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Glancing around the hall, she tried to concentrate on the practical—telling herself that it was only bricks and mortar. But it seemed so much more than that. The air was scented with cinnamon and the walls were hung with beautiful paintings, many of them depicting Greece. There was one with the famous view of the St Nicolas Bay, which could be seen from the terrace of the Kanellis estate in Rhodes. She’d always loved that one.
Silken rugs from the East were strewn over the polished floors and the overriding impression was one of solid wealth and stability. But the décor was as masculine as she remembered and little seemed to have changed since last she’d been there.
Lexi gave a wry smile. This had been their home but it had never really felt like her home. Her sometimes brash and streetwise persona had deserted her when it came to soft furnishings and the truth was that she’d been intimidated by what to put in the Grade I listed building. She’d been terrified that her lack of historical knowledge would cause her to make some basic error of taste, which would have everyone laughing at her. That was why she’d never dared put her mark on the house. Why she hadn’t bought so much as a single vase when she’d lived here.
‘It looks exactly the same,’ she observed as she brought her gaze back to rest on his face. ‘You haven’t done much to it.’
‘No.’ His expression suddenly became closed.
‘Why not?’
‘Well, masterminding the Kanellis empire takes up most of my time. You know how it is, Lex.’
‘Of course. How could I ever forget something as fundamental as that?’ She kept her words as flippant as his. ‘My mother was an alcoholic and I married a workaholic. Must be something in me that brings out the obsessive in a person.’
He stiffened, as if her words had shocked him—and maybe they had. ‘Why are you saying something like that?’
‘Because it’s the truth and neither of us have to pretend any more. We both know I was the world’s most unsuitable wife for you. I’m just reminding us of one of the reasons why.’
He saw the sudden sharp anxiety on her face and something inside him wanted to wipe it away. ‘Stop winding yourself up for no reason,’ he said gently. ‘Try taking a deep breath and calm down.’
‘You think that being back here is contributing to my levels of serenity?’
‘I don’t think anything could do that when you’re so uptight. Come on, let’s go and sit down and you can relax.’
Having little choice but to obey, she followed him into the garden room at the back of the house, the one which had always been her favourite. She wondered if he’d done that on purpose—to remind her of all the things she’d lost?
Two green velvet sofas overlooked a garden filled with white flowers. White roses scrambled up a far stone wall and tall white daisies stood behind neat hedges of white lavender. She walked over to the French windows and unlocked them, and a mixture of scents and the sound of birdsong filtered into the room.
It felt unbearably poignant. She used to sit here during her second pregnancy, making plans and knitting minuscule little bootees—even though nobody else she knew ever knitted. While Xenon was away on business she would dream about what it would be like when their baby was born. When, magically, he would let go of his heavy workload and the three of them would go walking in the nearby park, just like a proper family.
She turned back to find Xenon’s gaze fixed on her and for a split second she thought she saw a flash of understanding in his eyes. But that was nothing but an illusion. She knew that.
Xenon didn’t understand how she’d felt—understanding women wasn’t something he had been brought up to do. He had fixed and old-fashioned views about the opposite sex and the way they should be treated. He wasn’t intentionally cruel, just thoughtless. Women existed to look pretty and have sex with and produce strapping sons and pretty daughters. But she couldn’t even do that bit right, could she?
She realised how quiet the house was; none of the usual staff had appeared offering drinks. There was no smiling Phyllida—his long-serving housekeeper—eager to do her master’s bidding. No discreet sounds of food being prepared in the large basement kitchen. They seemed to be completely alone.
‘So where is everybody?’ she asked. ‘Is Phyllida still with you?’
‘Indeed she is. Her daughter has married an Englishman, so she has no intention of moving, but I sent her and the rest of the staff over to Rhodes to help prepare for the christening. I thought you might prefer to acclimatise yourself before having to face everyone again.’
