The Greek Tycoon's Defiant Bride

Leonidas wondered when she had developed the atrocious habit of remembering everything he had ever said and tossing it back to him like a log on a fire when he didn’t feel like a blaze. ‘That’s not why I kissed you, hara mou.’

‘Isn’t it?’

‘No. It is not,’ Leonidas framed with succinct bite.

Maribel tossed her head as much as she dared, for she did not want to dislodge her tiara. ‘Well, I don’t believe you.’

‘Why don’t we leave our guests to party alone and head straight to the bedroom right now, mali mou?’ Leonidas intoned that offer in the softest, silkiest voice imaginable. ‘I’m ready and willing. Would you believe me then? Would that prove that sexual hunger rather than a wish to pose for the camera-lens powered me?’

Violet-blue eyes wide, her heart thudding at the foot of her throat with shock, Maribel stared up at him aghast. Dangerous dark, deep-set eyes glittered down at her in a ruthless challenge that was all rogue male laced with white-hot sexuality. Her mouth ran dry, for she knew instantly that he wasn’t playing games. Indeed she had a horrible suspicion that abandoning their guests and all the hoopla that would go with entertaining them was a prospect that held considerable attraction for Leonidas.

‘Yes, it would…er…but I really don’t think that we need go that far,’ she muttered hurriedly.

‘No?’ His entire attention was welded to her. Not by so much as a flicker did he betray any awareness of the staff assembled on the far side of the hall to greet them or of the long procession of limousines pulling up outside to disgorge the first guests.

‘No,’ she whispered unevenly.

Leonidas stroked a blunt brown forefinger across the flush of colour illuminating her creamy complexion. ‘No?’ he queried thickly. ‘Even if it’s what I want most in the world at this moment, hara mou?’

Her heart was racing. Her breath had snarled up in her throat. His dark, rich drawl, his brilliant, provocative gaze, controlled her. She could feel the wild heat in him igniting a flame low in her pelvis and her legs quivered under her. Don’t I get priority? he had asked the night before. Suddenly she wanted to give him that priority, no matter what the cost.

‘Okay…if that’s what you want,’ she heard herself say in capitulation, and could then scarcely believe that she had said it.

Surprise and appreciation flashed through Leonidas. At last, yes. The strength of his satisfaction astonished him. She was so conventional, so careful. He knew the worth of his triumph and the power of his appeal. Golden eyes smouldering, he grasped her hand and carried her slender fingers to his lips with a gentleness that was rare for him. ‘Thank you, kardoula mou. But I won’t embarrass you like that.’

Disappointment and relief gripped Maribel in equal parts. But people were joining them; introductions had to be made, good wishes and congratulations received. The bustling busyness of being a hostess as well as a bride took over for Maribel, who had gently refused her aunt’s suggestion that she take charge for her niece’s benefit. When Maribel got her first free moment, she devoted it to Elias, who needed a cuddle and a little time alone with his mother before he would settle down for a long-overdue nap.

She was taking a short cut from the nursery down a rear staircase to the ballroom when she heard a name and a familiar giggle that made her pause.

‘Of course, if Imogen had lived,’ her cousin Amanda was saying with authority while she fussed with her hair in front of a gilded mirror, ‘Maribel would never have got near Leonidas. Imogen was gorgeous and she would never have popped a sprog just to get a guy to the altar.’

‘Do you really think Maribel planned her pregnancy?’

‘Of course, she did. It must’ve been right after the funeral—Maribel pounced when Leonidas was drunk, or something…I mean, he must have been drunk and upset about my sister!’

Praying that she would not have to suffer the ultimate humiliation of being seen, Maribel began to tiptoe back up the stairs. Unfortunately Amanda’s shrill voice carried with clarity after her.

‘Imogen thought it was so hilarious that Maribel had the hots for Leonidas that she told him. But I don’t suppose my sister would be laughing if she were here today. Did you see that tiara? Did you see the size of those diamonds? And what does Maribel do to say thank you? She sticks her billionaire in a tacky carriage drawn by horses that looked like they came straight out of a circus!’

Maribel headed for the main staircase at the other side of the great house. Her tummy was knotted with nausea. Had the carriage idea been tacky? How naïve of her not to appreciate that their sudden marriage would create loads of unpleasant rumours! How could anyone think that she had planned to fall pregnant? But perhaps this was a shotgun wedding in the sense that she had put Leonidas under pressure with regard to their son. So what right had she to be so thin-skinned?