BoughtGreeksBride

by Lucy Monroe

He kissed her, briefly but firmly. “I give you the right,” he repeated.

  She couldn’t say a word. To refuse the right was beyond her, but to accept it carried far too many connotations she was not prepared to deal with. She tilted her head back and kissed him, just as briefly and much more softly.

  His eyes closed and he inhaled a deep breath before opening them again. “We will get there,” he promised her. “Now, come. Let me care for you.”

  He lifted her again and put her back on the bed, his movements careful as if he did not want to startle her, but the implacable expression in his eyes said he expected her to rest.

  Then, his eyes filling with a tenderness she could not fight, he finished unbuttoning her top and pulled it from her body. He hung it up and while he was beside the closet, he hung up his jacket, too. Their gazes locked. She sat up and curled her arms around her knees, but did not protest when he started taking off the rest of his clothes. He did not break the eye contact while he stripped to his silk shorts, neatly hanging everything up in the closet to be donned again later.

  He came back to the bed.

  She licked her lips. “Sandor?”

  “I, too, could use a nap, Ellie. I have slept poorly since the night you disappeared from Boston. We will rest together. And for now, that is all we will do.”

  She should argue, but deep inside, she didn’t want to. She trusted him not to push for anything sexual if he said he wouldn’t. And she wanted to be held. So much. Her world was a maelstrom of frightening events and even though he had betrayed her trust, Sandor looked like an island of comfort for her storm-tossed heart.

  Silently she uncurled from her protective position and climbed under the covers, leaving room for him to lie beside her. She wasn’t sure, but she thought he sighed with relief. He joined her, pressed the button above the bed to cut the lights in the tiny cabin and then pulled her into his arms.

  She didn’t fight, but she didn’t relax, either. She couldn’t. With loving came wanting and since her love for him continued to beat inside her heart, her desire for him was there, too. But she didn’t want to act on it. She didn’t think she could handle it right now if she did.

  She was barely holding it together and the way he made her feel when he touched her would rip away the barriers she’d manage to erect to protect herself since discovering both his and her father’s duplicity. Besides, he was right…she both needed and wanted the healing rest of sleep. She was hungry to be held and to feel safe, if for just a little while.

  He seemed to understand and did not try to cajole her into relaxing. He curled his big, warm body around her stiff one, wrapping his arms around her and spoke soft, soothing things into her ear until she grew drowsy. Bit by bit, her body gentled into his until she fell into a more restful sleep than she’d had since the last time he shared her bed.

  She awoke sometime later to the sensation of someone gently brushing her cheek. Her senses told her it was Sandor before mind even became fully aware.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  “WAKE UP,agape mou. We will be there soon.”

  Her eyes fluttered open to a vision of him dressed and sitting beside her on the bed.

  “I slept the whole flight?” she asked disbelievingly.

  “You needed your rest.”

  She’d needed her rest the night before, too, but she’d tossed and turned until giving up on sleep and had gotten up before dawn to work on client files. “So you said.”

  “I was right.”

  “You don’t have to sound so happy about it.”

  “What man does not like to be right?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know one.” It was all she could do not to snuggle into his hand. “I can’t believe I slept so well.”

  “It was being held in my arms. I confess I, too, slept better than I have in weeks.”

  She scooted into a sitting position, holding the sheet against her chest. “Yes, well…we’ll have to get matching teddy bears or something.”

  “Or something.”

  She wasn’t touching that. “How long until we land?”

  “Thirty minutes.”

  “Oh.” She looked around the well lit, utilitarian cabin. Thank goodness there was a door to the small bathroom from the sleeping area. “I need to freshen up.”

  “You look very good to me, but I can understand you might think the just-been-loved look is better saved for our times of privacy together.”

  “I haven’t been loved.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  What was he saying? That he loved her? No. He didn’t believe in the emotion, but could he have changed his mind? Her dad had changed and she thought that was impossible. Had Sandor had some kind of emotional breakthrough? But if he had, surely he would have said something. Not made some oblique reference and expect her to get it.

  She swallowed questions she wasn’t sure she wanted answers to in her current emotional state and stared at him. “I mean we didn’t have sex.”

  “That I concede. It comes later, I think.”

  “No,” she breathed, more for form than vehemence.

  He leaned forward until his mouth was a bare centimeter from hers. “Are you sure that is the word you will be saying?”

  She opened her mouth to answer, but whatever she would have said remained locked in her throat because he kissed her. His mouth totally claimed hers, his lips molding to hers and his tongue sweeping her interior. Any protest she would have made died before she even breathed it and she kissed him back until she was panting and his hands were clenched in fists on either side of her hips.

  “We will revisit this discussion later,” he said and then stood up just as if he hadn’t kissed her to within an inch of her life and made implications that were soul-shattering. He tapped the end of her nose. “Get ready, Elliemou . I will see how your father is holding up.” Then he was gone.

  Dazed, she climbed out of the bed and made a quick trip to the bathroom to brush her hair and other things before getting dressed again. Sandor had been right. She’d slept much better without her clothes and they were certainly fresher looking than they would have been if she’d worn them to bed.

  The drive from the small municipal airport to Helen Taylor’s home was less than an hour, but the tension inside the limousine was palpable by the time it pulled up in front of her modest ranch style home.

  Ellie put her hand on her father’s arm. “Are you going to be all right?”

  His smile was reassuringly warm, so different than the way he used to look at her. “Yes, but what about you?”

  “I’m scared,” she admitted, surprising herself.

  But then, maybe she was changing, too. Knowing you were loved changed the way you reacted to another person, she found.

  He laid his hand over hers. “It is all going to be fine. Trust me, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t want Amber hurt.” Or her dad. Or herself. Or Helen Taylor, for that matter. Yet, she didn’t see how at least some emotional bloodshed could be avoided.

  “Neither do I. We’re going to handle this the best we can and trust for the outcome.”

  She swallowed and nodded. He left the limousine first, then Sandor, who turned to help her out. He pulled her into his side with an arm around her waist as they walked up to the front door and she was grateful for the contact. Despite the warmth of Southern California’s weather, she felt chilled. She cuddled against him in a public display of affection that she would not have shown a month ago.

  Something inside her had definitely shifted.

  Her father rang the bell. Less than a minute passed before it swung inward. A woman stood there, her wavy blond chin-length hair, cut in a bob and petite frame with trim figure proclaimed her Helen Taylor. She looked exactly like the photos taken of her recently as well as those Hawk had procured from years past. There was an almost fey quality about her that enhanced Ellie’s already signaled protective instincts.

  Helen’s hazel eyes widened and
darkened with distress as she seemed to recognize George Wentworth. Her gaze skimmed to Ellie, jolted up to Sandor’s impassive features and back to Ellie again. “You look just like her. You look just like my baby.”

  Her mouth moved, but no other words came out as her eyes filled with tears and her knees gave. Ellie’s father grabbed her before she could fall to the floor. Swinging her up into his arms as if she weighed no more than a child, he carried her inside. Sandor ushered Ellie in after them and closed the door behind them with his foot.

  His arm was still locked securely around her waist and she leaned even more heavily into him.

  Helen’s quiet sobs were the only sound any of them made as Ellie’s dad led them unerringly into the living room. He carried Helen to the couch and gently lowered her onto it. Helen stared at him through rain drenched eyes as if she could not believe what she was seeing.

  He dropped to his haunches beside the sofa and took her hand. “It is going to be okay.”

  But the blond woman shook her head, unending rivulets of tears rolling down her cheeks. “It can’t be. I knew this day would come, but I kept hoping it wouldn’t. That wasn’t fair of me. I know. I’ve been so selfish.”

  “Tell me why you took my daughter.” He said it so gently that Ellie wanted to hug him.

  She hadn’t known he had this kind of patience and gentleness in him. Not even with his behavioral changes since his collapse.

  Helen made an obvious bid for composure. “I…”

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  Ellie felt everything inside her freeze. She spun out of Sandor’s grasp to face the newcomer whose voice was so like her own. She’d already been fighting tears and now her eyes burned with them as she furiously blinked, trying to keep some semblance of control. “Amber…”

  Amber was staring at her as if she was seeing a ghost. “Who are you?”

  “I’m…”

  “She’s your sister,” Helen said, her voice wobbling only a little.

  “My sister?” Amber shook her head, frowning at all of them. “No. That’s not possible.” Her gaze shifted to her mom. “You didn’t give birth to twins. I checked. I always felt like something was missing, you know? So, I checked and there wasn’t another birth record. I was the only baby born to Helen and Leonard Taylor.”

  Ellie knew her sister was shaking inside, even though her chatter and uncracked composure gave nothing away. She was a master at hiding her emotions herself.

  Sandor seemed to sense the hurricane of emotion under the surface because he took a step toward Amber, his hand out as if to help her. “Miss Taylor, perhaps you should sit down.”

  “Who are you?” Amber demanded, taking a step back.

  “I am your sister’s fiancé, Sandor Christofides.”

  “The shipping tycoon?”

  “You read the financial pages?”

  “Sometimes. When I’m bored on a shoot. And you’re George Wentworth,” she said to Ellie’s dad, still sounding very much in command of herself.

  But Ellie saw another story in the eyes that could have been her mirror. Her sister’s worry for Helen Taylor was there, as well as confusion and anger that these strangers had brought obvious upset into her home.

  Gently placing Helen’s hand down, their father stood. “I’m…” He cleared his throat. “Yes, I’m George Wentworth.”

  Helen sat up, wiped at her tears and then dried her hands on her jeans and put her arms out. “Come here, baby. I have to tell you something.”

  Amber walked slowly toward her mother, her eyes fixed on George Wentworth as if he was a snake prepared to strike. He stepped back, moving to sit in a chair close to the sofa. It was so like how he always sat with Ellie that she felt a twinge in her heart. They were a family even if they didn’t all know it yet.

  Amber let her mother pull her down to sit beside her. Her gaze jumped from Ellie to her dad, back to Sandor and then finally came back to rest on Ellie. “You look just like me.”

  “Almost.”

  “Your hair is darker. You don’t highlight it at all.”

  “No.”

  “It’s shorter, too.”

  “Yes. And my eyebrows have their natural shape and I weigh at least ten pounds more than you. I don’t dress as trendily and I’m not fond of running,” she said, naming a pastime Hawk said that Amber spent a lot of time engaged in. “But I love old movies, we wear the same size shoe and I prefer silver over gold jewelry as well.”

  Helen Taylor made a sound of distress.

  Amber took her hand and held it. “What’s the matter, Mom?”

  “Please don’t hate me, Amber. I deserve it, I know I do, but I can handle anything except that.”

  “No one is going to hate you, Mrs. Taylor. We’re going to work through this,” George Wentworth said in a firm but kind tone.

  Ellie was so proud of him.

  “I could never hate you,” Amber vowed.

  Helen shook her head, her expression turning both resigned and determined. “Before you came into the room, Mr. Wentworth asked a question. He wanted…” She stopped, seemed to collect herself and went on. “He wanted to know why I’d stolen his daughter.”

  “What?”

  The shock of the traumatic words reverberated through Amber to the room around her. Ellie could feel the shock wave hit her with physical force as her sister’s whole body went stiff. Then Sandor was there, wrapping both arms around Ellie, pulling her with him to a love seat, where he tugged her down right next to him. He kept her locked tight in his protective embrace while Helen blinked back tears and took several deep breaths.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  “WHENIDID IT , I didn’t think I was stealing anyone. Please believe me. I-I thought you were mine.” Helen brushed the hair from Amber’s temple. “I love you so much.” She swallowed and then went on. “I’d lost my baby after the horrific accident that took Leonard’s life and caused me to go into premature labor.”

  She looked at George Wentworth then, as if trying to explain what she herself found inexplicable. “Some teenagers high on pot ran a red light and plowed right into our car. I barely survived the accident. We were living near Boston at the time. They life-flighted me to the hospital from our smaller town. When my daughter died, I started haunting the baby nurseries at all the hospitals. I was there the night your wife was brought in. Everyone was running around talking about the accident. It was so much like mine. If it hadn’t been so identical, I don’t think it would have happened, but it was as if I was reliving it all over again.

  “Everywhere around me, doctors and nurses were saying the exact same things they’d said the night of my accident. It’s hard to explain, but something snapped inside me. It was as if I was living out what had happened all over again, but with a different result. I created a whole new set of memories that I could deal with better than reality. Your wife went into coma, but her babies lived. I lived, but my baby died. In my mind that night, my baby lived and she was Amber.”

  Ellie’s dad nodded, as if he understood such a thing. Again, she felt a spurt of pride for him.

  Helen turned back to Amber. “Don’t ask me how I managed to get you out of the hospital because I don’t remember. When I got you home, all the baby stuff was still there, I thought you were my little Amber.” Her voice cracked. “I loved you so much and you were all I had left.”

  Amber put her arm around her mom’s shoulder. “It’s okay, Mom.”

  “It’s not okay. I lived the fantasy andbelieved it completely for five years . Except for recurring nightmares of losing my baby, everything was so good. I had this overwhelming urge to move across the country, though. I thought I wanted to get away from the painful memories of your fath…I mean my husband. Later, I realized my subconscious knew that I was running from something much worse than painful memories. We moved here when you were less than a year old.”

  “But something made you remember,” Amber said gently, her tone so like George’s had been minutes befo
re that Ellie found herself blinking back more tears.

  Helen nodded. “I saw an article on George Wentworth in a business weekly.” She looked around at the rest of the people in the room. “I’m a financial analyst.”

  “We know,” George said quietly.

  She swallowed convulsively and nodded. “Of course.” She took another deep breath and clenched her trembling hands together. “The article mentioned the disappearance of your daughter and suddenlyI knew . I couldn’t remember taking her, but I remembered my baby dying and knew that the little girl who I loved more than my own life belonged to someone else.”

  “I don’t understand…you would have taken me back. Mom, I know you…”