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She blinked at him—unaccustomed mascara making her eyes look huge and smoky. ‘We’re having a honeymoon?’
‘Isn’t that traditional?’ he murmured as his finger trailed over her pearl-encrusted sleeve. ‘As traditional as your white gown and veil? You’ll enjoy it, Lucy. I thought we’d fly to my island for the Christmas Eve celebrations.’
‘You mean Prasinisos?
He smiled. ‘At the last count, Prasinisos was the only island I owned.’
She pushed the waterfall of white veil back over her shoulder. ‘I never really thought about going to Greece at Christmas time.’
‘You thought my homeland neglected the winter holiday entirely?’ he challenged mockingly. ‘Or that it only comes to life when you can dip your sun-baked body into the wine-dark sea?’ He gave a soft laugh. ‘Then you must be prepared to have your mind changed.’
‘And what about Xander?’ she asked tentatively. ‘What’s going to happen to our...son?’
Drakon frowned. His son. It was a word he had so far avoided using because it had been strange to think of himself as a parent. It still was. Every time he looked at the helpless infant, he could feel a cold fear clench at his heart, which made him turn away. But while nobody could accuse him of being falsely demonstrative, surely she didn’t think him uncaring enough to drag the infant halfway across the world and back for a couple of days? He narrowed his eyes. ‘The child’s presence is unnecessary,’ he said. ‘And the journey will be too much.’
‘But it’s Christmas!’
‘And you think a baby of less than three months will miss out on opening his presents?’ he demanded.
‘Please don’t put words in my mouth, Drakon!’
‘Then stop being so emotional. We will be gone for just three nights and then we will be back home in Mayfair.’
‘It just feels... I don’t know... It feels weird to leave him behind.’
‘You’ll get used to it. That’s why we employ a loyal and caring nanny. Now, wipe that frown from your face and let’s go and greet our guests. My godfather has travelled here from Honolulu and I really want you to meet him.’
With a heart which felt suddenly heavy, Lucy followed Drakon back into the ballroom to the sound of loud clapping and people crying, ‘Opa!’
Smiling at the guests, she tried to shake off her worries about guilt she’d felt when the celebrant had talked about them extending their family and her gaze had dropped to stare at the gleaming marble floor. But she’d told herself that none of his words were relevant, not in their case—and there was no need to feel guilty. Drakon didn’t want any more children, so the fact she was unable to give him any was neither here nor there.
Her heavy train slithering like a giant white snake behind her, she accompanied her new husband to the far end of the crowded ballroom, where his godfather was holding court. A handsome, silver-haired property magnate in his early sixties, Milo Lazopoulos was charming as he bent to kiss her on each cheek. The adoring crowd around him instantly dispersed, leaving the two men to speak briefly in Greek before Drakon excused himself and disappeared. Putting her bouquet down on a nearby table and finding herself alone with his godfather, Lucy was forced to address Milo’s probing line of conversation once the traditional pleasantries had been dispensed with.
‘I thank heaven that Drakon has stepped up to the plate and taken on the responsibilities left behind by his brother.’ Milo shook his head. ‘It was a terrible business. A terrible end to all that golden promise Niko was born with. To lose everything because you want to stick a needle in your arm. I just can’t understand it.’
‘They say that addiction is an illness,’ said Lucy quietly. ‘So perhaps we should feel compassion for him.’
Milo’s gaze was piercing. ‘Drakon tells me you used to be a nurse.’
‘That’s right.’ Lucy nodded. ‘A midwife, actually.’
‘Which means you are well equipped to take on a young baby,’ he observed.
‘I’m going to do my very best.’ She wondered what else Drakon had told his godfather. That they had agreed to a loveless marriage which was more of a business arrangement than anything else?
‘But you left midwifery?’ Milo continued.
‘Not everyone stays in the job for life,’ she commented gently.
‘Because it was too distressing?’
There was a pause and Lucy could hear the loud beat of her heart hammering beneath the embellished bodice of her wedding dress. He was insightful, she thought, as well as being blunt. There were distressing aspects in every field of nursing, of course there were. But she wouldn’t be telling Milo about her real reason for leaving the profession. Or Drakon, come to think about it. There was no need to, she reminded herself painfully. ‘Something like that,’ she agreed.
Something about her guarded reply made Milo’s eyes narrow. Was he aware of her misgivings and did this make him decide that his interrogation had been a little on the harsh side? ‘You seem the perfect choice of wife for my godson, Lucy. Someone calm and solid. A safe harbour after all those years of him resisting all forms of commitment. Funny, we always thought he’d...’ His words came to an abrupt halt as he plucked two glasses of champagne from a passing waitress and handed one to Lucy. ‘Let me be the first to toast the beautiful bride,’ he said, the fine lines which edged his black eyes crinkling into a smile as he held his goblet aloft. ‘Na zisoun!’
But Lucy could be insightful too and as she chinked her glass to his she wondered what he wasn’t telling her. ‘Always thought he’d, what...?’
She could see speculation flashing in Milo’s eyes, as if working out what she would or wouldn’t be able to tolerate. But she kept her gaze firm and steady, willing him to tell her the truth. Because this was a marriage based on truth, wasn’t it? Not fairy tales or fantasy.
