met his eyes, incredibly touched by his words because she had liked Xenon’s ghiaghia, too. She hadn’t known any of her own grandparents—maternal or paternal—and maybe that was why she’d enjoyed the company of the Greek matriarch so much. She’d loved hearing about her own far-off childhood here on this island and her long and subsequently happy marriage. ‘What did she say?’
He looked at her with the expression of a man weighing up his options. ‘She said that I was a very clever man, but that sometimes I could be a fool. And that I was a fool to let you go.’
‘Xenon.’ Her voice rose with sudden anxiety. ‘I don’t want to lie to her.’
‘I’m not asking you to. But do you think you could manage to do a convincing enough impression of still caring for me?’
She met his gaze. If only he had said it with his habitual arrogance—an attitude which sprang from the certain knowledge that pretty much every woman he met cared about him. But he hadn’t said it in that way. For a minute back then he’d sounded almost vulnerable.
Her untouched peach seemed to stare balefully at her from the plate. Maybe he was feeling vulnerable—or as close to it as someone like him could get to such an emotion. His beloved grandmother was dying and Lexi knew she had to stand by him. She owed him her support at this time because she had loved him and had married him. She would be there for him.
Some impulse made her stand up and reach out her hand to run her fingers through the tangle of his ebony hair. ‘Oh, I think I’m a good enough actress to put on a convincing enough performance of caring for you.’ She smiled.
But something in the air had changed. Something she had said or done had clearly angered him, for he rose to his feet and suddenly he seemed huge as his shadow fell over her.
‘Good enough actress?’ he echoed. ‘Is that a fact?’
Without warning, he pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her and it was as if someone had opened a floodgate. His lips were hard on hers as he explored her mouth with an urgent kind of hunger. The man who had lain so chastely beside her during the night had gone and in his place was the Xenon she remembered best.
He pressed his body closer. She could feel the jut of his hips against hers and the heavy weight of his erection pressing into her belly. She could feel the insistent tug of desire melting insistently at her core—a hot ache which was clamouring to be released. His hand cupped her breast and she groaned, wriggling luxuriously as he played with one peaking nipple. Restlessly, she moved her hips in silent invitation. Wanting him to slide his hand up underneath her dress to where she was wet and waiting. Wondering if she dared touch him. To stroke him as he loved to be stroked. To take the heavy weight of him in her hand and to whisper her fingertips over his silken length until he moaned something guttural in his native tongue in response. Yet something stopped her from initiating that next step towards total intimacy—for wouldn’t he interpret such a move as weakness or reliance on him?
So why didn’t he make a move instead? Why didn’t he push her back inside the villa and slide her onto the cool marble floor and take her without further ceremony in that hungry macho way of his? If he’d straddled her right there and then, she would have eagerly welcomed him into her body because she wanted him so badly it felt almost like pain.
But he didn’t do that. Instead he drew his head away from hers, although his blue eyes were almost black with lust. And although she could see the faint tremble of his hands, his voice was quite calm when he spoke.
‘I must say, Lex,’ he observed, ‘that you put on a pretty convincing performance of “caring for me”—even without the benefit of an audience. Don’t you think?’
And Lexi knew she’d walked into a trap of her own making. A stupid and cheapening trap. She’d shown him she still wanted him and that was bad enough—but she prayed that he wouldn’t guess the real reason behind her passionate response to him.
That she was still in total thrall to her husband.
‘Fifteen-love,’ she said.
‘I’d say it was closer to set point.’ His voice was dry. ‘Come on, let’s go and see Ghiaghia.’
She asked for five minutes to compose herself, to tidy her hair and smooth down her dress, and was quiet as they walked across the courtyard to the side of the house where they’d eaten dinner last night. Her heart was in her mouth as they walked into the large bedroom whose shutters were half closed and where his grandmother now lay.
Sometimes Lexi was grateful that she hadn’t had a sheltered upbringing and this was one of them. As a child she had seen things no child should ever see—shocking, brutal things—but she found herself thinking that nothing was more shocking than the inevitable approach of death.
Like her daughter, Sofia had once been a great beauty but her exquisite bones were now cruelly defined by the waxy skin stretched tightly over them. Her once-lustrous eyes were dulled by morphine and her body was as insubstantial as a sparrow’s as it lay beneath the white sheet.
Her eyes tried to focus on the couple as they walked into the room and for a moment she frowned, as if she was examining her failing memory for clues. But then came the hint of a smile as she stared at Lexi. The faintest fluttering of bony fingers as she attempted to lift her hand from the bed in greeting.
Lexi went straight over to her, wanting to hug her tightly but, mindful of her frailty, she bent down and took her hand before bending to kiss each shrunken cheek.
‘Ghiaghia,’ she whispered. ‘It’s me, Alexi.’
‘Alexi.’ The Greek matriarch struggled a little and Lexi glanced over at the nurse, who nodded, and the two women helped move the old lady further up the bed, positioning her feeble body against a deep pile of pillows. ‘I am happy to see you.’
‘And I you. Oh, Ghiaghia.’ Lexi’s voice cracked, just a little. ‘I’m...I’m so sorry that you’re sick.’
For a moment, Sofia looked into her eyes and there was a trace of humour on her face as well as sadness. ‘It happens to us all,’ she said gently.
‘Yes.’ Still holding onto the old lady’s hand, Lexi sat down on the chair beside the bed. ‘Can I get you anything? Can I do anything for you?’
There was a pause and then a croak as Sofia sucked in a breath. ‘Love my grandson,’ she said, on the outbreath. ‘As he loves you.’
For a moment Lexi felt scared. She was here because Xenon had wanted her to be and she could see exactly why. Sofia had obviously wanted to say what was on her mind and no words were more powerful than those spoken on the deathbed.
But she was also aware that she could not tell a lie—not even at a time like this. Yet the stupidest thing was that she had no need to lie. That what she was about to say came straight from the heart. She was grateful that Xenon was standing on the other side of the room and could not hear their whispered exchange as she bent her head to speak. ‘I love Xenon more than I have ever loved any man, Ghiaghia,’ she said. ‘Please know that.’
For a moment there was silence and Lexi was left wondering if Sofia had actually heard her, or whether she had fallen asleep. But then the fingers which she was holding gripped hers with a sudden fierce show of strength and Lexi saw her smile.
The old lady’s breathing grew shallow—and then she did
