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He touched the end of a straying strand of her dark hair where it lay on her shoulder. ‘Grow your hair again. I liked it longer.’
‘Are you used to women doing what you like with their appearance?’ Bee prompted a tad sourly.
‘Yes,’ Sergios proclaimed without a shred of discomfiture.
‘Any other orders, boss?’ Bee could not resist the crack.
‘Smile and relax,’ he urged. ‘Nectarios is already very taken with you. He sees a big improvement in his great-grandsons—’
‘My goodness, it’s not down to my influence. I’ve only been with the children a few weeks—’
‘But they didn’t see that much of their own mother, so your attention means a great deal to them.’
‘Why didn’t they see much of their mother?’
‘She was a popular TV presenter and rarely at home. Timon adored her.’
Suddenly she wanted to know if Sergios had adored Krista but she found that she couldn’t imagine him in thrall to a woman, eager to impress and please. There was a bone-deep toughness and a reserve to Sergios that suggested that nothing less than pole position in a relationship would satisfy him. Yet he had only been twenty-one when he wed Krista and to marry so young he must have been a good deal less cynical about the institution of marriage. Comparing that to his attitude at their wedding the day before, Bee could only assume that he had got badly burned by Krista in some way. Of course there was the alternative view that losing Krista and their unborn child had hurt him so much that he had resolved never to fall in love or marry again.
Suddenly irritated by her curiosity, she asked herself why she should care. He had married her purely for the sake of Timon’s children and she needed to remember that. This afternoon he had wanted to bed her and the motivation for that staggering turnaround was not that hard to work out, Bee reflected ruefully. How many other sexual options could this little Greek island offer Sergios? He was supposed to be on his honeymoon and if he wanted his grandfather to believe that it was a normal marriage he could scarcely ditch his bride and rush off to seek satisfaction in some other woman’s bed. So, for the present, Sergios was trapped in a masquerade and Bee had become miraculously desirable through a complete absence of competition. Right now she was the only option her sensual Greek husband had. It was an acknowledgement that would certainly ensure she didn’t develop a swollen head about the precise nature of her attractions.
Dinner was served on a terrace outside the formal dining room. The sun was going down over the sea in fiery splendour and the food was delicious. Bee ate with relish while Nectarios entertained her with stories about the history of the island and family ownership. As the two men finally succumbed to catching up on business, it amused her to recognise how alike Sergios and his grandfather were in looks and mannerisms and she told them she would not be offended if they switched to talking in Greek. She would have to learn the language and quickly, she recognised, grateful that learning languages came relatively easily to her, for it was essential that she be able to communicate effectively with the staff and the children. She did not want to be shut out of half of the conversations going on around her.
She contemplated Sergios over her fresh fruit dessert. The low lights gleamed over his cropped black hair and cast shadows on his strong bronzed profile. He was extraordinarily handsome and even the way he moved was sensual, she thought abstractedly, her eyes following the elegant arc inscribed by an eloquent hand as he spoke. When she glanced up and realised that Nectarios was watching her watch Sergios she went pink. A few minutes later she said it was time she looked in on the children and she left the table.
Having checked on the kids and agreed to take Paris down to the beach in the morning, Bee walked past the door of the main bedroom and on up the final flight of stairs to the bedroom at the top of the tower. Earlier that evening she had found the room and had decided that it would do her nicely as a bolthole. Hadn’t she read somewhere recently that it was fashionable for couples with sufficient space in their homes to pursue a better night’s sleep by occupying different bedrooms? Separate beds need not mean that anyone’s relationship was on the rocks and that was what she would tell Sergios if he tried to object.
She slid on a light cotton nightdress that was far from glamorous, for she had disdained the silk and satin lingerie the personal shopper had directed her towards in London. She climbed into her big comfortable bed and lay with her cooling limbs splayed in a starfish shape to let all her tension drain away. In time this house and the new life she was leading would feel familiar and comfortable, she told herself soothingly.
The door opened and she jerked in surprise, lifting her head several inches off the pillow to peer across the room. The light from the stairwell fell on Sergios’s lean strong features and glimmered over his bare, hair-roughened chest and the towel that appeared to be all he was wearing. Bee’s short-lived relaxation dive-bombed and her limbs scissored back together again as she sat up and switched on the light.
‘What are you doing in here?’
‘As you’ve deserted the marital bed so must I. Wherever we sleep, we stay together,’ Sergios spelt out with hard dark eyes and an unyielding angle to his jaw line.
Bee was intimidated by the amount of naked masculine flesh on view. He was tall and broad and, stripped, his big strong shoulders, powerful torso and tight flat stomach were distinctly imposing. ‘Don’t you dare take off that towel!’ she warned him thinly.
‘Don’t be such a prude,’ Sergios told her impatiently. ‘I sleep naked. I always have.’
‘I can’t treat you like a brother if I’ve seen you naked!’ Bee snapped back in embarrassment.
Sergios, engaged in wondering why she would want to treat him like a brother when his own intentions had roamed so far from the platonic plane, threw up both hands in a sudden gesture of exasperation. ‘You must’ve seen loads of guys naked!’
‘Oh, is that a fact?’ Bee hissed, insulted by that assumption. ‘You think I’ve slept with a lot of men?’
‘I’ve had quite a few women. I’m not a hypocrite,’ Sergios said drily.
Bee was seething. ‘FYI some of us are a little more particular.’
‘Did they all wear pyjamas?’ Sergios asked, unable to resist that crack as his wondering gaze took in the full horror of the nightdress she wore: a baggy cotton monstrosity edged with fussy lace.
Bee cringed inwardly. ‘There hasn’t actually been anyone yet,’ she admitted, hoping dismay at her inexperience would persuade him that she really did need her privacy.
Sergios came to an abrupt halt about ten feet from the foot of the bed. A frown had drawn his brows together. ‘You can’t mean that you’ve never had a lover…’
Bee reddened but she lifted and dropped both shoulders in a dismissive shrug as though the subject did not bother her at all. ‘I haven’t.’
Momentarily, Sergios was transfixed by the concept. He had believed virgins had died out around the same time as efficient contraception was developed. He had certainly never expected to find one in his bed. He swung on his heel and strode back out o
