Pregnant by the Greek Tycoon (14 page)

‘I have a practical outlook on life.’

‘So we will do the practical thing and stay together.’

She nodded. She had got her own way and suddenly all she wanted to do was cry her eyes out.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

THEY arrived at Paul and Mirrie Radcliff’s the day before the christening, and were shown to the pretty guest room. It was charming and Nicky was equally happy with his camp-bed, which had been put up in the adjoining dressing room. Watching him playing with the Radcliffs’ dog, a large animal of very mixed ancestry, Georgie wasn’t at all surprised when Nicky introduced the subject of a dog of his own.

Angolos entered their bedroom as she was fastening the antique pearl choker around her neck. A glance in the mirror told her it was the exact finishing touch the outfit she’d brought for the christening needed.

‘I suppose you know that Nicky thinks you’re a soft touch. Damn,’ she muttered as the catch eluded her. Angolos’s silent scrutiny made her clumsy.

‘A soft touch…?’
She was soft…thinking of her softness made him hard. Around Georgette his normal self-control was non-existent.

Watching him lever his long, lean frame from the wall, she doubted that there was an adjective
less
appropriate. Everything about him was hard, including his impenetrable expression. He wore that expression a lot just lately. The only time he was spontaneous was in bed!

‘Nicky says you said he can have a dog…a big dog,’ she added drily.

‘A boy should have a dog.’

‘Did you?’ she asked, giving up on her attempts to master the clasp as her arms began to ache.

He shook his dark head. ‘My mother considered pets in the house to be unhygienic. But do you have any objections…?’

‘No, I don’t mind a few dog hairs on the furniture and I think you’re right—a boy should have a dog.’

‘You think I’m right? Be careful, Georgette,’ he mocked. ‘This is getting to be a habit. Let me,’ he added, taking the choker from her unresisting clasp.

She stiffened as he brushed her hair from the nape of her neck, then as his fingertips brushed her skin she released a long, sibilant sigh.

‘Problem?’ he asked.

The enquiry made her eyes snap open. He had to know what his touch did to her. ‘Give that to me,’ she snapped, snatching the pearls from his grasp.

Hands up, Angolos took a step backwards. ‘What did I do…?’

Georgie observed this display of bewilderment with exasperation. ‘Nothing, that’s the point,’ she admitted, succumbing to a bout of ill-timed frankness. ‘You don’t have to do anything, you just,’ she emphasised, stabbing her finger accusingly at him, ‘have to be…
you
,’ she finished lamely.

‘Who would you like me to be? Do you find living with me such a burden?’ he asked in a driven undertone.

‘It’s driving me crazy!’ she admitted. ‘Breathing the same air as you drives me crazy.’

‘Then there is no more to be said.’

His air of cool finality made her want to scream. ‘There’s a great deal more to be said,’ she yelled. ‘I’m fed up with walking into a room and you not looking at me. The only place you want me is in bed,’ she accused.

An expression of total astonishment swept across his face. ‘That is totally untrue!’

‘I don’t think so,’
she retorted bitterly. ‘Did it ever occur to you that simply looking at you turns me to a…?’ She suddenly buried her face in her hands. ‘Look at me—I don’t even know what I’m saying any more…’

Angolos, who had been staring at her, suddenly shook his head as though to clear his thoughts. ‘I am looking at you. I’m always looking at you… I can’t stop looking at you. I want to touch you.’

The catch in his deep, driven voice penetrated her misery. Blinking, Georgie lifted her head. ‘You only have me in the house because Nicky and I are a joint package.’

His jaw tightened. ‘That is a ludicrous thing to say… At times,’ he told her through gritted teeth, ‘I could shake you.
You’re my wife.
’ He grasped her chin in his hand and drew her face up to his. ‘I shouldn’t have to apologise for wanting to look at you, but I feel as if I do.’

‘I’m your mistress,’ she contended stubbornly, ‘in all but name—you only want me in your bed!’ she accused.

‘Sure, I want you in my bed. You in my bed is the only thing that’s keeping me sane.’ He dragged a visibly unsteady hand through his hair.

Georgie was mesmerised by the deep, hot flame that seemed to smoulder in his dark eyes.

‘But I also want you to be my wife in every other sense. I just thought that since I… I thought that you would prefer it that way.’

Her lips quivered. ‘Well, I don’t,’ she rebutted bluntly. ‘Just because you’re on some sort of stupid guilt trip and want to go around looking all stupidly noble I don’t see why I should suffer.’

He looked disconcerted and slightly dazed by her forceful pronouncement. ‘You are suffering…?’

She lifted her glowing eyes to his. ‘Of course I am, you stupid man! I want to be able to talk to you about something that isn’t to do with Nicky without being frozen out. I want to be able to yell at you, and hug you and—’

There was a knock on the door.
‘Ignore it.’

Georgie, who was struggling to catch her breath, was more than willing to follow his tight-lipped advice, but the second knock followed by an apologetic voice was harder to ignore. Angolos cursed softly under his breath, said
‘Later,’
and strode to the door.

‘About time to go to the church, if you’re ready…?’ Paul, oblivious to the electric atmosphere, popped his head around Angolos and gave a thumbs-up sign. ‘Looking good, Georgie,’ he called cheerily.

Georgie, almost laughing at Angolos’s expression, said thank you primly and promised she was ready.

Seeing Angolos with Paul and his wife had been a revelation to Georgie. She had never seen him as relaxed as he was in this informal setting. She had found it difficult to hide her amazement when she had seen her elegant husband roll up his sleeves and do the dishes.

The last of the guests left and Paul came out into the garden to join the two women, who were chatting cosily at the now deserted table. ‘Well, I think that went very well…other than the Uncle Tim, vicar incident.’

‘I think the vicar has heard the odd naughty joke in his life,’ his wife laughed.

‘Could be right. I heard he had quite a colourful life before he donned a dog-collar.’ He pulled up a chair. ‘Where’s Angolos?’

‘He’s gone to check on Nicky,’ Georgie explained.

‘Right. Quite a live wire, isn’t he, that boy?’ He glanced down at the baby sleeping in the wicker crib set on the grass beside the women. ‘I wonder if this one will be like that.’

‘Worse, probably,’ his fond mother suggested comfortably. ‘Leave those, Paul,’ she added as her husband began to gather up stray glasses. ‘We can do them later. He isn’t always so domesticated,’ she added to Georgie. ‘I think he’s showing off for your benefit.’

‘I like that,’ said her indignant spouse with a grin as he dragged up a chair and proceeded to pour the last dregs from a champagne bottle into his glass. ‘I’ll say this for Angolos, he knows his wine, though I suspect most of our guests would have been just as happy with any old fizz.’

‘Don’t be rude, Paul—offer Georgie a drink. I know you’ve still got a crate of the stuff in the kitchen.’

Georgie raised her glass of mineral water. ‘No, I’m fine, thank you.’

‘When is it you move over to Greece?’

Georgie grimaced. ‘Tuesday. I’m pretty nervous,’ she admitted.

‘Don’t be. I’m sure you’ll be fine. It’s easy to see that you and Angolos are solid.’

‘You think so?’ Georgie asked, unaware of the wistful note in her voice or of the glance the married couple exchanged. ‘To be honest I’m not Olympia’s favourite person. Have you met…?’

Mirrie laughed. ‘Oh, yes, we’ve met Olympia. Scary lady. But, Georgie, you’re older and wiser now and, more importantly, you have Nicky. I predict that you’ve done the one thing that will grant you a place in that lady’s heart. You’ve given her a grandson, lots and
lots
of Brownie points, girl. I think you’ll find the balance of power has shifted.’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Georgie said softly as she abandoned her seat and walked over to the crib.

Angolos emerged from the house just in time to hear her say, ‘They’re really lovely when they’re this age, aren’t they?’

‘Worth all the hard work and pain,’ Mirrie agreed, watching the younger girl with a thoughtful expression. ‘And I had an easy labour, or so they told me. How about you?’

‘Long,’ Georgie said, her mind drifting back to those unendurably lonely hours when she had called out Angolos’s name. He hadn’t come and the doctor, whom the midwife had called when she’d become worried by the monitor readings, had been sympathetic but firm.

You can cry later; just now we need to get this baby out.

She gave her head a little shake… She never thought of that. ‘But that’s par for the course with the first baby, so they tell me.’

The other woman grimaced in sympathy. ‘Would I be wrong in thinking you’re just the tiniest bit broody?’ she probed gently.

Across the garden Angolos paused.

Georgie’s head came up with jerk. ‘Angolos doesn’t want another baby just yet,’ she said abruptly. Then, realising she’d made it sound as though Angolos had made the decision unilaterally, she added quickly, ‘That is, we decided…’ She lifted her slender shoulders in an awkward shrug.

‘The mystery is to me that anyone ever has more than one,’ Paul interjected, shaking his head. ‘I know I couldn’t do it again.’

‘Do what, exactly, Paul?’ his wife teased, winking at Georgie. ‘Seriously,’ she added before her husband could retort, ‘I don’t know what I’d have done in labour without this one.’ Mirrie caught hold of her husband’s hand. ‘Just having him there to give me support made such a difference, but then I’m sure you know what I’m talking about.’

‘Mirrie!’
her husband muttered, elbowing her in the side.

‘Ouch! I…’ she began indignantly, then she saw Angolos standing there looking as if someone had just slid a knife between his ribs. His eyes were trained on Georgie, who looked equally stricken. Her hand came up to her mouth. ‘Oh, I didn’t mean…’

‘Right, I think it’s time to open another bottle,’ Paul said, clapping his hands.

Angolos’s gaze flickered to his friend. He exhaled the breath that had been trapped in his chest and smiled. ‘Not for me, thanks, Paul,’ he said quietly. ‘But I wouldn’t mind a coffee. Shall I…?’

‘Are you saying I can’t make coffee?’ Beneath the teasing his friend looked concerned as he followed him back into the house.

Mirrie sought her bed early and Georgie wasn’t far behind. The two men stayed up later, talking about, Georgie presumed, what men talked about when they stayed up late into the night.

Did Angolos discuss her? Did he talk about his marriage? Did his friend know that if it hadn’t been for him discovering Nicky they would by now be divorced?

When Angolos did come to bed she lay there in the darkness listening. She heard him go into the dressing room, presumably to check on the soundly sleeping Nicky. When he came back the soft rustle of clothes indicated he was undressing.

‘Did I wake you?’ he asked when he slid between the sheets.

‘How did you know I was awake?’ she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow she was clutching to her chest.

Not that there was any chance of her falling asleep before he came to bed. Considering the fact she had slept alone for so long, her inability to sleep when he wasn’t there was all the more perverse.

‘I didn’t.’

Georgie could hear the smile in his voice.

‘Come here.’ When he reached for her she allowed herself to be hauled up against him. She felt his breath warm on the back of her neck just before he kissed her ear.

‘You’re naked…’ he discovered.

‘I was hot.’

‘This is something I have noticed about you,’ he agreed.

She sighed and flipped over so that they lay chest to chest, thigh to thigh. She rubbed her cheek against his rough stubble. In the darkness a secret smile curved her lips as she felt his instant response.

He muttered something in Greek and then rolled away from her. A moment later there was a click.

She blinked as light from the bedside lamp illuminated the room. Her expression was a fair reflection of the seething sense of frustration she was feeling.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘You have a very attractive pout.’

Angolos was lying propped up on one elbow, his eyes trained on her face. The sheet had slipped down to waist-level exposing each smooth muscle and hard angle of his taut torso. His skin gleamed like oiled silk in the subdued light. Georgie caught her breath as a spasm of sexual longing so intense she could taste it pierced to the core of her.

‘We need to talk.’

‘Now…?’

‘Did you have a difficult labour?’

Georgie frowned and plucked at the sheet, pleating it between her fingers. It had been the very last thing she had expected him to say. ‘Labour? What brought this on?’

He ignored her bewildered question. ‘Was your grandmother there…or a friend?’ He waited tensely for her reply; the idea of her being alone was intolerable.

She shook her head. ‘Gran—can you see that? Gran’s idea of being supportive would have been to tell me to pull myself together and get on with it.’ When he didn’t smile she added, ‘No, I was alone.’

He closed his eyes and, alarmed by the expression that drew his skin taut across the marvellous bones of his face, Georgie pulled herself into an upright position, bringing the sheet with her.

‘If you don’t count a room full of medical staff.’
Where was this coming from?

His dark lashes lifted. ‘Do not make this a joke,’ he reprimanded severely.

‘I wasn’t…’ She released a sigh. ‘I was just trying to…’

‘Be very British and stoical,’ he suggested.

This accusation drew a small smile from her. ‘If you really want to know I had a very long labour. Nicky was a big baby and I…’

Angolos’s eyes followed the direction of her gaze and he added huskily, ‘You are not.’
She was slender and delicate and…

She nodded. ‘That’s what the midwife said,’ she agreed. ‘It lasted a long time and I was pretty tired. I tried but… She got worried when Nicky’s heartbeat slowed. The doctor was called.’