Modern Romance December 2016 Books 1-4. Кейт Хьюит

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don’t I buy some for a dress?’ He spoke to the shopkeeper in Greek, who was more than happy to accommodate him.

      ‘I don’t need a dress...’

      ‘You are wearing the only one you brought,’ Angelos reminded her. ‘And perhaps you will go somewhere special. Perhaps we all will.’ He pointed to another fabric, this one bright pink. ‘And that for Sofia,’ he said, and addressed the shopkeeper again in Greek.

      Impulsively Talia put a hand on his arm. ‘Thank you,’ she said softly, and Angelos turned to her, his mouth turning down in self-deprecation.

      ‘It is only a bit of silk.’

      ‘I don’t mean that. I mean the way you are with Sofia.’ She nodded towards the girl, who was inspecting some cloth dolls hanging from pegs on the other side of the stall. ‘She is so pleased to have this time with you. I know it means a lot to her.’

      Angelos shrugged, his gaze sliding away. ‘It is very little.’

      ‘Even so...’

      ‘It is you I should thank, for making me realise she wants to spend time with me.’

      ‘Why would you think she wouldn’t?’

      Angelos turned back to her, his gaze dark, his frown deepening. ‘Because I disappointed her terribly. I have not been the father she wants or needs.’

      ‘But you are, Angelos, because you are her father. No mattered what happened before—’

      He shook his head, the movement abrupt, as he handed some euros to the shopkeeper and took the cut fabric, now wrapped in paper. ‘We will not talk about this.’

      Talia watched as he strode towards Sofia, and then showed her the fabric he bought. Her shy, answering smile lit up her whole face and made Talia ache. Why did Angelos think he wasn’t a good father? Why had he virtually ignored his daughter for so long? She wanted to know the answers, but she doubted she’d get them from him.

      By early evening they were all feeling pleasantly drowsy. As they walked back towards the boat, Angelos tapped his finger against Talia’s nose.

      ‘You’re a bit burned.’

      ‘Which means more freckles,’ she answered with a playful grimace.

      ‘I like your freckles,’ Angelos replied, and while Talia gaped at him he turned back to say something to Sofia.

      He liked her freckles? Was she crazy, thinking that Angelos might like her? She had no experience with flirting or romance or love. She had no idea how to gauge Angelos’s feelings, or even her own. And yet his simple statement had sent bubbles of excitement racing through her, as if she’d just imbibed a bottle of champagne.

      ‘Will you be all right on the journey back?’ he asked in a low voice as he helped Sofia scramble into the sailboat.

      ‘I think so.’ She smiled at him, trying not to let her gaze rove helplessly over his rugged features as those bubbles fizzed and popped. He’d had a bit of sun too, and his skin was even more bronzed and beautiful, the sharp planes of his cheekbones and the golden brown of his eyes making her breathless. ‘Actually, I’m amazed at how easy this whole day has been,’ she confessed. ‘I haven’t wandered around a town like this, in the crowds, for years.’

      ‘Since...?’ Angelos asked, his eyes darkening, and she nodded.

      ‘I couldn’t stand crowds. But I didn’t mind them today.’ Because I was with you. Because you made me feel safe and protected. She swallowed down the words and smiled instead. ‘Thank you.’

      ‘I didn’t have anything to do with it—’

      ‘You did,’ she asserted, and then, throwing caution to the winds, she explained, ‘When you held me that night...it was the first time I’d felt truly safe, really protected, in seven years. It gave me a confidence, Angelos, that I never thought I’d have again. So you see, you did have something to do with it. And I thank you for that.’

      She didn’t dare look at him, afraid she’d revealed too much, and so she scrambled into the boat by herself and sat next to Sofia, her face hot.

      The moon rose over the Aegean as the boat skimmed the placid, dark waters and the breeze cooled their sunburned skin. Talia put her arm around Sofia while the girl dozed against her and Angelos sat down, one hand resting on the tiller. He nodded towards Sofia.

      ‘It’s been a big day for her.’

      ‘A big day for all of us.’

      ‘Yes.’ He paused, and in the gathering twilight she couldn’t see his face. ‘I’m proud of you, Talia. For facing your fears. Not everyone has the courage to do so.’

      ‘I said before, you’re the one who helped me.’ She was glad for the darkness that hid her blush. ‘The truth is I didn’t plan on facing them. It’s being here and seeing how Sofia...’ She paused, afraid this might be too sensitive a subject for Angelos.

      ‘What about Sofia?’ he asked.

      ‘She reminds me of me,’ Talia said softly. ‘How I’ve been inside for so long. Hiding myself. Ashamed of who I am.’

      She felt Angelos stiffen even though he was several feet away from her. Pain emanated from him, seeming to tauten the very air. ‘You think Sofia is ashamed of herself?’ he asked, his voice low and aching. ‘Of...of her scar?’

      ‘She’s certainly self-conscious about it,’ Talia said carefully. She didn’t have the courage to add, Especially when you’re around. ‘Have you noticed the way she hides her cheek with her hair?’

      ‘Of course I’ve noticed it.’ Angelos pressed his lips together and looked away. ‘But she has no reason to be ashamed. None at all. She is a beautiful girl, inside and out.’

      ‘Maybe you should tell her so,’ Talia suggested. ‘I think she’d like to hear it.’

      ‘I do tell her,’ Angelos answered, and she wondered if he wrote as much in her letters. ‘Let us not talk of this any more,’ he added, his tone final, and Talia knew she would have to let it go.

      Neither of them spoke as Kallos appeared on the horizon, the villa washed in moonlight. Angelos moored the boat and then carefully scooped Sofia up into his arms; in sleep she snuggled against her father, her scarred cheek resting against his chest.

      Seeing him acting so tenderly with Sofia made a lump form in Talia’s throat. This man had so much love to give, and yet he seemed determined to lock it all away.

      Or was she simply being foolishly hopeful, to think such a thing? To think he could fall in love with her?

      Because she knew she was falling in love with him, whether it made sense or not. She might be inexperienced, but even she could recognise the ache in her heart, the hope in her soul and the need that flooded her body, all of it overwhelming, undeniable. Silently she followed Angelos across the beach and up to the villa.

      The house was quiet and dark as they entered, Maria having already gone to bed. Angelos went upstairs to put Sofia to bed

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