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“Beau … beautiful.” Maria struggled with the word.
Pandora dipped her head in acknowledgment. “It was my mother’s. She was an artist—she hand dyed the colours herself.” She’d said too much—Maria’s frown indicated she did not follow.
“Your mother … dead?” Maria asked finally.
“Ne.” Yes. It was one of the Greek words she’d learned over the last few weeks.
Maria shook her head from side to side, muttering something in Greek, her hand going to where the knot sat at her shoulder.
“No.” Stilling the older woman’s hands, Pandora said, “It gives me pleasure to give it to you.”
Maria seemed to get her meaning. “Efgaristo.” And danced out the room on light feet.
Over the last three days Pandora had reread the meagre selection of books in her baggage, scanned the year-old magazines Maria had brought her until they were dog-eared, her heart stopping each time Zac stared unsmiling out of a photograph at her.
Now, as she readied herself for bed, Pandora finally admitted that she was bored out her skull.
So when she woke on Friday morning, Pandora stared out the window at the pebbled beach that edged the stony outcrop below the villa and decided she’d had enough of being cooped in her bedroom while the sun shone outside.
Quickly she donned a brief white-and-silver swimsuit and covered it with a white cheesecloth shirt that Zac had bought for her at the Plaka in Athens, then tied a yellow sarong around her waist and trod into a pair of metallic leather sandals. A slather of sunscreen, a hat, and she was ready to face the blistering Mediterranean sun.
She met no one as she crept down the spiral staircase and bypassed the reception rooms. Outside, the beach was even more alluring than it had appeared from her window. The sea was a clear turquoise under the arch of cerulean sky. Round pebbles stretched into the water. Pandora found a flat rock and spread out her towel and stretched out in the morning sun.
What was Zac doing right now? Just thinking about him brought back the unresolved tension between them. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her room, white-faced, days ago. Where was he? She hadn’t heard the helicopter depart, so she assumed he must still be on the island.
When was he going to release her?
Surely he’d need to return to the corporation he headed? Or did he maintain a makeshift office in the villa—despite his claim that Kiranos was his retreat from the frenzy that he existed in? From under the hat she risked a glance at the villa and scanned the windows overlooking the beach. Eventually she homed in on the three windows a level below the vast glassed living room. If an office existed, it made sense that there would be some sort of telephone, even a satellite phone—he couldn’t be totally out of contact with the rest of the world.
With a sigh, she pushed the thought from her head and closed her eyes.
A little later, made lazy by the sun, she explored the beach, hopping along the pebbles to where a sheer wall of rock ended the curve of beach. Soothed by the gentle lap of the water against the pebbles, Pandora came back to where her towel waited and wedged herself in the shade of a large rock and closed her eyes.
That was where Maria found her when the sun was at its zenith. The tray of sliced fruit and fresh bread with slivers of smoked salmon and chunks of cheese looked delicious, and she thanked Maria. Made hungry by the salty air, Pandora ate with gusto. But she couldn’t help wishing that Zac was here … to share the moment.
When she pushed her plate back onto the tray and pulled out the serviette wedged under a plate, a piece of folded paper fluttered onto the beach.
She bent down to pick it up.
Don’t forget it is hot in the sun. Stay in the shade or come inside. Join me for a drink on the terrace this evening.
Pandora didn’t need the slashed Zac to identify the writing.
At once a host of emotions shook her. Aggravation at his high-handedness. Regret for what might have been. And finally outrage.
How dared he leave her languishing for three days and now tell her what to do and demand her company? She ignored the twinge of fairness that admitted that staying in her room had been her choice. Deep down, she’d wanted him to come running after her, to placate her.
But he hadn’t.
His failure to do so had both infuriated and frustrated her. Yet at the same time she was filled with a kind of relief. The past few days had given her much-needed breathing space and a chance to gain perspective.
She slopped on more sunscreen, telling herself it had nothing to do with Zac’s directive about the heat of the sun, then lay down. But too soon she was hot and itchy. A sheen of perspiration dampened her skin. She wriggled and twisted. But the edgy feeling would not leave. Finally she rose and headed for the sparkling sea.
The water was cool against her heated body, the pebbles smooth under her toes as she edged carefully in. The water crept higher as she went deeper, and finally the unbearable frissons against her sun-warmed skin forced her to dive headlong into the calm water. She came up breathless from the mild shock of the saltwater. Swimming a little way, she turned onto her back and stared at the unfathomable blue of the sky overhead until the on-edge tightness subsided a little. She felt calmer, more able to deal with Zac.
Zac had been watching Pandora from his study on and off the whole morning—and it had shot his concentration to hell. Unsettled, he struggled to read the report his PA had e-mailed to him, a report that had to be finalized—he glanced at his watch—in the next half hour.
Pandora had called him a man without honour. And she was proving to be right. What did he care about a report deadline when Pandora floated on the sea in the tiniest wisps of white fabric bound with provocative silver bows that he itched to untie?
But her words rankled.
Because there was more than a hint of truth in them. Kidnapping her, bringing her to Kiranos when she’d clearly thought he was taking her somewhere to talk before allowing her to leave, had been devious.
He’d intended to talk her into staying married to him, to show her what they had going for them. And then she’d dropped her bombshell.
And it had all gone to hell.
Zac’s gaze narrowed on the inert figure of his bride floating on the sea, only the occasional splash revealing she was awake. All his life he’d known he had a duty to fulfill. He was the Kyriakos heir. He would not fail the family as his father had. He would select a wife carefully when the time came. His bride’s virginity was not negotiable.
Pandora had put her finger on the heart of his quandary: That’s why you’re in this fix. Because there aren’t any suitable virgins out there.
He’d never been drawn to shy, simpering virgins. Since his twenty-first birthday, his family had paraded inexperienced sweet things in front of him—and none had stirred a response. It had taken Pandora, with her sharp wit and gentle beauty, to reach that part inside him that he’d always considered unassailable. He’d been so sure he’d found the answer to his prayers.
Except it had all been a cruel illusion.
He watched as Pandora rolled over in the sea and started to swim toward the shore.
Pandora was not pure in body. Telling himself that a sullied body didn’t mean that her heart was any less pure did not help. He’d been misled. Although it was probable her father had believed his daughter to be untouched.
It was his own fault. He should have asked her outright before proposing. But he’d been too intent on getting her into his bed.
He’d been only too eager to accept she was a virgin.
So what if he’d known about her … flaw … from the outset, before he’d offered her marriage? Would it have changed anything? His head told him he would never have married her. Generations of Kyriakos men had married virgins. It was part of their identity, part of the rich heritage they stemmed from.
Part of the magic of the legend.
Yet his body was wired differently from his brain. Those few innocent kisses during their courtship had hooked him. Taking her to his bed and making love to her had been the most earth-shattering experience of his life.
How could he just let her walk away? Yet keeping her would rock the family to the roots and go against the tradition that his ancestors had established. A knot of pain formed under his heart.
Zac was surprised to discover that the thought of living without Pandora was more disturbing than her lack of maidenhead. Somewhere along the line, his priorities had shifted. He no longer really cared that he hadn’t found the last virgin bride. He no longer cared about the Kyriakos legend. Not if it was about to cost him his wife.
He watched as she waded through the shallows, picking her way between the pebbles to where her towel lay. The sun glinted off her blond hair and turned her skin to a light bronze. Zac shoved his hands into his pockets.
What did his wife’s lack of virginity matter? By marrying Pandora, he’d made her virginity a universal truth. The newspapers had speculated for years about whom he would eventually marry, running articles with accompanying photos of the young heiresses he might favour with a proposal and publicly knocking them off the list when they fell from grace.
He’d made damn sure that Pandora never saw the spate of stories that had followed his announcement of their marriage on her arrival in Athens. Stories headlining her purity to the public.
The tight knot in his chest started to subside. Her lack of maidenhead would be a secret he’d keep from his family—that way there would be no risk of the story leaking into the papers, making a mockery of who he was and destabilising the stock prices. No one else would ever know the truth.
Except …
He hesitated, watching as Pandora wrapped the towel around herself. Pandora had said she’d only ever had one lover. To date, the guy had not come forward—despite the enormous publicity of their marriage.
He’d find the man. Offer him enough money to silence him forever. He would do it for Pandora.
Yes, it was possible.
And he’d use this time on Kiranos to convince Pandora that they were perfect together. But first he had to overcome her fury and hatred. He just hoped he hadn’t left it too late.
After the cooling swim, Pandora returned to her room and showered the last traces of saltwater from her body before slipping into a sleek white cotton sundress with a halter neckline. From her window she watched Georgios set two deck chairs out on the terrace. Zac appeared from the house, and her breathing quickened. He paused, said something to Georgios that made the old man laugh.
Pandora skittered back, not wanting Zac to see her. But he didn’t glance up as he made for the steep stone stairs that led to the boathouse to the right of the beach.
Quickly she left her room and ran down the spiral stairway. She branched off on the level where she suspected Zac’s study might be. Two doors opened off the small landing. Her heart in her throat, she opened the first and found a gym stocked with Nautilus equipment. The second door opened into a light, airy room that was clearly set up to be an office.
It was empty.
No sign of Maria cleaning … and she’d seen Zac heading for the boathouse.
Her gaze hurriedly scanned the desk, the bookshelves, taking in the bank of computer ware, the clean, organised surfaces … but no sign of her cell phone or Zac’s.
About to leave, she noticed the flicker of the screen saver. Feeling like a thief, she scuttled around the desk and perched on the edge of Zac’s big black leather chair. With a sense of nervous elation, she hit the enter button and waited.
A document opened. Zac had not logged out. Fingers shaking, she minimised the document and hit the Internet connection icon. A home page opened. Relief and a kind of shaky guilt made her sag. She cocked her head. Only silence. No sound of the pantherlike tread of Zac’s returning footsteps.
She tapped in a Web-mail address and waited a moment before keying in her log-in and password.
Pandora stared at the screen. A list of unread messages sat in her in-box, several containing subject headers congratulating her on her marriage. No time to read them now.
Hurriedly, she clicked on the new message tab and typed in her father’s e-mail address. After a moment’s reflection, she filled Need your help into the subject line. It was much more difficult to find the words than she had expected. She wanted to tell her father that her marriage was over, that she needed him to rescue her from this mess.
But how to explain it all? She hesitated. How could she tell her father that she’d lost her virginity after some stupid visit to a nightclub with a man she’d barely known three years ago? Her father had trusted her to go stay with Nicoletta and to behave as he expected. How could she disappoint him?
And what would happen about the lucrative contract her father had signed with Zac? He’d walk away from it, putting her first.
No, she couldn’t let her private failures screw up her father’s business relationships. She had to sort this out herself. Her twenty-first birthday was less than a month away. She was an adult now, not a child who needed to run home to Daddy every time something went wrong.
Zac had brought her here against her will. To talk, he’d said. She’d been bitter, too angry to talk, and had flung her loss of virginity in his face. The diversion had worked. And she’d retreated to her room to sulk, wasting three days waiting for him to come seek her out.
It was way past time to grow up, to take control of her life and her future. She had to find Zac and have it out with him.
But first she owed her father a chatty, upbeat e-mail. He’d been so happy about her marriage. With a small sigh, she started to type.
“What the hell are you doing?”
Pandora jumped when Zac’s voice exploded behind her. Spinning the high-backed leather chair around, she blurted out, “E-mailing my father. He’ll be worried—and hurt—if I don’t keep in touch.”
“Daddy to the rescue,” Zac said, but the deep lines of tension around his mouth receded.
“I don’t need my father to fight my battles.”
The glint in his eyes changed to something that she thought might be reluctant admiration. Then he spoiled it by saying, “I want to read what you have written.”
Her chin went up. “Don’t you trust me?”
His eyes flickered to the screen.
Pandora scooted the chair forward, blocking his view of the screen. “It’s private, my communication to my father. I’m simply assuring him that I am well and that we are on an island—how do you spell Kiranos by the way? It would look strange if I didn’t get it right.”
After a fleeting hesitation Zac, spelled it out.
“Thanks.” Pandora bent her head and continued to type. Tense now, she waited for Zac to move closer, to peer over her shoulder … to stop her sending the e-mail. But he didn’t move. Finally she clicked the send button and looked up. “Done.”
Zac was watching her, a bemused expression on his face. “I’m reputed to be a suspicious, hardheaded bastard. I can’t believe that I trusted you to do that.” He shook his head and held out a hand. “Come, let’s go sit on the terrace and see the day out.”
As Pandora rose and took his hand, a deep inner tension unwound and a delicious warmth spread through her. But she suppressed the treacherous want that unfurled inside her.
She and Zac needed to talk.
Six
“Zac, if you can trust me to e-mail my father, then surely there’s no point in keeping me prisoner on this island?”
The sun was still hot on the terrace, but the shadows were starting to lengthen. For a moment Pandora thought Zac wasn’t going to respond and that the words she’d flung at his broad back would be lost in the sea wind.
Then Zac swung around from where he’d been leaning against the white railing at the end of the cobbled terrace that overlooked the Ionian Sea and let the binoculars fall. “Kiranos is hardly a prison. You didn’t enjoy your swim earlier today?”
Pandora slumped back in the deck chair Georgios had set out on the terrace along with a couple of side tables. If she were honest, she had to admit it was a pretty luxurious prison—her every whim catered for. Behind Zac, the sea lay blue and inviting. But it was a prison nonetheless. She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Swimming wouldn’t have been my first choice of things to do.”
“So what would have been your first choice of … things … to do?” The suggestiveness in his richly sensual tone made her flush.
“Certainly not that.”
His gaze raked her, reminding her of the skimpiness of the fitted dress, with its shoestring halter neckline that left her shoulders bare and dipped to reveal a generous amount of curving breast. In the wake of his gaze, the heat ran riot.
He flashed her a grin. “Sure about that?”
“Yes,” she bit out, resenting the effect he had on her body. She couldn’t help noticing how cool and assured he looked in a pair of cargo shorts and a white Polo shirt. “I’m sure. There’s lots better stuff I could be doing at High Ridge right now.”
“You’d walk away from a stay on a Greek island, sunning yourself on a private beach, in favour of winter in New Zealand? Where it’s bone-cold right now?”
Pandora hunted his face for signs of sarcasm but found none. “What good is a Greek island when you’re only there as a hostage?” she said at last.
“You’re not a hostage.” Zac looked annoyed. The grin had disappeared. “Tell me, have I hurt you? Tortured you? Locked you in your room? Starved you?” With every word he came closer.
“No.” She stared back at him, challenging him. “But keeping me here against my will—it’s barbaric.”
Zac shrugged. “So I’m a barbarian. Greek legends are full of tales of abduction. You need look no further than Orpheus—”
“Who took Persephone to hell!”
Zac gestured to the calm stretch of blue sea and the silver sunlight streaming down on to the water. “This is hell?”
“No. Yes. Whatever. It’s not where I want to be. What you’re doing is against the law. I’m going to report you to Interpol the first chance I get.” He looked remarkably unconcerned about her threat, even though she knew it was an empty one. He hadn’t hurt her, and she didn’t really want him incarcerated for kidnapping.
“So where do you want to be, agapi mou?”
“Stop it! Don’t call me My love in that phony way.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m not going to argue with you in this mood.” He lifted the strap from behind his head and held out the binoculars. “Here, take a look, there’s a school of dolphins out there.”
Anger forgotten, Pandora reached for the binoculars and came to her feet. “Where?”
“Under the swarm of seabirds.”
“Oh, I see them. Five … seven … no, eight. I see about eight. There must be more underneath.”
“It’s a big school.” Zac spoke from behind her, and she tried to ignore the fact that he stood so close that the scent of his skin enveloped her. “They’ve been frequenting the island for years. I recognise the big bull with the chip out his dorsal fin.”
“This is wonderful. We get them at home. Whales, too. But it’s lovely to see the dolphins here, as well. And such a big school. Oh—” she squealed. “Did you see? One just jumped out of the water.”
“It’s great to have them out there. That’s why I pour millions into coastal and ocean conservation each year. So that their survival is assured.”
With the binoculars against her eyes, Pandora said, “But you own supertankers and transport crude oil. Isn’t that a contradiction? What if there is an oil spill?”
“The Exxon Valdez incident was a tragedy. But it increased everyone’s awareness of the danger to the environment. My supertankers are among the safest in the world. While all tankers are vulnerable to storms and human error and mechanical failure, mine are part of the new breed that are double-hulled for greater stability.”
In the sea, two dolphins arched over the water. Zac watched her squeal with delight, his mouth curving into a smile—her pleasure was infectious.
“It gives me such a kick to know they’re there.” She lowered the binoculars and looked at him, the laughter fading from her eyes. “You know why that is, don’t you?”
Zac didn’t think he wanted to know what had caused the happiness to fade from her face, but he could see from the battle gleam in her eyes that she was intent on telling him. “Why?”
“Because they are free.” She handed the binoculars back to him. “You need to let me go, Zac.”
Zac looked away, unable to hold her defiant gaze. He didn’t answer. If he let her go, would he ever see her again? Or would this consuming force between them be lost to him forever? How could he explain the corrosive fear that if she left, he’d be alone for the rest of his life?
He couldn’t utter those words. Because she was all wrong for the man he’d been raised to be. So he swung around and strode away.
Five minutes later, his face annoyingly clear of expression, Zac returned from the villa carrying a tall frosted glass filled with amber liquid that looked like beer in one hand and a small sherry glass in his other hand.
Pandora eyed the tiny glass of sherry Zac held out to her and a surge of rebellion rose within her. A sudden urge of devilry prompted her to say, “That looks like something my great-aunt Ethel would drink on a cold winter’s evening in front of the fireplace at High Ridge. I’d like a margarita, please, with crushed ice and lots of salt around the rim. And don’t go too light on the tequila.”
Zac did not look pleased. “Sherry is what the women in my family traditionally drink before dinner.”
“Not this woman. Perhaps you should ask what I like to drink?” She cast him a quick look. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed in a thin line. “In fact, cancel the order for a margarita. Make it a Sex on the Beach. Please.”
For a moment Zac looked stunned, then his eyes turned molten.
Pandora backtracked furiously. “It’s a cocktail … made with vodka, peach schnapps, orange—”
“This is not funny,” he interrupted. “My wife does not order such things to drink.”
“It wasn’t meant to be funny.” From behind her fringe she tried to gauge his mood. “And I won’t be your wife for much longer.” Zac scowled and he loomed over her. She stuck her chin out, defensive now. Her attempt to put him in his place had backfired on her. Badly.
She tried to make amends. “Look, I can’t drink wine. It gives me a headache. Spirits suit me better.”
Some of the dark turbulence left his eyes. “Would a gin and tonic do?”
She nodded. “Even just tonic water with ice and some lime would be good.” And she heaved a sigh of relief as he headed back to the house. She let her body sag in the deck chair and tried not to think about the sudden flare-up between them. Her resentment and ongoing urge to needle him weren’t helping matters.
Zac returned with a long glass. She took a sip—it was cool and tasted of fresh lemons with the tiniest hint of juniper berries. “Thank you.”
“Pandora …” Zac gave his head a shake and sank into the deck chair beside her, stretching his long, tanned legs out in front of him. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Believe me, I want this marriage to work.” His eyes were intent, greener than she’d ever seen them and desperately serious. “I want it to be a real marriage, with you at my side.”
“How can this be a real marriage if you won’t let me go? If you stand over me when I e-mail my father? If you won’t even give me my damn cell phone back?” She gave a sigh of exasperation when he didn’t answer. “And all because of some random family legend, right?”
“It’s not that random,” he said, and she could feel the waves of tension coming off him from where she sat. “But you know what? Somehow the legend is not important anymore.”