he think she wasn’t capable of caring for her nephew? Who did he think had been there through the long nights and lonely days since Michel and Irini died?
Anger threaded the aching grief inside her. Grief for her darling nephew, orphaned so young, and grief for herself.
She saw Lambis move deliberately to block the front door. The obstinate set of his jaw told her it would take a bulldozer to move him.
He didn’t want them here. Now he’d decided they couldn’t go. She wished he’d make up his mind!
Amelie would walk on hot coals if it would bring back the little boy she adored from the well of shock that had swallowed him. But she was fast running out of strength. Her head was reeling and there was a throb behind her eyes as she fought to stand tall.
Then she felt a touch on her elbow. It was the housekeeper, Anna, her expression concerned. Gently she raised her hand and stroked Seb’s golden hair as he pressed his face into Amelie’s collarbone.
‘Ela. Parakalo, ela.’ Come, please come. That much Greek Amelie understood.
She wavered for barely a second. Pride held no place here. She looked at the work-hardened fingers caressing Seb so tenderly and felt the fight drain out of her.
Amelie nodded. ‘Efharisto.’ Thank you.
For good or ill they were staying, at least for tonight.
Whether they’d found the safe haven, and the help they needed, only time would tell.
AMELIE STARED AT the darkness of the swirling night.
She’d got through the last couple of hours like an automaton. At last Seb was tucked up in bed, asleep.
It seemed disloyal to think it—for who could want to see a child in pain?—but surely the way he’d turned to her when they’d arrived, and again when he’d clung to her as she read to him, signified a change? Some lessening of the dreadful nothingness that gripped him?
Rubbing her forehead with weary fingers, Amelie tried to order her fogged thoughts.
She should sleep. She’d eaten the delicious soup and fresh bread Anna had provided, and taken a hot shower in the luxurious bathroom, feeling chilled bones warm.
But she was wired. There was too much to sort out.
Which meant facing Lambis Evangelos.
Sighing, she turned to her suitcase. She wanted to tug on a comfy sleep shirt and pretend she didn’t have to face the big, bad wolf tonight. But sleep would elude her till she did.
Ten minutes later, in trousers and a silky shirt of deep green that matched her eyes and boosted her flagging confidence, she checked that her subtle makeup hid the shadows of fatigue. With a few deft movements she twisted her long hair into a knot. Her earrings were simple pearl studs and she added a fine gold pendant of antique pearls, the only piece of jewellery her mother had given her.
Amelie closed her hand around the pendant, remembering her mother hugging her close, against all royal decorum, and whispering that now Amelie was twelve she was old enough to wear jewellery.
It was a talisman she wore when times got tough. Like when her mother died just months after that twelfth birthday.
Her mother had had the sweetest smile. A smile Michel and his son Seb had inherited. For a moment the ancient image wavered, replaced by Michel’s face, the glint in his eyes as he showed off his new speedboat, the charming smile as he invited Irini aboard for a quick spin.
Amelie slammed a steel door on the memory. She snapped open her eyes and deliberately set about cataloguing the beautiful room she’d been given. There was a chance, a slim one, that the place might give a clue to what made Lambis tick, for this was his retreat from the world.
Turning, she saw plain white walls, for the most part bare. Except for a tiny jewel of an icon that glowed richly on the far wall. Amelie wasn’t an expert but she recognised it was an original and very, very beautiful. Despite the stiff style of the traditional painting, the serenity and love on Mary’s face as she looked down at her baby stole Amelie’s breath. Here was love and a joy that made something swell hard in Amelie’s chest.
Swiftly she turned away, feeling raw, for she responded to the painting at a visceral level. It tugged at her own secret yearning.
But the important issue was why Lambis secreted this gorgeous piece in a guest room. Why not have it in his room where he’d see it often?
Amelie prowled the space, surveying the high timber ceiling with its ancient beams, the cosiness of intricately woven local rugs on the polished floor and a particularly exquisite one on another wall.
The bed was massive with crisp cotton sheets and a luxurious silk spread. In addition to a huge decorative cupboard was a vast modern walk-in wardrobe. An ancient timber chest carved with mermaids and some mythical beasts she didn’t recognise sat under one window, but in a discreet niche was a large screen that swung out to allow guests to watch television from the bed.
The room was an eclectic mix of charming old pieces and sleek functionality. The common thread was money. No expense had been spared to make a guest comfortable.
Which told her what? Lambis valued tradition but demanded modern convenience? He wanted guests to feel at home?
His reception told her he was more likely to bar the door to guests.
Or perhaps it was just she who was unwelcome.
The idea lodged hard and sharp in her chest. Surely he wasn’t so brutal with everyone?
Did he really believe she’d swallowed her pride and come here uninvited because she was needy for him?
Nausea snaked through her insides. Of course he had.
And when she’d told him Seb needed him?
He’d still wanted them to leave.
Despite what she’d once thought, the man had no heart. It was as simple as that.
* * *
Amelie found him in a sitting room, high-ceilinged and huge. Yet instead of being cold, that signature mix of old beauty and luxurious modern functionality made it feel comfortable.
Until Lambis turned and she read his aloof expression.
There’d been no thawing. Had she really expected it?
Because Anna had fussed over Amelie and little Seb like a hen with a couple of chicks didn’t mean the master of the house had changed his mind. Anna’s kindness contrasted starkly with Lambis’s brooding stare.
He said not a word as Amelie walked the length of the room, to the huge stone-lintelled fireplace with its bright flames and the dark man beside it.
His bold, handsome face was half-shadowed yet unreasonably, appallingly attractive.
