The Fallen Greek BrideAt the Greek Boss's Bidding

by Jane Porter

  It was on the tip of his tongue to ask if Elizabeth was aware that Cosima and Calista had gone to school together. To ask her if she knew that both women had shared a flat for more than a year, and had gone into modeling together, too.

  He could tell her that Calista and Cosima had been the best of friends until their lives had gone in very different directions.

  Cosima had met Andreas Koumantaros and become girlfriend and then fiancée to one of Greece’s most wealthy men.

  Calista, unable to find a rich enough boyfriend, or enough modeling jobs to pay her rent, had turned to exotic dancing and questionable modeling gigs.

  The two seemed to have had nothing more in common after a couple years. Cosima had traveled the world as the pampered bride-to-be, and Calista had struggled to make ends meet.

  And then tragedy had struck and evened the score.

  Andreas had died in the avalanche, Cosima had survived but lost her lifestyle, and Calista, who had still been struggling along, had thought she’d found a sugar-daddy of her own.

  Albeit a handicapped one.

  The corner of his mouth curved crookedly, the tilt of his lips hiding the depth of his anger as well as his derision. Calista hadn’t been the first to imagine he’d be an easy conquest. A dozen women from all over Europe had flocked to his side during his hospital stay. They’d brought flowers, gifts, seductive promises. I love you. I’ll be here for you. I’ll never leave you.

  It would have been one thing if any of them had genuinely cared for him. Instead they’d all been opportunists, thinking a life with an invalid wouldn’t be so bad if the invalid was a Greek tycoon.

  Again Kristian felt the whip of anger. Did women think that just because he couldn’t see he’d lost his mind?

  That his inability to travel unaided across the room meant he’d enjoy the company of a shallow, self-absorbed, materialistic woman? He hadn’t enjoyed shallow and self-absorbed women before. Why would he now?

  “You’ve met Cosima, then,” he said flatly.

  “We’ve only spoken on the phone, but her concern—and she is concerned—touched me,” Elizabeth added anxiously, trying to fill the silence. “She obviously has a good heart, and it wouldn’t be fair to punish her for trying to help you.”

  Kristian ran his hand over his jaw. “No, you’re right. And you said, she seems most anxious to see me on my feet.”

  “Yes. Yes—and she’s just so worried about you. She was in tears on the phone. I think she’s afraid you’re shutting her out—”

  “Really?” This did intrigue him. Was Cosima possibly imagining some kind of future for the two of them? The idea was as grotesque as it was laughable.

  “She said you’ve become too reclusive here.”

  “This is my home.”

  “But she’s concerned you’re overly depressed and far too despondent.”

  “Were those her actual words?” he asked, struggling to keep the sarcasm from his voice.

  “Yes, as a matter of fact. I have it in my notes, if you want to see—”

  “No. I believe you.” His brows flattened, his curiosity colored by disbelief. Cosima wasn’t sentimental. She wasn’t particularly emotional or sensitive, either. So why would she be so anxious to have him return to Athens? “And so,” he added, wanting to hear more about Cosima’s concern, “you were sent here to rescue me.”

  “Not rescue, just motivate you. Get you on your feet.”

  “And look!” he said grandly, gesturing with his hands. “Today I stood. Tomorrow I climb Mount Everest.”

  “Not Everest,” Elizabeth corrected, sounding genuinely bemused. “Just walk in time for your wedding.”

  Wedding?

  Wedding?

  Kristian had heard it all now. He didn’t know whether to roar with amusement or anguish. His wedding. To Cosima, his late brother’s lover, he presumed. My God, this was like an ancient Greek comedy—a bold work conceived of by Aristophanes. One full of bawdy mirth but founded on tragedy.

  And as he sat there, trying to take it all in, Cosima and Calista’s scheming reminded him of the two Greek sisters: Penia, goddess of poverty, and Amakhania, goddess of helplessness. Goddesses known for tormenting with their evil and greed.

  But now that he knew, he wouldn’t be tormented any

  longer.

  No, he’d write a little Greek play of his own. And if all went well his good Nurse Cratchett could even help him by playing a leading role.

  “Let’s not tell her I know,” Kristian said. “Let’s work hard, and we’ll surprise her with my progress.”

  “So where do we start?” Elizabeth asked. “What do we do first?”

  He nearly smiled at her enthusiasm. She sounded so pleased with him already. “I’ve already hired a physical therapist from Sparta,” he answered, making it clear that this was not a joint decision, but his and his alone. “The therapist arrives tomorrow.”

  “And until then?”

  “I’ll probably relax, nap. Swim.”

  “Swim?” she asked. “You’re swimming?”

  Her surprise made his lip curl. She really thought he was in dreadful shape, didn’t she? “I have been for the past two weeks.”

  “Ever since your last nurse left?” she said quietly.

  He didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  “Maybe you could show me the pool?” she asked.

  For a moment he almost felt sorry for her. She was trying so hard to do what she thought was the right thing, but her idea of right wasn’t necessarily what he wanted or needed. “Of course. If you’ll come with me.”

  Together they traveled across the stone courtyard with its trellis-covered patio, where they’d just enjoyed lunch, with Kristian pushing his own wheelchair and Elizabeth walking next to him.

  They headed toward the fountain and then passed it, moving from the stone patio to the garden, with its gravel path.

  “The gardens are beautiful,” Elizabeth said, walking slowly enough for Kristian to push his chair at a comfortable pace.

  His tires sank into the gravel, and he wrestled a moment with his chair until he found traction again and pushed faster, to keep from sinking back into the crushed stones. “You’d do better with a stone path here, wouldn’t you?” she asked, glancing down at his arms, impressed by his strength.

  Warm color darkened his cheekbones. “It was suggested months ago that I change it, but I knew I wouldn’t be in a wheelchair forever so I left it.”

  “So you planned on getting out of your wheelchair?”

  His head lifted, and he shot her a look as though he could see, his brow furrowing, lines deepening between his eyes. He resented her question, and his resentment brought home yet again just who he was, and what he’d accomplished in his lifetime.

  Watching him struggle through the gravel, it crossed her mind that maybe he hadn’t remained in the wheelchair because he was lazy, but because without sight he felt exposed. Maybe for him the wheelchair wasn’t transportation so much as a suit of armor, a form of protection.

  “Are we almost to the hedge?” he asked, pausing a moment to try and get his bearings.

  “Yes, it’s just in front of us.”

  “The pool, then, is to the left.”

  Elizabeth turned toward her left and was momentarily dazzled by the sun’s reflection off brilliant blue water. The long lap pool sparkled in its emerald-green setting, making it appear even more jewel-like than it already was.

  “It’s a new pool?” she guessed, from the young landscaping and the gorgeous artisan tilework.

  “I wish I could say it was my only extravagance, but I’ve been renovating the monastery for nearly a decade now. It’s been a labor of love.”

  They’d reached a low stone wall that bordered the pool, and Elizabeth moved forward to open the pretty gate. “But why Taygetos? Why a ruined monastery? You don’t have family from here, do you?”

  “No, but I love the mountains—this is where I feel at home,” he said, liftin
g a hand to his face as if to block the sun. “My mother was French, raised in a small town at the base of the Alps. I’ve grown up hiking, skiing, rock-

  climbing. These are the things my father taught us to do, things my mother enjoyed, and it just feels right living here.”

  Elizabeth saw how he kept trying to shield his eyes with his hand. “Is the sun bothering you?”

  “I usually wear bandages, or dark glasses.”

  “You’ve that much light sensitivity?”

  “It’s painful,” he admitted.

  She didn’t want him in pain, but the tenderness and sensitivity gave her hope that maybe, one day, he might get at least a little of his vision back. “Shall I call Pano to get your glasses?”

  “It’s not necessary. We won’t be here long.”

  “But it’s lovely out,” she said wistfully, gazing around the pool area and admiring the tiny purplish campanula flowers that were growing up and over the stone walls. The tiny violet-hued blossoms were such a pretty contrast to the rugged rock. “Let me get them. That way you can relax a little, be more comfortable.”

  “No, just find me a little shade—or perhaps position me away from the sun.”

  “There’s some shade on the other side of the pool, near the rock wall.” She hesitated. “Shall I push you?”

  “I can do it myself.”

  But somehow in the struggle, as Elizabeth pushed forward and Kristian grappled for control, the front castors of his chair ran off the stone edge and over the side, and once the front casters went forward, the rest of the chair followed.

  He hit the pool with a big splash.

  It all happened in slow motion.

  Just before he hit the water Elizabeth could see herself grabbing at his chair, hanging tight to the handles and trying to pull him back, but she was unable to get enough leverage to stop the momentum. In the end she let go, knowing she couldn’t stop him and afraid she’d fall on him and hurt him worse.

  Heart pounding, Elizabeth dropped to her knees, horrified that her patient and his wheelchair had just tumbled in.

  How could she have let this happen? How could she have been so reckless?

  Elizabeth was close to jumping in when Kristian surfaced. His chair, though, was another matter. While Kristian was swimming toward the side of the pool, his chair was slowly, steadily, sinking to the bottom.

  “Kristian—I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she apologized repeatedly as she knelt on the pool deck. She’d never felt less professional in her entire life. An accident like this was pure carelessness. He knew it, and so did she.

  “I cut the corner too close. I should have been paying closer attention. I’m so sorry.”

  He swam toward her.

  Leaning forward, she extended her hand as far as it would go. “You’re almost at the wall. My hand’s right in front of it. You’ve almost got it,” she encouraged as he reached for her.

  His fingers curled around hers. Relief surged through her. He was fine. “I’ve got you,” she said.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, hand tightening on hers. “Or do I have you?”

  And, with a hard tug, he pulled her off her knees and into the pool.

  Elizabeth landed hard on her stomach, splashing water wildly.

  He’d pulled her in. Deliberately. She couldn’t believe it. So much for poor, helpless Kristian Koumantaros.

  He was far from helpless. And he’d fooled her three times now.

  Spluttering to the surface, she looked around for Kristian and spotted him leaning casually against the wall.

  “That was mean,” she said, swimming toward him, her wet clothes hampering her movements.

  He laughed softly and ran a hand through his hair, pushing the inky black strands back from his face. “I thought you’d find it refreshing.”

  She squeezed water from her own hair. “I didn’t want you to fall in. I’d never want that to happen.”

  “Your concern for my well-being is most touching. You know, Cratchett, I was worried you might be like my other nurses, but I have to tell you, you’re worse.”

  She swallowed hard. She deserved that. “I’m sorry,” she said, knowing a responsible nurse would never have permitted such a thing to happen. Indeed, if any of her nurses had allowed a patient in their care to fall into a pool she’d have fired the nurse on the spot. “It’s been a while since I actually did any in-home care. As you know, I’m the head administrator for the company now.”

  “Skills a little rusty?” he said.

  “Mmmm.” Using the ladder, she climbed out and sat down on the deck, to pluck at her shirt and tug her soggy shoes off.

  “So why are you here and not another nurse?”

  Wringing water from her skirt, she sighed. Defeated. “The agency’s close to bankruptcy. I couldn’t afford to send another nurse. It was me or nothing.”

  “But my insurance has paid you, and I’ve paid you.”

  Elizabeth watched the water trickle from her skirt to the stone pavers. “There were expenses not covered, and those costs were difficult to manage, and eventually they ate into the profits until we were barely breaking even.” She didn’t bother to tell him that Calista had needed counseling and compensation after leaving Kristian’s employment. And covering Calista’s bills had cost her dearly, too.

  “I think I better get your chair,” she said, not wanting to think about things she found very difficult to control.

  “I do need it,” he agreed. “Are you a strong swimmer?”

  “I can swim.”

  “You’re not inspiring much confidence, Cratchett.”

  She smiled despite herself. “It’ll be okay.” And it would be. She wasn’t going to panic about holding her breath or swimming deep under water. She’d just go down and grab the chair, and haul it back up.

  He sighed, pushed back wet hair from his face. “You’re scared.”

  “No.”

  “You’re not a very good swimmer.”

  She made a little exasperated sound. “I can swim laps. Pretty well. It’s just in deep water I get…nervous.”

  “Claustrophobic?”

  “Oh, it’s silly, but—” She broke off, not wanting to tell him. She didn’t need him making fun of her. It was a genuine fear, and there wasn’t a lot she could do about it.

  “But what?”

  “I had an accident when I was little.” He said nothing, and she knew he was still waiting for the details. “I was playing a diving game with a girl I’d met. We’d toss coins and then go pick them up. Well, in this hotel pool there was a huge drain at the bottom, and somehow—” She broke off, feeling a little sick from the retelling. “There was a lot of suction, and somehow the strings on my swimsuit got tangled, stuck. I couldn’t get them out and couldn’t get my suit off.”

  Kristian didn’t speak, and Elizabeth tried to smile. “They got me out, of course. Obviously. Here I am. But…” She felt a painful flutter inside, a memory of panic and what it had been like. Her shoulders lifted, fell. “I was scared.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Six.”

  “You must have been a good swimmer to be playing diving games in the deep end at six.”

  She laughed a little. “I think as a little girl I was a bit on the wild side. My nanny—” She broke off, rephrased. “Anyway, after that I didn’t want to swim anymore. Especially not in big pools. And since then I’ve pretty much stuck to the shallow end. Kind of boring, but safe.”

  Elizabeth could feel Kristian’s scrutiny even though he couldn’t see her. He was trying to understand her, to reconcile what he’d thought he knew with this.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” he said at last.

  Her eyes narrowed. So far his deals had been terrible. “What kind of deal?”

  “I’ll go get my own chair if you don’t look while I strip. I can’t dive down in my clothes.”

  Elizabeth pulled her knees up to her chest and tried not to laugh. “You’re afraid I’ll see you naked?�
��

  “I’m trying to protect you. You’re a nurse without a lot of field experience lately. I’m afraid my…nudity…might overwhelm you.”

  She grinned against her wet kneecap. “Fine.”

  One black eyebrow arched. “Fine, what? Fine, you’ll look at me? Or fine, you’ll politely avert your gaze?”

  “Fine. I’ll politely avert my gaze.”

  “Endaxi,” he said, still in the pool. “Okay.” And then he began peeling his clothes off one by one.

  And although Elizabeth had made a promise not to look, the sound of wet cotton inching its way off wet skin was too tempting.

  She did watch, and as the clothes came off she discovered he had a rather amazing body, despite the accident and horrific injuries. His torso was still powerful, thick with honed muscle, while from her vantage point on the deck his legs looked long and well shaped.

  Clothes gone, he disappeared beneath the surface, swimming toward the bottom with strong, powerful strokes. Even though he couldn’t see, he was heading in the right direction. It took him a moment to find the chair’s exact location, but once he found it he took hold of the back and immediately began to swim up with it.

  Incredible.

  As Kristian surfaced with the chair, Pano and one of the housemaids came running through the small wrought-iron gate with a huge stack of towels.

  “Kyrios,” Pano called, “are you all right?”

  “I’m fine.” Kristian answered, dragging the chair to the side of the pool.

  Pano was there to take the chair. He tipped it sideways and water streamed from the spokes and castors. He tipped it the other way and more water spurted from open screwholes, and then he passed the chair to the maid, who began vigorously toweling the wheelchair dry.

  In the meantime Kristian placed his hands on the stone deck and hauled himself up and out, using only his shoulders, biceps and triceps. He was far stronger than he let on, and far more capable of taking care of himself than she’d thought.

  He didn’t need anyone pushing him.

  He probably didn’t need anyone taking care of him.

  If everyone just stepped back and left him alone, she suspected that soon he’d manage just fine.

  And, speaking of fine, Elizabeth couldn’t tear her eyes from Kristian’s broad muscular back, lean waist, and tight hard buttocks as he shifted his weight around. His body was almost perfectly proportioned, every muscle shaped and honed. He didn’t look ill, or like a patient. He looked like a man, an incredibly physical, virile man.