Hostage to Love (Entangled Suspense) (9 page)

“Because what’s ailing our marriage needs more than a phone call. I think we can both agree on that.”

He moved from the doorway, and the warmth of his body penetrated hers, throwing her fractured thoughts into further disarray. She sucked in a desperate breath, casting her eyes around the room to distract the dragging sensation in her abdomen.

Decorated with simple comfort in mind, the room was spacious, with plump white sofas that gave it a refreshing serenity. Assorted dyed cushions lent splashes of color to the airy space. It was her favorite room in the villa. She’d spent a lot of time in here during their honeymoon, just reading or watching her favorite programs on the large screen with Nick. That was, when they weren’t swimming in the sea, lounging by the pool, or in bed.

The last thought flushed her face and body with even more desire. She jerked away as he lowered her onto the sofa, anxious to hide her body’s insane reaction from him. Unfortunately, her effort caused her to bump her shin on the low table, and she couldn’t stop her gasp of pain.

“Are you all right?” Nick steadied her, concern etched on his face.

“Yes, just a little clumsy.” She leaned down and rubbed the spot in an effort to shield her face from him.

He straightened after arranging cushions under her feet. “I’ll be right back with the cream. Try not to tango with any more solid objects while I’m gone.” She heard the smile in his voice but didn’t look up, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she heard him leave the room.

Her respite didn’t last. He was back within minutes, carrying her chilled lemonade in one hand and the antiseptic cream in the other. He perched on the table in front of her and placed a gentle hand on her ankle. When he lifted her foot onto his lap, what breath she’d barely retained left her lungs. Her gaze flew to his, but he was intent on squeezing the medicine from the tube.

“This might feel a little cold.” He looked up, and his gray eyes collided with hers. Her mouth went dry, and words deserted her.

She nodded, but was nevertheless unprepared for the touch of his hands. The first time he’d applied it on the plane, she’d been battle-exhausted and barely conscious. Now, wide awake, she looked into eyes that still had the power to render her senseless.

The chilled cream raised goose bumps on her skin in direct contrast to the warmth of his touch that sent such raw excitement zinging through her veins. In response, her nipples peaked wantonly beneath her dress.

He frowned at her sucked-in breath.

“Are you okay? Does it hurt?” His eyes held concern.

She bit her lip and fought to hide her reaction. “No, it doesn’t hurt, but you were right, it was a little bit cool.” Let him think it was the antiseptic that had made her gasp, not the feel of his warm hands against her flesh. She looked down at his long, tapered fingers moving against her instep in a smooth massage. He took his time, rubbed firmly but gently until the balm was absorbed.

Then he started on the other foot.

She stifled a moan as molten sensation oozed through her and settled low in her pelvis. Her nipples tightened further, and she wished she’d worn a bra under her white sundress. The last thing she wanted was for Nick to guess her state of near-mindless excitement. But it was no use.

Starved of his touch, her body unfurled like a petal to a new day, flowering in readiness for his possession. She could already feel the telltale moistening between her legs and surreptitiously squeezed her thighs together, eager to curb the hot arrows of need shooting into her sex. His thumb brushed against the arch of her foot, and she bit back a groan. She’d beg him to glide his hands higher if he didn’t stop soon.

Think of something else, something to kill this feeling stone cold
.

For once her mind obliged, although she could’ve done without the mental image it displayed.

Like a bucket of cold water thrown in her face, the image of her husband, implacable, callously daring her to leave him, denying her the one thing she yearned for, rose in her mind. Sickening pain replaced rampant lust. She jerked her foot away from where it rested on his taut thigh and folded it next to the other on the sofa.

Nick looked up in surprise at her abrupt withdrawal, his eyes darkening with incomprehension.

“Was I too rough? Did I hurt you?”

She bit back the bitter laughter that rose in her throat. “Would you care to specify which hurt you’re talking about, Nick? I have quite a selection to choose from.”

“Tinkerbelle, we need to talk about this but not now—”

“Please don’t call me that.”

He recaptured her foot and continued the massage, his touch even gentler. “Why not? It’s your name, and you love it when I call you that.” His sensual mouth curved with the tiniest smile.

“No, you only
believe
I do. I think somewhere in that brain of yours, you harbor a fairy fantasy.”

His smile widened a touch. “I suggest we not discuss the subject of my fantasies and how you feature in them. You’re probably not well enough to cope with that…yet.”

“Yet? Try never. I’m a schoolteacher, Nick, not one of the actresses or trust fund babies you used to date. They may have obliged you with those…those…” She stopped when she felt heat flood her cheeks. How the hell had they even strayed onto this subject? “Whatever, you’re never going to be obliged by me!” Belle stopped and clamped her mouth shut. He’d always had this effect on her, had made her feel insecure and off-balance.

“You need to calm down, baby.”

“And you need to stop with the caring husband act. You’ve done the absentee husband thing quite successfully. Maybe it’s time we consider making it permanent?”

The fingers cupping her heel tightened a touch. “What the hell are you talking about?”

The hand she raised to her spinning head was decidedly shaky. “I’ve had a long time to think these past months. I…I think we were a little naïve to think we would ever make a relationship between us work. For a start, our backgrounds are just too different—”

“I don’t know where this is all coming from, but you need to stop talking now.”

“Why should I? I freely admit that I was a little foolish to think someone like me would be enough for someone like you. Did you see your friends’ faces the first time you introduced me to them?”

“I don’t give a fuck what my friends think. And neither should you. Besides, you’re the daughter of an Earl. Anyone who wants to dwell on status can suck on that.”

“I don’t care about status, but maybe
you
should. If we’d stopped to think for a moment about what we want out of this—”

“What, you’d have agreed to a hot and sweet session between the sheets and then gone on your merry way?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“And what makes you think I’d have let you? You belong to me,
glikia mou
. You always will.”

Sadness welled inside her. “You know, there was a time when hearing you say that would’ve made me the happiest woman in the world.” The time before she realized he used words like that just to control her, to keep her the malleable creature he wanted her to be, and not because he actually loved her.

A bleak look fleeted through his eyes before he ruthlessly and efficiently veiled it.

“You seem to have developed a serious knack for bad timing. But there’s no way I’m having this conversation with you while you’re covered in bruises from surviving being kidnapped by a fucking despot.”

“I’m not some frail waif, Nick.”

“I know you’re not. But we never could have a lively discussion without it concluding in sex, and I’ll be damned if I let you push me into making unreasonable demands on your already ravaged body. So here’s my suggestion—let’s table this and revisit later, hmm?”

“No, thanks. Like I said, I know where I stand with you. No revisiting needed.” Her words were flippant, delivered in a deliberately offhand manner, the urge to hurt him back paramount.

He studied her for a tense moment. When he spoke, all the warmth had left his voice. “We will revisit,
pethi mou
, because
you
need to know where
I
stand.”

“Your silence these last months is blatant evidence on that score.”

His jaw clenched, he sat back. “This is where I usually just kiss you to shut you up. We can keep going around in circles on this. And since make up sex is off the table for now, I think it’s best if I go and check on how much longer dinner will be. We’re eating out on the terrace. I’ll be back in a minute to help you outside.”

“That won’t be necessary.” she replied stiffly. “And I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re still a master controller when it comes to an honest discussion.”

His eyes narrowed. “Dammit, Tinkerbelle, what the hell has gotten into you?”

From nowhere, tears threatened. “Just go. I’ll see you on the terrace.” When he hesitated, she glared at him. “It’s only a short distance—I can manage,” she insisted.

For a long while, he said nothing, then he recapped the antiseptic cream and stood up. “Fine. I’ll join you there shortly.”

Her gaze followed him as he left the room, lingering over the broad set of his shoulders. A stab of longing pierced deep.

She’d loved him so much, had given her heart and soul to him, only to find out that the reciprocity she’d expected would not be forthcoming, nor would her most treasured wish ever be realized.

Abandoning thoughts that were growing more painful by the second, she sipped her lemonade and grimaced at the now warm, sour taste. Discarding it, she got up and moved slowly toward the open French doors, letting the soft breeze from the sea wash over her.

The sun had begun its descent on the horizon, and she watched its fiery journey over the sparkling water as it kissed, then finally fell into, the sea. She stood there until the rumble in her stomach alerted her to its demand for nourishment. Wondering what kept Nick, she turned indoors, only to find him leaning against the opposite doorjamb, his eyes riveted on her.

For a brief moment, she saw an emotion very much like the earlier bleakness within the gray depths. Something shifted inside her, but the look vanished a second later. She pushed her mostly dry hair away from her face, confusion clouding her thoughts. She had to be mistaken. What had he to feel bleak about?

Her thoughts scattered to the wind as he approached, arrestingly sexy.

“Dinner is just coming through. Shall we sit?” He indicated the table set for two on the far side of the terrace, which she hadn’t noticed before now.

Someone had obviously been under the misconception this was to be a romantic dinner
a deux
and had set out beautiful flowers and elegant flatware.

“Did you put Demetra up to this?”

Nick’s smile was a little tight. “Nope. But I’m pleased she went to the trouble. Are you?” he asked.

She looked around, taking in the lit and sparkling pool. Fat aromatic candles burned around its edge, lending an extra intimate ambience to the atmosphere. She bit her lip. Under normal circumstances, she’d have been overjoyed.

“I guess I can’t fault Demetra for not knowing we haven’t shared a meal for a while.”

“That’s not what I asked, but you get a pass. As for Demetra not knowing, I wouldn’t bet on it.”

She stopped next to the table, the different slant on their seemingly innocuous meal hitting her hard. “She’s not hoping this is some big reunion, is she?”

Nick gave a casual shrug, but a layer of angry tension suddenly permeated the air. “What if she is? Are you going to throw it back in her face?” He pulled her chair out in stiff movement.

“Of course not.” Ingrained manners made her murmur her thanks when Nick helped her into her seat.

“Good.” He took his own seat and lifted the lid off the first platter.

The aromas of baked lamb and herbs rising from the dishes on the table made her mouth water. She helped herself to the tasty Greek salad and took a bite as Nick filled her water glass and then his.

He raised his glass to her. “Welcome home.” His smile remained tight, but the irate air had dissipated.

She carefully laid her napkin on her lap. “This isn’t my home, Nick. Not anymore.”

His gaze dropped momentarily but came back to hers in the next instant. “But it’ll serve its purpose for now, I think. Do you remember what ‘Althea’ means?” he questioned silkily, his voice a fascinating mixture of Greek and American accents that threatened to curl around her senses the way they had a long time ago.

“Yes, I know it means ‘to heal.’” The island had been a gift from Nick’s great-grandfather to his wife after they’d lost their first child in a tragic accident, and it had stayed in the Andreakos family since then, exquisite and untouched save for the villa that had been added to over the years.

“And that’s what you shall do here. No pressure from the outside world, just complete relaxation, as I’m sure the doctor will order when he arrives tomorrow.”

“Doctor?”

“Yes, I called him this afternoon,” he announced calmly and helped himself to salad.

Anger fizzed like a firecracker inside her. Nick hadn’t changed. Not one iota. “And you didn’t think to check this with me first?”

“I knew what your reaction would be.”

Taking a deep breath, she fought to retain her calm. “With good reason.
I
decide what happens to my body, not you. Besides, one of your men checked me out on the plane. I assumed he had medical qualifications?”

“Yes, but a second opinion wouldn’t hurt. Dr. Kalamaras is the best. He’ll be here in the morning. And once he’s been and gone, you can take it easy, heal your body.”

But what about her heart? How would she go about healing that after the blow he’d dealt it?

Every instinct warned her to refuse Nick’s request. Away from him, she’d been sure she was getting over him and the break-up of their marriage. She’d been sure, too, that in time, the sight of every tall, dark-haired man with a sexy, loping gait would cease to remind her of what she’d lost.

As if sensing her thoughts, he murmured, “What are you so afraid of,
pethi mou
?”