His Pregnant Bride: Pregnant by the Greek Tycoon / His Pregnant Princess / Pregnant: Father Needed
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Actually his comment had terrified her. If there was one thing she had learnt from her short time with the Constantine clan, it was not to underestimate the power of money! Angolos might never get custody of Nicky—access was another story—but he could tear her life to shreds while he was trying.
‘I beg to differ.’
‘You never beg,’ she cut back bitterly. ‘You had your chance to be a father, Angolos, and you blew it. And look at it this way—there’s nothing to stop you going out there and making babies with someone else.’
Her comment brought a gleam of pure fury to his eyes. ‘You think I’m going to leave it like this?’
Her slender shoulders lifted. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want babies, I want…Nicky.’
She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. ‘You don’t always get what you want, Angolos.’
‘Wake up, Georgette,’ he recommended harshly. ‘This is the real world.’
‘No, your world isn’t my reality. My world doesn’t have designer dresses and glitzy first nights, or people who judge you by how much money you have and who your parents are!’ she declared hotly. ‘My reality is making ends meet, a good day at work, a parking space in the high street, scraped knees, temper tantrums and doctor’s appointments.’ She stopped to catch her breath. The incoherent inventory of her life made it sound less attractive than it actually was.
‘All I’m asking for is a chance to be part of that world.’
It would seem Angolos hadn’t picked up on the unattractive part.
Taken aback by the intensity of his unexpected request, she stared at him warily. Perhaps I should have added sleepless nights and guilt. Guilt was a major part of parenting that all the literature skimmed over.
‘This isn’t a glamorous world we are talking here.’
‘Glamour!’ He dismissed it with a contemptuous click of his long fingers. ‘If anyone was seduced by the so-called glamour of my world, it was you,’ he contended.
Her eyes widened in protest. ‘That’s a stupid thing to say.’
‘Wasn’t the fact I came from a different world than you part of the attraction?’ he challenged. ‘You put me on a pedestal!’ he accused. ‘And I exploited it.’
‘I didn’t feel exploited.’ She didn’t like the idea his comment created that she’d been some sort of victim walking blindly to her fate.
‘The moments from our time together that remain clearly in my mind are not the lavish parties or dinners.’
‘What are they, then?’ She was probably going to regret asking, but if she didn’t the question would plague her for the rest of her life.
‘That picnic we had sitting cross-legged on the bedroom floor…’
Georgie’s eyes widened. It had been the one time when she had dared the wrath of the kitchen staff and made a personal request. When asked what sort of wine she’d wanted with her fish-paste sandwiches she had said any old thing would do…white and fizzy maybe…?
The horror etched on the face of the chef had been comical.
Of course the sandwiches had been smoked salmon, the wine had been champagne, and the cutlery Georgian silver, but she hadn’t quibbled. Instead she had pronounced herself delighted, and thanked the staff warmly.
‘You remember that?’ she asked, astonished.
‘Of course I damn well remember. I also remember what followed it—more so…’ He studied her unblinkingly through eyes that contained an explicitly sexual message.
It was a message that Georgie received. The pupils of her eyes dilated dramatically until they almost swallowed up the amber. Breathing fast and shallow, she traced the outline of her dry lips with the tip of her tongue and drew a long shuddering breath. Her hand came up in a fluttery gesture and then fell away again, leaving her fingers trailing in the sand.
‘Do you…?’
‘You know I do.’ She screwed up her eyes and tried to ignore the slick heat between her thighs. ‘We had some good times,’ she admitted huskily.
‘A bit better than good.’
He was right. Good was safe and comfortable; what they had enjoyed had been neither. ‘Think about it, Angolos,’ she appealed to him. The glint in his eyes suggested he wasn’t in the mood for thinking. ‘Nothing has changed, not essentially. You came here to get a divorce.’
This did get his attention.
‘I came here to find out the truth,’ he rebutted.
‘And I bet you wish you hadn’t found it.’
‘Wishes do not enter into it,’ he told her, his voice low and controlled. ‘I have a son… Dios mio!’ he gasped, no longer the least bit controlled. His blazing eyes locked with hers. ‘My life has changed profoundly. If you imagine even for one second that I would prefer to live in ignorance you are insane. I have a son. I may be slow but I do recognise a miracle when I see one.’
‘You can have more children. Like I said, go and have a baby with someone else,’ she recommended, fixing him with a belligerent glare. ‘That’s what you really want,’ she contended. ‘Nicky already has a family.’
She knew enough Greek to recognise that the low, impassioned flood that issued from his lips would have been severely censored by even the most liberal of censors. ‘You think a solution would be for me to go away and impregnate another woman?’
‘Frankly I’m amazed you haven’t already. Or,’ she added with a sneer, ‘have you been waiting to be officially single?’
His nostrils flared as he scanned her face with distaste. ‘Yes.’
In the act of brushing a wayward strand of hair from her face, Georgie froze. All expression was wiped from her face. ‘I take it that is some kind of joke.’
‘Actually, no, it isn’t. I take the matrimonial vows quite seriously.’
‘Oh, really? Your vows mentioned a bit of cherishing, and I seem to recall when you chucked me out there wasn’t much cherishing involved. Don’t feel bad about it,’ she said. ‘Some good came out of it. I have to admit, after not having a say in my own life it came as quite a shock being alone. But I know how to stand on my own feet now.’
Quivering with hurt and fury, she proved the point by standing up in one graceful motion.
The anger in his face was replaced by a grim frustration as he looked at her. Georgie was weeping uncontrollably. There was no resistance in her slim body as he gathered her into his arms.
‘Things will be fine now.’
Georgie, who didn’t feel as if anything would ever be fine, lifted her head. ‘How do you figure that?’
He took her chin in his fingers. ‘Look at me, yineka mou.’
‘I don’t have much choice, do I?’ she returned with a sniff.
‘I will learn to be a halfway decent husband.’
His dark eyes lingered on her face and Georgie shifted uneasily. The movement resulted in one of his heavily muscled thighs becoming wedged between her legs. Painfully aware of the lean, hard length of the body so close to her own, she shivered.
‘You’re serious, aren’t you?’ It occurred to her that from a distance they would look to passers-by like lovers embracing.
‘Deadly serious.’ His thumb moved to the full curve of her lush lower lip. Georgie swayed, nailed to the spot by a wave of intense longing.
‘This isn’t fair,’ she whispered.
‘I love your mouth. I always did…’
Georgie swallowed hard. ‘I don’t think my mouth is relevant to this conversation.’
His restless glance continued to move hungrily over her soft features. ‘At night I think about your sweet lips on my body and I ache. I ache for you.’
He thought about…he ached for her…! And she ached for him too.
She felt his warm breath touch her sensitive earlobe and sighed, fast losing the fight against the raw urgency that coursed through her pliant body.
Angolos must have sensed her surrender because she could hear the male triumph in his voice as he promised, ‘It will be even better than it was when we are together…’
She turned her head and their lips were almost touching when his comment penetrated. With a cry of disgust she pulled away, breathing hard. ‘You are such a control freak!’ she accused, backing away with her hand pressed to her throat. Her skin felt hot and sticky. ‘Well, your tactics won’t work this time.’
‘Firstly, it wasn’t a tactic.’
She focused on his face and saw that there was a damp sheen to his olive-toned skin that made it glisten; the heat in his eyes was fading, leaving a raw frustration in its place.
She decided not to ask what it was. ‘And second?’
‘Second, it almost worked. Can’t you accept that I just want you, and for that matter you want me? It was not part of some sinister plan. I would not take your compliance to mean you’ll come back to me. And it’s not as though I was about to drag you down onto the sand. It was just a kiss…’ His attention shifted to her mouth. ‘Almost a kiss.’
The husky afterthought made her stomach muscles quiver frantically.
Her hands clenched at her sides. ‘Angolos…’
Against all the odds he responded to the anguished appeal in her voice. ‘Fine, you want to concentrate on the practical—have you considered the financial aspect of this?’
‘What do you mean, “financial”?’
‘My son will one day inherit all that I have.’
Her eyes widened; Angolos had a lot! ‘I hadn’t thought about that…’
‘He will be an extremely wealthy man,’ he slotted in quietly. ‘But he will also inherit responsibilities,’ he continued in a matter-of-fact way. ‘Wealth and power can be the ruin of some people…I’ve seen it happen. Nicky will need guidance…not heavy-handed, but loving, parental guidance.’
A stark silence followed his comments.
‘You’ve given me a lot to think about,’ she admitted. They were very powerful arguments and she couldn’t pretend otherwise.
‘Then go away and think…until tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow?’ She shook her head. ‘That’s not long enough,’ she protested. ‘I couldn’t possibly come to such a major decision so quickly.’
‘I’m bending over backwards to be reasonable here, Georgette, but don’t push it. Tomorrow.’
Reluctantly she shook her head. ‘I should be getting back; Ruth is looking after Nicky.’
‘He’s a beautiful child.’
Their eyes touched. ‘He takes after you.’ The moment the unthinking but heartfelt words were out of her mouth she wished she could retract them.
‘Georgette, you’ll make me blush,’ he teased, revealing a set of perfect white teeth as he laughed out loud at her visible discomfiture.
‘I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know,’ she retorted, with as much dignity as she could muster. She had touched his perfection on more than one occasion. Thinking about just how unstinting she had been with her praise made her cringe with embarrassment.
Though, in his favour, for a man who had been endowed with such incredible good looks he really wasn’t vain. In fact she had more than once seen him irritated by the attention he got, though mostly he tuned out strangers who gawped.
‘Shall I call at the house tomorrow?’
She shook her head. ‘Best not.’ Tomorrow Dad and Mary were driving Gran back up. ‘By the church, about one…’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
CHAPTER TEN
ACTUALLY he wasn’t waiting, she was.
When Georgie arrived there was no sign of Angolos. She might have followed her first cowardly impulse and left if she hadn’t known that he would come looking for her.
With a sigh she walked through the gate into the small churchyard. Thoughts far away, she began to wander down the interwoven stone paths past the moss-covered gravestones. Georgie had never found this place at all gloomy, and had often remarked on the tranquil atmosphere.
She stopped, her eyes drawn to a lichen-covered memorial. The weathered inscription in the stone revealed the woman born over three hundred years earlier had had a long life. Georgie’s curiosity stirred; had she been happy, this woman born into another century?
There were several wars, an industrial revolution and a sexual revolution separating her from this woman. Her own life was light years away from the one this woman had lived, yet the essentials, the things deep down most people wanted, weren’t.
To love and be loved.
‘Were you loved…?’ Georgie squinted at the worn letters. ‘Were you loved, Agnes?’ she whispered softly.
If anyone had heard her they would have concluded she was crazy, and maybe, she reflected, they wouldn’t be far wrong. She had thought she had been loved; she had discovered that she hadn’t been in the cruellest way imaginable.
Georgie turned her back on the gravestone and wished her own past were so easily dismissed.
Eyes closed, she inhaled deeply. It had never crossed her mind that Angolos wouldn’t be as thrilled as she was about her pregnancy. Of course, she hadn’t known then what she did now.
Georgie had planned the evening down to the last detail. She’d wanted everything to be perfect, but from the start nothing had gone right.
To begin with the party that Sacha and Olympia had been going to attend had been cancelled at the last minute, so the romantic meal she had planned had become a family affair. Georgie had wanted to scream with frustration, especially when Angolos hadn’t turned up.
When he had arrived an hour later than he had promised, he’d seemed distracted and had even been terse with his mother, who had been unwise enough to remonstrate him on his tardiness. Georgie had caught him looking at her so strangely a couple of times that she’d started to think that he had guessed about the baby. That would have accounted for the suppressed tension emanating from him.
The meal had been a stiff, formal affair, but that hadn’t been unusual, and had seemed to last for ever. When they had finally retreated to their own suite of rooms she hadn’t known what to say. Suddenly her planned speech hadn’t seemed right.
Angolos hadn’t helped; he’d seemed strangely remote and unapproachable. She had noticed that he had drunk more at dinner than he generally did, and the fine lines bracketing his mouth had suggested he was under some strain.
‘Did you have a bad day?’ She laid a tentative hand on his arm.
His dark eyes immediately slewed in the direction of the fingers curled lightly over his arm. Though there was no discernible expression on his lean features, Georgie withdrew her hand awkwardly.
His mouth twisted. ‘You could say that.’
Hurt and bewildered by the underlying hostility in his manner, she retreated to a chair beside the bed.
She watched as he removed his tie and fell backwards onto the bed. He lay for a moment spread-eagled with his eyes closed. Then from his prone position he began to unfasten the buttons of his shirt.
The action revealed the golden skin of lean-muscled torso and Georgie’s breath snagged in her throat. He was simply stunningly beautiful.
He looked at her through heavy-lidded, half-closed eyes.
‘You were quiet tonight,’ he observed.
‘Was I?’ What would he say when she told him? She glanced wistfully towards the open double doors that led out to the balcony and adopted a coaxing tone. ‘Why don’t we sit outside? I love to look at the moonlight on the sea.’ And what could be a more romantic spot to tell him her news?
‘You sound like a tourist.’ Before she had an opportunity to respond to his dismissive comment he added thickly, ‘And anyway, I prefer to look at you. You look particularly glowing this evening.’
‘Do I?’
‘Yes.’ His long fingers closed around her wrist. ‘Tell me what you’ve been doing with yourself today. Have you missed me?’
Only every other second. ‘I’ve been pretty busy, actually.’ She had taken his recent hints about being more self-reliant to heart.
She didn’t want to become a clingy wife. It had helped that Alan had come over and had been staying in the nearby village with his friend.
Georgie willingly responded to the gentle tug on her arm and fell in a happy heap beside him. She flipped over onto her tummy and, with her chin propped in her hands, smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. ‘Alan went home today.’
‘How sad.’
‘Don’t be mean about him,’ she begged.
‘Mean…?’
‘Well, you’re—’ She gasped as he turned her wrist over and pressed his lips to the pale-skinned inner aspect; she shivered as all the fine hairs on her body stood on end.
‘Have I ever told you that you’re the most beautiful man that ever drew breath?’
‘Not recently.’
His husky velvet voice sent a shiver along her hopelessly sensitive nerve endings. ‘I suppose I have been a bit moody lately,’ she admitted. When he realised why, she hoped he would forgive her recent crankiness and mood swings. ‘I didn’t know why myself until today.’
‘Are you going to let me in on the secret?’
‘Soon,’ she promised as with her best enigmatic smile she hitched up her long skirts to her waist and straddled his body.
‘What are you doing?’
‘I’m just doing,’ she told him primly, ‘what any dutiful wife would.’ She frowned as she concentrated on slipping the remaining buttons of his shirt. Within seconds she had exposed all of his lean, hard torso. She ran her fingertips over the silky, hair-roughened surface and felt his stomach muscles contract. His skin was like oiled silk. She gave a voluptuous sigh of pleasure.
His hands tightened possessively over the smooth, bare skin of her thighs. ‘What has brought this on?’
‘Don’t you like it?’
‘Oh, I like it. I’m just wondering why you should decide to take the initiative tonight…’
Did that mean he found her unadventurous and boring in bed? The thought took the edge off her pleasure and dented her newly discovered confidence.
‘Tonight’s special.’
‘I think you’ll remember it.’
Georgie, rehearsing what she was going to say in her head, barely registered his cryptic response. ‘Angolos, I’ve got something to tell you.’ She leaned forward, her eyes glowing with anticipation, her cheeks gently flushed. With a grunt of irritation she pinned the strands of her hair that brushed his face behind one ear. ‘Sorry.’
‘I like your hair on my skin. It feels…’ He closed his eyes and muttered something angry in Greek under his breath.
‘I think what I’ve got to say will cheer you up.’
Considering what had followed, that was probably the silliest comment she had ever made, Georgie reflected grimly.
‘You’re going to be a father, Angolos. I’m going to have a baby.’
His eyes stayed closed—she began to think he’d not heard her—then, dark, deep and impenetrable, they flickered open.
‘Pregnant?’
She nodded, and experienced the first stirrings of fear. Something was badly wrong, but she had no idea what… Perhaps he felt it was too soon, which didn’t make sense because he was the one who had just shrugged when she had mentioned precautions…
‘I know we weren’t trying…and we didn’t discuss it, but I thought you might be happy. You are happy?’
‘Happy? I’m bloody delirious,’ he contended grimly. ‘Can’t you tell, yineka mou?’
‘I d…don’t understand…’ she stuttered.
Angolos rounded a corner in the lane and stopped. He could see her sitting on the wall, oblivious for the moment to his presence. He took the opportunity to study her undetected.
With her hair tied back in a pony-tail and her face innocent of make-up she looked more like a teenager than the mother of a child—his child. The idea still seemed strange to him. Strange as in bordering on miraculous, though he didn’t expect Georgie to share his sense of wonder.
‘You were far away.’
Georgie jumped at the sound of his voice. ‘You’re late.’
He didn’t react to her shrill, accusatory tone. ‘Have you come to a decision?’
‘I have.’ She had thought long and hard; she had thought until her brain felt as if it would explode.
One dark brow lifted. The casual observer, looking at his face, would have said her reply was in no way important to Angolos. But Georgie was not a casual observer; she knew that Angolos cared very badly about her reply.
‘And…?’ The muscle in his tense jaw continued to click steadily as he held her eyes.
Not into playing games, she replied immediately. ‘I agree that I have no right to deny Nicky his heritage. I can protect him now, but I won’t be able to always. I’ll just have to teach him to look after himself. I think you’d be good at that, Angolos. So I will come to Greece with you, on trial basis.’
She saw the muscles of his shoulders relax. ‘Thank you for that, Georgette. For my part I swear that I will do my best not to disappoint you.’
The palpable sincerity in his voice brought an emotional lump to her throat. ‘I don’t think you would, but you didn’t let me finish. There are conditions.’
‘Whatever you say,’ he said immediately.
‘Don’t you think you ought to hear what they are first?’ she asked him.
‘Bring on your demands. It doesn’t matter what they are. I will do anything it takes to develop a relationship with my son.’
‘I understand that.’
One dark brow arched in sardonic enquiry as he scanned her face. ‘But you have your doubts? You don’t think it will work out?’
This drew a reluctant laugh from her. ‘Only a couple of thousand.’ Her expression sobered as she lifted her face to his; she could almost feel his impatience. ‘It didn’t work last time.’ Feeling her control slipping, she turned and began to walk towards the church.
Angolos cursed softly under his breath as he fell into step beside her. ‘The situation isn’t the same.’
That much was true. Last time he had loved her, or professed to at least. This time there was no pretence that his feelings for her were what they once had been; this was all about wanting to be a father to his son.
‘I know that, but everything else is. You…’ She stopped and smiled at an elderly couple who walked past hand in hand.
‘Lovely afternoon.’
‘Marvellous,’ she agreed.
‘Why are the British obsessed with the weather?’ Before she could defend the national obsession he added, ‘Why are you determined to be negative about this?’
‘I’m not being negative,’ she protested. ‘I’m being realistic. We’re going back to the same house. You’re the same man, your mother will still resent me.’
‘My mother did not resent you!’
Georgie smiled and looked away. ‘If you say so.’
‘Perhaps you have left out the most significant obstacle.’
She paused and ran her fingers along the moss-covered wall beside the church gate. Her glance lifted to the tiny church with its square Norman tower. As a young girl she had spent many an afternoon imagining herself walking up the aisle here, and standing underneath the big horse chestnut having her picture taken in its shade.
The reality could not have been more different: an anonymous register office. Angolos had let it be known that he hadn’t actually wanted a big wedding. ‘Been there, done that…but, of course, if you want…?’ he added.
‘No, I hate big weddings,’ she lied dutifully. ‘It’s the next twenty years that counts, not the day itself.’
He laughed at her earnestness and called her a hopeless romantic, but she was happy because she had pleased him.
With a sigh she rested her back against the wall now. ‘And what is that?’ She stretched out her hand and languidly watched the dappled light play across her skin.
‘You’re still the same person too.’
She shook her head, but didn’t look at him. ‘You’re wrong, Angolos. I’m not the same person at all.’
‘You mean you won’t grow discontented this time.’
This time she did look up. ‘Discontented…?’
‘You never made any effort to fit in.’
‘Fit in!’ she exclaimed in heated response to this monumentally unfair claim. ‘Short of changing my identity, that was never going to happen.’
‘What are you talking about?’