Page 26 of The Greek's Innocent Virgin

She remained silent and he sighed. Okay, so at one time he would have accused her of such a thing, but that time was past. Could she not see it?

Grabbing the back of his neck with one hand, he thought how best to put what was in his mind.

This sort of talk was not something he enjoyed. "When you come to my bed, I want it to be of your own volition."

"What?"

“I do not want you to marry me, or accept me back into your arms because you feel you have no other choice." It was a matter of pride that she take him for himself, not his money.

His attempt at an explanation had done no good.

If anything, she looked more offended. "I wouldn't do that. I value myself too much to trade my body for security."

Why was she so stubbornly refusing to understand?

"Once you own the villa and have sufficient funds, the issue will not arise."

“I don't want them.''

"You are being foolishly stubborn."

“And you are not going to get away with trying to buy a place in my bed."

Did she not realize that was exactly what he did not want to do? Apparently not, because she left the room ten minutes later, not having signed the papers and refusing even a checkbook with her name on it.

His first attempt at courtship had flopped.

Rachel snuck into the small sunroom off the kitchen and slipped onto the window seat, curling her legs under her. The room was unused most of the time; the family preferred to eat together in the spacious dining room. It was empty now and that's exactly the way she'd wanted it.

She needed a break from Sebastian's brand of courtship. The man didn't know the meaning of the word restraint. Dozens of roses filled her room. Boxes with jewelry she refused to wear resided in the top drawer of her dresser and he spent lots and lots of time with her, feeding her need for him, but not as­suaging her fear one iota that he did it all for the baby's sake and not her own.

If she could convince herself that even one half of what he was doing was for her and not merely to ensure his role in the life of the baby she carried, she would have been in heaven. As it was she struggled to stay out of a hell of uncertainties about his feelings and his lack of trust in her basic integrity, despite what he said to the contrary.

He gave lip service to trusting her, but he never stopped trying to cajole her into taking the villa. She refused on the principle that if he truly believed she were not like Andrea, he would trust her to make the decision about marriage irrespective of financial gain even if her current financial state was less than ex­emplary.

And she desperately needed him to believe she was nothing like Andrea.

"I thought I would find you in here."

Her heart quickened like it always did when he was around, but the scary arrhythmic beat had not returned since she went on the beta-blockers.

"I was going to read for a while." She lifted the paperback she'd carried with her into the room for him to see.

His dark brow lifted. "You would rather read in a little used room of the house than on the beach when you love to be outside?"

"It's quiet in here."

"You were hiding."

She blushed guiltily. "I wanted to be by myself for a while. You said you had work to do this morning."

"The morning is over and I cannot help but notice you bolted for your hole at the same time I said I would be done."

Frustrated that her plan to spend time alone re­grouping her defenses had been so quickly foiled and feeling inexplicably defensive, she frowned at him. "You don't have to spend all your time with me. It's not required for your courtship."

"No doubt you would prefer I left you alone en­tirely. Now that your health is assured, you are con­tent to pretend I do not exist."

As if that were possible. "I—"

"You will rejoice to hear that I must return to Athens on business," he said mockingly, interrupting her midword.

"When do you leave?"

"In an hour's time. Were I to invite you to come along, I am sure it would be wasted breath. You heart is a stone where I am concerned."

Man, he was in full-throttle pessimism mode.

"That's not true."

"Is it not? You refuse my gifts and avoid me at every opportunity."

"One attempt to find some privacy is hardly avoid­ing you at every opportunity." She remained mum on the gifts issue because to his way of thinking, he was right.

She refused to be bought.

"Do not let me interrupt you." He indicated her book with a scornful sweep of his hand. "You have far more important things to do than to spend your time conversing with me."

The truth was, she wouldn't mind some time on her own, but she'd never seen Sebastian like this. He seemed almost hurt.

She opened her mouth to speak, but he forestalled her again.

"Maybe the time away will accomplish what my presence has not." He turned to go.

She could not stop herself from reaching a hand out to him. "Sebastian."

He shrugged off her hold. "Do not concern your­self. I am leaving Nardo. He will make sure you have all that you need."

A week later, Sebastian had not returned. He had called each day, but their conversation was stilted. He asked about her health and she asked about his busi­ness. Neither topic required a great deal of discussion. She was feeling great and his business problems were dragging on.

No matter how good the managers, some negotia­tions required Sebastian's touch. Or at least that's what she tried to tell herself, but in the dark of the night she tormented herself with thoughts that Sebastian was using his

business as an excuse to be away from her.

A man used to being fawned over by the most beautiful women in the world wasn't going to take easily to her cold treatment of him. She'd been so angry with him when he brought her back to Greece, hating everything he did for her that made her feel indebted to him.

He was right. She'd refused his gifts, his overtures, all of it, because she hadn't trusted him. He'd hurt her and she could not believe he wanted her for her­self and not their child, but did that mean she should continue to withhold herself from him?

Was being married for the sake of a child the worst thing that could happen to a woman? Wouldn't hav­ing to learn to live without the man she loved be even worse? Or having to stand by and watch him marry one of those gorgeous sophisticates he had dated be­fore her. The thought sent a chill down her spine.

Although she'd tried to block Sebastian from her life completely, she'd had a morbid need to read the European tabloids during the three months she'd been in California. Not once had he been featured with a new woman. It was like Sebastian Kouros had dropped off the face of the social scene entirely. And that had been her single consolation in their being apart.

She told herself that he was as alone as she was.

But really, she had no reason to believe that. He could have had a more discreet relationship with a woman. Maybe that woman was even now in Athens pacifying his ego bruised by Rachel's inability to for­give and forget. She wished she knew how to simply let the past go, but she couldn't.

After her childhood and near-rape at sixteen, she had trusted no one, men especially. Then she'd met Sebastian and he had been kind to her. She had trusted him on an instinctive level she'd never un­derstood, but he had betrayed her trust, rejected her love and accused her of being the one thing she'd determined never to be.

A carbon copy of Andrea Long Demakis.

Even though she still loved him, she didn't know how to let herself be with him. She was scared of being hurt again because she could not turn off her feelings with him. She'd learned to do that with Andrea, but Sebastian got to Rachel on a level her mother had not even striven for.

She flipped onto her back, the dark shadows in her room no comfort from her thoughts. Why was love so hard for her? Andrea, who had never loved a single person in her life, had been loved by many, but Rachel had been loved

by no one except a father she'd been torn away from.

The phone rang, shrilly interrupting her gloomy thoughts.

She rolled over to eye the clock. Midnight. Who would be calling so late? Could something have hap­pened to Sebastian?

She clambered across the bed to reach the phone on the table. She pushed the button. "Hello?"

Another voice said something in Greek at the same time.

Then Sebastian spoke in Greek and the other ex­tension clicked, leaving her alone on the line with him.

"Sebastian?"

"It is I."

"Are you all right?"

A low, bitter laugh came across the line. "Do not tell me you care. I am nothing to you now."

"You're the father of my child. That's hardly noth­ing."

"The sperm donor, you mean."

"What a crazy thing to say."

"It is not crazy to know I can mean nothing to you if you will not marry me."

She settled against the headboard in the darkness of her room. "Getting married will not solve our problems."

In fact, it was bound to create more since their emotional commitment would be so far divergent.

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