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‘I assumed that your grandfather lived with you.’
‘No, he has his own house across the bay. Androula tells me that his home suffered a flood during a rain storm, rendering it uninhabitable,’ he said with the suggestion of gritted teeth. ‘This changes everything.’
Bee had no idea what he was talking about. Androula swept them indoors and a tall, broad-shouldered and eagle-eyed elderly man came out to meet them. Paris rushed eagerly straight to his white-haired great-grandfather’s side, Milo trailing trustingly in his brother’s wake. Keen dark eyes set below beetling brows rested on Bee and she flushed, feeling hugely self-conscious.
‘Introduce me to your bride, Sergios,’ the old man encouraged. ‘I’m sorry to invade your privacy at such a time.’
‘You’re family. You will always be a welcome guest here,’ Bee declared warmly, some of the strain etched in her face dissipating. ‘Look how pleased the boys are to see you.’
‘Beauty and charm,’ Nectarios remarked softly to his grandson. ‘You’ve done well, Sergios.’
Bee did not think she was beautiful, but she thought it was very kind of the old man to pretend otherwise. At that very moment her make-up had worn off and she was wearing creased linen trousers stained by Milo’s handprints. Eleni was whinging and stretching out her arms to her and she took the child and rested her against her shoulder, smoothing her little dark head to soothe her. The children were getting tired and cross and she took advantage of the fact to leave the men and follow Androula to the nursery. While the boys enthused over toys familiar from previous visits, Bee asked Androula to show her to her room. Her accommodation was in the tower and her eyes opened very wide when she entered the huge circular bedroom with full-height French windows opening out onto a stone balcony with the most fabulous view of the bay. It was a spectacular and comparatively new addition to the house and her eyes only opened wider when she was taken through the communicating door to inspect a luxurious en suite and matching dressing rooms. Purpose-built accommodation for two and her cheeks warmed. Naturally the household would be expecting Sergios and his bride to share this amazing suite of rooms.
Assured that she had time before dinner, Bee scooped up the wrap she glimpsed in one of her open cases and left the maids to unpack while she went for a bath. She was just in the mood to soak away her stress. Leaving her clothes in an unusually untidy heap and anchoring her hair to the top of her head to keep it dry, she tossed scented bath crystals into the water and climbed in, sinking down into the relaxing warmth with a sigh of appreciation.
A knock sounded on the door and she frowned, recalling that she had not locked it. She was in the act of sitting up when the door opened without further warning to frame Sergios.
Bee whipped her arms over her breasts and roared, ‘Get out of here!’
‘No, I will not,’ Sergios responded with thunderous bite.
CHAPTER SIX
THE smouldering gold of anger in Sergios’s stunning eyes dimmed solely because he was enjoying the view.
There Beatriz was, all pink and wet and bare among the bubbles. Her fair skin was all slippery and his hands tingled with the need to touch. Those breasts he had correctly calculated at more than a handful were topped by buds with the size and lushness of ripe cherries. Erect at that tempting vision within seconds, Sergios was deciding that the need to share facilities might not be quite the serious problem and invasion of privacy that he had gloomily envisaged. In fact it might well pay unexpected dividends of a physical nature.
Outraged green eyes seethed at him. ‘Go!’ Bee yelled at him.
Instead, Sergios stepped into the bathroom and closed the door to lean back against the wood with infuriating cool. ‘Don’t raise your voice to me. The maids are unpacking next door and we’re supposed to be on our honeymoon,’ he reminded her huskily. ‘For someone so hung up on good manners you can be very rude. I knocked on the door—you chose not to answer!’
‘You didn’t give me the chance.’ Bee said resentfully before she reached for a towel, fed up with huddling like some cowed Victorian maiden in the water and all too well aware that her hands didn’t cover a large enough expanse of flesh to conceal the more sensitive areas. As she got up on her knees she deftly used the towel as cover and slowly stood up, keen not to expose anything more.
Fully appreciating the rolling violin curve visible between her waist and hip, Sergios treated her to a wolfish grin of amusement. ‘You need a bigger towel, Beatriz.’
And just like that Beatriz became instantly aware of the fact she was large and clumsy rather than little and dainty. Equally fast she was recalling her size zero sister, Zara, whom Sergios had initially planned to marry, not to mention his equally tiny first wife. That was the shape of woman that was the norm for her Greek husband. On his terms she was a big girl.
‘Or you could just drop the towel altogether, yineka mou,’ Sergios continued huskily, his dark deep drawl roughening round the edges at that prospect.
‘If I wasn’t so busy trying to knot this stupid towel I would slap you!’ Beatriz countered, assuming that he was teasing her, for by no stretch of the imagination could she even picture circumstances in which she might deliberately stand naked in front of a man, even if he was the one whom she had married.
Sergios tossed her a much larger towel from the shelf on the wall and she wrapped it round her awkwardly. ‘We have to share this suite,’ he spelt out, suddenly serious.
Her brow indented. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘My grandfather is staying and I want him to believe that this is a normal marriage. He won’t believe that if we occupy separate rooms and behave like brother and sister,’ he said with a sardonic curl to his wide sensual mouth. ‘We don’t have a choice. We’ll just have to tough it out and hope our acting skills are up to the challenge.’
‘You’re expecting me to share that bedroom with you…even the bed?’ Bee gasped. ‘I won’t do it.’
‘I didn’t offer you a choice. We have an arrangement and it includes providing cover for each other.’ Eyes dramatised by black spiky lashes raked her truculent face in an unashamed challenge. ‘We do what we have to do. I don’t want to upset Nectarios just as you didn’t want to worry your mother. He needs to believe that this is a real marriage.’
‘But I am not willing to agree to share a bed with you,’ Bee repeated with clarity. ‘And that’s all I’ve got to say on the subject apart from the fact that if you sleep out there, I’ll have to sleep somewhere else.’
His eyes glittered as bright as stars in the night sky. ‘Not under my roof—’
Bee felt somewhat foolish and at a disadvantage swaddled in her unflattering towel for if she looked large without it how much larger must she look engulfed within its capacious folds? And had a towel the size of a blanket been a deliberate choice on his part or a coincidence?
‘I’ll get dressed for dinner,’ Bee announced, waiting for him to step aside and let her out of the bathroom. Not under my roof? He could be as threatening as a sabre-toothed tiger but she was not about to change her mind: she was entitled to her own bed.
