dear God.
How could she have come so close … only to freeze like a frightened virgin?
She almost wished he’d overridden her physical protest and consummated the marriage. Then she’d have got past the dread, the fear … hell, the stark memory of that last night beneath Seth’s vicious hands.
At the very least, she owed Loukas an explanation …
Oh, please, she derided silently. Like he wouldn’t already have reached the right conclusion?
Hadn’t she consulted therapists and talked the talk until she knew every angle? Every possible scenario?
She’d thought she’d conquered her fear of intimacy after Seth … but then she’d never tested it. Preferring to lead a celibate life, and refusing to date.
Tonight was the closest she’d allowed any man to come … and look how that had ended? Disaster plus.
Even thinking about it filled her with shame … and guilt.
Move forward.
Sure, like that would happen any time soon given her reaction just now?
She shivered beneath the warmth of his jacket, and she lifted one hand, then dropped it back to her side with an awkward gesture. ‘I need to—’ Escape. Move away from him and the almost electric tension filling the room before—what? She said something foolish? Trite?
Go, a silent voice bade. And she did, heading into her en suite without a backward glance.
She took care to close the door carefully, then she removed the jacket and laid it over a chair before crossing to the vanity.
Studiously avoiding the mirror, she removed her make-up, brushed her teeth a little too vigorously, then she pulled on sleepwear, took a deep calming breath … and re-entered the bedroom.
And found it empty.
There was a sense of relief as she crossed to the bed she’d occupied the previous night, and she slid between the sheets, dimmed the lights, then closed her eyes.
To sleep, hopefully.
Except images filled her head, past and present, merging into a scrambled mix that entered her subconscious with tortured clarity, rendering her helpless as the mental reel spun out.
CHAPTER SIX
LOUKAS dragged a hand through his damp hair and reached for a towel.
A shower had eased some of the muscular tension, but not the slow-burning anger existent, for there was a part of him that wanted to physically harm the man whose mistreatment had seeded fear in the woman he’d married.
There was a word for it. And legal redress.
The question was whether Alesha had pressed charges.
Possibly not, in a bid to avoid publicity.
His eyes narrowed as he pulled on boxers … nightwear he rarely donned. The women he’d bedded were comfortable with their nudity, as well as his own.
What in hell had Alesha’s ex done to turn a confident outgoing young woman into someone who had serious issues with intimacy?
Rape … physical abuse? Both?
His hands clenched into tight fists at the thought of her being subjected to either.
And paused momentarily to wonder why it affected him to this degree.
Had Dimitri known of his daughter’s mistreatment?
Subdued lighting greeted him as he re-entered the bedroom, and his gaze swept to the slender form beneath the covers of the bed adjacent his own.
Was she asleep … or merely contriving to give that impression?
Loukas slid between the covers of his own bed, closed the lights, then lay quietly as he reflected on his every move since their arrival home from the fundraiser.
She had kissed like an angel … and he was willing to swear her reaction to his touch had been genuine.
Until she had panicked and fought against him with a desperation born of fear. Hardly the action of someone who’d sought counselling and emerged whole.
It was a while before he slept, and he came sharply awake at a soft beeping sound that had him reaching for the security sensor unit.
The glass door leading onto the terrace was unsecured, and the heat sensor detected a human form occupying a chair.
He moved quietly to his feet, checked the adjoining bed and discovered it empty.
The luminous dial on his watch showed it was several minutes past three.
Alesha? It had to be, and he extracted jeans and pulled them on, then added a tee shirt, before going in search of her.
With sure movements he crossed the gallery and ran lightly downstairs.
Subtle garden illumination provided sufficient light for him to see the slight feminine form curled up on one of four cushioned cane sofas nestled around a glass-topped table.
He made a point of ensuring she heard his approach, and he caught the quick movement of her hands as she brushed each cheek before turning towards him.
Tears?
Somehow the thought of her needing to retreat out here to cry alone touched a place in his heart he’d previously considered beyond reach.
The night air held a faint chill, and he sank down onto the sofa beside her.
‘Unable to sleep?’ He kept his voice light, and caught the slight shake of her head.
‘I didn’t mean to wake you.’
‘The security sensor,’ Loukas corrected. ‘It beeped an alert when you opened the external door.’
His features were shadowed in the half-light, and in the distance the city breathed life with its coloured neon billboards, street-lighting … casting a dappled reflection over the dark inner harbour waters.
In a few hours the indigo sky would begin to lighten as dawn emerged, providing colour and substance to the new day.
‘It’s peaceful out here,’ Alesha offered, aware her voice was edged with tiredness. Hardly surprising since she hadn’t slept at all. Yet she didn’t feel inclined to move.
Nor did she particularly want to converse. The silence of the night, the solitude it offered, acted as a soothing balm, and most of all she simply wanted to close her eyes and let it wash over her, cleanse a little and ease the ache deep inside.
There was a psychological process she needed to travel, a series of steps that would lead her from the dark back into the light, and it was better she took them alone.
