mouth had hardened. ‘Let’s hope not. Maybe she will have realised that she’s better off without a man like me,’ he’d added, his voice growing harsh. ‘A man who cannot give her the love she deserves.’
Recalling those words, it was difficult for Tamsyn not to conclude that he considered her somehow unworthy of those things. In Xan’s mind she was greedy and acquisitive. He thought of her as a gold-digger, just like her sister—she knew that. And although it wasn’t necessary for him to have a high opinion of her, she couldn’t deny it hurt that he thought so little of her.
They had married in a tiny ceremony outside Athens earlier that day—without fuss or fanfare, just two anonymous witnesses plucked from the street and a single photographer, who had captured the event for posterity. It was the first time she’d seen Xan smile all day.
‘It will be no hardship to lose the obnoxious tag of “Greece’s most eligible bachelor”,’ he had drawled, those thick, dark lashes shuttering the cobalt brilliance of his eyes. ‘At least in future I might just be left alone to get on with my life and to live it as I please.’
His words had been arrogant enough to make Tamsyn bristle, but she’d bitten back her sarcastic response, deciding that having a stand-up fight right before the ceremony might not be the best way of portraying marital harmony. Instead, she’d concentrated on her appearance, determined to play her own part with aplomb. She’d chosen an extremely short white wedding dress in diaphanous layers of silk-chiffon which came to mid-thigh and defined the shape of her legs beneath. It was pretty and delicate as well as being slightly daring, but that was exactly what she wanted. She wanted people to look at her and tut. To remark that she really was an outrageous choice of bride for the Greek tycoon because that would pave the way for their speedy divorce.
What she hadn’t banked on was Xan’s reaction when he saw her walking towards him clutching a scented bunch of white flowers. He had looked her up and down as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing, his gaze lingering on her bare legs and a little muscle flickering at his temple. And when she’d enquired—a little anxiously—if the short dress was emphasising the freckles on her thighs, he had given her an odd kind of smile before shaking his head and guiding her towards the car waiting to take them to Piraeus.
‘Not at all, agape mou.’ His denial had been husky and the little muscle had still been flickering at his temple. ‘Not at all.’
And now she and her new husband were skimming over the sapphire sea towards the Peloponnese peninsula, because Xan had told her the best way to see his home for the first time was from the water. Almost as if was a real honeymoon and he was trying to impress her!
She’d never been on a yacht before—just ferries—most memorably a day-trip to Calais when she’d been just seventeen. But Xan’s sleek craft was worlds away from the lumbering ferry which had moved through the water with all the grace of a giant tractor. This boat gleamed silvery-white in the spring sunshine. It drew the eye of every passing yacht—especially with Xan at the helm. He had swapped his dark wedding suit for a pair of faded denims and a white T-shirt which emphasised the contrasting gleam of his olive skin. The muscles in his arms bunched as he did impressive-looking things to the billowing sails and his raven-dark hair rippled in the Aegean breeze. With an effort, Tamsyn tried to concentrate on the horizon, trying to prevent her gaze from sliding to his powerful body as he tugged on a rope—as she wondered how difficult it was going to be to resist him during the fortnight’s honeymoon which lay ahead.
‘Tamsyn! Look over there.’
Over the white noise whoosh of the sea, Xan’s voice broke into her thoughts and Tamsyn glanced up to follow the direction of his gaze. She hadn’t really thought about what she might find at the end of her journey but now her heart contracted with something like yearning as suddenly she understood the meaning of the word paradise.
Xan’s home was situated on a strip of land surrounded on three sides by the sea, like a green finger dipping into pot of blue water. A large, elevated modern house glinted in the bright sunshine of the spring morning but there were other buildings occupying the sprawling estate too, which made her realise just how vast it was. Outside seating areas with wicker chairs and tables and a long veranda, festooned with bright flowers and green climbers. In the distance was the seductive glitter of a sapphire swimming pool which blended into the ocean beyond, and impossibly smooth, emerald lawns sloping down a private beach, where a curve of sugar-white sand tempted the eye. Tamsyn watched as Xan expertly brought the yacht skimming into the small harbour where two fishermen were waiting, greeting him affectionately as they helped him anchor the boat.
Still in her wedding heels, Tamsyn consented to being lifted onto the sand by her new husband, which she supposed only added to the supposed romance of their arrival. And despite trying to convince herself that the gesture was functional rather than emotional, that didn’t stop her skin from shivering in response when he briefly held her in his powerful arms. Did her eyes darken or some other barely visible response communicate itself to him? Was that why there was a speculative narrowing of his eyes? Tamsyn stiffened. Just because she felt desire, didn’t mean she was going to act on it, did it? Even if it was difficult to shake the memories of just how good it had been between them...
‘Let’s go up to the house,’ he said, indicating a steep flight of stone steps, before casting a doubtful look at her towering white heels. ‘Think you can manage to walk in those, or would you like me to carry you?’
‘I think I can manage,’ she said, seeing the answering smile which curved his lips.
‘I thought you might say that,’ he commented drily.
But by the time they reached the top of the steps with Tamsyn panting slightly, Xan caught hold of her hand, lacing his fingers in hers as they began to walk towards the lawn.
She shot him a questioning glance, hating the sudden thrill of her hand as it was enclosed in the warmth of his. ‘Xan?’ she said breathlessly.
‘My housekeeper is watching from the house,’ he said. ‘And I know how disappointed she would be if she thought we were anything other than a pair of deliriously happy newlyweds.’
His housekeeper was watching.
Well, what had she expected? That he had been suddenly overcome with emotion? Tamsyn tried to pull away but he stayed her with the feather-light circling of his thumb and instead she found herself shivering in response. What was the matter with her? Was she so starved of physical affection that even a tiny stroke could reduce her to such a state of longing? Maybe she was. Or maybe gestures like that mimicked real closeness and made her realise with a sudden shock just what she’d never had. No mother to cuddle her. No father to bounce her on his knee. Nobody except Hannah who back then had only ever given her the occasional half-hearted hug, because it was kind of embarrassing to cuddle your kid sister.
So remember why you’re here, she told herself fiercely. Remember why you’re doing this. Not for love, or scraps of affection, but for money. Money for Hannah—the only person who’d ever really been there for her.
But it was easy to forget reality when the housekeeper was standing in the doorway watching them approach, her face creased with pleasure as she clapped her gnarled hands together in delight. The greeting she gave Xan was a surprise—Tamsyn hadn’t expected the tycoon to consent to being embraced so fervently by his elderly housekeeper. But neither was she prepared for the crushing embrace to which she was subjected afterwards and for a moment she stood, stiff as a board before gradually relaxing into the woman’s cushioned flesh. And wasn’t she secretly glad of that brief opportunity
