Passion Becomes You

His mother’s. Somehow hearing that changed her whole impression of the necklace. ‘Did your father give it to her?’ she asked with sudden insight.

‘Yes.’ Leon’s smile was wry. ‘Says a lot for his taste, doesn’t it? It was his first big social mistake and he’s going to hate being reminded of it when he sees it on you—if you’ll wear it for me, that is.’

‘You like riling him, don’t you?’ Jemma noted drily.

‘Love it,’ he admitted. ‘You see, he married my mother simply to get his hands on the Leonadis fortune, then proceeded to make her life hell until the day she died.’

Oh, my, Jemma thought as suddenly lots of missing pieces from the puzzle began to slot neatly into place. So, the Leonadis Corporation had belonged to his mother’s family and not his father. It had never occurred to her to question the reason for the two different names.

‘And your brother?’ she asked. ‘Where does he fit into all of this?’

‘Half-brother,’ he corrected. ‘Nico was born just eight months after my father remarried, which was six months after my mother died.’

‘How old were you?’ she questioned gently.

‘Eight.’ He paused, a sudden flash of pain hitting his features. ‘Anthia was my father’s mistress before and during his marriage to my mother,’ he said, then added flatly, ‘She wanted everything my mother had—even this necklace.’

‘I’ll wear it,’ Jemma said, and accepted the kiss he pressed to her forehead for what it was—a thank-you for her understanding.

‘Turn around and hold up your hair.’

She did so reluctantly, shivering as the cold, heavy necklace came to rest against her warm skin. She looked down at it, seeing the way the jewels flashed in the overhead light. ‘I feel as gaudy as a Christmas tree,’ she complained.

Leon kissed her exposed nape. ‘I promise to replace it with something more tasteful at the first opportunity I get,’ he vowed, settling her hair back about her sun-kissed shoulders. ‘In fact,’ he added as he turned her to face him again, ‘I never did get you that special gift in return for the one you gave to me.’ His mouth went ruefully awry, as though he did not like himself much for the omission. ‘I owe you, agape mou. I—’

‘But you did give me my gift, Leon,’ she inserted softly. ‘A beautiful gift. One I wouldn’t change for the world.’ Taking hold of his hand, she laid it tenderly on their child.

His eyes went black, emotion burning up from somewhere deep inside him, then he was pulling her into his arms. He didn’t kiss her, but just held her very close for a moment, and Jemma felt tears sting at the back of her eyes because she knew she had just unwittingly reached in and touched a very vulnerable part of him.

‘I do not deserve you,’ he murmured as he drew away.

‘Mmm,’ she agreed, teasing him with the gentle humour in her eyes.

Yet, rather than making him smile with her, if anything he looked suddenly angry. His hands tightened on her shoulders. ‘Jemma,’ he said impulsively. ‘I—’ Then he stopped himself, impatience straightening the softer line of his mouth. ‘Let’s go,’ he muttered instead, his mood dark with purpose as he led the way off the yacht to where a dark limousine was waiting at the bottom of the companionway.

A white-uniformed chauffeur jumped to open the rear door for them. Leon saw Jemma inside then joined her, the mask of cool sophistication she only ever saw him wear when they were in others’ company slipping smoothly into place now.

They didn’t speak, and Jemma fixed her attention on what was going on beyond the car window as they flashed smoothly by invitingly

lit tavernas and bars with their tables packed with scantily dressed holidaymakers who looked tanned and happy and relaxed.

As they must have looked last night, she thought wistfully, wishing they were back in Fiskárdho wearing the casual clothes of the tourist and enjoying a simple meal in congenial company.

Last night had been one of the sweetest she’d ever spent—mainly because Leon had made it that way. Tonight promised to be the opposite in every way.

Leaving the main part of the town behind them, they began to climb through residential suburbs then out into a starlit countryside. To their right, the sea shone like billowing black silk with the silvered light of the moon on it. And she could just make out the dark bulk of land on the other side of the water curving like an elephant’s trunk around the Gulf of Argostólion.

‘Lassi,’ Leon murmured when her face lit with interest as they dropped into sudden bright, busy life again. ‘It is the main holiday resort on the island, because of the good sandy beaches here.’

‘It looks very lively,’ she remarked, her voice unknowingly wistful.

‘Hmm,’ was all he said to that. ‘My father’s villa is not far from here,’ he told her instead.

That brought back her tension, and she sat quietly beside him as they turned off the main road, taking a narrow lane that went beneath a canopy of trees which made it difficult to see much after that, with no street-lights to ease the darkness, until they slowed suddenly and turned in through a stone-arched gateway. And she felt her tension increase when she saw the rows of expensive cars lining the wide driveway where the two-storey building at the end of it looked more like a medium-sized hotel than a private home.

The car came to a stop at the bottom of a set of shallow steps which led up to the wide arched doorway where two white-shirted servants stood waiting to receive the guests.

The chauffeur jumped out of the car to open the rear door for them. But when Jemma went to alight, Leon laid a hand on her arm and shook his head. ‘Wait,’ he said, and climbed out on the other side, coming around to help her alight himself.