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'And does he know what you called me and how you dropped me like a ton of bricks?' she que
ried bitterly. Ten years ago this would have been the happiest day of her life. Now it was too late...
'I didn't deliberately set out to hurt you then. It was an unfortunate set of circumstances—a mistake, if you will. But now I have corrected the wrong I did you; what more could you want?'
The saddest part of all, Jacy realised, was that Leo was actually arrogant enough to believe what he said. 'Nothing, nothing at all,' she murmured, and he swept her into his arms and began to move to the haunting strains of the Greek love-song the band were playing.
With her slender hand held in his, the diamond band, its many facets sparkling brilliantly, caught her attention. To her surprise Leo had insisted on wearing a ring as well, a broad gold band. He moved her closer in his arms and she deliberately turned her head away, allowing her gaze to roam around the crowded room. Huge chandeliers hung from a high, ornately carved roof.
There were long, elegant windows from ceiling to floor, the cerise silken drapes blowing in the breeze. The people were all Greek, but not the stereotyped black-garbed women of the travel brochure. This was a different world, one of great wealth and designer dresses. The jewels of the women alone were worth a king's ransom.
'You're slipping away from me, Jacy. I don't like it.' Lost in her own thoughts, and oddly safe wrapped in Leo's arms, she had let her mind wander, but, coming back to the present with a shock, she was instantly aware of the tension in his magnificent body. 'It is time we left,' he said softly.
A great roar went up as Leo swept her up high in his arms and, with an ease belying his huge frame, lightly ran up a huge circular marble staircase. Jacy, her slender arms wrapped around his neck, in self-preservation, cried, 'What's going on?' All the guests were chasing them.
Then they were inside a huge bedroom. Leo had dropped her to her feet and speedily locked the door behind him just as what sounded like a hundred fists hammered on the door.
Catching her breath, she looked around in awe. In the centre of the room was a huge carved and canopied bed, a four-poster draped in pure white silk trimmed with gold in the classic Greek design. The white walls were hung with exquisite embroidered tapestries. The dressing-table and wardrobes were of the finest yew, and obviously antique. Intricate marquetry was inlaid on the finely polished surfaces. The floor was an impressive marble mosaic in blue and white, with huge rugs interrupting the design around the bed. She caught sight of herself in a long-mirrored door, and saw a stranger. Her golden hair was brushed free and tumbling around her shoulders in a mass of curls; the strap of her camisole was hanging off one shoulder. She looked a mess, she thought numbly, and she felt as nervous as any young virgin. How had it all happened? Where was her sophisticated, competent self?
'At last.' Two strong hands settled proprietorially on her slender shoulders, and spun her around.
She jumped and said the first thing that came into her head. 'Why the noise?' she asked breathlessly, and lifted her eyes to meet his. Her chest constricted in shock. He had stripped to a pair of black silk boxer shorts while she had been dumbly admiring the room, she realised, horrified... Instinctively she put up her hands to ward him off, but when her palms met the crisp hairs of his chest her fingers, with a will of their own, splayed with tactile delight in the seductive curls, the heat of his skin burning her fingertips.
'A tradition carried over from primitive days. Everyone at a wedding celebrates the moment of consummation. In ancient times they circled the bed.' His eyes gleamed with devilish humour. 'Now, thank God, voyeurism is out, and they stop at the door.'
She gasped, her eyes wide with horror at the picture his words portrayed. Then her gaze fastened on Leo, tall and bronzed, his muscular near-naked frame gleaming in the half-light, his head thrown back as he laughed out loud at her shocked expression. In that moment she fancied he looked like the devil himself, the white wings of hair at the side of his dark head resembling two horns. His eyes, black as jet, held hers with almost hypnotic fascination. His hands lifted to frame her face, raising it slightly, and she closed her eyes against the unmistakable passion burning in his.
'Open your eyes, Jacy,' he drawled throatily. 'There is nothing to be afraid of.'
'I'm tired.' And it was true, she realised, her long lashes fluttering briefly. She had been living on her nerves, in a state of permanent tension all day. No, not just all day, but all week, and now she felt the last remnants of her strength slipping away.
I know, Jacy.' His voice softened huskily. 'I'll put you to bed.'
Her eyes flickered open. What exactly did he mean?
Gently he reached for the straps of her top and slid them off her arms; next he unclasped her bra, and then his fingers unzipped her skirt and let it fall to the floor before edging beneath the fine lace panties.
'Don't. I can't. No.'
'You would say no on our wedding night? Shame on you, Jacy,' he mocked arrogantly, totally ignoring her plea, his fingers easing her panties down over her thighs.
She knew exactly what he meant; he would put her to bed all right, but with him. It was there in the dull flush on his high cheekbones, the sensuous curving of his mouth, and from somewhere she gathered her defeated spirit, pushed hard against his chest, and stepped back.
'No, I said,' she cried. She would not let the arrogant devil walk over her again! She would not give in to her baser instincts, although her heartbeat raced and his blatant masculine virility tempted her to do just that. 'I'm pregnant already; what the hell more do you want?' She almost laughed at the expression of dumb amazement that flashed across his handsome face, before his eyes filled with icy anger.
'I want my wife in my bed, and using our child as an excuse will not work. I know you...' And with ridiculous ease he caught her by the shoulders and inexorably drew her towards him. His raking, sexual, explicit gaze appraised her near-naked form and left her in no doubt of his intentions.
She began to struggle, but her bare breasts came in contact with his broad chest, and his dark head descended to fasten with unerring accuracy over hers. She opened her mouth to say no, but the denial died on her lips as he began a ravaging exploration of her mouth that went on and on, until she felt the taste of her own blood on her tongue.
Then mercifully the kiss ended and she took great gulping gasps of air, but Leo, nowhere near as breathless as she was, swung her in his arms and deposited her on the bed. Quickly following her down, his splendidly muscled frame trapped her beneath him.
The dim glow of the bedside light outlined his harsh features. She gazed mutinously up at him, her golden eyes spitting fire.
'Why fight it, Jacy?' His heavy weight anchored her to the bed, and with one hand he caught her wrists and placed them above her head. His black eyes burned pitilessly down into hers. 'You want me, and I intend to show you just how much.' His head bent, but he did not kiss her, instead his lips touched her defiantly jutting chin and trailed down her throat to settle for a moment over the hollow that housed her madly beating pulse, then slipped lower to the softness of her breast.
His free hand skimmed down to cup the soft mound of her breast, rolling the tight nipple between finger and thumb at the same instant as his mouth covered its partner.
A spasm of agonising want shot through her trembling body; her back arched, offering her breasts to him, begging for his seductive caresses. Her golden eyes glazed and she gasped out loud, all thought of denial vanishing as his hand slid lower over her still flat stomach to the tangle of golden curls at her groin. One heavy muscled leg nudged between hers, spreading her thighs, as his fingers delved into the damp warmth of her female core.
