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“Green, to match your eyes? Gold, to suit your hair?” Instead of waiting for her answer, he turned to the hovering clerk. “We want everything you have in those colors.”
“Damian!”
“Please, do not argue! You are tired. We are done shopping for the day.”
His tone was imperious. Arrogant. Ivy knew she ought to tell him so…
Instead she buried her face against his shoulder and thought, Just for today, just for now, let this all be a dream.
Not the beautiful clothes, the elegant shops. They didn’t matter.
Damian did.
She could pretend, couldn’t she? Pretend he was her wonderful, incredible lover? Pretend they were together because they wanted to be? Pretend they had planned this baby, longed for it together?
What harm could it possibly do?
They flew home in the gathering twilight, trading the lights of the city for those of ships, of islands, of stars.
This time, Ivy went willingly into Damian’s arms when he insisted on carrying her from the helicopter to the Jeep he’d left beside the airstrip hours before.
He put her into the passenger seat, then got behind the wheel and started the engine, let it idle as he stared out the windshield.
“Ivy. I have waited all day to tell you this.” He cleared his throat. “I was very angry this morning.”
Ivy sighed. So much for dreams. The day was over. Back to reality.
“I’m sure you were,” she said quietly, “but—”
“Angry is too mild a word, glyka mou. I was furious.”
“Damian. You have to understand that—”
“I have done a terrible thing.”
“You must understand that…” She swung toward him. “What?”
“I brought you to my island so I could take care of you. Instead I’ve terrified you.”
The soft night breeze tossed Ivy’s hair over her cheek. She swept it back as she stared at the man seated beside her.
“I—I behaved badly that first night.” He took a deep, deep breath, then expelled it. “And then, this morning…I had no right to turn my anger on you but I did and because of that, you walked a steep, long road under the hot sun.”
Say something, Ivy told herself, for heaven’s sake, say something!
“Walking is—walking is good for me.”
“Ivy.” His voice was rough. “I’m trying to apologize and—” He looked at her and smiled. “And it’s not something I’m very good at.”
Something in her softened. “Maybe because you don’t do it very often,” she said, smiling a little, too.
He grinned. “There are many people who would agree with you.” He cleared his throat, engaged the gears and the Jeep moved forward. “So we will start over. I will take care of you.”
“Damian. I don’t need you to take care of me. I’ve been taking care of myself for a very long time.”
“It’s what I want.”
Ivy hesitated. “Because of—because of the baby.”
