His Forbidden Bride (17 page)

would be watching.

Wel , let him look, she thought, biting her lip. Just as long as he didn't

realise she was actual y dying of self-consciousness, parading around

without her bra. Because topless sunbathing was something she'd never

indulged in. Even with Mick, she'd been shy—reserved about nakedness,

and she was beginning to regret her defiant gesture, which now seemed

plain sil y.

Face it, she told herself. You're not cut out to be one of Odysseus' nymphs.

And any form of sunbathing was out on this rock, anyway, she thought,

biting her lip. There was no shade at al , and even with high-factor sun lotion

she'd be risking getting badly burned.

'Oh, damn you, Andreas Dragos,' she whispered under her breath. 'You

pushed me into this, and now I have to deal with it.'

She was also furiously aware that there were tears pricking at her eyelids.

And she was not, under any circumstances, going to let him see her cry.

Al ow him to know that he had the power to hurt her so badly that she could

have moaned with the pain of it.

There seemed little alternative but to go for a quick swim. It would cool her,

and calm her down. Besides, drops of sea water would be good camouflage

for any tears that managed to escape.

She trod, wincing, to the edge of the rock, steadied herself, stood poised for

a moment, then dived in.

As she launched herself she thought she heard Andreas calling something

to her.

But if it's an apology, it's too late, she told herself, gasping at the shock of

the cool water against her overheated skin, and the endless green darkness

waiting for her. Andreas had not exaggerated, it seemed. This was far, far

deeper than she was accustomed to.

She turned, kicking her way back to the dazzle of sunlight above her,

grateful when she broke the surface at last, gasping for air.

Without even glancing in the direction of the beach, she broke into her

steady crawl, and headed off determinedly down the smal bay. She would

do the equivalent of a couple of lengths, she decided, then return to that

gridiron of a rock, and plaster herself in sunblock.

She was a competent swimmer, but not a particularly strong one, and the

Ionian Sea, she soon realised, was no smal -town swimming pool. One

length, not two, would be quite enough, she decided, discovering that she

did not care for the sensation of knowing that, for the first time ever, she was

completely out of her depth in water. Never before, and never again, she

promised herself grimly as she turned to swim back.

But she soon found that getting back to the rock, or even inshore, was more

of a problem than she'd anticipated. There was a definite current, quiet and

insidious, which was pul ing her out even deeper, and preventing her from

making any real headway as she battled against it.

She was beginning to get tired, too, but there was no point in turning onto

her back and floating, because that would simply add to her problems.

She could see Odysseus' rock, shining in the sunlight like a beacon, but a

beacon that seemed to be getting further away, despite her best efforts. The

drag of the current appeared to be getting stronger, or was it just that she

herself was becoming weaker?

She swal owed a mouthful of sea water, and came up spluttering, trying to

tread water, suddenly afraid.

She hadn't even realised she was no longer alone until strong hands took

hold of her, and Andreas' voice said curtly, 'I have you now. Relax, don't

struggle and I'l take you in.'

She wanted to tel him with dignity that she knew better than to resist when

her life was being saved, but she got another mouthful of sea water and

choked instead.

Besides, she thought, recovering, there was nothing remotely dignified in

being towed back to land like a piece of flotsam.

'We are at the rock,' his voice told her breathlessly at last. 'Turn yourself,

and hold onto it with both hands, and I wil pul you up.'

Zoe clung on, gasping, as he lifted himself lithely out of the water. Then his

hands were under her armpits like steel clamps, drawing her up beside him.

She wasn't sure whether she wanted to burst into tears first, or be sick.

She said in a voice she hardly recognised, 'I don't know how to thank you…'

'Thank me?' he came back at her hoarsely. His eyes were sparking with

anger, his mouth set grimly. 'Thank me, you little fool?
Otheos
, you could have drowned. Didn't you hear me shouting, tel ing you not to dive from the

rock— that it can be dangerous?'

'I—I couldn't hear what you said.' Her teeth were chattering suddenly as the

realisation of what might have happened washed over her again.

He muttered something under his breath that she was glad not to

understand, and enveloped her without ceremony in her towel, which he had

snatched up.

She'd wondered what his hands would feel like on her body, and now she

knew, and they were not tender, or gentle or even remotely loverlike. They

were harsh, vigorous, and extremely thorough, but she began to feel alive

again, and less like a piece of wreckage.

And when he'd finished he picked up her bag, and slung it over one

shoulder, then lifted Zoe, towel and all, into his arms, and carried her back

to the shelter of the sun umbrel a. Where he set her on her feet.

He handed her a bottle of water. 'Drink some of this.'

She was glad of its coolness against tier burning throat. She poured some of

the water into her cupped hand and splashed it on her stinging eyes.

Her bikini top was stil lying where she had dropped it. She bent and

retrieved it, trying to huddle into it under the concealment of the slipping

towel.

He said level y, 'Isn't it a little late for such modesty?'

He took the towel from her shoulders, and tossed it to one side, then

fastened the clip of her bra himself. 'Nor was there any need to remove this,'

he added quietly. 'My imagination had already told me how you would look

without your clothes.'

She turned to face him, but found it was beyond her, so stared down at the

sand instead.

She said in a low voice, 'I'm sorry. I—I lost my temper, and put us both in

danger.'

'From now on,' he said, 'you wil swim only from the beach at the vil a. It is

shal ower there. And, then, only when I am present.'

She shook her head, wearily. 'I'd have thought I was the last person you'd

want around.'

'No,
pedhi mou
.' He spoke more gently. 'You know that is not true.'

'I don't think I know anything,' she said. 'Not any more.'

She'd been so determined not to cry in front of him, but suddenly the tears

were there, just the same, running down her face, dripping off her lashes

and the tip of her nose. And she was powerless to prevent them.

'Ah, no,' he said, and his arms went round her, drawing her to him. 'No,

there is no need for this, Zoe
mou
. We are both safe.'

He stroked the damp tangle of her hair, murmuring to her in his own

language, while Zoe leaned against him, resting her cheek against the wall

of his chest, absorbing the cool, fresh scent of the sea on his skin, the

strong beat of his heart, as she tried to control her little, shuddering sobs.

She felt a strange kind of lassitude stealing over her, and her legs were

shaking so badly that, if Andreas had not been holding her, she thought she

would have slipped down to the sand at his feet. And stayed there for ever.

It's shock, she told herself. Delayed shock, that's al .

And knew that was only part of it.

She thought 'I don't understand,' and only realised she had spoken aloud

when he answered her.

'What do you find puzzling,
pedhi mou
?'

'What we're doing here,' she said. She turned her head a fraction so that her

mouth rested hungrily against his skin. 'Why you're even with me, when you

don't—' Her voice faltered. 'When you don't seem to want me…'

His hands gripped her shoulders, putting her away from him as he looked

gravely down at her, the dark eyes searching hers with strange intensity.

'Is this truly what you think?' he asked softly. 'Is this what you expect of me

— a few hours of pleasure for you to giggle over with your girlfriends during

that long English winter?'

'No.' Her mouth trembled. '
No
. But the truth is I don't know what to

expect—or what's happening to me. And that scares me.' She took a step

backwards, wrapping her arms round her body. Trying to close herself off

from him. Establish some physical and emotional independence, but

knowing at the same time that it was way too late for that. That she was lost.

She said, her voice breaking huskily, 'Oh God, I did not—
not
—come here

for this.'

'You think I did?' He laughed harshly. 'You are wrong, Zoe
mou
. I had my life in place. I knew its rules and obligations. And you, believe me, were never

part of the plan.'

Her voice was little more than a whisper. 'Then let me go—Andreas, please.

Let me go—now.'

'You could do that?' He stared at her. 'You could walk away.'

Her mouth twisted in a painful travesty of a smile. 'I could—try.'

'Ah, no,
matia mou
,' he said unevenly. 'You know better than that. And never think that I do not desire you—because I do, more than you wil ever know.'

His voice deepened to a new intensity. 'But it would be too soon, and you

must be aware of that, too. We have known each other only for hours, rather

than weeks, months and years. And we need more time—if only to come to

terms with what has happened to us. Time to learn about each other, and

reach acceptance.

'But we don't have that sort of time,' Zoe objected raggedly. 'I'm here on

holiday, and when it's over I have to go back to England, to my flat and my

work.' She shook her head wretchedly. 'However much you dress it up, it

can only ever be a temporary affair.'

'Only,' he said, 'if that is what you want, Zoe
mou
. So, be truthful. Is it?'

Mutely, Zoe shook her head.

'Then there is no problem,' Andreas said. 'Because that is not my wish

either. You see, I do not just want your body,
agapi mou
.' He framed her

face gently in his hands. 'I need your heart, your soul, and that sweet,

stubborn mind that will not al ow you, even at this moment, to trust me. And

no less wil do.'

He smiled rueful y, 'And this is also why I dare not trust myself to touch you

more than this. Because I am determined to behave wel .'

Her voice shook. 'Andreas—there's something I have to tel you.' Her eyes

searched his anxiously. 'There—there was someone else—once. I—I'm not

a virgin.'

His brows lifted. 'You think that makes some difference?'

'Wel —doesn't it?'

'Is he still important in your life?'

'God, no.' She thought for a moment, frowning a little. 'I can barely

remember what he looked like.'

'Good,' he said. 'Then put him from your mind.' He stroked the curve of her

cheek. 'If it is the moment for confessions, then maybe I should tel you that I

am not a virgin either,' he added wryly.

She was startled into a giggle.

'That's much better,' he approved softly. 'I began to think you would never

smile again.'

There would never be a better moment to be total y honest with him, and

Zoe knew it. To tel him why she had come to Thania, and what had taken

her to the Vil a Danaë.

But she was scared. Frightened in case she saw the tenderness fade from

his eyes, and anger harden his mouth.

And in case he believed her acknowledged longing for him was motivated

by self-interest rather than passion, now that she knew his true identity.

She thought, I couldn't bear that. I can't take the risk— not yet. Perhaps not

ever.

Because, she realised with sudden, startling insight, the vil a doesn't matter

any more, or anything that may have happened in the past. Al I care about

is Andreas, and our future together, and I don't want it muddled by old

mysteries. So, I can just tear up the paperwork, and be free of it all.

'Hey,' Andreas said softly. 'Where are you, Zoe
mou
? Suddenly, you've gone from me.'

'I think I'm stil a little stunned.' She met his gaze steadily, her eyes

unclouded, feeling as if a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

'But I've gone nowhere. I'm here with you, and that's the only place I want to

be.' She reached up and kissed him on the cheek. 'Andreas
mou
.' she

added, her lips trembling into a smile. 'See, I'm learning Greek.'

He pul ed her against him, making her burningly aware of his need for her.

'And I cannot wait to become your teacher,' he muttered roughly into her

hair.

'Must we—wait?' She whispered the words against his skin.

'Yes,' he said. 'And yes, again, for al the reasons I have already given and a

hundred more.' He put her away from him, his mouth twisting rueful y.

'Which is why I think we should continue our tour as soon as we're dry—find

some-where with other people,
pedhi mou
. Where my self-control will not be under such strain.'