uncle, and looked down at her hands gripped together in her lap.
Every day it was the same, she thought wearily. Schemes to make new fortunes. Plans to win Eloise back. Her father could talk of nothing else. He seemed to have lost all touch with reality.
His financial difficulties—the fact that the house no longer belonged to him—were simply brushed aside as temporary difficulties.
But then who am I to criticise? she wondered. With the nightmare I’ve created for myself?
It had been a week since Draco had slammed out, and since then she hadn’t heard a word from him.
And she was scared.
After he’d gone, she’d lain on the sofa for a long time, limbless, weightless in the aftermath of that raw, savage ecstasy. She’d never dreamed she was capable of such a primitive intensity of feeling. Was stunned by her capacity for passion.
It was as if she’d lived her life only knowing half of herself.
When she’d been able to move again, and think, she had gone up to her room, showered, and changed into jeans and a thin sweater. She had burned the torn dress, along with the money, in the kitchen range, and had thrown away the food and wine. She’d felt too numb to eat. Besides, it had all been too reminiscent of the picnics they’d shared on Myros, and she hadn’t been able to bear to remember the uncomplicated happiness of those days.
Days, she’d thought, when I was falling in love…
And could have wept for the innocence and tenderness of that lost time.
She had recalled the way his arm had held her, fitting her to the curve of his body. The beat of his heart under her cheek. How he’d smiled at her. The reined-back hunger in his eyes. The huskiness in his voice when he’d asked her to marry him.
Everything, she’d thought bleakly, that she’d thrown away with both hands.
And no amount of sex, however mind-blowing, would ever make up for that.
By the time Berry had returned she’d managed to regain some kind of composure. She’d spent the evening in the study, working on her computer, tying up some loose ends from work and listening to music.
‘Has your visitor gone, Miss Cressy?’ Berry looked around her as if she might find him hiding in a corner. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather when he told me he was the new owner and showed me the papers.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I didn’t really want to leave him here, but he was so persuasive.’ She shook her head. ‘Not an easy gentleman to say no to. But did I do the right thing?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Cressy smiled at her with a tranquillity she was far from feeling. ‘I suppose he thought it was time he saw what he was getting for his money.’
‘And he told me Mr Fielding will be renting the house from him and we won’t have to move out. Oh, that’s such a relief, Miss Cressy. I’ve been so worried.’
So have I, Cressy thought bleakly. And my worries aren’t over yet.
As each long day passed, she felt as if she was living on a knife-edge, waiting for the phone to ring. Scanning her e-mail box for messages.
But the nights were even worse. She lay awake for hours, staring into the darkness, her body aching for him—longing for him. She felt bereft—like a child crying unheard for comfort.
Perhaps he’d decided to cut his losses and shut her out of his life altogether. That was the thought that tortured her every waking moment.
She told herself that she was concerned for her father. Because if Draco had really decided to finish their relationship, it did not follow that he would write off her father’s debts.
But in her heart she knew it would never be as simple as that. That she was using her father’s problems as a barrier—as self-protection against a hurt that might tear her in pieces. Against feelings she dared not examine too closely in case they destroyed her.
‘Cressy, dear.’ Her aunt’s voice reached her from some far distance. ‘I think it’s time we went, and let James rest.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She rose, reaching for her bag, aware that Lady Kenny was watching her with a faint frown.
‘Coffee, I think,’ Sir Robert said when they were in the corridor.
In the hospital cafeteria, he joined the queue at the counter while Cressy and Barbara Kenny found a corner table.
‘It doesn’t get any better, does it?’ Lady Kenny said abruptly. ‘Poor James is like a dog with a bone. He won’t let go.’
Cressy shook her head. ‘And he gets so agitated when he talks about her. I know it’s not good for him. What he’ll be like when he gets home…’
‘I wonder if that’s such a good thing.’ Her aunt played with her wedding ring. ‘Whether he wouldn’t be better living somewhere with no memories. But he’ll have the nurse to keep an eye on him, and dear Berry, so we must hope for the best.’ She gave Cressy a searching glance. ‘Now tell me about this new job of yours.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Cressy hedged. ‘I’m not even sure it’s happening.’
‘I gather it’s connected with the Standard Trust Bank,’ Lady Kenny went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And that the head of the bank—some Greek tycoon—has made himself personally responsible for your father’s debts. Isn’t that a little unusual?’
Cressy shrugged. ‘I suppose so. I haven’t really thought about it.’
‘Even when he insisted on conducting the negotiations with you personally?’ Her aunt’s tone was acerbic. ‘And when you’d only just come back from Greece?’ She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Cressy, I’m not a fool. Are you involved with this man?’
Cressy bit her lip. ‘Not in the way that you think, Aunt Bar.’
Which was no more than the truth, she thought unhappily. No one would believe the complexities of her relationship with Draco.
‘I have a short-term contract,’ she continued, ‘which necessitates my working abroad. After what he’s done for Dad, I could hardly refuse. And I can look after myself,’ she added, infusing her tone with brightness.
Lady Kenny snorted. ‘Oh, really? Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re all eyes and cheekbones.’ She leaned forward. ‘Darling, men like Draco Viannis are not philanthropists. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. Your uncle and I are both worried sick. And if your father would come down to earth for a few minutes, I know he’d put a stop to it.’
‘It’s for three months,’ Cressy said quietly. ‘If I go at all.’ She swallowed. ‘Mr Viannis may be having second thoughts.’
‘I can’t vouch for this coffee.’ Sir Robert deposited a tray on the table and sat down, fixing his niece with a penetrating look. ‘Now then, Cressy, I want a word about this Viannis chap. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’
They were both so kind, Cressy thought as she drove home later,
