay?’
‘Yes, great…Mum,’ he said with a grin, and hugged her back.
‘Come on, Nicholas.’ Leon slid off the bed, tucking a discarded towel from last night around his lean hips, much to Helen’s relief, and plucked Nicholas from her arms.
‘I will help you get dressed, and Helen can have a rest. She needs it.’ He winked at her. ‘And you need a nanny.’
‘What is a nanny?’ Helen heard Nicholas ask as Leon swept him up on his shoulders and headed out of the room.
His answer was lost to Helen by the closing of the door. At the same time she realised another door had closed. Leon had laid down the rules and Nicholas saw them as his mum and dad who shared a bed. Unless she was prepared to upset him, that was how it must stay. The hoary old saying that she had made her bed and now she had to lie in it sprang to mind.
And being brutally honest she was not averse to the idea any more. It had been very pleasant to wake up in Leon’s arms.
That evening over dinner she was convinced she had made the right decision when Leon suggested they should legally adopt Nicholas, and make him truly their own. He reckoned it would be quite straightforward as he was the boy’s uncle and she was already his guardian and he would get Chris to look into it straight away. Helen thought it was a marvellous idea. She would be Nicholas’ mother, not just his guardian until he was twenty-one but legally for life, and later in bed that night she didn’t think of resisting when Leon took her in his arms.
The next six weeks were a revelation for Helen. On better acquaintance with Anna, she very quickly realised her help was not needed in the well-oiled running of the house. A young girl, Marta, was hired as Nicholas’ nanny, much against Helen’s wishes. But Leon simply overrode her arguments, pointing out as his wife she would have social commitments to fulfil and it was unfair to expect Anna or any of the other staff to take on the extra work of babysitter. Plus, he had added with a gleam in his dark eyes, he didn’t appreciate the boy crawling over him first thing in the morning, not when he was with her. Then kissed her senseless.
The one job Helen insisted on was taking Nicholas to nursery school, but as a chauffeur-driven car transported them there and back it wasn’t really necessary. The high spot of her morning was meeting Mary after dropping the children off and sharing a leisurely coffee and gossip with her at a local café.
At first she had felt guilty at keeping the chauffeur waiting but Mary had quickly disabused her of the notion, telling her it was normal in Leon’s world to have a car waiting at all times, and did she really want to put the driver out of a job for the dubious pleasure of driving through the chaotic Athens traffic herself? And though she was a good driver her answer was a resounding no.
Usually, after collecting Nicholas from nursery school, they had lunch together and she spent some time playing with him, before spending an hour or two on her artwork. Sometimes she left him in the nanny’s care and worked some more or went on the occasional shopping trip with Mary around the expensive stores and boutiques of Athens, as she was doing today.
As for her husband, she knew him a little better now than when they had first met and she was cautiously hopeful for the future. He appeared rather austere to most people, which she conceded was hardly surprising given he seemed to have had a pretty loveless childhood. She didn’t doubt he had genuinely cared for his sister, but the age gap between them probably accounted for the misconceptions they had had of each other. Yet Leon was brilliant with Nicholas when he had the time, and when the three of them were together usually at weekends, she could almost believe they were a family.
But Leon was a difficult man to truly know except in the biblical sense. There was an aloofness about him and the strict control with which he compartmentalised his life was daunting to behold. Business was his top priority; he thought nothing of flying off to New York or Sydney for a few days and had done so three times in the short period they had been married. She had tried to tell herself she didn’t mind. She was glad to have Nicholas to herself for a while, but her own innate honesty forced her to admit she did miss her husband.
Last Wednesday it had been brought shockingly home to her just how much. He had left on the Monday for New York and she hadn’t been expecting him back until Thursday at the soonest.
After dinner, with Nicholas fast asleep in bed, Helen, feeling oddly restless, had wandered out onto the veranda to lean against the ornate balustrade in the darkness with on
ly the moon and stars for company.
‘Well met by moonlight, fair Helena.’ The deep, husky drawl made her heart lurch in her breast and, turning her head, she saw Leon.
‘You aren’t supposed to be back yet,’ she exclaimed. Their eyes met and she shivered as one long finger brushed against her cheek, then his hand curled around the nape of her neck. ‘And taking liberties with Shakespeare is frowned upon,’ she tried to joke.
His hand raked up through her hair and he smiled, his dark head bent towards her. ‘You’re right, I would much rather take liberties with you.’ Sliding his other arm around her waist, he kissed her. When they finally came up for air his dark eyes held hers, and she was powerless to look away, powerless to hide her own need.
‘Ah, Helen, my sweet Helen, I missed you.’ His sensuous lips curled in a soft, tender smile, the sort she had only ever seen him bestow on Nicholas. Emotion threatened to choke her and she could not speak. ‘And I do believe you missed me,’ he prompted huskily, and her answer was in the luminous depths of her violet eyes.
They made love that night with tenderness and a passion that Helen had never experienced before. Later, cradled in his arms with her head on his chest, the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart music to her ears, she finally accepted what she had known deep down all along.
She loved Leon. The desire, the passion might be just sex to him, but it was never just sex to her. She loved him with every breath she took and she knew she always would.
He was not the hard, uncaring man she had imagined him to be. Anna and all the staff adored him, and as for Nicholas, he worshipped him. The cold, austere persona Leon presented to the world vanished as soon as he set eyes on Nicholas. He was wonderful with the boy, and lately she had the growing feeling his relaxed, caring side was extending to her. God, she hoped so! She vowed to do everything in her power to make a success of their marriage in the hope that eventually Leon might grow to love her as she loved him.
Thinking about that night now, standing in a shop waiting for Mary, Helen sighed. Her husband was a hard, complex man and a complete workaholic, but to give him his due he did always kiss her awake, and sometimes more, before descending to the basement gym for a workout. He was terrifically physically fit, but he had to be for his punishing schedule. By the time Helen got down for breakfast with Nicholas he was usually leaving or had already left, returning in the evening to spend at least an hour with Nicholas before he went to bed.
Dining alone with Leon was no longer the ordeal she had once feared. But underneath the casual conversation there was always a simmering sexual tension that Helen could not deny, didn’t want to. The thought of the night ahead was ever present in her mind, for in Leon’s arms she became vibrantly alive and under his tutelage increasingly sexually adventurous in a way that she had never thought herself capable of.
Helen had tried to convince herself it was simply a natural response to a long overdue sexual awakening on her part, and had nothing to do with love, but after last Wednesday night she couldn’t pretend any more.
She loved him, she could not help herself. He was a wonderful, inventive lover, generous to a fault, concentrating on her pleasure in myriad ways she had never imagined possible, before seeking his own.
When he wanted to be, she had discovered much to her surprise, he was an intelligent, witty conversationalist. He had an uncanny knack for giving a thumbnail sketch of people with a subtle humour that appealed to her. She had also discovered they had the same taste in music and shared the same love of books, Leon preferring political thrillers while Helen preferred a good detective novel.
When he had realised while reading Nicholas a bedtime story that they were her humorous illustrations all the way through the book he had laughed aloud.
‘My God, Helen, your talents are truly limitless,’ he had quipped and kissed her, much to Nicholas’ disgust.
Their conversations were naturally quite often about Nicholas, and of course discussing any arrangements Leon had made for their social life. So far they had shared Sunday lunch with Mary and her family and sometimes they went out as a foursome for dinner, all of which Helen had enjoyed, and a couple of formal dinners with some of his business acquaintances and their wives, which she had not enjoyed quite as much.
The party he was hosting tomorrow night was to introduce Helen to the distant relatives and social élite of Athens who had not been invited to the wedding. It was to be held in a top Athenian hotel and Leon had given her strict instructions this morning to buy something new to wear, which she had rather resented.
She had given up on the practical cotton nightshirts weeks ago, and indulged her secret pleasure in delicate underwear, and she had a perfectly good wardrobe of classic clothes. Helen was not quite the prim little stay-at-home Leon seemed to think she had been. She had led an active if limited social life, Nicholas permitting, as a member of a local drama group and book club. When her parents were alive they had led a busy social life in Switzerland, and Helen had learnt how to behave in any society. Her mother had taught her the fundamentals of style for a small woman when she was a young teenager and in fact she still had quite a few of her mother’s classic designer clothes, which she had kept originally as mementoes and now wore. In fairness to Leon, he always complimented her on what she did wear. Plus the first time he had been away on business when he had returned he had taken her to the bank, opened an account for her, and presented her with a limitless credit card.
She had tried to refuse but, for once his cynicism not in evidence he had rather dryly confessed he hated shopping and was hopeless at buying presents, but he wanted her and Nicholas to have everything they desired. Then he had presented her with a fabulous emerald and diamond ring he’d told her he had bought as he’d happened to be passing Van Cleef and Arpel in New York. That Leon, her workaholic husband, who by his own admission hated shopping, had found time in his busy schedule to nip into Van Cleef’s just for her was what delighted her, and gave her hope that their relationship was growing into something more than just a convenience.
‘So what do you think? Will I knock Chris’ socks off at the party tomorrow night?’ Mary did a twirl as she walked out of the dressing room.
‘It won’t be his socks coming off, but that apology for a dress.’ Helen laughed, eyeing the clinging full-length, backless indigo-blue dress that Mary was almost falling out of.
‘Too much, hmm?’
‘Too little,’ Helen shot back.
‘You’re right, but it would be great on you. Come on try it on. You have to impress the guests tomorrow night.’
Helen kissed Nicholas goodnight, and left, his comment that she looked like a lovely purple lollipop, good enough to eat, echoing in her head. She stood in front of the mirror in the master suite and eyed her reflection. Why did she let first a child and then Mary tell her what she should wear? Because she was a sucker when it came to pleasing the people she cared about, she concluded. Though no one could call this gown childish she thought ruefully; she had never worn anything so revealing in her life.
The spaghetti-strapped dress cupped her breasts, exposed her back to the waist and clung to her hips and thighs like a second skin. The fantail pleat in the back was there out of necessity, allowing her to walk. But at least this time she was wearing a pair of four-inch high-heeled diamanté sandals, favourites of hers. And with Anna’s help her hair was piled in an elegant concoction of curls on the top of her head, making her look quite tall, she told herself bracingly.
‘Theos,you are not going out in that.’ Leon’s voice cut into her musings, and she turned her head to see him exit the dressing room and walk towards her.
The breath stopped in her throat. He looked strikingly attractive in a formal black dinner suit, and the predatory expression in the dark eyes that roamed blatantly over her set her pulse racing.
‘Don’t you approve?’ She pouted and did a swift twirl. ‘Mary said it was definitely me.’ She grinned cheekily up at him.
Leon gasped, a certain part of his body leaping to immediate attention. The view of her back naked to her pert bum was enough to make a strong man weak at the knees.
‘Mary wants her head examined,’ he said when he could finally speak, taking in her beautiful smiling face and the shining mass of fair curls pinned on the top of her head. She was wearing a shimmering sort of purple-blue dress that curved across her perfect breasts, revealing more of the creamy smooth fullness than any man except him should ever see, he thought proprietorially. And what was left of the gown clung to every curve of her delectable body.
A wry smile quirked his mouth. ‘That dress is verging on the indecent, but you look absolutely stunning.’ Moving towards her, he dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose.
‘Thank you, kind sir,’ she quipped. ‘But Nicholas thinks I look like a purple lollipop and good enough to eat.’
‘That boy has great taste for a child.’ Leon chuckled and reached for her shoulders. ‘And I definitely agree with him,’ he husked and drew her gently against his tall frame. ‘I wouldn’t mind eating you right here and now.’ The thought of lowering his head to the delta of her thighs and tasting her sweetness rendered him rock-hard.
Aristide's Convenient Wife Page 12
