The Kouvaris Marriage

Suddenly her legs felt horribly unsteady. He was spot-on about this morning’s trauma. And every bit of it was his fault!

It had started with his humiliation of her and come to a dramatic crescendo with the news of her pregnancy. So a short rest, the brief and blessed oblivion of sleep, seemed like the best idea she’d heard in a long while. And if he smugly assumed she was falling in with his wishes it couldn’t be helped.

‘I’m sure I will be all right on my own,’ she was forced to point out, not wanting him anywhere near her, because he was no longer her dearest love, he was her enemy. Her pregnancy had rammed that reality home as nothing else could have done. Muttering vociferously, he ignored her statement of independence, swept her up into his arms and headed for the staircase.

‘Put me down! I’m not an invalid! I can manage!’

‘I’m sure you can. But while I am with you, you don’t have to.’

He knew he sounded cold. Could do nothing about it. He could barely trust himself to speak. Watching her across that table, he’d been hit by the usual upsurge of savage h

unger that always afflicted him in her presence—had done ever since he’d first set eyes on her for the first time. The wanting was strong enough to cause actual physical hurt, leading inevitably to the thought of the marriage bed.

But he knew that resuming those mind-shattering pleasures was out of the question until things were calmer between them and he could begin to forgive himself for the earlier humiliation he’d dealt her, which now severely appalled him.

Whatever her reasons for wanting out of their marriage—and he no longer wished to know them because the future was all that mattered—she didn’t deserve that type of treatment.

He hoisted her body closer to the hard strength of his and effortlessly mounted the stairs, while Maddie desperately tried to stop the tears that stung the back of her eyes from falling. Held this close to him, to the man she had adored with everything in her, was torture. Worse than torture. Because her body was letting her down again, responding wholeheartedly to him even as what little was left of her brain told her all she wanted to do was punch him!

Wicked, treacherous heat flared deep inside her as he shouldered through the door to the master bedroom and slid her to her feet at the side of the massive bed. He was still so close, too close. He was so magnificent, so unfairly sexy, full of careless masculinity. It was as if his body was a silent call to her—a call which drew an immediate response from her soul, from a loving heart her logical mind was unable to control.

Maddie turned swiftly, caught between the edge of the bed and his superbly powerful frame. A smothered sob snagged her throat as blistering heat gathered deep inside her and made her heart flip over.

She despised herself for her body’s unmanageable response to him. She knew what he was. Cruel enough to make her love him and then toss that love back in her face as if it were something of no value whatsoever. So why did she crave him like a forbidden drug? She would never have described herself as weak, lacking will power, but she obviously was, and the knowledge flayed her.

As if sensing her distress, he stepped away from her, his strong jaw set, golden eyes uncompromisingly grim as he told her, ‘Rest now. I shall be working in the study at the far end of the old wing should you need me. And, Maddie—’ His voice faltered momentarily, then incised on. ‘Please accept my apologies for my earlier despicable behaviour. Such a thing will never happen again, I promise on my life. I quite understand why you felt the need to run from the house. From me.’

Turning with his inherent grace, he left the room. Stunned, Maddie plopped down on the bed and just sat there. Shaking.

The arrogant, domineering Greek male had actually apologised! The moon must have turned blue and she hadn’t noticed!

Unused to putting a foot wrong in his world-spanning business dealings, or in his relationships with friends and colleagues, he had actually admitted being in the wrong. Why? Unaccustomed humility? Or an integral part of his cynical kiss-and-make-up scenario?

But there wouldn’t be any kissing, would there?

She was safely pregnant. There was no longer any need for him to grit his teeth, take her to bed and think of Irini!

Curling up on the tumbled sheets, she buried her face in a pillow and eventually fell into an uneasy sleep, wondering why that obvious conclusion didn’t bring her the deep relief it should.

It was cooler when she woke. The searing midday heat had been replaced by a soft, balmy warmth that drifted through the open windows, fluttering the delicate muslin drapes. Her eyes felt gritty, her mouth parched, her brain fuzzy. She would have to freshen up, she decided vaguely. Get out of the dress she’d fallen asleep in, move herself. Then the hateful reality of her situation hit her like a sledgehammer and enfolded her.

Staunchly telling herself that she was going to have to get used to it or lose her sanity, she firmed her soft mouth and swung her feet to the floor, her eyes lighting on the jug of orange juice and the single tall crystal glass on the bedside table.

Dimitri? Had to be. Schooling the sudden and unwelcome mush out of her heart and replacing it with cold reality was easy. He hadn’t provided the freshly squeezed juice because he cared about her. He cared about the welfare of the coming baby. He would cosset her, wrap her in cotton wool until her child was born. Then get rid of her.

She would take his plans and reduce them to ashes. Even if it did mean having to grit her teeth and play him at his own devious game for a few more weeks.

She hated him! Nevertheless, she poured and drank gratefully, noting that the ice cubes hadn’t begun to melt. So he must have come to the room in the past few minutes. Was that what had woken her? Was she that aware of him, attuned to him, even in sleep?

It was a shattering thought. She didn’t want it to be like that. She had to learn to be indifferent to him. Had to.

Starting with doing her own thing.

Hoping he’d gone back to his study and intended to stay there, she stripped off the now crumpled and wilted sundress she’d put on for the doctor’s arrival and got into a sleek white one-piece swimsuit, bemoaning the fact that, sleek as it might be, it did nothing to disguise the curve of her breasts and well-rounded hips.

Not for the first time she wondered how he could have brought himself to make love to her, preferring, as he obviously did, the ultra-sophisticated stick-insect type such as his beloved Irini.

Dimitri had mentioned a swimming pool, so she was going to find it and enjoy the cool waters and continue the long haul of not only acting but actually being indifferent to him. To knock firmly on the head the sneaky wish that her husband truly loved her, only her, and that their time here in romantic seclusion really was a belated honeymoon.