IT WAS THE longest meal she’d ever endured but Tamsyn was determined to spin out her wedding breakfast as long as she could. Because eating and drinking would delay the inevitable—and she was terrified of accompanying Xan upstairs, to that vast bed scattered with pink rose petals. Terrified that she would give into the demands of her traitorous body and fall hungrily into his arms. Because that was the last thing she needed.
Dutifully she picked at course after delicious course, trying to give every impression of enjoying the food which had been so carefully prepared by Rhea, the cook. The Greek salad topped with fragrant basil, still warm from the herb garden. The fish with delicious sauce, followed by giovetsi—a dish of lamb baked in a clay pot, served with green beans stewed with tomatoes. Rhea’s final flourish was a traditional wedding dessert called diples, a sweet fried concoction covered in a great deal of honey and crushed walnuts. The honey kept sticking to the roof of her mouth and she really didn’t need another morsel, but Tamsyn was determined to eat it.
And each course had an accompanying wine—fine wines in different colours. Tamsyn rarely drank but today she sipped a little, so that by the time the sweet wine was served with dessert, she felt better than she had in days. It was as if a tight knot at the base of her stomach had slowly begun to unfurl, allowing her to relax at last.
Staring across the table at Xan, she tried not be affected by his rugged masculine beauty, but that was easier said than done. His skin gleamed like gold in the sunlight and the close-fitting jeans and T-shirt gave him a deceptively laid-back air. At times she was in danger of forgetting that he was a billionaire control freak who was calling all the shots, because right now he looked like some rippling-fleshed fisherman who’d just wandered up to the house for a bit of lunch.
‘So,’ she said, finally admitting defeat and putting her dessert spoon down. ‘Here we are. Mr and Mrs Constantinides. How weird is that?’
A glint of amusement entered the cobalt eyes. ‘Pretty weird,’ he admitted.
‘Have you issued your statement to the press yet? Is that what the phone call was all about?’
‘I have no intention of speaking to the press today, Tamsyn. I will respond to questions if and when necessary. I was speaking to my father.’ There was a pause. ‘And Sofia.’
Tamsyn felt her heart lurch. ‘And?’
‘Sofia took it better than I expected. She seemed more resigned than upset. Which is a good thing.’
‘Like I said,’ Tamsyn observed. ‘She’s probably secretly pleased not to have to spend a lifetime with you.’
‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, sweetheart,’ he said drily.
She wanted to tell him not to tease her like that, just like she wanted to tell him not to look at her with that sexy glint of amusement in his eyes. Mainly because she liked it. She liked it way too much. It made her want to do what she had vowed she wasn’t going to do—mainly to rush upstairs and get up close and personal with him. She cleared her throat. ‘And your father?’
For the first time, his face showed a flicker of darkness. ‘My father took the news less well. He was angry, which didn’t surprise me, but his concerns were focussed more on his island inheritance than on the people involved. No change there.’ His laugh was tinged with bitterness. ‘He seems to think that Sofia’s father might refuse to sell me the island now that I’ve jilted his daughter. I think it will depend on Sofia’s reaction, but better that than breaking her heart,’ he added harshly.
‘And if he’s right? If Sofia’s father won’t sell?’
‘Oh, if Sofia is okay, he’ll sell—don’t you worry about that.’
‘How can you be so sure?’
‘Because Tamsyn, everyone has their price’ He gave a cynical smile. ‘Even you.’
It was a timely reminder of her new husband’s cold-heartedness but Tamsyn forced herself not to react, instead fixing him with a look of interest. ‘Is your father coming to the wedding party?’
‘He said not, but I know his bluster of old and he’ll be there—if only because the cream of Athenian and international society will be attending and he’d hate to miss out.’
‘And in the meantime, we have a whole two week honeymoon to get through.’ Tamsyn resisted the temptation to chew on her fingernails which had been varnished silver to match her toes. ‘Wasn’t that a rather unnecessary addition to this sham marriage?’
‘I told you. We don’t want to make it look like a stunt.’ He leaned back in his chair to study her. ‘And we can make this as easy or as difficult as we like.’
Tamsyn wondered if he was out of his mind. Didn’t he realise that there was a constant battle raging inside her? That while her head was telling her not to have sex with her new husband—her body was urging her in the opposite direction. Did Xan know that every time she looked at him she wanted to touch him, even though to do so would be madness. Or that at night she was haunted by the memories of his hard body thrusting into hers and giving her pleasure, over and over again? Running her trembling fingertip round the edge of her crystal glass, she struggled to find a neutral topic. ‘Manalena seems very sweet,’ she said at last.
‘She is.’ He took a mouthful of wine, his expression mocking her.
‘Why did she used to look after you? Did your mother go out to work?’
‘No. But motherhood appealed to her about as much as being poor, and she didn’t care who knew it. Including me, just for the record. She went to great pains to assure me that some women simply weren’t maternal, and she was one of them.’
His words were terse and he spoke them as if they didn’t matter but they told her a lot, mainly that his mother had been emotionally distant. Tamsyn nodded, wondering just how far she could push him—without stopping to ask herself why she wanted to. ‘Do you think that’s what made you so...’
‘So what, Tamsyn?’ he questioned sardonically as her words tailed off.
‘So... I don’t know.’ She straightened her napkin so that it lay at a ninety-degree angle next to her place-setting, just as she would have done if she’d been at work. ‘So anti-love and marriage...’
He shrugged. ‘That’s what the psychologists would say, I guess.’
‘And was it bad?’ she questioned suddenly, her heart going out to him despite telling herself that he didn’t need her sympathy. ‘Your childhood, I mean?’
‘Bad enough. But I happened to like the independence which came about as a result of having a mother who was never there for me. The thought of having to answer to someone every hour of every day filled me with horror and still does.’ His eyes were like dark blue ice. ‘In future all my bios will say, he was briefly married. And you, agape mou, will have liberated me from the expectation which society heaps on every wealthy man, that he is not complete until he finds himself a suitable wife. You will have done me a big favour, Tamsyn.’ His lips curved into a reflective smile. ‘And that in itself is worth the money I’m paying you to wear my ring.’
His mocking words effectively terminated the conversation, but it left Tamsyn thinking that maybe they were more similar than she’d imagined, despite the great difference in their lifestyles.
‘So what now?’ she questioned, aware that they couldn’t sit amid the debris of their wedding breakfast all day.
His eyes gleamed. ‘Now that you’ve made lunch last as long as you possibly could?’
‘I was hungry.’
‘Of course you were, agape mou,’ he agreed, silkily. ‘Hungry enough to pick at your food with marked indifference and then to push it around your plate? But your face is pale and your eyes strained, so I suggest you retire to the bedroom and take an afternoon nap. It’s been a long day.’
His words made sense because Tamsyn was tired. But the memory of that petal-strewn bed kept flickering into her mind and she knew she couldn’t keep skirting round the issue. In London she’d told him there was to be no sex and he needed to realise she meant it. But she couldn’t discuss the subject here—not with Manalena poking her beaming head around the door and asking if they’d like coffee.
Her husband declined the offer, his drawled response bringing an instant smile to Manalena’s face as she remained in the doorway, watching them. And when Xan walked around the table and held out his hand towards Tamsyn, she found herself taking it. She told herself she was doing this for the housekeeper’s benefit and maybe she was. But she couldn’t deny that she was enjoying the sensation of Xan’s strong fingers encircling hers, as he led her upstairs towards the master bedroom. Of course she was. Because in those few moments she felt safe. As if nothing could ever harm her so long as she was with this powerful and charismatic man.
And that was nothing but an illusion. She was nothing but a bought bride, to be disposed of as soon as possible.
She was shivering as he closed the bedroom door behind them, acutely aware of the intimacy of the enclosed space. She ran her fingertips over the wilting bouquet she’d placed on a nearby table and then, when there was no room left for prevarication, looked into his face. ‘Where am I sleeping?’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Judging by the amount of petals which seem to have been offloaded onto the bed, I’d say right here.’
She shook her head, hating the sudden hot prickle of her breasts. ‘I told you I didn’t want any intimacy, Xan, so therefore it makes more sense for me to have my own bedroom.’
‘And if I were to grant you your wish, that would bring into question the validity of our marriage,’ he answered coolly. ‘Which kind of defeats the whole purpose of you being here.’
‘So we’ve got to share a bed?’
‘It’s a very large bed.’
‘I can see that for myself. But it doesn’t matter how big it is,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want...’
‘What don’t you want, Tamsyn?’
She stiffened as she heard the soft mockery in his voice. Was he going to make her spell it out? And if he was, so what? She was no longer the shrinking little virgin who had given herself to him one starry desert night, even if right now she felt like it. This man knew her like no other. He had kissed her lips and suckled her breasts. He had shown her how he liked to be touched and stroked and had then thrust deep inside her hungry body. He had seen her vulnerable in the midst of her orgasm. Had heard her stumble out his name in a choking cry as she tumbled over the edge. Surely that gave her the right to say what was on her mind. ‘Sex,’ she managed, her cheeks growing hot.
‘It isn’t obligatory to have sex with me.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m not planning to demand my conjugal rights, if that’s what you’re worried about. Like I said, it’s a big bed.’
‘And you think it’s possible for us to lie side by side and, and...’ Her voice tailed off, unable to articulate the confusion of her feelings which were compounded by the sheer depth of her inexperience. Did he guess that? Was that why the look he slanted her seemed almost compassionate?
‘I think it’s possible,’ he said slowly. ‘It won’t be easy and it certainly won’t be enjoyable, but in the end the decision is yours, Tamsyn. Yet all you have to do is say the word and we could have one hell of a honeymoon.’
Her cheeks grew even hotter. ‘I don’t know how you can be...so...callous.’
‘And I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal out of it. You think every time a couple have sex, there has to be some great big emotion underlying it?’ His cobalt gaze seared into her. ‘Didn’t it ever occur to you that sexual gratification is just one of life’s fundamental pleasures, Tamsyn?’
Tamsyn was aware of a sudden emptiness. A disappointment. As if he’d just burst some invisible bubble. As if the stories women told themselves about happy-ever-after really were a myth. ‘And that’s all there is to it?’ she asked, in a small flat voice.
He shrugged. ‘It exists for the procreation of children, but that’s not going to be an issue for us, is it?’
‘No,’ she agreed, unprepared for another unexpectedly painful clench of her heart. ‘It’s not going to be an issue.’
‘Don’t take it so personally,’ he advised softly. ‘Sex doesn’t have to be about love.’
‘I realise that. I may be relatively inexperienced, but I’m not stupid!’ she declared. ‘I’m not looking for love but if I was, you’d be right at the bottom of my wish-list, Xan Constantinides!’
Her words sounded genuine and Xan gave the ghost of a smile because she really was surprising. Up-close contact with his enormous wealth didn’t seem to have blunted her determination to do things her way, nor to subdue her feisty nature. She was behaving like his equal and that was doing dangerous things to his libido. He was used to female subjugation and was finding the lack of it a powerful aphrodisiac. Lust pulsed through him, hot and potent. She was such a contradiction in so many ways. Tough and outspoken—and yet at times he was certain he’d detected a glimpse of frailty beneath her waspish exterior. And didn’t that intrigue him? Make him wonder what had put it there?
He stared out of one of the windows where he could see Orestes tending to the violet blooms of an exotic flower and he thought about the fortnight ahead, realising that this fabricated honeymoon would drag like hell unless he could find something pleasurable to fill the time. And sex with his fiery new bride would certainly while away the hours in the most delicious way.
She hadn’t moved from where she’d been standing and he reached out to touch his fingertip against her mouth, instantly feeling it tremble. He could see her throat constricting and her eyes briefly closing as if she was trying to fight her own desire. And that turned him on even more, because he wasn’t used to women fighting their attraction to him. ‘You still want me, Tamsyn,’ he observed thickly. ‘And it’s the same for me. I want you so much that I’m aching just thinking about it.’
He could see the uncertainty flickering in the depths of her green eyes. ‘Nobody’s denying the desire, Xan. Doesn’t mean we’re going to do anything about it though.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because....’ She moved away from him then, wriggling her shoulders restlessly as the little white wedding dress shimmied provocatively over her bare thighs. ‘It seems wrong to have sex just for the sake of it.’
‘Says who? Why does it bother you so much?’
She stared at him and suddenly her eyes were very bright. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘Oh, but it does. I’m interested in why you’re such a fundamentally old-fashioned young woman at heart.’
Tamsyn gave a careless shrug which didn’t quite come off, because it was difficult to remain indifferent to her past when he was looking at her so piercingly.
‘I didn’t realise I was.’
‘Psychologists usually say it something to do with your parents and your upbringing,’ he said wryly. ‘So let’s start with that.’
This is what she’d been trying to avoid telling him. But what difference did it make if she told him about her mother? This part of her life wasn’t the part she had buried in a deep, dark place which she never ventured near.
‘I don’t remember my birth mother, because I was just a baby when she gave me and Hannah up for adoption,’ she said baldly. ‘But nobody wanted to adopt us because we were too much of a handful. Or rather, I was. Apparently it’s quite common for abandoned babies to grow into troublesome children.’ She shrugged. ‘That’s why we put up with so much from our foster parents, despite all their failings.’ She shrugged as she met the question in his eyes. ‘There was a terrible atmosphere in the house, mainly because my foster father used the grocery money to fund his card games, or to buy dinner for one of his many mistresses. We were terrified that if we complained we’d get split up. And neither Hannah or I could bear the thought of that.’
There was a silence during which she thought he was about to let it go. And didn’t she want him to let it go?
‘So what do you know about your birth mother, Tamsyn,’ he prompted softly.
Tamsyn swallowed. If she told him he would judge her and she didn’t want to be judged. Because that’s what the girls at school had done, once they found out about her mum. They’d picked on her and bullied her and the strong skin she’d grown had been as a direct result of that. But talking about it would reinforce the certainty that there could never be any kind of future between her and Xan. And it might stop him from probing further—keeping him away from the stuff which was really unpalatable.
She shrugged. ‘From what I understand, she was pretty liberal with her body. She liked men. A lot. And she wasn’t that careful about contraception. Hannah and I have different fathers and apparently there’s a younger brother out there, who we’ve never met.’
‘And your father?’
‘I never met him.’ She moved away. ‘And if you don’t mind, I’d rather not discuss it any more.’
‘Of course not.’ He nodded slowly, his eyes gleaming with perception. ‘It’s no wonder you hung onto your virginity for so long. No wonder that behind that spiky exterior beats the heart of someone who only ever wanted to be a good girl. But you don’t have to spend your whole life paying for the perceived sins of your mother, you know, Tamsyn. It won’t make the slightest difference if you deny yourself pleasure, just for the sake of it.’
‘You mean, now I’ve actually lost my innocence, I might as well capitalise on it?’
‘That’s one way of looking at it. If you could stop being so damned stubborn and think about the possibilities open to you, you might be able to see some of the benefits.’
‘What kind of benefits?’
He gave a slow smile. ‘Well, for a start I could teach you how to enjoy your body. I could show you just how sublime sex can be. Wouldn’t you like that, Tamsyn? Wouldn’t you like to walk away from this marriage knowing how to please a man, and how best you like to be pleased?’
Tamsyn shook her head because she hated his logic. For making it sound as if sex was just another new skill to learn—a bit like when she’d studied to be a silver-service waitress. His words reminded her that she was only here for a short while and soon she would be on her own again—back to her nomadic existence. It made sense to tell him no and to stick to her self-imposed celibacy.
So why couldn’t she silence the memory of what it had been like to be naked in his arms...how he’d made her glow and shout with pleasure and then tremble helplessly in his arms? Why not concentrate on how empty she’d felt afterwards, when he’d left her and gone away? ‘It seems so...cold-blooded,’ she breathed.
‘Does it?’ he said softly, as he walked towards her.
‘Yes,’ she whispered.
‘On the contrary,’ he husked, pulling her roughly into his arms. ‘I would describe this as nothing but hot-blooded.’
The first kiss knocked some of the fight out of her and the second had her hungry for more. And when he cupped his trembling hand over her thrusting breast, Tamsyn moaned with pleasure.
Because it felt good. Way too good to resist. She knew she should tell him no. That being physically close again would put her in danger of something she couldn’t understand. But how could she refuse something which felt like this? When he was sliding his hand up the filmy skirt of her dress and caressing the shivering skin of her inner thigh?
‘Xan,’ she moaned, as his finger edged inside her panties and she writhed with pleasure as he found her wet heat.
‘You like that,’ he observed thickly.
She was too het-up to reply, but maybe she communicated her need to him. Maybe that was why he halted his intimate caress and picked her up, carrying her effortlessly over to the bed. He unzipped her dress and dropped it to the floor, before laying her on top of the petal-strewn cover.
‘I see you wore white lingerie for your wedding day,’ he observed thickly, tracing a slow finger over the snowy lace edge of her balcony bra. ‘How very traditional.’
‘It was the only underwear which didn’t show beneath my wedding dress,’ she said defiantly.
Xan understood a little now of what had made her so defensive, but the thought left his mind the moment he brushed against the taut wetness of her panties, hearing her gasp as he encountered her sweet spot. He slid the zip of his jeans over his aching hardness and pulled off his own clothes before removing her underwear with hands which were inexplicably shaking, something which had never happened to him before. Yet as he climbed onto the bed beside her, he was forced to admit that this did feel different—and this time he couldn’t blame it on her innocence. Had all the fuss made by his staff about their mock wedding somehow got to him? As if some of their thankful celebration had seeped into his system, kicking his habitual cynicism into touch, making what was happening between him and the little redhead seem especially intense.
Never had a woman seemed so responsive to his touch. She shivered as he reacquainted himself with every inch of her skin, his lips hungrily kissing her neck and breasts and belly as he began to finger her. He played with her until she was writhing and gasping his name, her fingernails clawing frantically at his shoulders. He remembered thinking that she was going to mark him and make him bleed—and that he didn’t care.
His gasps became urgent as he entered her and she cried out with each deep thrust, soft thighs wrapped tightly around his back. And nothing had ever felt this good, thought Xan with delirious pleasure. Nothing. He wanted it to last and last but she was too close, and so was he. He splayed his fingers over her peaking nipples as she began to spasm around him, and his own orgasm hit him like a speed train.
On and on it went, until at last he collapsed against her shoulder with his lips pressed against her damp and tumbled curls. It was a while before he could bring himself to withdraw from her, but just as soon as he did, her tiny fingers curled intimately around him and he could feel himself hardening again beneath her light touch. He slid inside her for a second time and before too long she was bucking wildly beneath him and crying out his name. Soon after his third orgasm, he lay stroking her head and realising that for the next two weeks of his honeymoon, it was just going to be him and Tamsyn.
He stared down at the satisfied slant of her lips. At the lazy flutter of her eyelashes as she gave a sleepy little sigh of contentment. She snuggled deeper into the crook of his arm and Xan felt the automatic stir of overpowering lust and something else. Something he couldn’t seem to define....
Maybe it was panic.