His Love-Child: The Greek Tycoon's Love-Child / The Spaniard's Love-Child / The Millionaire's Love-Child

CHAPTER EIGHT

A CHEERFUL sound of raised voices and laughter broke through Willow’s deep sleep. Yawning, she opened her eyes, and just as quickly closed them, dazzled by the light streaming into the room. Slowly she opened them again and looked around the sunlit room, and groaned as she remembered where she was, and why.

The sound of splashing water followed by Stephen’s voice screaming with delight simply made her feel worse. She suddenly remembered in all too vivid detail what she had done in this bed last night with Theo.

Oh, my God! She groaned, and rolled over and buried her face in the pillows. How could she have been so weak as to fall into his arms again like a sex-starved fool? She could never face Theo again, but she was going to have to, for Stephen’s sake if nothing else.

She must have overslept, not so surprising as she had barely slept for the past two days. With a heavy sigh Willow rolled over and swung her legs over the side of the bed and realised she was naked. Her first thought was to dive back under the cover, but much as she would like to hide away in her room all day it wasn’t an option. She was going to have to face Theo and his family, and she had a horrible feeling it was going to be a long, traumatic day.

Picking her nightshirt off the floor, she slipped it back on and crossed to the window. Pushing open the glass doors, she stepped out onto the balcony and gasped in pleasure at the beautiful view. Pine-clad hills undulated like green waves down to a sparkling blue sea in the distance.

‘Hey, Mum, you’re up. Do you want to watch me dive?’

She glanced down over the balcony and gasped again as she saw her son, clad in his swimming trunks, fling himself headlong into the deep blue waters of an Olympic-length swimming pool. She waited with bated breath for him to surface and breathed a sigh of relief when the sun gleamed off his sleek black hair. ‘Well done,’ she cried. ‘But you should not be in the water…’ Alone, she meant to say, but then she saw Theo appear at the side of the pool and extend a long arm to haul Stephen out and onto his feet beside him, and she lost her breath again.

Theo tilted his dark head back and looked up at her. ‘Sorry if we woke you. But it is after nine. Breakfast is being served on the terrace, come and join us.’

‘Yes…’ she murmured, unable to tear her eyes away from his tall, lithe body. He was almost naked except for a pair of black bathing trunks that did little more than cup his sex. Her cheeks flaming with embarrassment, she hastily lifted her eyes to his and swallowed hard.

The dark eyes that met hers were gleaming with an unconcealed mockery; he knew exactly how she was feeling. ‘Was that a yes, Willow? We didn’t hear you.’

‘Yes, okay,’ she cried and shot back into the bedroom, her heart pounding like a sledgehammer in her chest. Seeing him standing there in the bright sunshine, every bronzed muscle and sinew clearly on display, she was vividly reminded of last night. She tried to blame the sudden rush of heat in her body on the hot sun, and headed for the ensuite bathroom to cool down.

A quick cold shower, and she would feel much better. Ten minutes later, stepping out of the shower, she caught a glimpse of her naked body in the long wall mirror. She stopped and straightened up. She could fool herself no longer. She doubted if even the icy water of the Arctic Ocean could freeze out the way Theo made her feel.

She studied her own reflection; her lips were still slightly swollen from his kisses, and the small bruises on the pale skin of her breasts and other parts of her body a physical reminder of his passion.

Just thinking about it now made her stomach curl and colour flood her face. Grabbing a towel, she wrapped it tightly around her body. Her own innate honesty forced her to acknowledge it was not solely Theo’s passion to blame. Despising her own weakness at reacting so instantly to his touch did not alter the fact she had played a very active part in the proceedings, and had enjoyed every second of their lovemaking.

No… Love didn’t come into the equation, she amended, and walked back into the bedroom. It was sex, nothing more, and she would do well to remember that. Whatever the future had in store, and at the moment it looked pretty grim, Theo Kadros was not the sort of man to fall in love with. He had women by the score and already had one divorce behind him. The only reason he wanted Willow was for Stephen and it made her more determined than ever not to marry him.

She glanced around the elegant bedroom, and noticed that a tray with coffee had appeared, and her suitcase seemed to have vanished. She drank a cup of coffee and felt marginally better; finding a bra and briefs in the top drawer of a tallboy, she slipped them on. Then she opened the first of two huge antique wardrobes standing against the far wall. She grimaced at the sight of the few clothes hanging there. She had packed for a fun week in Cornwall, a couple of pairs of shorts and two bikinis. These clothes would be a waste of time here, because as much as she would love to have a swim she did not trust herself anywhere near a half-naked Theo. Which was a galling admission to make, but true… As for the rest, she had brought a skirt and three summer dresses, plus, mindful of the inclement nature of the British weather, a pair of jeans and a sweater.

June in Greece was a lot hotter than it was at home, and this house and its inhabitants were a lot more elegant than the little hotel she had intended staying in, she thought dryly.

Taking one of the dresses from the hanger, she slipped it on. It was Indian cotton dyed in a swirling pattern of blues and greens, sleeveless with a low square neck. It had a pin-tucked bodice and a long flowing skirt that ended mid-calf. It was a style she favoured—easy wash, easy wear—and not very expensive. She crossed to the dressing table and sat down, and for a brief moment she felt like putting her head in her hands and having a good cry.

She did not fit in in this house or in this lifestyle of great wealth and private jets. But she had a growing conviction her beloved Stephen would very quickly adapt, and where would that leave her then? Married to Theo if he had his way. It didn’t bear thinking about.

So instead she followed her familiar pattern and tried to ignore the problem. She plucked her hairbrush from her toilet bag, and swept her hair back and secured it at the nape of her neck with a multicoloured enamelled slide. An application of moisturiser to her pale face and she was ready. She slipped her feet into a pair of flat tan leather sandals, and left the bedroom.

The house was silent and dim behind the closed shutters of the landing and stairs, but there was no mistaking the opulence of the place. A magnificent marble staircase was the centre feature, leading down to a huge circular hall with an exquisite mosaic-tiled floor depicting an ancient Greek myth. Elegant marble columns flanked four huge double doors and Willow paused for a moment, not sure which way to go. The sound of voices led her towards a partially open door, and, walking through, she found herself in a large but surprisingly comfortable-looking room.

A huge colourful rug complemented a ceramic-tiled floor. Big squashy sofas were set around a fireplace at one end, and possibly the biggest television set she had ever seen filled another corner. A few assorted chairs, occasional tables, a desk, and a heavy wood cabinet holding an array of drinks made up the rest of the furnishings.

‘We thought you had got lost.’ Theo’s deep, dark drawl had her head turning towards the huge glass doors that opened out onto the terrace.

‘I wish I could,’ she muttered. He was standing three feet away, but at least he had put some shorts on, she noted, her mouth running dry. With the light behind him his huge black shadow seemed to be reaching out to swallow her whole, and inexplicably she shivered.

‘You don’t mean that, Willow. You would hate to be parted from our son.’ He stepped towards her. ‘From what I have seen he is a happy, well-balanced little boy and he adores you. As for you and I—our marriage can be as good as you want to make it.’ He looked at her with amusement and something more in his black eyes. ‘We both know the sex is great, which is a very good place to start.’

‘Is that all you ever think about?’ Willow shot back. ‘I have a job, a home and a life I love and for the umpteenth time I am not going to marry you, Theo. Stephen and I are here for a week’s holiday, full stop.’

‘You can write anywhere in the world, Willow, and I am not an ogre—you can keep your home. It will make a nice holiday cottage, but that is all. Anything else you need I will provide.’

‘I don’t need anyone to provide for me,’ she snapped. He was like a juggernaut ignoring every refusal she put in his path, and blithely carrying on. ‘I can do that on my own.’

He cast her a slow assessing look. ‘I know,’ he agreed. ‘Stephen is a credit to you, and you have proved your ability to succeed in life to the whole world, but it must have been hard work. Now it is time for you to relinquish the reins a little, relax, and, how do you say it? Smell the roses.’ His firm lips quirked at the corners and he smiled down at her. ‘Stop creating problems where there are none, Willow. Now I have to dress, but my mother is waiting to meet you again, and don’t worry—she is so entranced with Stephanos that all is forgiven.’

Stephanos. It was happening already, the Kadros takeover of her son, Willow thought, fear and anger making her voice sharp. ‘His name is Stephen, and I have nothing to be forgiven for,’ she said determinedly, straightening her shoulders. ‘However, you could take a look at your own behaviour.’ She attempted to walk past him, but steely fingers closed around her arm.

She tried to wrench free, but in a heartbeat she was spun around and enfolded in a tight embrace. The shock of being pressed against his bare chest, all sleek, rippling muscle, made her gasp. ‘Let me go.’

‘We have an audience, so be quiet and listen.’ Theo stared down into her face, his own hard. ‘Your one saving grace is that you named our son Stephen; my father’s name was Stephanos. My mother is a religious woman and she is a great believer in fate. She is convinced your naming our son Stephen was God’s will and therefore she forgives you for not making him known to us sooner. But understand this,’ he commanded with icy force, ‘I am nowhere near as forgiving as my mother and if you do anything at all to upset her I will make you wish you were never born.’

‘As if I would,’ Willow said with a negative shake of her dark head. This man did not know her at all. But even as he threatened her she was intensely aware of the clean, male scent of him, and she felt her breasts hardening at the close contact with his massive chest. Tensing, she raised her hands between their two bodies in the hope of pushing him away. ‘And for your information Stephen was named after the ambulance driver who delivered him,’ she told him bluntly.

His dark head suddenly jerked back and his hold on her loosened as he stared down at her with incredulous black eyes. ‘An ambulance driver—what on earth for?’

Willow took the chance to escape, and stepped back quickly. ‘Figure it out for yourself. You’re so smart.’

‘Wait a minute.’ She was hauled back by a strong arm snaking around her waist, and the chill in Theo’s dark eyes was now pronounced. ‘Was he a lover?’

The total incongruity of his question made her laugh out loud. ‘Hardly.’ She lifted sparkling blue eyes to his. ‘In fact, I might have put the poor young man off sex for life. It was his first week in the job when I called for an ambulance because the birth was imminent. Unfortunately by the time the ambulance arrived it was too late. Stephen had to deliver my baby in the bedroom.’

Theo’s arm fell from her waist and he stared down at her in shock. ‘A man…? A complete stranger…?’ He shook his dark head incredulously.

Willow grinned; she had succeeded in leaving him speechless. Spinning around, she walked along the terrace to where a circular table was set for breakfast under the shade of a huge parasol. Mrs Kadros was already there, sitting next to Stephen, a beaming smile on her face.

‘Ah, Willow, good morning. Please sit down. You have no idea how happy you have made me.’

‘Good morning, Mrs Kadros,’ she said rather nervously.

‘Oh, no, dear, please, you must call me Judy. And I shall call you Willow. I was born and brought up in America so we don’t stand on ceremony here. Though sometimes my beloved Stephanos used to despair of my open ways, but I always found ways to reassure him,’ she said with a slightly naughty chuckle.

‘Then good morning again, Judy.’ Willow grinned. There was something infectious about the older woman’s humour, and her first name was refreshingly more American than Greek. Pulling out a chair, Willow sat down on the opposite side of her son. ‘I must thank you for having Stephen and I stay for a short holiday.’ She felt better having clarified the situation with Judy. Willow was not going to marry her son, whatever Theo thought.

‘My pleasure.’ Judy smiled and leaned over and filled the coffee-cup at Willow’s place setting. She then beckoned to the young Greek maid standing a few feet away, and said in an aside, ‘Fresh coffee, please, Marta,’ and, grinning back at Willow, she asked, ‘Now, what would you like to eat? Just name it and Marta will prepare it for you.’

‘Coffee and a roll will be fine. I never eat much breakfast,’ Willow said truthfully.

‘You will here, Mum—the food is great,’ Stephen cut in, glancing up at her and talking with his mouth half full. ‘You must try these pastry things with honey on them. They are much better than porridge.’

Willow grimaced. ‘Not so good for your teeth, though; make sure you clean them after you have finished eating.’ Pouring some cream in her coffee, she lifted the cup to her lips; she needed this.

‘You are perfectly right,’ Judy supported her. ‘But excuse an old woman for spoiling the little one.’

‘I’m not little,’ Stephen said smartly. ‘I am eight.’

‘Sorry, Stephanos, of course you are a big boy, and I have no doubt you will end up as tall as your father in time.’

‘Will I really, Mum?’ he asked.

‘I think it is a pretty safe bet,’ Willow said dryly, grinning down into his beloved face. He was still young enough to turn to her for confirmation, his trust in her still absolute. But for how much longer, she wondered, now that his father was on the scene?

‘I can see I am going to end up feeling like the midget of the family very soon,’ Judy joked, and, turning to Willow, she added, ‘But I don’t care, set against the joy of seeing my grandson grow up. You cannot imagine how marvellous it is to have Theo’s child in my house, my grandson. His grandfather must be rejoicing in heaven, I am sure,’ and to Willow’s surprise moisture glazed Judy’s golden brown eyes. ‘Forgive me, I am still a little emotional.’

‘No, please, there is nothing to forgive.’ Then, taking the bull by the horn, she did what she knew she had to do. ‘If anyone needs forgiveness it is me. I should have tried to get in touch with you sooner.’ There, she had said it. Willow took a deep, steadying breath and lifted the cup of coffee to her lips and drained the contents in one go.

‘Go and find your father, Stephanos, and tell him to dress you properly before coming back or you will burn.’

‘Oh, I’ll do that.’ Willow made to rise. ‘I forgot too much exposure to the sun is so harmful.’ Judy must think she was the world’s worst mother.

‘No.’ Judy laid a restraining hand on her arm as Willow went to follow Stephen’s quick departure from the table. ‘No, stay. Let Theo learn a little of what is involved in looking after a child. Plus, I want to talk to you.’

Willow settled back in the chair, her blue eyes wary. Here it came—question-and-answer time; she was not looking forward to it one bit.

‘There is no need to look so fearful, dear. Theo has told me everything.’ Not everything, surely, Willow thought, turning scarlet with embarrassment. ‘And you have nothing to be ashamed of. He told me how you went looking for him in London when you knew you were pregnant, and how the house he and Anna had shared was in the process of being converted to offices. He also said that he had never given you his home address or even a telephone number,’ she said, disapproval evident in her tone.

‘I love my son, Willow, but I am not blind to his faults. I know that when he was in his twenties he had many women, with no thought of commitment. If anyone was at fault it was Theo. He had no right to seduce you and then marry another woman only six months later, and you pregnant with his child. No girl should have to suffer such indignity, and you took the only course of action open to you. I would have done the same myself in your position. So let us say no more about it; the matter is closed.’

‘That is very generous of you,’ Willow said softly. Her blue eyes met with Judy’s shimmering brown and there was no doubting the sincerity in the older woman’s compassionate gaze. ‘But I doubt if Theo thinks the same way.’

‘Someone taking my name in vain?’

Willow jerked upright in her seat at the sound of Theo’s deep drawl. He came to a stop a foot away, and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle in instant awareness. Reluctantly she turned her head to look up at him. He was dressed in a casually cut linen suit and a white open-necked shirt and he was pulling out the chair next to hers.

‘So?’ he prompted with a brief smile for her and a brilliant one for his mother as he sat down. Stephen, now dressed in khaki shorts and a crisp white tee shirt, had been following along behind his father and quickly scrambled back into his seat.

‘What does in vain mean, Mum?’ Stephen asked, grabbing her attention.

‘It usually means,’ Judy responded, with her gaze narrowed on Theo, rather than Stephen, ‘that when you listen in to other people’s conversation and hear your name mentioned, invariably the people concerned are not speaking well of you.’

Willow turned puzzled eyes back to Theo, and to her utter amazement she watched as a dull tide of red swept along his high cheekbones. He was actually embarrassed. That had to be another first…

‘I was just reassuring Willow that I don’t hold her responsible for keeping me apart from my grandson. She must have been very young and very frightened.’

‘Mum was eighteen when she had me,’ Stephen cut in, and for once Willow wished he were not quite so bright or so inquisitive.

‘Eighteen?’ Judy gasped and the look she gave her son could have stripped paint. ‘Oh, you poor child,’ she said, her sympathetic gaze settling on Willow. ‘But no doubt your family helped you?’ she prompted.

‘We don’t have any family. My grandmother and my great-grandmother both died the year before I was born,’ Stephen continued. ‘We live in Great-grandma’s house now and we have tons of photographs of them and things.’

It was getting worse by the second. ‘Really, Stephen, I don’t think anyone is interested,’ Willow admonished.

‘Yes, do go on, son,’ Theo encouraged him, his attention suddenly fully arrested.

‘Well, Tess, our neighbour, knew them both; in fact everyone in the village knew them. Isn’t that right, Mum?’

‘Yes.’ What else could she say?

‘It is sad to lose one’s grandmother, but to lose your mother at the same time must have been devastating. Was it an accident?’ Judy asked quietly.

‘No, well, yes. Half and half,’ Willow said, clenching her hands tightly on her lap. She wished everyone would drop the subject.

‘Half and half is no answer,’ Theo opined flatly and, flicking him a sidelong glance, she saw the distaste in his dark eyes.

What had she expected from the man—sympathy, compassion or at the very least some tact? She must be mad; the man hadn’t a grain of sensitivity in his soul.

‘You’re right, Theo, of course.’ She smiled thinly. ‘My grandmother died of natural causes at Easter time and if you remember I visited my mother in India the same summer.’ The bitterness in her blue eyes was only for him. To the other two at the table she was still smiling. ‘Mum got caught up in a riot in India, the week before she was due to come home in the September, and she was killed by a stray bullet.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Theo murmured.

She tore her gaze away from his. Too little, too late, she thought scathingly, and she did not see the colour drain from his face or the shock in his dark eyes.

‘Oh, you poor girl,’ Judy murmured.

‘Yes, well, it was a long time ago, and Stephen and I manage very well on our own.’ She reached out and touched her son’s arm, more for her own comfort than his. Then to her amazement Judy directed what sounded like a tirade in Greek at Theo.

‘Forgive my lapse in manners.’ Judy finally resumed speaking in English. ‘But you understand, Willow, you are a mother yourself—sometimes a son needs to be lectured, whatever their age.’ With a lingering glance at Theo’s stony face, she smiled at Stephen and added, ‘Now, young man, how would you like to visit the biggest toy shop in Athens?’

‘Not so fast, Mother,’ Theo said firmly. ‘Stephen.’ He turned his dark gaze on the boy, and at the same time he curved his arm around Willow’s shoulder. His touch caused a jolt of awareness through her slender body but what followed left her speechless.

‘If you agree, Stephen, you and your mum will never have to manage on your own again.’ He was throwing her own words back in her face, Willow thought incredulously. ‘You see, your mother and I want to get married, as soon as possible, so we can all live together as one happy family.’

‘Really?’ Stephen questioned. ‘We will be just like a proper family.’

Willow tried to jerk away from Theo’s hold, but his long brown fingers merely shifted to curve around the nape of her neck. His dark head bent towards her. ‘Isn’t that right, darling?’

Stephen was incandescent with joy. It was his dream come true, and, leaping out of his chair, he flung his arms around Willow’s waist. She looked down into her son’s eyes, and saw the hope and longing there. With a sinking heart she realised that, while she had no trouble at all in refusing Theo’s proposal of marriage, she could not bear to disappoint Stephen. She was left with no choice.