Constantine's Defiant Mistress Page 13

  The afternoon sun was still bright when they drove back. Laura tried to tell herself that they were too exhausted for much conversation, but it was more than that. Her head was full of spinning thoughts.

  Constantine had remained true to his vow that he was going to make love to her until they were both exhausted—she had never known that it was possible for desire to be ignited over and over again. He had made love to her on the beach, and then carried her down to the sea to wash the grains of sand from her skin. But the act of washing had awoken their sensual hunger once more—he had made her gasp and giggle until at last he had pulled her wet body against his and let the sea foam surge deliciously over their nakedness. Slippery and salty, she had let him part her legs beneath the water and felt their warm flesh join once more beneath the waves. And Constantine had been right—the freedom to make love without worrying about being overheard or seen was utterly intoxicating.

  She thought about the party which lay ahead, and which until fairly recently would have terrified the life out of her. But that had been before this journey here to Livinos—a journey which had taught her as much about herself as about Greek life.

  It had taught her that she loved the man who sat beside her, despite his cold heart which had been so damaged in his own childhood that it seemed to have no hope of healing. She loved him because he was Alex’s father—but she suspected that she had loved him all those years ago, when she had given him her virginity so joyfully on that warm summer night. For wasn’t love at first sight both the great dream and yet the admittedly rare reality of human relationships? Even if it hadn’t been reciprocated it didn’t mean it had necessarily gone away—and since she had become his lover that feeling had been growing as inexorably as a new shoot towards the spring sunshine. Hadn’t the afternoon they’d just spent added to the magic?

  She glanced at his hard and rugged profile as he stared at the coastal road ahead. The wind whipped through the black, tousled curls and the dark glasses shaded his eyes against the light—preventing her from reading anything of his own thoughts.

  But who was she kidding? Those ebony eyes never gave anything away. And neither did he. He could buy her new dresses so that she wouldn’t disgrace him at his fancy party—but he couldn’t give her any of his heart or his soul even if he wanted to. He had locked those away a long time ago.

  Back at the villa, they parted without a kiss or embrace—only the briefest of glittering looks from Constantine reminding her of how they’d spent the afternoon.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ he said softly, and resolutely turned his back on her before he was tempted to kiss her again.

  Laura watched him go. Maybe for him it had just been an afternoon of amazing sex, she thought. He probably wasn’t—like her—stupidly reliving every glorious second of it and pretending that it had anything to do with emotion.

  It was with heightened colour that she went off to find Alex, who was now playing tennis with Stavros.

  He waved his arm at her in greeting, and then adopted a fierce expression on his little face, wanting desperately to show his mother how good he’d become at the game.

  How he’d grown to love sport, she thought tenderly. She stood by the side of the tennis court and watched as her son batted the ball over the net with what looked like incredible natural skill to her proud, motherly eye. Alex had been on a journey too, she recognised—he had realised some of his own dormant talents as well as getting to know his Greek family. And deep down she knew that nobody would ever dare bully him again. Laura watched as they changed ends, wondering once again how on earth he would ever be able to bear to leave this paradise of a place to go back to the very different life he knew in England.

  She went to her room and showered off the sand, slipping into jeans and a T-shirt before surveying the garments Constantine had bought her, which someone had hung up in her wardrobe while she’d been out at the beach house. And although she’d told herself that she wasn’t going to swoon over a few expensive articles of clothing she found herself doing just that.

  Finest silk, cashmere and organza were here—represented in gowns which unbelievably fitted her like a glove. She twirled in front of the mirror in a vivid emerald silk. Though maybe it wasn’t unbelievable at all—for wasn’t Constantine one of those men who seemed to instinctively know more about a woman’s body than she did?

  But Laura didn’t have a clue about dressing up. She’d never had the time, the money or the opportunity before—and suddenly she found herself longing for advice. Surely she could phone Sarah? She hadn’t spoken to her sister for ages, and she missed her. With her artistic streak, Sarah had a brilliant eye and knowledge of clothes—she’d know which of these dresses would be most suitable.

  She walked through the house, looking for Constantine, but he was nowhere to be found—only Kyrios Karantinos was in his study, sitting hunched over a book. He looked up as she tapped on the door.

  ‘Looking forward to the party?’ he questioned with a smile.

  Laura wondered what he’d say if he had any idea of the confused emotions which were swirling around inside her. ‘I’m not quite sure what to wear,’ she admitted. ‘And I wondered if it would be okay to use the telephone to ring my sister in England?’ She hesitated, but then thought of the Karantinos billions and her own modest income. ‘I’ve…I’ve got a cellphone, but it’s…’

  The old man gave a small smile as he gestured towards the telephone on the desk and began to get up. ‘Please—say no more and come in. You must feel free to use the phone whenever you like, my dear.’ His smile became a little wider. ‘It is quite clear to me that Constantine has not ended up with a materialistic woman!’

  She wanted to tell him that Constantine had not ‘ended up’ with this woman at all. ‘Thank you—but I can go somewhere else to make the call. I don’t want to push you out of your own study.’

  ‘I was leaving shortly anyway.’ He looked at her. ‘I’ve been wondering what your future plans are?’ he questioned, his faded eyes narrowing. ‘Or maybe I shouldn’t ask?’

  Laura hesitated, knowing that she should not confide in Constantine’s father—for mightn’t Constantine see that as some kind of betrayal? ‘No arrangements have been made yet,’ she said uncertainly.

  ‘You’re good for him,’ the old man said suddenly.

  ‘No—’

  ‘Yes. Better than anyone else has ever been for him.’ A ragged sigh left his lips, as if it had been waiting for a long time to escape, and the old man looked at her with pain in his faded eyes. ‘Better than I or his mother ever were, that’s for sure.’

  ‘I don’t think—’

  ‘I was a bad father—a very bad father,’ interrupted Kyrios Karantinos fervently. ‘I know that. I worshipped his mother—I was one of those foolish men who become obsessed by a woman. She dazzled me with her beauty and her youth so that I couldn’t see anything but her.’ There was a pause. ‘And that kind of love is dangerous. It is blind. It meant that I could not tell the difference between fantasy and reality—and somewhere along the way was a very small and confused boy, cut adrift by the very two people who should have been looking out for him.’ He gave a shuddering sigh. ‘We both neglected him.’

  How her heart ached for that little boy. ‘Have you…have you tried to explain all this to Constantine?’ she ventured cautiously. ‘Tried to tell him how it was? I mean, how…how sorry you are now?’

  ‘Oh, maybe a million times,’ he admitted. ‘But my proud and successful son will only hear what he wants to hear, and he finds the past too painful to revisit. Forgive me, Laura—for I do not mean to speak ill of him. You see…I love him.’ His voice trembled. ‘And I am an old man.’

  She stared at him, suddenly understanding the subtext which lay behind his words. Soon he might die. And then the painful past might never be resolved—instead spreading its poisonous tentacles far into the future.

  Briefly, he squeezed her arm and then left the study, and Laura stared out
of the window at the beautiful Greek day, her heart almost breaking as she thought about the terrible distance between the two men which might never be bridged.

  But she was here with a purpose. And—even if her worries about what to wear seemed rather flippant in comparison to what Kyrios Karantinos had just told her—she gathered together her troubled thoughts before dialling England.

  It was strange speaking to her sister—it felt as if a lifetime had passed since they had last spoken—and Sarah was sounding very bubbly. ‘The girl Constantine hired to work in the shop is lovely!’ she enthused, and her voice dipped mischievously. ‘And she has this cousin…he’s called Matthius and he’s just gorgeous!’

  Aware of the rapidly spiralling cost of the call, Laura butted in. ‘Sarah, I need your advice about clothes…’

  Once Sarah had been given a brief run-down on all the dresses in the picture, she was emphatic. Laura must wear her hair up—‘because sometimes when you wash it it goes into a cloud, and you end up looking like Alice in Wonderland.’ And she should opt for the most fitted dress—‘because what’s the point of having a great figure if you can’t show it off?’

  That evening, Laura’s hands were trembling as she swept an extra layer of mascara onto her lashes. She couldn’t ever remember feeling this nervous before a party before—but maybe that wasn’t so surprising. She’d overseen Alex getting dressed—Constantine had ensured that his son would be suitably kitted-out, too—and her heart had swelled with pride when she saw her little boy in a pair of long, dark trousers and a white shirt and little bow-tie. He looked so Greek, she thought.

  But he is Greek. Or at least half-Greek.

  Suddenly filled with fear, she stood in front of the mirror, but her head was so buzzing with disquiet that for a moment she did not see the image which reflected back at her. Alex isn’t going to want to leave this place, she realised with a sinking heart. And could she really blame him?

  Her eyes focussed on the mirror at last, and Laura blinked because for a moment it felt as if she was looking at a complete stranger. A sleek and sophisticated stranger with a costly dress and big, dark eyes?

  There was a tap at the door and she turned round to see it opening. Constantine was standing there—his dark expression completely unreadable as he looked her up and down.

  Nervously, Laura swallowed. ‘Do you…do you like it?’

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he drawled.

  ‘But you bought it! You’re the one who wanted me to wear something grand.’

  ‘Ne. I know I did,’ he said slowly. He just had not been expecting such a complete…transformation. On the model in the showroom—who had flirted with him quite outrageously until his stony indifference had caused her to stop—the dress had looked completely different. But the blue satin moulded Laura’s curves so closely that it looked as though she had been dipped in a summer sky. Above the low-cut bodice her skin glowed softly golden, and the curve of her breasts was a perfect swell. Her fine blonde hair was piled high on her head, with just a couple of recalcitrant locks tumbling down by the side of her face like liquid gold.

  And her face! She rarely wore much make-up—sometimes nothing and she always looked as sexy as hell—but tonight the unaccustomed darkening of her eyes and the slick of gloss to her lips made her look like a siren. Every man would look at her and want her, thought Constantine—and a nerve flickered furiously at his temple.

  ‘Do you like it?’ repeated Laura, half tempted to tear the damned thing off and put on the little floral dress she’d brought with her from England.

  ‘You look very beautiful,’ said Constantine carefully. Putting his hand in his pocket, he withdrew a slim leather case. ‘You’d better have these.’

  ‘What are they?’

  He flipped the lid open to reveal a bright scattering of ice-white jewels, and it took Laura’s disbelieving eyes a couple of seconds to realise that she was in fact looking at a diamond necklace and a pair of long, glittering earrings.

  ‘I can’t wear these,’ she breathed.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘What if I lose one?’

  ‘Don’t worry—they’re insured,’ he said carelessly as he clipped the exquisite necklace around her neck. ‘Put on the earrings, Laura.’

  With trembling fingers she complied, and the piled up hairstyle complemented the waterfall earrings brilliantly as she stood before him for his assessment.

  ‘Perfect,’ he said softly. ‘Now you look like a Karantinos woman.’

  But as they walked out together towards the strings of lights which were already twinkling against the darkening sky Laura felt like a prize pony in a show, decked out with unfamiliar ribbons and with its mane plaited.

  She was an impostor, she thought. A fraud. Externally she carried all the displays of wealth which would be expected of the mother of Constantine’s son. But inside? Inside she felt like a cork from a bottle which was lost on a vast and tossing ocean.

  The party had all the elements for a successful evening, and the guests were determined to enjoy the fabled Karantinos hospitality. The weather was perfect, the finest wines flowed, and the village women had outdone themselves with the food. But part of Laura wished that she could hide behind the anonymity of her waitress’s uniform instead of being subjected to the curious looks of the women of Livinos and—even more intimidating—of the society beauties who had flown in from Athens. They seemed to have no qualms about failing to hide their surprise when they were introduced to Laura. And neither did they abstain from flirting with Constantine.

  Maybe she couldn’t blame them, for he drew the eye irresistibly; no other man came even close to him. His hair looked ebony-black when contrasted against the snowy whiteness of his dinner jacket, which emphasised his powerful physique. And Alex stayed close by his side as Laura heard him being introduced over and over again as ‘my son’.

  My son, too she thought bitterly, ashamed of the great flood of primitive jealousy and fear which washed over her.

  Because one look around at all the good and the great gathered here tonight was enough to ram home the extent of Constantine’s power and influence. And not just here in his native Greece. Why, a world-famous architect had flown in from New York especially for this party!

  But Laura knew how to behave. She knew that people couldn’t tell how you were feeling if you disguised your nerves and concerns behind a bright party smile. It must be working too, because several of the men went out of their way to be charming to her.

  The toast—to health and happiness and the continuation of the Karantinos bloodline—was taken early, so that Kyrios Karantinos could retire. He looked exhausted, thought Laura—and she accompanied him back to the house, keen to see he got there safely as well as enjoying a break from the sensation of being watched by the other guests.

  She managed to get an excited Alex into bed before midnight, and by the time she had pulled the sheet over Blue Bear he was fast asleep. It was late, she reasoned. Too late to go back—and she was exhausted, too. All that endless smiling and trying not to sound like some gauche little woman who had shoe-horned her way into the life of the Greek billionaire by getting pregnant had completely wiped her out.

  She showered and slipped into bed—half hoping that Constantine would not come to her tonight and half praying that he would. Couldn’t she lose this terrible sense of insecurity in the warm haven of his arms? Forget life and all its problems in the dreamy pleasure of his lovemaking? Even if those feelings came crowding back in the moment he left.

  The door opened and Constantine stood there unmoving—still in his dinner suit—just staring at the bed in silence before walking into the room and quietly shutting the door behind him.

  ‘H-hello,’ she said, sitting up and feeling rather stupid—why hadn’t he come over to pull her hungrily into his arms?

  ‘Can you get up and put some kind of robe on?’ he asked, in a strained and distant kind of voice.

  ‘Sure.’ She looked up at him for
some kind of hint as to what this was all about—but then she wished she hadn’t. Because it was like a cruel flashback to all those years ago when she had looked into his eyes and seen nothing.

  Nothing at all.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  ‘IS…IS something wrong?’ asked Laura tentatively.

  Constantine turned round. The silky gown came to mid-thigh, and covered her in all the right places—but it did nothing to disguise the luscious curves and he did not want to be distracted by her body. Not yet.

  ‘Nothing is wrong,’ he said coolly. ‘Why don’t you sit down?’

  He indicated the long window seat, which was scattered with squashy embroidered cushions, and Laura sank down onto it, wondering why he was talking to her in that strange tone. And why he hadn’t kissed her. ‘Why are you acting like this?’ she asked, bewildered.

  ‘I’m not acting like anything,’ he ground out. ‘I’m just wondering why you ran back to your room without saying goodnight to any of our guests?’

  ‘Because they weren’t my guests, they were yours!’ she returned. ‘They weren’t here to see me, but you—and your father—and your son. I only had curiosity value as the woman who had given birth to him. Once they had seen me, I was superfluous to requirements.’

  ‘Not to some of the male guests, you weren’t!’ he snarled. ‘They could hardly stop undressing you with their eyes!’

  ‘Well, you have only yourself to blame for that, Constantine,’ she hissed back. ‘Since you’re the one who bought me the dress!’

  ‘And I don’t know why I did!’

  ‘Oh, yes, you do,’ she contradicted hotly. ‘Because I just wasn’t good enough, looking the way I normally look. You were afraid that I’d show you up!’

  ‘I didn’t want you to feel awkward.’

  ‘You don’t think I felt awkward with half a million pounds worth of diamonds strung around my neck?’ She glanced over at the leather box. ‘And can you please take them away with you? Just having them in the room makes me nervous.’