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Over the white noise whoosh of the sea, Xan’s voice broke into her thoughts and Tamsyn glanced up to follow the direction of his gaze. She hadn’t really thought about what she might find at the end of her journey but now her heart contracted with something like yearning as suddenly she understood the meaning of the word paradise.
Xan’s home was situated on a strip of land surrounded on three sides by the sea, like a green finger dipping into pot of blue water. A large, elevated modern house glinted in the bright sunshine of the spring morning but there were other buildings occupying the sprawling estate too, which made her realise just how vast it was. Outside s
eating areas with wicker chairs and tables and a long veranda, festooned with bright flowers and green climbers. In the distance was the seductive glitter of a sapphire swimming pool which blended into the ocean beyond, and impossibly smooth, emerald lawns sloping down a private beach, where a curve of sugar-white sand tempted the eye. Tamsyn watched as Xan expertly brought the yacht skimming into the small harbour where two fishermen were waiting, greeting him affectionately as they helped him anchor the boat.
Still in her wedding heels, Tamsyn consented to being lifted onto the sand by her new husband, which she supposed only added to the supposed romance of their arrival. And despite trying to convince herself that the gesture was functional rather than emotional, that didn’t stop her skin from shivering in response when he briefly held her in his powerful arms. Did her eyes darken or some other barely visible response communicate itself to him? Was that why there was a speculative narrowing of his eyes? Tamsyn stiffened. Just because she felt desire, didn’t mean she was going to act on it, did it? Even if it was difficult to shake the memories of just how good it had been between them...
‘Let’s go up to the house,’ he said, indicating a steep flight of stone steps, before casting a doubtful look at her towering white heels. ‘Think you can manage to walk in those, or would you like me to carry you?’
‘I think I can manage,’ she said, seeing the answering smile which curved his lips.
‘I thought you might say that,’ he commented drily.
But by the time they reached the top of the steps with Tamsyn panting slightly, Xan caught hold of her hand, lacing his fingers in hers as they began to walk towards the lawn.
She shot him a questioning glance, hating the sudden thrill of her hand as it was enclosed in the warmth of his. ‘Xan?’ she said breathlessly.
‘My housekeeper is watching from the house,’ he said. ‘And I know how disappointed she would be if she thought we were anything other than a pair of deliriously happy newlyweds.’
His housekeeper was watching.
Well, what had she expected? That he had been suddenly overcome with emotion? Tamsyn tried to pull away but he stayed her with the feather-light circling of his thumb and instead she found herself shivering in response. What was the matter with her? Was she so starved of physical affection that even a tiny stroke could reduce her to such a state of longing? Maybe she was. Or maybe gestures like that mimicked real closeness and made her realise with a sudden shock just what she’d never had. No mother to cuddle her. No father to bounce her on his knee. Nobody except Hannah who back then had only ever given her the occasional half-hearted hug, because it was kind of embarrassing to cuddle your kid sister.
So remember why you’re here, she told herself fiercely. Remember why you’re doing this. Not for love, or scraps of affection, but for money. Money for Hannah—the only person who’d ever really been there for her.
But it was easy to forget reality when the housekeeper was standing in the doorway watching them approach, her face creased with pleasure as she clapped her gnarled hands together in delight. The greeting she gave Xan was a surprise—Tamsyn hadn’t expected the tycoon to consent to being embraced so fervently by his elderly housekeeper. But neither was she prepared for the crushing embrace to which she was subjected afterwards and for a moment she stood, stiff as a board before gradually relaxing into the woman’s cushioned flesh. And wasn’t she secretly glad of that brief opportunity to compose herself and the chance to blink away the tears which had inexplicably sprung to her eyes.
‘Tamsyn, this is Manalena,’ Xan was saying as the woman relinquished her hold at last. ‘Who has been with the family for a very long time.’
‘Kalispera!’ beamed Manalena, mimicking a rocking movement with her arms. ‘I have known Kyrios Xan since he was a baby.’
It was difficult to imagine this towering man as a baby, thought Tamsyn. To picture him small and helpless and vulnerable. ‘And was he a good baby?’ she asked, with a smile.
Manalena gave a shake of her greying head. ‘He never sleep and when he was a little boy, he never sit still. He is still like that now, and I am very happy he find a wife at last.’
Tamsyn remembered Xan telling her that his engagement to Sofia had been a private matter and for that she was grateful. Imagine if his staff regarded her as some kind of usurper and resented her, making her sense of isolation even more pronounced. She wondered how the housekeeper would feel if she knew the truth behind their whirlwind wedding and that Tamsyn was not the genuine and loving bride she must have hoped for. A flicker of discomfort washed over her as she glanced up at Xan while Manalena spoke to him in a torrent of rapid and babbled Greek.
‘Manalena has just been explaining that a special wedding breakfast has been prepared for us,’ he translated. ‘She is also complaining that this morning a member of my staff arrived from Athens and is getting under her feet.’
As if on cue, a sleek brunette emerged from the house, talking excitedly into a cellphone, before quickly terminating the call. Slim and sophisticated, it was impossible to know exactly how old she was, though Tamsyn would have guessed mid to late thirties. Shiny shoulder-length hair swung in a raven arc around her chin and her linen trousers and pristine cream blouse made her appear the very definition of cool. In her too-short wedding dress with the flowers beginning to wilt in her windswept curls, Tamsyn felt inferior in comparison, even though the woman was smiling at her in a friendly manner.
‘Hello! You must be Tamsyn,’ she said, her perfect English tinged with a fetching Greek accent. ‘I’m Elena and I’m very pleased to meet you and to offer my congratulations.’
‘Elena is my personal assistant from the Athens office,’ explained Xan. ‘She’s been overseeing all the wedding party preparations.’
‘I hope everything will be to your satisfaction,’ said Elena quickly. ‘Xan gave me carte blanche to make decisions about food and drink and decorations, so I did. I would have communicated with you directly except—’
‘I told Elena you were busy winding up your life in England,’ said Xan, meeting Tamsyn’s eyes with a bland look.
Tamsyn forced a smile because what could she say? That packing up her few miserable possessions had taken about five minutes and she might have welcomed having a little input into her own wedding party, rather than sitting around in the unfamiliar luxury of the Granchester Hotel, wondering what on earth she had let herself in for. Xan had given her a credit card and told her to buy an entire new wardrobe, one befitting the wife of a Greek tycoon. And although Tamsyn had half-heartedly done as he’d asked, she’d bought only what was strictly necessary, obsessively keeping all the receipts so that they could be included in a final tally when the divorce settlement came through.
Perhaps Xan had drafted Elena because he was afraid his new wife might prove incapable of choosing a sophisticated menu for their wedding party, despite holding her own that night they’d dined together at the Granchester. Or maybe he was worried she might let slip the true nature of their whirlwind romance—although he didn’t seem to be doing anything to bolster the false fairytale himself. He wasn’t exactly acting like a man who’d been swept away by passion, was he? She doubted whether that brief hand-holding exhibition would have convinced his housekeeper—or anyone else—that this marriage was for real.
‘I’m very grateful for your help,’ she told Elena brightly. ‘For a start, I don’t speak any Greek.’
‘Well no, not yet,’ said Elena with a friendly grin. ‘But you will. Like your new husband, it isn’t easy—but it’s certainly possible to master.’
‘I think you should kiss goodbye to your bonus, Elena,’ said Xan mildly, propelling Tamsyn forward with the brief caress of his fingers. ‘Come and meet the rest of the staff.’
