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Wed in Greece: The Greek Tycoon's Convenient Bride / Bound to the Greek - Кейт Хьюит - Читать любовный роман онлайн в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Wed in Greece: The Greek Tycoon's Convenient Bride / Bound to the Greek - Кейт Хьюит - Скачать любовный роман в женской библиотеке LadyLib.Net
Хьюит Кейт
Wed in Greece: The Greek Tycoon's Convenient Bride / Bound to the Greek
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CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT MORNING Rhiannon avoided the dining room in exchange for some rolls, yoghurt and honey in the kitchen with Adeia.
She wanted to steer clear of Lukas after their argument last night, and so, with Annabel on her hip and a pair of towels under her arm, she headed for a secluded part of the beach. She slathered them both in suncream and then set up Annabel in a patch of sand. The baby was happy, digging busily, letting the sand trickle through her fingers, chortling with glee at the feel of it on her toes.
Rhiannon watched her, trying to ignore the ache of longing within her, the churning fear at the thought of the future. She wanted simply to enjoy the sun-kissed moment.
Lukas had been completely wrong in thinking she wanted to give Annabel away; it hurt to think he’d judged her so readily, thought so little of her.
It was the last thing she wanted. She’d fought desperately with her conscience over the matter; her heart had wanted to keep the baby, but her mind had told her the father had a right to know. A right to love.
And, her conscience had argued, wasn’t it selfish for a single woman in Rhiannon’s precarious financial position to keep a child she had no real right to simply because she wanted someone to love? To be loved by someone?
Wasn’t it selfish and pathetic?
Yet now, she thought grimly, she might not have the opportunity. Paternity suits, custody battles…
She should have considered this sooner, she supposed. She should have thought of all the possible outcomes to confronting Lukas Petrakides. If only her heart hadn’t deceived her with promises of fairy tale endings and happily-ever-afters.
She really was pathetic.
Annabel looked up, gurgled and pointed, and Rhiannon froze. She knew. She could feel him behind her, picture his easy, long-limbed stride.
‘Good morning.’ Lukas approached them and crouched down next to Annabel. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt and olive-green shorts. He looked clean and strong and wonderful.
Rhiannon tore her gaze away. ‘Good morning.’
‘Sleep well?’ He gave her a questioning glance even as he held Annabel’s chubby fist, poured sand into her waiting palm. She giggled in delight.
‘No,’ Rhiannon confessed irritably. ‘Did you?’
His smile was rueful, honest. ‘No.’
She was gratified by the admission, although she remained silent.
‘She’s a cheerful little thing, isn’t she?’ Lukas said after a moment, as Annabel grabbed his hands and attempted to bring one lean finger towards her open mouth. ‘And teething too, I suppose?’
‘Watch out—she has two front teeth, and they’re sharp.’
Gently Lukas disengaged his finger from Annabel’s grasp. ‘Thank you.’
‘If Christos is Annabel’s father, who will look after her?’ Rhiannon asked suddenly. She needed to know. An idea had begun to form in her mind—hopeless, impractical, her only chance. ‘She’ll need a nanny, won’t she?’ she continued, and Lukas regarded her shrewdly.
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘Better for it to be someone she knows,’ Rhiannon continued, and Lukas’s mouth tightened.
‘Infants form attachments easily. In any case, if she is Christos’s child, I will adopt her.’
The thought weighed as heavily as a stone on her heart. She swallowed, looked away.
Lukas laid a steadying hand on her arm. ‘I realise your own adoptive parents might not have been ideal, but this will be different.’
‘Oh?’ Rhiannon forced herself to look at him. ‘How?’
‘I will care for her—’ Lukas began, looking slightly, strangely discomfited.
‘My parents cared for me too.’ Rhiannon cut him off. ‘But let me tell you, Lukas, duty is a hard parent. It doesn’t kiss your scrapes better, or cuddle you at night, or check for monsters under the bed. It doesn’t make you feel loved, make you believe that no matter what happens, what you do, there’ll be a place to come home to, arms to put around you. Duty,’ she finished flatly, ‘is a cold father.’ She stared blindly down at the sand, trying to rein her emotions, her memories, back under control.
Lukas’s fingers grasped her chin, tilted it so she was looking at him, and she knew he could see the hurt, the pain shadowing her eyes.
‘Is that how your father was?’ he asked quietly. ‘Your mother?’
Rhiannon shrugged. ‘I don’t blame them. They did the best they could.’
‘But it wasn’t enough, was it? And you’re afraid that Annabel will suffer as you did?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she admitted. ‘And shouldn’t I be? You’ve already shown me what a cold, restrained person you are.’
The look he gave her was full of hidden heat. ‘Have I?’ he murmured, his tone so languorous that Rhiannon jerked her chin from his hand, scooted a few feet away.
‘Yes. In terms of how you see your responsibility towards Annabel.’
He shrugged, spread his hands. ‘I can only promise to do what is right. To give her every opportunity, every comfort.’
‘That’s not enough.’
‘It will have to be.’
She knew it was more than most men would give—more than she had any right to expect. But it wasn’t enough. She wouldn’t let it be enough.
Because she knew how duty without love became a burden, a weight. A resentment. As it had become with her. Lukas couldn’t see that, couldn’t understand.
A loud whirring filled the air, and Rhiannon blinked up in surprise as a helicopter came into sight.
‘That’s not the press, is it?’ she asked, one hand shading her eyes, and Lukas shook his head.
‘No, it is a Petrakides helicopter.’ He pointed to the side of the craft. ‘See the entwined Ps? That is our emblem.’
Rhiannon saw the entwined letters, first in the Roman alphabet, then in Greek. ‘What is a Petrakides helicopter doing here?’ she asked.
Lukas took her hand in his, tugged. ‘Come and see.’ There was a surprising smile on his face, like that of a little boy, and, scooping up Annabel, Rhiannon followed him to the landing pad.
A young Greek man emerged from the helicopter as they approached, and Lukas called a greeting. The man called back, and began unloading boxes and parcels from the body of the chopper.
Rhiannon stood back uncertainly, until Lukas beckoned her. ‘Come. These things are for you.’
‘For me?’ she repeated blankly.
‘Yes…for you and Annabel.’
He took Annabel from her, jiggling the baby on his hip, so she could inspect the parcels. Hesitantly Rhiannon opened one box to find it full of baby toys, brightly coloured, soft and enticing.
‘You shouldn’t have…’ she began, and he shrugged her protestation aside.
‘Of course I should.’
More boxes revealed clothes—play clothes for Annabel, sensible, sturdy, and well made.
‘Open that one.’ A faint smile curved his mouth upwards, softened his face, his eyes.
Raising her eyebrows, too curious not to obey, Rhiannon opened the box he’d indicated.
‘More clothes…’ Not for Annabel, though. For her. She held up a white cotton blouse—simple, flowing, with scalloped lace along its scooped neckline. She found trousers, loose and comfortable, in turquoise silk. A sundress, lemon-yellow, with skinny, flirty straps. She lowered the dress, her hands bunching in the filmy material.
‘You really shouldn’t have.’
‘Perhaps not,’ Lukas agreed quietly, his teasing little smile still flickering along her nerve endings, ‘but I wanted to.’
It came out almost unwillingly, and Rhiannon found herself saying, ‘You don’t like to want things?’
‘No, I don’t,’ he admitted, and there was a hardness to his tone that caused the light, happy atmosphere to evaporate. Even Annabel noticed, and squirmed in Lukas’s arms.
‘Why not?’ Rhiannon asked, uncertainty causing her voice to waver just a little bit.
‘Because wanting—giving in to your desires—causes misery and ruin. Not only for yourself, but for everyone around you.’ Lukas spoke flatly. His face was hard, his eyes as flat and cold as steel. ‘I’ve spent my life cleaning up other people’s messes, paying for their mistakes. Mistakes that could have been avoided if they hadn’t given in to selfish whims, desires. If they’d only done their duty—as I have done and you seem to think so lightly of.’ With a curt nod, he handed Annabel back to her. ‘I’ll have these boxes delivered to your room. Dinner is at half past seven.’
Rhiannon pressed Annabel to her, inhaled her clean, innocent scent. She felt as if she’d just received an unexpected glimpse into Lukas’s mind, perhaps even into his heart.
Who were the people he was talking about? Whose messes had he cleaned up? She could hardly ask, and she doubted Lukas would volunteer answers anyway. Yet it provided a flickering of understanding, even compassion, of why he rated responsibility so highly.
Annabel grizzled, and Rhiannon knew she needed a bottle and a nap. She headed upstairs, mind and heart still whirling.
* * *
SEVERAL HOURS LATER Annabel was fed and bathed, having spent an exhausting and enjoyable afternoon playing with her new toys. Rhiannon gave her a bottle before settling her in the new cot—not a lightweight travel one, but a sturdy pine frame bed, with soft pink blankets.
Rhiannon knew some assistant must have picked out the clothes and toys for them. All Lukas had had to do was issue a terse order over the phone. It had been a responsibility to him, a duty fulfilled.
Yet he’d wanted to…
She slipped on the white blouse and turquoise trousers, admiring the silkiness of the material, the way the clothes skimmed her figure, highlighted what slight curves she had without clinging or revealing.
Her hair fell in its usual curls around her face, wild and untamed, but her eyes sparkled and her cheeks were flushed with…what? Nervousness? Expectation?
Excitement.
Lukas was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He smiled when he saw how she was dressed—a smile that for one soul-splitting second lit his eyes with feral possession and made both Rhiannon’s heart and her step stumble.
She grasped the wrought-iron banister, her fingers curling around it for balance.
His smile turned polite, a courtesy, and he murmured, ‘I like that outfit on you.’
‘Someone who works for you has good taste,’ Rhiannon quipped, to give herself time to recover from that one brief, scorching look.
Lukas raised his eyebrows. ‘Why do you think I hired someone to buy you clothes?’
Rhiannon checked herself. ‘Didn’t you?’
He shrugged. ‘Maybe I chose all the things myself, on the internet, and had them flown over.’
Was he teasing? A faint blush stole across her cheeks, rendered her speechless. The idea that Lukas himself had picked out the clothes, decided what she would like, what she would look good in, knew her size—it was so personal, so intimate…The thought burned her as much as his touches had.
He watched her with dark, knowing eyes—eyes that knew how discomfited she was, and perhaps enjoyed it.
He said nothing, merely took her firmly by the elbow, his hand dry and warm, and led her into the dining room.
Theo stood by his chair as they entered, stiff and straight, his shoulders thrown back, a haughty look hardening his features.
Rhiannon didn’t take it to heart. She knew it was not directed towards her, but was rather a defence against compassion or, worse, pity.
She smiled at the older man. He looked away.
The meal Adeia served was again delicious, and Rhiannon found she could almost relax. Theo said little, but Lukas kept up a flow of conversation about the islands, Athens, business. All fairly innocent, innocuous topics that made Rhiannon drop her guard for one treacherous moment.
Then a phone rang, trilled against Lukas’s chest, and he slipped a mobile from his breast pocket. ‘Excuse me…Hello?’ His face darkened and he stood, turning away from Rhiannon. He spoke in rapid Greek before covering the mouthpiece of the little phone and saying, ‘I need to take this privately. I beg your pardon.’
Rhiannon watched him go, her heart starting a slow, heavy thud.
Theo spoke what was already screaming through her own mind.
‘That will be Christos.’
‘Perhaps now,’ Rhiannon said, as steadily as she could, ‘we will get to the bottom of this.’
Theo’s eyes glittered, and he said the one word with effort. ‘Perhaps.’
The room was silent, heavy with tense expectation. Rhiannon couldn’t eat, couldn’t even pretend to pick at her food. Adeia cleared the plates and brought in the little cups of thick black coffee that burned down Rhiannon’s throat like acid.
Still Lukas did not come.
What was going on? What was being said?
And, most importantly, what was going to happen?
Theo watched her, his eyes bright. Rhiannon tried not to let his stare unnerve her, even though her throat was dry, and she felt as if she would choke on her own words.
Finally Lukas returned, his face blank. ‘Rhiannon, may I speak with you? In the study.’
‘You can say it here,’ Theo protested, his tone angry even though his words were halting. ‘Is Christos the father?’
‘I will speak to Rhiannon first. Excuse us, Papa.’
Woodenly Rhiannon followed him to a dark, wood-panelled room, with bookshelves lining all the walls except for a picture window that looked out directly onto a rocky outcropping, an unforgiving line of shore.
‘That was Christos on your phone, wasn’t it?’ she said into the silence. ‘Did he say…?’
‘Yes, he did.’ Lukas thrust his hands deep in his trouser pockets. ‘He admitted everything. Meeting Leanne, using my name, taking her to Naxos. He repeated the story you told me almost exactly, and I hadn’t even told him what you’d said.’
‘It’s not as if he would make it up,’ Rhiannon said, her voice sounding stilted, unnatural. Why did this hurt? she wondered. It was no more than either of them had expected.
‘I wouldn’t put anything past Christos. He was adamant, in fact, that he had used protection, but mistakes can happen.’
‘Annabel is not a mistake!’ Rhiannon looked up, a fierce golden light in her eyes. She realised she was trembling.
‘Not to you, perhaps,’ Lukas agreed. ‘But to Christos she is nothing more than that. As soon as possible I will begin adoption proceedings. Christos is delighted with the solution.’ His mouth tightened briefly, and Rhiannon had a flickering of perception that Christos was not the kind of person who expressed his delight. No doubt he’d expected Lukas to take care of his child…his bastard. Thought it was Lukas’s responsibility, as Lukas himself did.
‘Obviously such action will require help on your part. As Annabel’s current legal guardian, you will have to go through court to sign such rights over to me.’
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