He had a reason to kiss her—a good reason. At last. Antonio grabbed her, tipped her backwards, and pressing his body against hers. He wanted her to feel everything—to always remember this moment. He pressed his mouth to hers, heard her gasp, and then he forgot the world.

There was nothing but Claire—her lips, her mouth, her fragrance. He pressed her closer, feeling her breasts flatten against his chest. He tightened his hold and took possession of her mouth—of her. Finally, he ran out of breath. Head swimming, he righted her. Reluctantly, he let go.

Claire touched her mouth. He grabbed her hand and pulled her with him down the aisle so they could escape the small crowd for a few moments. He hurried her to another room downstairs that had been set aside for them to have a few moments of privacy before they must greet their guests. And before the wedding party began. He could already hear the music starting—Eva had hired a DJ and dance music blared. There would be no traditional Tsamiko dance—but if he knew his cousins, maybe there’d be ouzo-soaked Zeibekiko dancing later. For now he needed to talk to Claire.

He pulled her into the room with him and took her hands. “Claire, thank you. From the bottom of my heart for marrying me. I know this is not the wedding you always dreamed of.”

Claire shook her head. “But it was. I mean, it didn’t start out that way, but your sisters turned it into something I will always remember, only—”

“Only you wish you could have had your parents here. That you could have married someone you loved for your first time.” Antonio suddenly wished things had turned out differently. He’d had once been in love with her—or he thought he had.

Claire shrugged. “What happens now?”

“We go out to talk with our guests. We eat. We must dance. And then we fly to Kato Antikeri and spend a week there.” She parted her lips, and he knew she was about to give him one of her reasons not to do something. He put a finger across her lips. “Trust me, this is for the best. The news media is already at the front gate, and the staff can only protect us for so long. We need a little time so they become interested in some other scandal.”

Claire nodded.

A knock sounded on the door and Dareios called out, “Time to make an appearance, you two love birds. Your guests cannot drink until they toast to your happiness.”

Antonio turned to Claire. “Trust me to make sure everything will be just fine.”

Claire smiled, but Antonio heard her mutter, “If only that was so easy.”

But he didn’t know if she was talking about the situation—or about trusting him.

* * *

“Admit it, that wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Antonio peeled Claire’s hands from his thigh. He was certain she had left bruises when the pilot had landed the sea plane just off the main bay for Kato Antikeri. The island was small, with only the Villa Livia, goats, sheep, olive groves and white sand beaches. A wooden dock stretched into the bay and the pilot eased the sea plane toward the wooden pier.

Claire swallowed and shook her head. “Not my favorite way to travel.”

“Come on, let’s get out and you can take a look. The staff will carry our luggage to the villa.”

She nodded and allowed Antonio to help her from the plane. She seemed wobbly on her feet, and Antonio kept an arm around her waist. Thanopolis—an ancient who had been caretaker here for longer than Antonio could remember—met them at the dock with his son, Stephan, a skinny man far older than Antonio. Looking up the hillside, Antonio could see Mrs. Thanopolis—her gray hair pulled back and the wind whipping her black dress—standing on the terrace around the Villa Livia. The older woman waved to them.

Glancing back, he saw Claire had already taken off her sandals. She had changed from her wedding dress to jeans and a pink T-shirt. She still looked beautiful. He was certain, too, that the wedding party was still going on back in Athens, but he was glad to be away from the noise and all that family.

Sandals in her hand Claire headed for the white sand beach while Antonio helped Thanopolis and his son unload the plane. He was glad Claire had packed light—just a single bag. He had packed two bags, and he asked Thanopolis if the villa was well stocked for food and got back a shrug that could mean of course or of course not. Thanopolis and his son headed to the steps leading up to the villa, and the sea plane headed back out onto the open water. When the plane had taken off, Antonio headed over to Claire.

“Come on. We can take our time with the steps. Life at the villa is the old way—my mother wished it to be that way. We have fresh water from a well, but no electricity.”

She gave him a sideways look, and then pulled out her cell phone. “No signal either. What do you do if there’s an emergency?”

“Don’t worry, there’s a radio.” Climbing the stairs to the villa, Antonio pointed out the cove with the best snorkeling, and the olive grove. “We still make olive oil here on the island the old way, and Mrs. Thanopolis makes her own yoghurt and we have bees for honey.”

Stopping, Claire shaded her eyes. “The view is amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen water with those colors of blues and greens.” Tipping her head to the side. “Maybe I’m not so sure I want to give you back the villa.” He narrowed his eyes at her and she laughed. “Don’t worry—just kidding. This place would be terrible for an orphanage—or just about anything except maybe a total retreat. But you might want to think about solar for at least a little power.”

They reached the top of the stairs and Claire gave a gasp.

Antonio smiled.

The Villa Livia had changed little over the last thousand years. It had been a Roman villa once—and it still had the columns and elegant courtyard of the first villa. It was modest in size, and it had been reworked over the centuries. The roof was tile, the walls whitewashed, the doors a bright blue-painted wood. Red geraniums grew in flower boxes under the windows. Antonio waved a hand at it. “The bathrooms were added around the turn of the last century, and a wing was added a hundred years before that, but not much else has changed. Roman generals once vacationed here, and the villa has seen more than its share of storms and wars—but it still stands. My mother called it a survivor.”

Walking forward, Claire touched the top of the wall that edged the stone terrace. “Wow—it’s the view that’s great.”

He came up to her and pointed. “There—in the distance. That’s Athens—or just a part of it.”

She smiled and breathed in deeply. “It’s beautiful.”

Reaching out, he touched a lock of her hair, rubbing it between his thumb and forefinger. “You looked so beautiful today. I like your hair like this.”

“You can thank Eva for that. She’s a genius. Do I have time for a bath before dinner? Is there a bath?”

He smiled. “Of course. We have hot water from a hot spring, and a soaking Roman tub as well as a claw foot tub someone brought here in the eighteen hundreds. Go take your bath.”

She headed inside. He turned and headed to the garden.

He had to stop beside his mother’s grave. It was a stop he made every time he came to Kato Antikeri. Mrs. Thanopolis had put fresh flowers on the marker. Antonio bent down and brushed his fingers over the engraving.

I’ve brought someone for you to meet, mama, he thought.

Standing again, he wondered what his mother would have thought of Claire. Would she have thought Claire too timid? She had been unable to stand up to Matthias, as his mother once had. Would his mother have thought Claire not fit for the family? But he had a feeling his mother might have liked Claire—might even have taken her side against Matthias. He shook his head. He had no idea what women ever thought about.

Turning, he headed inside to talk to Mrs. Thanopolis about dinner—and he tried not to think that tonight was his wedding night.

What had started out as a good idea from his sisters to bring Claire to Kato Antikeri was now looking like deliberate sabotage on their part. They were going to be the only company for each other.

Mrs. Thanopolis prepared fish for dinner. She’d had the table set when Claire came out in a pair of cut-off shorts and a black tank top. Antonio’s mouth dried. She hadn’t worn a bra and her perfect breasts tempted him to dine on her instead of the meal.

Eyes huge, Claire glanced at the table. “This is quite the feast.”

Antonio started to heap food onto her plate. “This is spanakorizo, a spinach risotto, and you like keftedakia.”

“Yeah, meatballs.” She sat down next to him.

“These are lamb, and pilafi me throumbi, and Mrs. Thanopolis remembered my favorite, kremidotiganites, which are onion fritters. There is also a bean salad from the garden.”

Mrs. Thanopolis came out carrying a small cake. She grinned and spoke in Greek and Antonio translated for Claire. “She has baked a cake for us. A traditional one for those just married of honey, sesame seed, and quince, which is said to symbolize an enduring commitment to each other.”

Claire’s cheeks pinked. She looked down at her plate. Antonio thanked Mrs. Thanopolis and told her and her husband—and son—to please take off for the rest of the night. Grinning, Mrs. Thanopolis wished him a good night and gave him a wink.

He opened a bottle of red wine and poured a glass for Claire. “Let us drink—an enduring commitment means we can be friends, yes?”

Head lifting, Claire picked up her glass. “Yes. To being friends—at the least.”

He clinked his glass against hers. The glasses were simple and short—practical. The plates were just as practical and rough. The food was delicious, but Antonio had more enjoyment watching Claire eat.

She rolled every bite around her mouth, made small noises at the back of her throat, and licked the honey from the cake from her lips in a way that left his pulse pounding. He gave her more wine and watched her relax.

This was how he wanted her—happy.

They ate and talked. Or rather, he let Claire talk about her work. He knew very little about voice work, and once Claire got going she rambled on, talking with her hands as well as her voice. He knew she had met with Nick Stavos, and he’d been happy to find that Nick was a man twice Claire’s age, and also a man who seemed more obsessed with his documentary than anything else. Claire spoke of the work with excitement in her voice.

After the meal, Antonio stood and held out his hand. “Do you want to finish your wine on the terrace? We can look at the stars.”

“No, let’s do the dishes for Mrs. Thanopolis. She cooked, so she shouldn’t have to wash up.”

Dropping his hand to his side, Antonio stared at her. “But she’s paid to cook and clean.”

Standing, Claire gathered up the plates. “Don’t be such a snob. Come on, you can dry.”

Antonio blinked at her, but he followed her into the kitchen. She cleared the table, digging out foil to wrap the leftovers, and also nibbling on them. She popped a black olive into his mouth with her fingers, and he almost caught her hand to suck off the last bits of salty taste from her fingers. She grinned at him and tossed him a kitchen towel. “Dry.”

“I don’t know how to dry. I’ve never done dishes.”

Starting the water running in the sink, she turned to him. “Now who’s full of can’t? Come on, it’s not that bad.”

She dug out dish soap from somewhere, and started to wash and rinse the dishes. She handed him plates, pots, silverware—he dried each and stacked them on the counter.

“No, no—put them away.”

“Where?” he demanded.

She flicked a finger of soap bubbles at him. “Where they go.”

Catching her around the waist, he pulled her close. “I don’t know where they go.”

“Then find out,” she said and slipped away.

When she had the last dish washed, she let the water drain and leaned a hip on the counter. “You still haven’t put them away?”

He tossed the dishtowel onto the tile counter and took her hand. “We will leave that for Mrs. Thanopolis.” Pulling her with him, he took her into the bedroom. The covers had been turned down. Lamps had been lit and left burning.

Antonio picked up Claire and threw her on the bed. He lay next to her. “Claire—”

She put a finger to his lips. “No. Don’t spoil it. It’s been a perfect day, hasn’t it?”

“Do you want a perfect night? Claire, I want you.” He stroked a hand over her face. “I want you so bad I am about to burst. Let us pretend, just for a while, that nothing else exists. Just us. Just this island. Just this night.”

She nodded. “Let’s pretend.”

He stripped off her cut-offs and her tank top, then stood and stripped his clothes off just as fast. Lying down again, he put a hand on her belly. He could feel a quiver. “Relax. I promise not to bite…unless you ask nicely.”