‘Very well, I will marry you. Just so long as you understand I’m only doing it to give my baby security.’ She tilted her chin to meet the triumphant fire blazing from his eyes. ‘But if you think I’m going to be some kind of sexual pushover just to satisfy your raging libido, then you’re mistaken, Ariston.’
‘You think so?’ The smile which flickered at the edges of his lips was arrogant and certain. ‘I am rarely mistaken, koukla mou.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘WOW! I’VE NEVER seen a bride wearing red before!’ exclaimed Megan. ‘Is this some new kind of fashion?’
But before Keeley had a chance to answer the woman who’d lent her the ill-fated dress on Lasia, her brand-new husband leaned forward and spoke for her.
‘It’s an ancient Greek custom,’ said Ariston smoothly, his words curling over her skin like dark smoke. ‘Traditionally, the bride wore a red veil in order to ward off evil spirits. But I suspect Keeley has deliberately adapted the look and given it a modern twist by wearing a crown of scarlet roses to match her dress. Isn’t that right, Keeley?’
Resenting his perception even more than the way he’d just butted in, Keeley looked up into the blue blaze of Ariston’s eyes, trying not to react as he slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer, looking for all the world like a loving and attentive groom. How appearances could deceive, she thought bitterly. Because he was not a loving groom—he was a cold-hearted control freak who was positively glowing with satisfaction because an hour earlier he had slipped an embellished golden wedding ring onto her rigid finger. He’d got exactly what he wanted and she was now his wife, stuck in an unwanted marriage he was determined would last.
He dipped his mouth to her ear and she hated the involuntary shiver which trickled down her spine as his breath fanned her skin.
‘Clever you for researching Greek customs so thoroughly,’ he murmured. ‘Am I the evil spirit you’re trying to ward off, Keeley?’
‘Of course!’ she said, curving her mouth into a big smile, because she’d discovered she could do the appearance thing just as well as Ariston. She could play the part of the blushing bride to perfection—all it took was a little practice. And why spoil a day with something as disappointing as the truth? Why not let people believe what they wanted to believe—the fairy-tale version of their story—that the struggling daughter of a notorious actress had bagged one of the world’s most eligible men?
In the back of her mind she’d wondered if her past might catch up with her and if Ariston would have second thoughts about marrying a woman with a history like hers. Yet when a newspaper had regurgitated the old story of Keeley’s mother cavorting on the back
seat of the ministerial limo and asked Ariston whether the tawdry behaviour of his new mother-in-law gave him any cause for concern, he had broken the habit of a lifetime and given them a quote: ‘Old news,’ he’d commented, in a bored and velvety drawl. ‘And old news is so dull, don’t you think?’
Which was kind of ironic when Keeley thought about how much fuss he’d made about what had happened in the past. But she supposed her pregnancy changed everything. It made him overlook her mother’s transgressions. It made him act proprietorially towards her, something which he made no attempt to hide. She could feel him stroking his finger across the front of her scarlet dress, lingering lightly over the curve of her belly as if it was his right to do so. And she guessed it was. Because he was pulling the strings now, wasn’t he? Certainly the purse strings. He had given her a brand-new credit card and told herself to buy what she liked—to transform herself into the woman who would soon become his wife. ‘Because I want you to look like my wife from now on.’ His eyes had glittered like blue ice as he had spoken. ‘Not some little supermarket stacker who just happens to be wearing my ring.’
His remark had riled her and she’d been tempted to wear her oldest clothes all the time and see how he liked that. Would such defiance make him eager to be rid of her and thus grant her the freedom she craved? But then she thought about her baby...and the fact that she was soon going to be a mother. Did she really want to be seen pushing her buggy around the fancy places which Ariston frequented, wearing clothes which had come from the thrift shop? Wouldn’t that whittle away at her confidence even more?
But the disturbing thing was that once she’d started, she’d found it surprisingly easy to spend her billionaire fiancé’s money. Perhaps there was more of her mother in her than she’d thought. Or maybe she’d just forgotten the lure of wealth and how it could make people do unpredictable things. During her childhood when they’d been flush, money had trickled through her mother’s fingers like sand and sometimes, if she’d been feeling especially benevolent, she had spent some of it on her only child. But her gifts had always failed spectacularly. Keeley had been given impractical frilly dresses which had made her stand out from the other little girls in their dungarees. There had been those frivolous suede shoes, ruined by their first meeting with a puddle—and ribbons which had made her look like some throwback to an earlier age. No wonder she’d grown up to be such a tomboy.
But she took to her new credit card like a duck to water, shopping for her imminent role as Ariston’s wife with enthusiasm and allowing herself to be influenced by the friendly stylist who had been assigned to her by the fancy department store. She bought new clothes chosen specially to accommodate her growing frame, as well as new underwear, shoes and handbags. And didn’t she enjoy the feeling of silk and cashmere brushing against her skin instead of the scratchy qualities of the man-made fabrics she’d worn up till then? She told herself she was only doing what she’d been instructed to do, but the speculative rise of Ariston’s dark eyebrows when his driver had staggered into the City apartment under the weight of all those shiny shopping bags had left her feeling...uncomfortable. As if she’d just affirmed some of his deeply held prejudices about women.
But money was liberating, she realised. It gave her choices which had previously been lacking in her life and that newfound sense of liberation encouraged her to buy the scarlet silk dress and matching shoes, secretly enjoying the stylist’s shocked reaction when she explained it was for her wedding day.
‘You’re some kind of scarlet woman, are you?’ the woman had joked drily.
And now, at the small but glittering reception, Keeley realised that Ariston’s hold on her had changed and he was pushing her away by a fraction so his gaze could rake over her, those smouldering blue eyes taking in every centimetre of the scarlet silk which was clinging to her curves.
‘Spectacular,’ he murmured. ‘Quite...spectacular.’
She felt exposed—almost naked—which hadn’t been her intention at all. She felt aroused, too—and surely that was even more dangerous. She tilted her chin defiantly, trying to swamp the sudden rush of desire which was making her skin grow heated and her nipples hard. ‘So you approve of my wedding dress?’
‘How could I not approve? It would have been entirely inappropriate for such an obviously pregnant wife to wear virginal white.’ He gave a slow smile. ‘Yet despite your unconventional colour choice and what I suspect was your intention to rile me, let me tell you that you really do make a ravishing bride, Keeley. Glowing, young and intensely fecund.’
‘I’ll... I’ll take that as a compliment,’ she stumbled, the tone of his voice making her momentarily breathless.
‘That’s what it was intended to be.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘So how are you feeling, wife?’
Keeley wasn’t quite sure how to answer, because the truth was complex—and strange. For the first time in her life she actually felt safe—and cosseted. She realised that Ariston would never let anyone harm her. That he would use his strength to protect her, no matter what. But he wasn’t doing it for her, she reminded herself. He was doing it because she was carrying the most precious of cargoes, and as custodian of his unborn child she merited his care and attention. That was why he was suddenly being so considerate—and if she read anything more into it than that, then she would be embarking down a very perilous road.
‘I’m a little tired,’ she admitted. ‘It’s been a long day and I wasn’t expecting it to be such...such an occasion.’
He frowned. ‘You want to skip the meal and go home?’
‘How can I? It wouldn’t look very good if the bride didn’t turn up for her own wedding breakfast.’
‘You think I care?’ He reached out to stroke his fingertips beneath her eyes. ‘Your welfare supersedes everything.’
‘No, honestly. I’m fine.’ The touch of his fingers was doing crazy things to her heart and as she noticed Megan hovering close by with a camera phone pointed in their direction, something made her want to maintain the whole myth of this marriage. Was it pride? She forced a smile as the phone flashed. ‘Let’s join the others,’ she said. ‘Besides, I’m hungry.’