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CHAPTER FOUR
THISWASEXACTLYwhat he needed, Achileas thought, stepping onto the balcony that led off his bedroom and into the warm, fluttering air. After the fast-food and exhaust-fume-filled grey air of London there was something cleansing about the bright beat of the sun.
Greek sunlight was laser-white and hot—so hot that even wearing loose linen trousers and a T-shirt he felt overdressed.
He squinted through the light to where the sapphire sparkle of the sea met the cloudless blue sky, letting his eyes adjust, and then he caught a movement down on the sleek stone terrace. He tensed as a small, slight figure in a pale ankle-skimming dress and a cartwheel-sized straw hat stepped into view.
Effie.
He felt his breath catch.
It was just over a week since he had knocked on the door to her Lilliputian flat and asked her to be his wife. It had taken eight days to extricate her from her job, and get the legal documents written up and signed before flying first to Athens on his private jet and then by helicopter to the island.
Hisisland.
He stared out across the terrace, his gaze leapfrogging over the low stone wall that edged the pool area to the untouched landscape of wind-tangled cedar and feathery grasses, and further still to the smooth, wide strip of never-ending blue.
It was nearly seven years since he’d bought this tiny outcrop of rock at the edge of the Cyclades, and he still wasn’t tired of the view. Truthfully, it was the only place on the planet where he stopped to notice the view. Perhaps that was why he came closest here to feeling at home.
It wasn’t just the view. There was a serenity and a simplicity that both soothed and invigorated him. And, of course, privacy. His mouth twisted. Maybe it was a hangover from shared dormitories at school, but he liked to have his own space.
Except now it wasn’t just his space.
Out on the terrace, Effie was making her way around the edge of the gleaming turquoise infinity pool. He watched her, his eyes narrowing on the sway of her hips as she moved. But his body was remembering the feel of those hips when he’d kissed her and she had kissed him back, arching against him, her body curving like a bow in his hands.
His fingers tightened against the rail. He had kissed her to prove her wrong. Instead, he had been proved wrong.
Tracking her progress across the smooth slabs, he felt his pulse speed up. She had tasted sweet like honey, and she had been so responsive. That was what had shocked him most—what shocked him now. He had thought she would be prim and proper, and there had been a kind of hesitancy at first, but then she had melted into him, against him.
He could feel it now. Still.
And he hadn’t been able to hold back. Hadn’t wanted to stop. It had taken a massive effort of will to pull away from her body, to tear his mouth from hers, and even then, he had struggled to hide the truth of things.
He jammed his hands in his pockets. It was his own fault. The self-inflicted consequence of six months of celibacy. And it wouldn’t happen again. She wasn’t his type.
But she was going to be his wife.
Only for that to work they needed to get comfortable with one another. Comfortable enough for him to be able to confidently introduce Effie to his father. The corners of his mouth curved into a small, satisfied smile.
Then, finally, he would be rightfully, publicly and legally acknowledged for what and who he already was. An Alexios.
It couldn’t happen soon enough, he thought with a flicker of impatience. Now that he had a wife waiting in the wings, he just wanted it done. So, there would be no diving into the pool and swimming a few leisurely lengths as he would normally. He had told Effie to meet him for breakfast. He wanted to go over the story of how they’d first met.
His gaze dropped to the woman who would be joining him—only Effie wasn’t there. His smile stiffened as he caught sight of her hat, disappearing out of view. Apparently, she had somewhere else to be. Somewhere he wasn’t.
Blue.
Blue everywhere as far as the eye could see.
Effie turned slowly on the spot, blinking in the sunlight. Without her glasses it was almost like being underwater.
She had never experienced such an intensity or variety of one colour. It was as if after waking this morning she’d found her world had switched from monochrome to colour. The sky was a sweep of harebell-blue, darkening to navy where it merged with the sea. And the sea—
Holding her breath, she took a hesitant step towards the edge of the path and gazed down over the edge of the rockface. Up until this moment, the only sea she had ever seen in person had been on a rare holiday to Great Yarmouth. The North Sea had been wet and salty and vast, but that was where any resemblance to the expanse of water in front of her ended.
She stared in silence at the miracle of the Aegean, almost unbelieving. There was so much light, and even though the sea didn’t seem to be moving every time she looked it was different, each rippling wave catching the sun’s rays and making it shimmer like a gemstone so that there wasn’t just blue but silver and gold.
And then there was the air.
