The Greek Tycoon's Achilles Heel

CHAPTER SIX

PETRA lay looking up at him, her eyes wide, her breath coming in short gasps. Hurriedly he got to his feet, drawing her up with him and holding her, for she was shaking.

‘You,’ he said, appalled. ‘You!’

‘Yes, I’m afraid so.’

She swayed as she spoke and he tightened his grip lest she fall. Swiftly he picked her up and carried her out of the cellar and up the stairs to his room, where he laid her gently on the bed and sat beside her.

‘Are you mad to do such a thing?’ he demanded hoarsely. ‘Have you any idea of the danger you were in?’

‘Not real danger,’ she said shakily.

‘I threw you down onto stone slabs. The floor’s uneven; you might have hit your head-I was in such a rage-’

‘I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t-’

‘The hell with that! You could have died. Do you understand that? You could have died and then I-’ A violent shudder went through him.

‘My dear,’ she said gently, ‘you’re making too much of this. I’m a bit breathless from landing so hard, but nothing more.’

‘You don’t know that. I’m getting you a doctor-’

‘You will not,’ she said firmly. ‘I don’t need a doctor. I haven’t broken anything, I’m not in pain and I didn’t hit my head.’

He didn’t reply but looked at her, haggard. She took his face between her hands. ‘Don’t look like that. It’s all right.’

‘It isn’t,’ he said desperately. ‘Sometimes I lose control-and do things without thinking. It’s so easy to do harm.’

She guessed he was really talking about something else and longed to draw the truth out of him, but instinct warned her to go carefully. He’d given her a clue to his fierce self-control, but she knew by now that he would clam up if she pressed him.

And the time was not right. For the moment she must comfort him and ease his mind.

‘You didn’t do me any harm,’ she insisted.

‘If I had I’d never forgive myself.’

‘But why? I broke into your house. I’m little more than a common criminal. Why aren’t you sending for the police?’

‘Shut up!’ he said, enfolding her in his arms.

He didn’t try to kiss her, just sat holding her tightly against him, as if fearing that she might try to escape.

‘That’s nice,’ she murmured. ‘Just hold me.’

She felt his lips against her hair, felt the temptation that ran through him, but sensed wryly that he wasn’t going to yield to it. He had something else on his mind.

‘How badly bruised are you?’ he asked.

‘A few knocks, nothing much.’

‘Let me see.’

He got to work, opening the buttons of her blouse, drawing it off her, removing her bra, but seemingly unaffected by the sight of her bare breasts.

‘Lie down so that I can see your back,’ he said.

Wondering, she did so, and lay there while he studied her.

‘It’s not so bad,’ she said.

‘I’ll get a shirt for you to wear tonight.’

‘No need. My things are next door. I’ve been here several days. Nobody saw me because of the shutters. I brought enough food to manage on and crept about. You see, I’m a really dishonest character.’

He groaned. ‘And if something had happened to you? If you’d had a fall and been knocked out? You could have died without anyone knowing and lain here for days, weeks. Are you crazy, woman?’

She twisted around and sat up to face him.

‘Yes, I think I am,’ she agreed. ‘I don’t understand anything any more.’

He ground his teeth. ‘Do I need to explain to you why the thought of your being in danger wrenches me apart? Are you insensitive as well as crazy and stupid?’

‘My danger didn’t bother you when I was on that boat that overturned.’ A thought struck her. ‘Unless you didn’t know about it.’

‘Of course I knew about it. I went to the harbour in case you needed me. I saw you arrive. After that, I knew you were all right.’

‘You-?’ she echoed slowly.

‘The accident was on the news. Of course I went to see how you were. I saw you get off the boat, straight into Nikator’s arms. I didn’t want to disturb a touching reunion, so I went home.’

‘You were there all the time?’ she whispered.

‘Where the hell would you expect me to be when you were in danger?’ he raged. ‘What do you think I am? Made of ice?’

Now she was glad of the understanding that was gradually coming to her, and which saved her from misjudging him. Without it she would have seen only his anger, entirely missing the fear and pain which tortured him more because he had no idea how to express them.

‘No,’ she said helplessly, holding out her arms to him. ‘I’d never think that. Oh, I’ve been so stupid. I shouldn’t have let you fool me.’

‘What does that mean?’ he asked, going into her arms.

‘You hide from people. But I won’t let you hide from me.’

He looked down at her naked breasts, just visible in the shadowy light. Slowly, he drew his fingertips down one until they reached the nipple, which was already proud and expectant.

‘No more hiding,’ he murmured.

‘There’s nowhere to hide from each other,’ she said. ‘There never was.’

‘No, there never was.’

She began to work on his buttons but he forestalled her, undressing quickly, first his jacket, then his shirt. She leaned towards him so that her breasts touched his bare skin, and felt the tremors that possessed his body, guessed that he would have controlled them if he could, for he was still not yet ready to abandon himself. But that control was beyond him, she was delighted to see.

They removed the rest of their clothes, watching each other with brooding possessiveness, taking their time, for this mattered too much to be rushed. He was still fearful lest he hurt her, caressing her gently, almost tentatively, until the deep motion of her chest told him of her mounting impatience.

For too long she’d dreamed of this moment, and nothing was going to deprive her of it now. She kept her hands against his skin, moving them softly to tease him and make sure he continued with what he was doing.

His touch had made her nipples hard and peaked, so that when she leaned against him he drew a long, shaking breath at the impact.

‘This is dangerous,’ he whispered.

‘Who for?’ she challenged. ‘Not me.’

‘Does nothing scare you?’

‘Nothing,’ she assured him against his lips, ‘nothing.’

She released him briefly to finish removing her clothes, and when he had done the same they returned to each other with new fervour. Now she had what she wanted-the sight of him naked and eager for her-and her blood raced at the thought of meeting his eagerness with her own.

His fingers on her skin made it flame with life.

‘Yes-’ she whispered. ‘Yes-yes-I’m here-come here-’

He pressed her gently back against the pillows and began to caress her everywhere-her neck, her waist, her hips. He was taking his time, arousing her slowly, giving her every chance to think if this was really what she wanted. But thinking was the last thing she could do now. Everything in her was focused on one craving-to enjoy the physical release he could give her and discover if it fulfilled all the wild hopes she’d been building up. It would. It must.

She caressed him in return, wherever she could reach, frustrated by her limits. She wanted all of him, and even now that he was loving her in the way she most craved, it mysteriously wasn’t enough.

Many times she’d wondered about him as a lover. She knew he could be cool, ironic, distant, but with flashes of intensity through which another, wholly different man could be glimpsed. She’d been intrigued by both men, wondering which of them would finally be tempted to her bed, but none of the pictures that came into her head satisfied her. They were incomplete. As a lover he would have yet another identity and she was eager to meet him.

When he finally moved over her she lay back with a sigh, waiting for him. And he was there, inside her, claiming her, completing and fulfilling her. She clasped her legs around him at once, wanting everything, and heard him give a soft growl, as though, by her gesture, she’d told him something he needed to know.

She gasped, rejoicing at the power in his hips as they released the desire that had overcome him, driving her own desire to new heights and making her thrust back at him, digging her fingers cruelly into his flesh.

‘Yes-’ she whispered. ‘Yes!’

To her delight he was smiling, as though her pleasure gladdened his heart. She’d known he would be a strong lover but her imagination had fallen short of the reality. He took her with power, never seeming to tire, bringing her to the brink several times before taking her over the edge so that his cry joined with hers as they fell together into a bottomless chasm.

For a long time she lay with her eyes closed, enfolded in the world where only pleasure and satisfaction existed. When she opened them again she found that he was lying with his head on her chest, breathing hard. He lifted it slowly and looked at her.

‘Are you all right?’ he whispered.

‘Everything is fine,’ she assured him.

Further words failed her. She knew that what had just happened had transformed her life, not merely because he was the most skilled lover she had ever known, but because her heart reached out to him in a way it had never done for any other man. He could possess her and give to her, but what he claimed in return was something she rejoiced to give. By taking from her, he completed her, and that was beyond all words.

He rose and looked at her. Surveying him in return, she smiled. He still wanted her.

Hooking her arm around his neck, she eased herself up, but then winced.

‘Did I hurt you?’ he demanded, aghast. ‘I forgot-’

‘So did I,’ she promised him. ‘I think I’ll get in the shower and see what the rest of me looks like.’

He helped her off the bed, which she needed for her exertions seemed to have weakened her. Clinging to him, she went slowly into the bathroom, switching on the lights so that he could see her clearly for the first time, and turning her to look at her back. She heard him draw a sharp breath.

‘Nasty,’ he said. ‘You must have landed on something sharp. I’m so sorry.’

‘I can’t feel anything,’ she said shakily. ‘I guess I have too many other things to feel.’

He started the shower and helped her to get under it, soaping her gently, then laving her with water and dabbing her dry. Then he carried her tenderly back to bed and went to fetch her things from the room where she had been camping.

‘You wear cotton pyjamas?’ he asked as her nightwear came into view.

‘What were you expecting? Slinky lingerie? Not when I’m alone. These are practical.’

‘I’ll see what I can find us to eat,’ he said. ‘I may have to go out.’

‘There’s some food in the kitchen. I brought it with me.’

He made them coffee and sandwiches, tending her like a nanny.

‘We ought to have talked before anything happened,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want to hurt you.’

She smiled. ‘That’s easy to say, but I don’t think we could have talked before. We had to get past a certain point.’

He nodded. ‘But now it’s going to be different. I’m going to look after you until you’re better.’ Tenderly he helped her into her pyjamas, and a thought seemed to strike him. ‘How long have you been here?’

‘Three days.’

‘When did you get back from England?’

‘I haven’t been to England. What made you think I had?’

‘When I found your phone turned off I called the house and spoke to someone who said you’d gone to England with Nikator. There was a message that neither of you wanted to be disturbed-for quite a while.’

‘And you believed that?’ she demanded. ‘What are you-dead in the head?’

‘How could I not believe it? There was nothing to tell me any different. You’d vanished without a trace. Your phone was switched off.’

‘I lost it in the water. I’ve got a new one.’

‘How was I supposed to know? You might have gone with him.’

But he knew that wasn’t the real reason for his credulity. Nikator’s lie had touched a nerve, and that nerve led back to a lack of self-confidence so rare with him that he couldn’t cope with it.

Petra was still indignant.

‘It wasn’t possible,’ she fumed. ‘It was never possible, and you should have known that.’

‘How could I know it when you weren’t there to tell me?’ he asked reasonably. ‘If I didn’t think it through properly, maybe it’s your fault.’

‘Oh, right, fine. Blame me.’

‘You left without a word.’

‘I didn’t say a word? What about you? I don’t go pestering a man who’s shown he doesn’t want me.’

‘Don’t tell me what I want and don’t want,’ he said with a faint touch of the old ferocity.

‘You were pushing me away, you know you were-’

‘No, that’s not what I-’

‘Sending me different signals that I couldn’t work out.’

He tore his hair. ‘Maybe I couldn’t work them out myself. You told me you’d finished with me-’

‘I didn’t actually say that-’

‘The hell you didn’t! Have you forgotten some of the things you said? I haven’t. I’ll never forget them. I never wanted you to go away. And then-’ he took a shuddering breath ‘-you could have died on that boat, and you might not have been on it if it weren’t for me. I just had to know you were safe, but after that-well, you and he seemed so comfortable together.’

‘Except that he took the chance to spread lies,’ she seethed. ‘I was actually beginning to think he might not be so bad after all. I’ll strangle him.’

‘Leave it for a while,’ he soothed. ‘Then we’ll do it together. But until then you stay in bed until I say you can get up.’

‘I’m not fragile,’ she protested. ‘I won’t break.’

‘That’s my decision. You’re going to be looked after.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said meekly, through twitching lips.

He threw her a suspicious glance. She retaliated by saluting him.

‘I understand, sir. I’ll just keep quiet and obey, because I’m gonna be looked after whether I like it or not, sir!’

He smiled then. ‘Oh, I think you might like it,’ he said.

‘Yes,’ she said happily. ‘I think I just might.’

That night she slept better than she’d done for weeks. It might be the effect of snuggling down in Lysandros’s comfortable bed, waited on hand and foot and told to think of nothing but getting well. Or perhaps it was the blissful sensation of being beside him all night, ordered to, ‘Wake me if you need anything.’

Or the moment when she half-awoke in the early hours to find him sitting by the window, and the way he hurried over, saying, ‘What is it? What can I do for you?’

This man would astound those who only knew him in the boardroom. His tenderness was real, and so, to her delighted surprise, was his thoughtfulness. He visibly racked his brains to please her, and succeeded because it seemed to matter to him so much. She slipped back contentedly into sleep.

When she awoke the next morning he was gone and the house was silent. Had she misread him? Had he taken what he wanted, then abandoned her to make her suffer for invading his privacy? But, although that fitted with his reputation, she couldn’t make herself believe it of the man who’d cared for her so gently last night.

‘Aaaaah,’ she gasped slowly, rubbing her back as she eased her way out onto the landing.

Downstairs, the front door opened, revealing him. As soon as he saw her at the top of the stairs he hurried up, demanding, ‘What are you doing out of bed?’

‘I had to get up for a few minutes,’ she protested.

‘Well, now you can go right back. Come along.’

But once inside the bedroom he pointed her to a chair, saying brusquely, ‘Sit there while I remake the bed.’

Gladly she sat down, watching him pull the sheets straight, until finally he came to help her stand.

‘I’m just a bit stiff,’ she said, clinging to him gladly and wincing.

‘You’ll be less stiff when I’ve given you a good rub. I went out for food and I remembered a pharmacy where they sell a great liniment. Get undressed and lie down.’

She did so, lying on her front and gasping as the cool liniment touched her. But that soon changed to warmth as his hand moved here and there over her bruises.

‘They seem more tender now than last night,’ she mused.

‘You should have rested at once,’ he told her. ‘It’s my fault you didn’t.’

‘Yes,’ she remembered, smiling. ‘We did something else instead. It was worth it.’

‘I’m glad you think so, but I’m not touching you again until you’re better.’

‘Aren’t you touching me now?’

‘This isn’t the same thing,’ he said firmly.

And it wasn’t, she thought, frustrated. His fingers moved here and there, sometimes firm, sometimes soft, but tending her, not loving her. There was just one moment when he seemed on the edge of weakening, when his hand lingered over the swell of her behind, as though he was fighting temptation. But then he won the fight and his hand moved firmly on.

She sighed. It wasn’t fair.

Later, in the kitchen, she watched as he made breakfast.

‘They wouldn’t believe it if they could see you now,’ she teased.

He didn’t need to ask who ‘they’ were.

‘I’m trusting you not to tell them,’ he said. ‘If you breathe a word of this I’ll say you’re delusional.’

‘Don’t worry. This is one secret I’m going to keep to myself. You don’t keep any servants here?’

‘I have a cleaning lady who comes in sometimes, but I prefer to be alone. Most of the house is shut up, and I just use a couple of rooms.’

‘What made you come here now?’

‘I needed to think,’ he said, regarding her significantly. ‘Since we met…I don’t know…everything should have been simple…’

‘But it never has been,’ she mused. ‘I wonder if we can make things simple by wanting it.’

‘No,’ he said at once. ‘But if you have to fight-why not? As long as you know what you’re fighting for.’

‘Or who you’re fighting,’ she pointed out.

‘I don’t think there’s any doubt about who we’ll be fighting,’ he said.

‘Each other. Yes, it makes it interesting, doesn’t it? Exhausting but interesting.’

He laughed and she pounced on it. ‘I love it when you laugh. That’s when I can claim a victory.’

‘You’ve had other victories that maybe you don’t know about.’ He added with a touch of self-mockery, ‘Or maybe you do.’

‘I think I’ll leave you to guess about that.’

‘It would be a mistake for me to underestimate you, wouldn’t it?’

‘Definitely.’

Briefly she thought, if only he were always like this, charming and open to her. But she smothered the thought at once. A man who was always charming was like a musician who could only play one note. Eventually it became tedious. Lysandros was fascinating because she never knew who he was going to be from one moment to the next. And nor did he know with her, which kept them both on alert. Could anything be more delightful?

‘I’m sorry about last night,’ he said.

‘I’m not.’

‘I mean I’m sorry I didn’t wait until you were better.’

‘Listen, if you’d had the self-control to wait I’d have taken it as a personal insult. And then I would have made you sorry.’

He gave her a curious look. ‘I think you will one day, in any case,’ he said.

‘Perhaps we should both look forward to that.’

She rose, reaching out to take some plates to the sink, but he forestalled her. ‘Leave it to me.’

‘There’s no need to fuss me like an invalid.’ She laughed. ‘I really can do things for myself.’

His reply was a look of sadness. ‘All right,’ he said after a moment.

‘Lysandros, honestly-’

‘I just wish you’d let me give you something-do things for you-’

Heart-stricken, she touched his face, blaming herself for being insensitive.

‘I didn’t want to be a nuisance,’ she whispered. ‘You have so many really important things to do.’

He put his arms right around her and drew her close against him.

‘There’s nothing more important than you,’ he said simply.

Later she was to remember the way he’d held her and wonder at it. It hadn’t been the embrace of a lover, more the clasp of a refugee clinging onto safety for dear life. He couldn’t have told her more clearly that she’d brought something into his life that was more than passion-more life-enhancing while he had it, more soul-destroying if he lost it.