Greek Affairs: In His Bed

CHAPTER SEVEN

IT WAS still early when Milos stepped out onto the balcony of his bedroom at Vassilios.

Although the rising sun was already spreading fingers of gold over the grey-blue ocean, a cool breeze drifted about his bare legs and chilled the sweat drying between his shoulder blades. Silk boxers hung dangerously low on his hips, but he didn’t notice. A sense of dissatisfaction was overriding his awareness of everything, including the beauty of the morning.

He’d slept badly again and frustration was making him not only weary, but short-tempered. Dammit, he ought to have had what was troubling him out with Helen the night before and it infuriated him that once again he’d let her off the hook.

But a combination of his aggressiveness and her fragility had once again defeated him. Besides, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her and that had definitely not helped his cause.

Yet this was an emotional business, an emotional time bomb even, and he knew he was a fool for letting her run rings around him. Why did he feel this foolish need to protect her, even from himself? Why, when she looked at him with those wide haunted eyes, did he begin to doubt his own beliefs?

Whatever, the party the Campbells had arranged for them hadn’t been a suitable place to conduct a serious conversation, and Milos had left as soon as he decently could. Rhea had objected. She’d wanted to stay for the dancing, which was to follow the buffet. But Milos had told her rather baldly that, unless she wanted to find her own way home, she would have to leave with him.

The whole evening had been a disaster, he acknowledged, watching the birds scavenging for food on the beach below his balcony. And what was really bugging him was the fact that he was leaving for Athens later today. The conference on world ecology, which he was forced to attend, began the next day, and it would be at least three more days before he could get back to the island.

Frustration swept over him again. He had to talk to Helen before he left. He had to get her to admit the truth about Melissa. Until she did, he was just whistling in the wind.

Even Sam was surprised when Helen was called to the phone and returned to say that Rhea Stephanides had invited her and Melissa to lunch.

‘I don’t know why she’s invited me,’ she murmured, despite Melissa’s sudden enthusiasm. ‘I hardly know the girl.’

‘I do,’ said her daughter eagerly. She frowned at her mother. ‘You didn’t refuse, did you?’

‘No-o.’

Helen admitted that she hadn’t, even though she was still doubtful, and Melissa was pleased. ‘I can always go on my own,’ she said consideringly. ‘I don’t need you to baby me.’ She turned to her grandfather. ‘You’ll take me, won’t you, Sam?’

Helen hesitated. ‘Melissa—’

‘I think you should both go,’ Sam declared firmly, and for once Maya agreed with him.

‘It’s not as if Milos will be there,’ she said smugly. ‘From what I can gather, he’s leaving for Athens this morning.’

‘The conference. Of course.’ Her husband endorsed this statement. ‘It’s a gathering of oil producers discussing the ways of reducing pollution on world ecology,’ he explained to Helen. ‘Milos is one of the keynote speakers.’

‘I see.’

Helen was just absorbing this when Melissa spoke up again. ‘There you go, Mum,’ she said. ‘You don’t have to worry. This isn’t some sneaky way for Milos to get you on your own.’

Helen’s face blazed with colour. ‘I never thought it was,’ she protested hotly, conscious that both Maya and her father were aware of her embarrassment. ‘I wish you wouldn’t say things like that, Melissa. I—I hardly know the man.’

‘He’d like to know you, though,’ said Melissa slyly. ‘Rhea and me saw you together last night, remember?’

‘You saw us talking, that’s all,’ exclaimed Helen, giving her father a humiliated look. ‘Honestly, she has such a vivid imagination!’

‘Don’t let her upset you,’ said Sam mildly, his eyes twinkling at his granddaughter. ‘She’s only teasing you. We all know Milos is easy on the eye, but I don’t imagine you’re foolish enough to take him seriously. You’ve got the wrong idea, Melissa. I think you should apologise.’

Melissa looked sulky now and Helen’s heart sank at the prospect of what she was sure was to come. But in the event all Melissa said was, ‘But Mum does like Milos; I know she does. And he couldn’t take his eyes off her when we were having supper.’

Sam sighed, but it was Maya who chose to answer the girl. ‘You’re imagining things. It’s like your grandfather says, Milos has always been popular with the opposite sex. But you shouldn’t run away with the idea that he might be interested in an Englishwoman. Greeks marry Greeks. It’s the way it should be.’

‘You didn’t—’ began Melissa, but before she could dig a bigger hole for herself Sam spoke again.

‘Be that as it may, I do agree that Maya might have a point. I think Milos has had enough of marriage. I don’t think he’s likely to burn his hands again.’

An hour later, Helen found herself in the front seat of her father’s Jeep. He’d offered to drive them to the Stephanides’s villa at San Rocco himself after Melissa had taken her mother’s breath away by apologising for upsetting them all.

‘We’re almost there,’ Sam said suddenly, pointing to the white walls of a villa just visible above some trees. ‘That’s Aristotle’s place up there. It doesn’t have a pool,’ he added for Melissa’s benefit, ‘but the views are magnificent.’

‘You’ve been here, then?’

Melissa loosened her seat belt and leaned forward to rest her arms along the backs of their seats, and her grandfather nodded. ‘Many times,’ he agreed. ‘As you know, the Stephanideses are distantly related to Maya.’

‘And she doesn’t let us forget it,’ remarked Melissa unthinkingly, before adding, ‘Sorry. It looks great.’

‘It is.’ Her grandfather wasn’t offended. ‘It’s not as modern as Milos’s place, of course, but I think you’ll like it.’

Rhea came out to meet them as the Jeep reached the gravelled forecourt. She was wearing an ankle-length wraparound skirt and a sleeveless shirt, tied at her midriff, and Helen saw the way Melissa checked out her appearance as she got out of the vehicle.

The two girls greeted one another warmly, but although Rhea invited Sam in he said he’d be on his way. Rhea also offered to see that Helen and Melissa arrived home safely and Helen guessed her father would be glad not to have to make the journey a second time.

She was also relieved to see that Rhea looked more her age this morning. Last evening, the resemblance between the two girls had seemed obvious. But today Rhea looked older, more mature. Which was reassuring.

‘You both look nice,’ she remarked now, surveying her guests as they entered the deliciously cool entrance hall of the villa. She gestured towards Melissa’s low-rise cotton trousers. ‘Are they new?’

‘Yes.’ Melissa preened at the unaccustomed praise. ‘And Mum’s dress is new, too. Do you like it?’

‘Very much,’ said Rhea politely, but Helen guessed the cheap sundress, in shades of blue and green, was not something Rhea herself would ever dream of wearing.

‘It was kind of you to invite us,’ she said, hoping to change the subject. ‘Melissa enjoyed herself so much at Vassilios the other day.’

‘Y-e-s.’ Rhea drew out the word as if she wasn’t exactly sure she meant it. ‘But I’m afraid I’m not the person you should thank for the invitation.’

‘I’m sorry …’

Helen was struggling to comprehend what she meant when a dark shadow emerged through the archway to their right. ‘No,’ said Milos pleasantly, smiling at Melissa who had turned to give her mother a triumphant grin. And, as Helen’s eyes adjusted to the light he added, ‘I fear I’m to blame. Will you forgive me?’

For a moment, Helen couldn’t say anything. But then, her eyes turning from Milos’s dark face to Rhea’s and back again, she said, ‘I thought—that is—Maya said you were leaving for Athens today.’

‘I am.’ Milos was clearly visible now, a tall, disturbing figure in a black shirt and matching jeans. He glanced at his sister. ‘Why don’t you ask Marisa to bring us some refreshments, Rhea? We’ll be on the terrace.’

‘I’ll go with you, Rhea,’ said Melissa at once, and, although Helen wanted to stop her, she knew she could speak more freely without her daughter’s watching gaze.

‘Is that all right with you, Milos?’

Rhea looked to her brother for his approval and Helen’s nails dug into her palms. They were all in thrall to this arrogant man, she thought helplessly. Oh, God, why had she ever agreed to come?

‘The terrace is this way,’ declared Milos politely when they were alone, and, although Helen wanted to tell him to go to hell, she obediently followed him along a cool tiled hallway whose thick walls guarded against the heat. ‘My grandfather built this place more than sixty years ago,’ he volunteered as they walked. ‘There was no road in those days and it was a convenient hide-out for members of the resistance forces during the last war.’

‘How interesting.’

Helen made no attempt to hide her sarcasm, but even she couldn’t deny a gasp of surprise when they emerged onto the terrace. She hadn’t realised the Jeep had climbed so high, but the hillside tumbling away to whitewashed villages, with the spires of hidden churches peeping through the mass of greenery, was breathtaking.

‘Impressive, ne?’ murmured Milos, resting his back against the stone wall that ringed the terrace at waist height. ‘It was originally built as a—what would you say?—a holiday home. Athens, in the heat of summer, is not to be recommended.’

‘How lucky to have the choice,’ remarked Helen drily, resting her hands on the top of the wall some distance from him. ‘So where are your parents now?’

‘They’re cruising in the Pacific,’ said Milos, with some reluctance. ‘And before you make some other scathing comment, I should tell you that my father had a heart attack at the beginning of the year and has been forced to retire. Otherwise, he would be attending the Athens conference himself.’

Helen knew a momentary feeling of guilt but she refused to let him see it. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said tersely, and she was. She wouldn’t wish ill health on anyone.

There was silence between them for a few seconds. Then Milos turned and put his hand on the wall only inches from hers. She tensed automatically, but all he did was abrade the stone with his thumb. So why did she feel as if it were her skin he was stroking?

‘Would you like to see where I live when I’m staying on the island?’ he asked suddenly, his voice huskier than before, and Helen had to steel herself not to move away from him.

‘Why would I want to see your house?’ she asked shortly. ‘Melissa’s told me all about it.’

‘Word of mouth is not the same as actually seeing it for yourself,’ he insisted softly. His eyes lingered on her mouth before moving down to the low vee of her cleavage. ‘Come with me, Helen. I want to prove to you I’m not the selfish bastard you think I am.’

‘I don’t have any thoughts about you, good or otherwise,’ she countered hurriedly, keeping her voice steady with an effort. She glanced behind her. ‘Melissa and your sister are taking an awfully long time. Do you think I should go and hurry them up?’

‘I think you should stay exactly where you are,’ retorted Milos harshly. His hand suddenly moved to close about her wrist and she wondered if he could feel her pulse racing against his palm. ‘How long are you going to keep this up, Helen?’ His eyes glittered dangerously. ‘How long are you going to deny that you wanted me as much as I wanted you all those years ago?’

‘Wanted being the operative word,’ said Helen, her breath coming in short, painful gasps. ‘You forget, I didn’t know you were married, Milos. I soon changed my mind about you when your wife explained why you’d really come to England.’

‘My wife explained?’ Milos looked baffled now, but that didn’t stop him from using his hold on her wrist to jerk her closer. ‘My wife and I were separated long before I came to England. I don’t know where you’ve got your information from, but I can assure you that’s the truth.’

‘A pity your wife didn’t see it that way,’ Helen countered, uncomfortably aware of how close he was. ‘Let me go, Milos. Or do you want your sister to see how badly you treat your guests?’

‘Badly?’ Milos was scathing. ‘You don’t know how badly I want to treat you. And I don’t particularly care what Rhea thinks.’ His hot gaze was almost suffocating her now and she was unhappily aware that her body wasn’t responding as it should. He had only to touch her and she trembled. No matter how detached she tried to be, it seemed to have a will of its own. ‘I wonder how you’d react if you were naked,’ he added thickly. ‘Would that have any effect on your treacherous little soul?’

Helen swallowed, unable to prevent herself from looking up at him. ‘Would it have any effect on yours?’ she countered, not knowing where the provocative words came from, but unable to take them back.

‘Oh, yes.’ His response was immediate, and now he turned, imprisoning her against the wall behind her. His taut body pressed hers into the stones, letting her feel every bone and angle. ‘Now tell me that what we had meant nothing to you,’ he exhorted roughly. ‘Tell me you have no lasting memories of that night.’

Even as his tongue trailed a wet path along her jawline panic gripped her. What did he mean? What was he saying? Was all of this—this planned seduction designed to get her to confess?

Dear God, if it was true, he was clever. Because right then she was tempted—unbearably tempted—to give in. With one of his thighs wedged between her legs and her breasts crushed against his chest, it would be so easy to delude herself into thinking this meant something.

Thankfully, it didn’t happen. His mouth had barely brushed her lips when they heard the sound of voices heading in their direction. Melissa and Rhea were laughing and talking together as they came to find them and, despite what he’d said earlier, it was enough to cause Milos to utter a muffled oath and put a decent distance between them before the two girls appeared.

Helen didn’t recover so easily. Although the kiss had been brief, her face was flooded with colour and she was sure Melissa would notice. Her daughter always noticed everything.

But if she did, she said nothing, and it was left to Rhea to say with some concern, ‘Is it too hot for you out here, Helen?’

‘Um—no, I’m fine,’ murmured Helen quickly, but Rhea still looked doubtful.

‘We can sit in the shade,’ she said, nodding to where a trellis overhung with bougainvillea sheltered a wicker table and chairs. ‘Marisa is on her way with the tray.’

‘How nice.’

Helen was sure she must sound as out of it as she was feeling and she was glad when Melissa exclaimed, ‘Rhea and me are going down to the beach for a swim, Mum. You can come with us, if you like.’

‘That sounds inviting.’ Helen didn’t even have the will to correct her grammar, but then Milos intervened.

‘I’m planning on showing your mother a little of the island this morning,’ he inserted smoothly, and Helen was amazed at his arrogance. ‘I believe she’s seen very little of it so far.’

‘Oh, I think a swim sounds much more appealing than riding around in a hot car,’ Helen protested, not looking at him as she spoke. He thought he could just order her around and, remembering what he’d been doing before the two girls had arrived, she rather thought he was right.

‘You can swim at Vassilios,’ he declared, evidently determined to have his own way. ‘I’m sure Rhea and Melissa don’t need a chaperon, do you?’

Melissa quickly came to the same conclusion. ‘Yeah, that’s right, Mum,’ she said as Marisa appeared with the tray. And, obviously hoping to end the discussion, ‘Mmm, lemonade! I love that stuff.’

‘So—it’s agreed.’ Milos seated himself opposite Helen as Rhea took charge of the coffee-pot. ‘We’ll meet back here for lunch, ne?’

No one else was willing to argue with him, but after the girls had driven away in Rhea’s open-topped buggy Helen faced him angrily.

‘I’m not going with you, Milos,’ she said, aware that at least Marisa was within calling distance if she needed her. ‘If you insist on talking, we can. But we’ll do it here. Not at Vassilios.’

Milos regarded her from between lowered lids. ‘Are you afraid of me, Helen?’

Hell, yes, she thought. She was afraid of him. But she wasn’t going to tell him that. ‘I just think it would be more—sensible if we stayed here,’ she insisted. ‘Melissa and Rhea won’t be long.’

‘Long enough,’ said Milos, crossing his arms over his body. ‘Come on. What have you got to lose?’

CHAPTER EIGHT

BEFORE he’d met Helen again, Milos had sworn to himself that he’d never let another woman get under his skin. All those years ago, when he’d let his senses get the better of his reason, he’d bitterly regretted it. He’d promised himself he’d never do anything like that again, and, although he hadn’t been a monk all these years, no woman had ever come close to achieving what Helen had achieved, almost without her being aware of it.

To begin with, he hadn’t wanted to believe he was never going to see her again. Even when she’d run out on him, he’d tried to find excuses for her, and it was only when she’d refused to speak to him that he’d had to accept that as far as she was concerned it was over.

He’d suffered agonies of remorse in the months after his return to Greece, not just because of his own feelings of betrayal, but because he’d let Sam down as well. It had taken years for him to regain his own self-respect and now he was in danger of losing it all over again.

He was such a fool! He’d barely brushed her mouth with his lips and he’d wanted to strip her clothes from her and bury himself in her hot little body. When Melissa and Rhea had interrupted them, he’d wanted to howl in frustration. Yet how could he feel anything but contempt for a woman who persisted in lying to him over and over again?

Now, with her sitting beside him in the front seat of his father’s elderly Aston Martin, he acknowledged that whatever happened he was never going to be indifferent to her. But he would deal with it, he told himself. He couldn’t let her ruin his life a second time.

He’d borrowed his father’s car because he’d ridden to San Rocco on the back of his Harley. He’d needed the unleashed power of the motorbike to clear his brain of the cobwebs that had clouded it when he’d woken up. Besides, he hadn’t known how he’d react having her spread thighs pressed against his butt. There was only so much a man could take.

Even so, there was no denying that being with her, feeling the heat of her warm body only inches from his, fired his blood. He was so stimulated, he could smell her—smell the flowery perfume he’d noticed once before, detect the tantalising scent of an arousal she’d already denied.

Taking her to Vassilios might be a mistake, too, he reflected. Did he really want to remember her there, at the heart of his existence? It was all right to tell himself that, at Vassilios, he was his own master. Only he realised how specious that description was.

The villa lay at the edge of a deep valley, where scarlet poppies and pink and white campion dotted the lush pastures where his horses grazed. The villa itself sprawled across a wide plateau, with white-railed paddocks surrounding it and a stream meandering under a stone bridge and down to a sandy shoreline.

Milos heard Helen catch her breath when she saw his home and was foolishly pleased by her reaction. He’d wanted her to like the place, particularly as she’d been so reluctant to come here. Besides, he was proud of it. The house had been built to his own design.

Stelios appeared from around the back of the building as they drove up to the house. The old man and his wife, Andrea, looked after the place for him. In recent years, Stelios had become troubled with arthritis, and Milos had had to employ a couple of younger men to do the rough work. But the old man was very proud of his position and he never let any of the younger employees forget he was the boss.

Now, his beady eyes fastened on Helen as they drew up, and Milos guessed he was already speculating about their relationship. After all, he seldom brought any women to Vassilios.

‘Ya, Stelios,’ Milos greeted him now, pushing open his door and getting out of the car. Then, in his own language, ‘Would you ask Andrea to bring us some refreshments? We’ll be on the veranda.’

‘Sigoora, kirieh.’ Certainly, sir.

Stelios spoke only a little English, and although Milos guessed the old man expected him to introduce his guest, he didn’t. Right now, he had more important things on his mind.

Milos nodded his thanks and then, seeing that Helen had already alighted from the car, he spread one hand to indicate she should precede him up the shallow steps and into the house.

They entered a large atrium that rose through two floors to a circular glazed ceiling above. The staircase giving access to the upper floor fanned out from its centre, while open pocket doors on either side of the foyer revealed elegantly furnished living and dining areas.