told her they were on the way to Hozoviotissa Monastery, and he mentioned that there was a dress code, but she was fine in her long, slim skirt and lace-trimmed peasant-style blouse, which she’d topped with a cropped delicate cashmere sweater that revealed her bump.
“In summer there are crowds,” he added as the taxi pulled over to the side of the parking lot to let them out. “But we are lucky that it is relatively quiet today.”
It was a long, steep climb up dazzling white steps. “Is it a museum now?” she asked as they began the climb to the church.
“No. It is still a monastery, but the monks are quite welcoming. They do have rules about visitors—no short skirts, bare midriffs or shorts on men—but we’re dressed appropriately and I trust you know how to behave in a church, so we shouldn’t have a problem.”
They ended up spending an hour in the church and adjoining rooms. Nikos could tell from Georgia’s rapt expression that she very much enjoyed the visit. The interior of the church was quite austere but there was a calm inside that was profoundly sacred.
Georgia knelt at one of the rails and prayed.
Nikos stood back, wanting to give her space, and yet also determined to keep an eye on her.
Later, as they left the church, she was quiet and somber.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“Nothing. I was just thinking of my family.”
They were descending the stairs, and they were taking their time as the stairs down felt even steeper than the climb up. “Did you say a prayer for them?” he asked.
“Yes. I always do. But I also said a prayer for you.”
“And what did you ask for?”
“Just that God will take care of you, and the baby.” She drew a breath and blinked. “He will, too. You just have to trust him.”
Nikos shot her a swift glance, but her expression was serene and she was focusing on the steps.
Halfway down she paused to glance back at the tall white face of the monastery built against the cliff. “I love places like that,” she said. “They always remind me of my parents.”
“Because they were missionaries?”
“They loved their faith and their work. And they loved each other. They were happy.”
“But when they died, they left you and your sister penniless.”
She shrugged. “Money doesn’t make people happy. It just pays for things.”
His brow furrowed. “And what will make you happy, agapi mou?”
“Doing something meaningful with my life.”
“Like being a doctor?”
She nodded. “And loving my family. That will make me happy.”
They reached the taxi, and Nikos opened the back passenger door for her, but Georgia hesitated. “Do we have to get back in the car?” she asked. “Can we just walk for a bit?”
“Chora is not far. We were going to visit the town and then head back to the harbor. Did you want to walk there?”
“How long would it take?”
“Fifteen minutes, maybe twenty.”
“Let’s do it. It feels good to stretch our legs. I think I was getting a little carsick on the way from Lagada.”
Nikos spoke to the taxi driver, but the driver shook his head and pointed to his watch. Nikos shrugged and pulled out his wallet, handing over a number of bills.
“He had to take his mother to the doctor,” Nikos explained. “But he said there are always drivers at the tavern. It shouldn’t be a problem getting a ride back to Katapola.”
“You’re not worried about having to find a driver?”
“No. And I agree—it’s good to be out. It’s a nice day. You can feel spring in the air.”
They set off, and Georgia tucked her hand through his arm. “I feel like I’m finally in Greece.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” he said, and he meant it.
“Let’s stay overnight here. Let’s not go back.”
“We have to.”
“Why? You’re the boss. You make the rules.”
He’d never seen her like this, not in the nearly two weeks she’d spent on Kamari. All day she’d seemed lighter...warmer and happier. She’d been thoughtful when they’d left the church, but she’d brightened again as they talked. “But we’re only an hour from home,” he said. “Too close not to go home.”
“But that’s what makes it fun. We’re having a mini-holiday...and now we can make it a bigger adventure.”
“And where would we stay?”
“I’m sure there are plenty of hotels—”
“It’s off-season. Most would be closed—”
“I bet we can find one that’s open.”
“And if we did, you’d be disappointed. They are not going to be luxurious. The rooms would be small and simple. Quite Spartan compared to anything you’d find at a resort.”
“Or like your house?” she teased.
“Or like my house,” he agreed.
“You just don’t want to stay.”
“I prefer the comfort of my bed,” he agreed. “And the privacy.”
“But doesn’t the routine ever get to you? Don’t you want a change?”
“Clearly you do.” But he wasn’t annoyed; he was charmed. It was impossible not to be drawn to her with the sunlight making her glow and staining her cheeks pink.
He desired her more than he’d ever wanted any woman, and yet he didn’t want to hurt her, break her.
And he couldn’t.
She was pregnant. He couldn’t take any risks with her, not just for his son’s sake but for her sake.
She mattered. She mattered a great deal.
He’d thought she was cold when she’d arrived. Cold and beautiful. But he was wrong. She wasn’t cold at all. She was intelligent and complex. There were so many layers to her. She could be fierce, as well as fiercely funny. It still amused him how she’d deliberately tried to provoke him outside the bakery. It’d been impossible to resist her when she’d smiled at him, her expression so warm, the light in her eyes teasing and sexy.
How
