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Jade vowed to match his icy politeness. ‘The sooner it’s done, the sooner this farce of a mar- riage can be finished.’
A fleeting look of anger distorted his features, making his eyes as black as ink. ‘The days, perhaps. But not the nights,’ he taunted softly. ‘Do you not want those to go on forever? Or did my ears de- ceive me last night when you begged me not to stop?’
Jade’s cheeks flushed hotly. What a louse he was, to bring that up in broad daylight. She met his gaze full on. ‘I was overwrought last night, not surprisingly. But it’s a mistake which I shan’t make again,’ she vowed fervently. Even if it killed her.
‘No?’ A mocking smile twisted his mouth. ’Forgive me if I find that somehow hard to believe, Jade. You’re hungry for me all the time. Even now, while you profess to hate me so much.’ And his eyes dipped insultingly to her breasts, which tingled and throbbed under his blatantly sexual scrutiny, and she turned away from him, horrified by the betraying response of her body.
‘So do I take it you won’t be joining me for dinner tonight?’ he asked silkily.
‘Correct!’ she rapped out.
‘Beauty sleep before we take our vows? I guess you need it.’
The implication was brutally clear—she certainly hadn’t got very much sleep last night. Oh, what had possessed her? Why did the night play such cruel, deceptive tricks? Last night he had seemed like security personified, solid as a rock in the dark loneliness of her nightmare, comforting her and loving her with his body. While now he was a cold- faced stranger who eyed her with nothing but lust, making mockery of the binding intimacy she had imagined they’d shared. ‘I’m going to my room,’ she said icily, and turned her back on him, but halted at the curt command of his next words.
‘The wedding takes place at ten. We leave here at a quarter to the hour.’
Jade hesitated, wondering just what agenda he was proposing for their wedding-night. ‘And after- wards?’ she asked, as coolly as she could.
‘Afterwards we travel to Piros.’
The blistering heat hit Jade like a sledgehammer, and she was so exhausted that she allowed Constantine’s hand to support her back. His black eyes remained impenetrable and his mouth was a tense, thin line as he helped her out of the small rowing boat which had brought them from his luxury yacht, now moored just off the island of Piros. Seeing the island where they’d been so happy sent shock-waves of regret through her, but she de- terminedly kept her face poker-straight as she stared at the contrast of the deep lapis lazuli of the sea lapping against the white sand.
They had spent the last twelve hours travelling, flying from Heathrow to Athens after the wedding, then being driven to Piraeus Harbour to board the yacht.
‘Tired?’ he asked softly, his eyes narrowed as he watched her gaze flicker round to where people sat drinking and eating in the tiny quayside tavernas. Hard to believe that a few short weeks ago the two of them had roamed the island, hand-in-hand and carefree.
Jade nodded, swallowing to try to dispel the stupid lump in her throat. The journey had been long, and tiring, but it was the emotional strain of her whole wedding-day which had left her feeling as weak as a kitten.
However much of a farce the ceremony might have been, she had still found it unbearably painful to go through the motions of the simple wedding service. To have to say ‘I will’ to Constantine, and then to have him slip the ring on to her finger, and act like it meant nothing to her, when quite clearly it did. But the worse had been to come. After the registrar had pronounced them husband and wife he had pulled her into his arms and told her that she looked exquisite, before kissing her thoroughly in front of the registrar and a grinning Stavros and Tony so that she was left quite dizzy and breathless.
Because it had all been a front—that much was obvious since for the rest of the journey he had lapsed into a terse and moody silence, punctuated only by curt enquiries as to whether she wanted food, drink, another cushion, to sleep or to read. ’Just let me know if there is anything that you want,’ he had said eventually, in the same hard, cold voice.
She knew exactly what she wanted. She wanted all this to be real. She wanted, not politeness, not even passion. She wanted love.
And now they were on Piros she knew neither for how long, nor for what purpose.
She held her head stiffly, unaccustomed to the heavy style of French plait, still dressed with the fragrant white flowers which Constantine had in- sisted on ordering for their wedding. ‘And how long do you anticipate we’ll be staying?’
He stared out at the dark blue band of the horizon. ‘That depends,’ he answered obscurely.
‘On?’
‘A number of factors, but I do not intend to discuss them here. You are tired, Jade. I will take you to my home.’
My home, she observed. Very territorial.
Before she knew it he was strapping her into the same beaten-up old jalopy as he’d driven her around in when she’d met him. In view of what she now knew of his lifestyle, his choice of car seemed de- cidedly incongruous. ‘Why do you drive this, when in London you have a limousine?’ she asked curiously.
He changed gear with a smoothness which was amazing, considering that the car seemed to be on its last legs. ‘That’s city life,’ he shrugged. ‘The world I move in expects symbols which demon- strate status and wealth. So I play the game. But I’m not turned on by cars.’
‘As long as they get you from A to B?’
He shrugged. ‘You have it in one.’
‘This one might take longer getting from A to B than most!’
He laughed. ‘Sure. But this car’s very special to me.’
