The Pregnant Kavakos Bride

‘No,’ said Keeley quickly. ‘You don’t have to do that, Eva. There’s still half an hour of the lesson left to run.’

‘I can always come back,’ said Eva in a bright voice which suggested this was never going to be an option.

Ariston waited as Keeley showed the teacher out, listening to the sound of her rapid returning footsteps before she marched into the room and glared at him.

‘What was that all about?’ she demanded.

‘I could ask you the same question. Who the hell is Eva?’

‘I told you. She’s my Greek teacher—isn’t that obvious?’

‘Your Greek teacher,’ he repeated slowly. ‘And you found her...where?’

She sighed. ‘She’s the sister of the waiter who served us the night we went to the Kastro restaurant. He overheard me saying to Korinna that I wanted to learn Greek and so he gave me Eva’s card on my way back from the washroom.’

‘Run that past me again,’ he said. ‘She’s the sister of some random waiter you met in a restaurant?’

‘What’s wrong with that?’

‘You’re seriously asking a question like that?’ he demanded. ‘Think about it. You don’t even know these people!’

‘I do now.’

‘Keeley,’ he exploded. ‘Don’t you realise the potential consequences of inviting strangers into my home?’

‘It’s my home too,’ she said in a shaky voice. ‘Or at least, it’s supposed to be.’

With an effort he altered the tone of his voice, trying to dampen down the anger which was rising up inside him like a dark tide. ‘I’m not trying to be difficult, but my position is not like that of other men. I happen to be extremely wealthy. You know that.’

‘Oh, yes—I know it. I’m never likely to forget it, am I?’ she retorted hotly. ‘What do you want me to do, Ariston—go around checking that Eva hasn’t pocketed one of your precious Fabergé eggs?’

‘Or maybe,’ he continued, as if she hadn’t spoken, ‘maybe introducing you to the Greek teacher was simply a clever diversion and the pretty-boy waiter has designs on you himself?’

‘You think he has designs on me?’ She stood up and gave a disbelieving laugh as she angled her palms over

the curve of her belly. ‘Looking like this? How dare you? How dare you say such a thing to me?’

Ariston let her words wash over him but instead of being irritated by her defiance, all he could think about was how ravishing she looked in her anger. Her blonde hair was spilling wildly around her face and her green eyes were spitting emerald fire and automatically he reached out to pull her into his arms. That first contact made her pupils dilate and although she had started beating her hands furiously against his chest, she moaned when he started to kiss her and she moaned some more when he palmed her nipple and felt the tip pushing hungrily against his hand. She kissed him back and her kiss was hot and hard and angry, but the beating of her fists became less insistent. He levered her closer, and jutted his hips so that she could feel just how hard he was and she writhed against him in furious frustration.

Slipping his hand underneath her dress, he felt her bare thigh and as he began to stroke his fingers up towards her panties his desire went right off the scale. Just like hers. He could hear the unsteady rush of her breath as she scrabbled at his belt, and as she slipped the notch free he felt as if he might explode. He was rock-hard and the unmistakable scent of her arousal was in the air as his slowly moving fingers reached her panties to discover they were damp. So damp. He groaned again, and so did she as he pushed the taut panel aside and slicked his finger over her honeyed flesh, confident that sex would dissolve the tension between them as it always did. Couldn’t he show her who was boss and wouldn’t her hungry body accept that, the way it always did? Her arms wound themselves around his neck and he was about to pick her up and carry her over to the chaise-longue when suddenly he came to his senses.

‘No,’ he said suddenly, his heart pounding in protest as he removed her hand from his trousers and pushed her away.

It took several moments before she spoke and when she did she looked at him in confusion. ‘No?’

‘I don’t want you, Keeley. At least, not right now.’

‘You don’t?’ she questioned, before giving a disbelieving laugh. ‘Are you quite sure about that? Isn’t that the way you like to settle any kind of disputes we have?’

He suppressed a ragged groan before forcing himself to step away from her. ‘I’m not making love to you when we’re in this kind of mood,’ he said, his voice thick. ‘I’m angry and so are you, and I fear I might be more...physical with you than I should be.’

‘And?’

‘And that’s probably not the best idea given that you’re pregnant.’

Keeley stared into his shuttered features as desire drained from her body, like water from the bathtub, and in its place came a horrible sinking realisation. Because no matter what she did or what she said—no matter how hard she tried or how long they stayed married—Ariston would always remain in command. She could learn Greek until the cows came home but it wouldn’t make any difference. She could even try to find out more about ship-owning, but she would be wasting her time. Because what she wanted didn’t count. It was what Ariston wanted which counted and it always would, because he ruled the roost and had been allowed to do so for years.

He liked her to know her place and to run everything past him first. He didn’t like strangers in the house and now she knew that, she would be expected to respect his wishes. Her home had become her prison and her husband the rigid jailer. And the reason he didn’t want to make love to her right now was nothing to do with his fears about her pregnancy. The expression on his face was as dark as the time he’d told her about his mother and suddenly she understood why. Because he didn’t like the way she was making him react, she realised.