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Lucy thought about the modest gift she had tucked away for him in her suitcase and realised how humble it would appear in this lavish setting, as Drakon led her upstairs to the vast bedroom which overlooked the Mediterranean. The room was full of bright light and winter sunshine but she found herself glancing around nervously, and her voice was diffident when she spoke. ‘It looks...different in here.’
‘It is.’ The sweeping movement of his hand indicated the pristine linen adorning the king-size bed, as well as a soft new shade of grey on the walls. ‘I decided to have the room redecorated before you got here.’
She was silent for a moment. ‘Oh? And why was that?’
‘Does it matter why?’
Lucy tried to stem the question but she couldn’t. Afterwards she would try to justify it by reasoning that she needed to know exactly where she stood, but perhaps it was more like worrying a healing cut on your finger and inadvertently making it bleed again. ‘I think so,’ she said lightly. ‘Aren’t we supposed to be honest with each other now we’re married?’
There was a pause. ‘I just thought it would be good to start afresh, with a completely clean slate.’
‘You mean, we’ll be using sheets which haven’t been slept in by any other woman?’
He winced. ‘If you like.’
She nodded, hating the completely unreasonable urge to cry which was making her eyes prickle. She knew the reality because he’d painstakingly spelt it out for her in London, just so there could be no mistake. He’d explained that he hadn’t been sexually indiscriminate but, even so, of course he’d had plenty of lovers before her. And why shouldn’t he? She was the freak, not Drakon. She was the woman approaching thirty who’d never been intimate with anyone until she’d melted into the arms of her Greek lover.
‘But won’t you miss it, Drakon?’ she forced herself to question huskily. ‘The variety of having all those different lovers? Though maybe I’m being presumptuous in assuming there won’t be any in the future. We’ve never discussed whether this is going to be an open marriage before now, have we?’
Drakon could hear the bravado in her voice and admired her outspokenness, knowing that few women would have been so matter-of-fact about such a tricky subject. Until he reminded himself that her candour was only possible because neither of them had any real emotion invested in the relationship. And that was why this marriage had a chance of succeeding—because there were no unrealistic expectations of love. And if she wanted honesty, didn’t he owe her that? His mouth hardened. Of course he did. Especially when he found lies so detestable.
‘I thought I’d made it clear that I would pledge to you my sexual loyalty,’ he said coolly. ‘Because I know how destructive infidelity can be. I’m not planning on having anyone other than you as my lover, Lucy, because sexually you thrill me in every way.’ He sucked in a deep breath. ‘But right now I’m having difficulty talking because the desire to pin you down on that bed and lose myself deep inside your body is pushing everything else from my mind.’
‘Then what are you waiting for?’ she questioned shakily.
He could hear the relief in her voice as he walked towards her, enjoying the instinctive darkening of her eyes as he unbuttoned her coat and hung it over the back of a chair. ‘You seem to be wearing rather a lot of clothes,’ he complained as he bent to unzip her knee-high boots.
‘It was s-snowing when we left the Granchester, if you remember,’ she breathed, perching on the edge of the bed as he slid the soft leather over each calf.
‘Well, it isn’t snowing here.’
She lifted her hips accommodatingly to allow him to slither her skirt over them. ‘Does it ever snow on the island?’ she queried conversationally.
‘I didn’t bring you here to discuss the damned weather,’ he growled. ‘We’re not in England now.’
He undressed her efficiently and though on some level he registered the fine fabric and cut of her new clothes, it was the naked Lucy which made his senses soar like the peregrine falcon which had swooped through the sky on the journey here. His fingers skated over her big, pale breasts and traced featherlight paths over her arching ribcage and although he was rock-hard and eager to thrust deep inside her, he made himself wait. As he slowly kissed her belly and licked a teasing line downwards, he lifted his head to look at her.
‘You’ve waxed,’ he observed, one demonstrative finger circling the satin-smooth skin of her inner thigh. ‘I noticed it last night but was a little too...preoccupied to mention it.’
‘Drakon!’
‘You want to be intimate in all ways?’ he mused. ‘Or do you want always to behave like a virgin and talk like a virgin?’
She shook her head. ‘The...the wedding dress designer advised I get it done.’ She gasped as his finger dipped lower. ‘She said she thought...less is more—’
‘Except concerning the application of sequins, of course,’ he commented drily as he moved over her.
He made it last as long as he could—which was precisely long enough to allow them both to choke out their almost simultaneous pleasure. The second time he took it more slowly, enjoying Lucy’s cries of wonder as her nails dug into his shoulder. When eventually they fell asleep, the setting sun was blazing through the huge windows so that the interior of the bedroom resembled a coral furnace.
And when they woke, diamond-bright stars had been dusted over the clear, night sky. Drakon clicked on a lamp to see Lucy struggling to open her eyes, her nut-brown hair spread like satin over the pillow.
‘What time is it?’ she enquired sleepily.
‘Dinner time.’ He glanced over at his wristwatch. ‘At least, it will be soon. Spiro was in the process of preparing a wedding feast and if you want to shower—’
‘I do. I won’t take long.’
‘Take as long as you like. This room has two bathrooms.’
