away—for what good would they serve him now?
‘There will be plenty of time for you to play happy families, Lucy. First things first. Let me show you around properly and then I have a surprise for you.’
‘I’m not crazy about surprises,’ she warned him lightly.
‘I think you’ll like this one,’ he promised.
Lucy thought how arrogant he sounded. Did that mean she was going to have to pretend? To smooth the way for their future marriage by showing him gratitude at all times? Would that be the grown-up way to proceed?
She began to follow him through the huge apartment, trying and failing to remember the precise configuration of the rooms. But she would quickly learn where everything was, she reassured herself—despite the fact that the entire ground floor of her riverside cottage would have fitted into one of the en suite bathrooms! One of the vast reception rooms led into a book-lined study, which looked more like a public library and contained leather-bound volumes in both English and Greek. There was an enormous kitchen with an adjoining dining room, three big en suite bedrooms on one side of the wide corridor, as well as the nursery suite on the other, which was completely self-contained.
‘I’ve given you your own bedroom,’ he said as his footsteps halted. ‘I decided it would be more appropriate if we slept apart until the wedding. Something befitting the status of my relatively innocent fiancée.’ His black eyes gleamed. ‘That doesn’t mean we cannot be intimate or imaginative, of course.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’ll be right next door,’ he informed her. ‘It will be like a throwback to a different age. I cannot tell you how much the novelty of that appeals to me, Lucy.’
Lucy’s breasts had grown heavy at his provocative words but her erotic recall was forgotten the moment he pushed open the bedroom door. Her lips fell open but she barely noticed the amazing view or huge bed, or the superb painting of a tiny fishing village which looked suspiciously like the one on his private island. All she could see were the piles of clothes which were everywhere, making the room look more like the changing room of an upmarket department store than a bedroom. There were sleek dresses hanging in front of the built-in cupboards and a gorgeous plum-coloured coat with a velvet collar. One of the cupboards was open and inside she could see colour-coordinated lines of beautiful silky shirts, and skirts which varied from pencil to flounce. Further along the rail were more casual clothes—cashmere sweaters which bore little resemblance to her own hand-knits and denim jeans which she was doubtful she’d be able to slide over her curvy hips. This must be the surprise he’d been talking about.
‘I hope you like them,’ Drakon said as she continued to stare at it all in silence.
Lucy forced herself to say something dutiful which wouldn’t sound ungrateful, because there was no denying he must have gone to a lot of trouble. ‘They’re gorgeous. Did you—?’
‘Actually, my partner chose them.’
‘Your partner?’ she questioned blankly and, although it was unconscious sexism on her part, she instantly imagined some strapping Greek male walking into a store waving a charge card.
‘Amy,’ he supplied, clearly oblivious to the sudden uncertainty in her voice. ‘We’ve worked together for years.’
She wondered if he was aware of the emotional impact of his words, or of the exact way he’d phrased them—because didn’t his relationship with his partner sound way more intimate and close than the one he had with her? Lucy could feel her heart punching against her chest in a way which was making her feel almost dizzy. ‘I see. And does... Amy choose all your girlfriends’ clothes for you?’
‘Never. But then I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I knew your wardrobe was insufficiently versatile to be able to cope with your new role as my wife,’ he said, clearly seeking diplomatic words to take the sting out of his statement. ‘And I thought you’d be too busy packing to have the time to hit the shops.’
Was that so? Or just that he thought she would fail miserably at the task? That her lack of experience—and money—meant she’d be incapable of selecting her own clothes? But Lucy tried to be positive and take Drakon at his word. She had to be, or this simply wasn’t going to work. And she would never have chosen any of these exquisite clothes—not in a million years. She wouldn’t have dared purchase items which individually probably cost more than she earned in a month. The question was whether she’d be able to change or return any without embarrassment if they turned out not to fit.
On a nearby chest she could see a deep drawer which was partially open and, sucking in a breath, she walked over and pulled it wide open to find it filled with the most provocative lingerie imaginable. Sexy thong panties were lined up beside balcony bras. Silk stockings and lacy suspender belts lay side by side and Lucy blinked at them in disbelief, sudden ice rippling down her spine. ‘Please don’t tell me your partner choose these?’
He shook his head and laughed. ‘Of course not. I bought these myself. It happens to be the most enjoyable shopping trip I’ve done in years, if you must know. Do you like them?’
Lucy continued to stare at them as she considered his question. On the one hand, of course she did. This was the kind of underwear she’d never imagined herself wearing, not in her wildest dreams. It was impossible not to like such exquisitely made garments, nor to imagine the amount of work which must have gone into making them, but... She turned to him, blinking her eyes rapidly. ‘How on earth did you know my size?’
He shrugged. ‘I guessed.’
‘You guessed,’ she repeated slowly. ‘Because you have such a comprehensive knowledge of a woman’s body that you instinctively know what size bra she wears?’
‘I’m in the ship-building industry, Lucy. Learning about dimensions comes with the territory.’ A smile curved the edges of his sensual mouth. ‘The shoes were a little more difficult.’
‘The shoes?’ she questioned blankly as the expansive wave of his hand indicated rows of high-heeled shoes and butter-soft leather boots she hadn’t even noticed before. She wondered what on earth he was doing as he bent down to retrieve something from underneath the bed, and was momentarily taken aback when he produced a suede moccasin and waved it in the air—like a magician plucking a rabbit from a top hat. ‘That’s my shoe!’ she declared.
‘I know.’ He gave slow smile. ‘I picked it up from that pile by your front door so I could get your size right, on the day I asked you to marry me. It isn’t really a winter shoe, so I didn’t think you’d notice it had gone.’
It took a couple of seconds before Lucy could bring herself to speak and when she did her words came spitting out like bullets. ‘I did notice, as it happens. I don’t actually own enough pairs of shoes not to realise when one goes missing.’ She glared at him, still not quite believing what he’d just told her. ‘So let me get this straight. You thought you’d go ahead with some modern-day enactment of Cinderella’s slipper and I’m supposed to coo with delight in response?’
‘I certainly had hoped for something a little more enthusiastic than your current reaction,’ he offered drily.
‘Well, please don’t bother in future. Like I said, I’m not the biggest fan of surprises. In fact, don’t bother with—’
But her sentence was destined never to be completed because Drakon had
