The Greek Tycoon's Defiant Bride

Seeing Greece through his eyes, she had fallen more in love with it than ever, after he had taken her off the tourist track on his yacht. In his company she had explored some fascinating ancient archaeological sites. He had shown her his favourite places, some hauntingly beautiful and almost all deserted. He had also taught her that, if the food was good, he was happier eating at a rickety table in a tiny taverna in a hillside village than he was in an exclusive restaurant. They had picnicked and swum in unspoilt coves that could only be reached from the sea. Above all, he prized his privacy and even though he was almost always recognised his countrymen awarded him that space.

Maribel had worked hard at losing the habit of making unfavourable comparisons between herself and Imogen. She had accepted that it was stupid to continually torment herself with such ego-zapping thoughts and she had concentrated instead on recognising what she did have with Leonidas. And what she had, she reflected dreamily, was a lot more than she had ever dared to hope for. He was her every fantasy come true in the bedroom. He was highly intelligent, great, cool company and very witty. She was learning how dependable he was, how straightforward he could be once the barriers came down. He could also be wonderfully gentle and considerate.

A slim, stylish figure clad in a strappy emerald-green sundress, Maribel strolled out onto the terrace that overlooked the bay. It was gloriously cool below the spreading canopy of the walnut trees. Only a few minutes later, Leonidas came out to join her. His mobile phone was ringing, but he paused only to switch it off and set it aside. The staff knew better than to interrupt him with anything less than an emergency. Her dark blue eyes locked to his lean, darkly handsome face. His presence always created a buzz and, true to form, he looked amazing in a cream open-necked shirt and jeans.

‘We’ve been together one calendar month, hara mou,’ Leonidas filled two flutes with champagne and handed a jewel box to her. ‘That calls for a celebration.’

Taken aback, Maribel lifted the lid. Her breath caught in her throat at the beauty of the diamond bracelet with the initials MP picked out in sapphires. She now knew how much he enjoyed giving her presents and she no longer scolded him for it.

‘It’s really gorgeous, Leonidas. Put it on for me,’ she urged. ‘Now I feel bad because I’ve got nothing to give you!’

Leonidas looked down at his wife with sensual dark eyes. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll come up with something that doesn’t cost you anything but lost sleep.’

Maribel blushed and grinned and extended her wrist until the light filtering through the trees glittered over the jewels. ‘Thank you,’ she told him.

He passed her a champagne flute. ‘Before I forget to mention it, your cousin Amanda phoned to ask us to a dinner party in London. I was surprised she didn’t ring you.’

Maribel wasn’t surprised. Amanda was as ruthless at making use of influential contacts as her mother was and would have deliberately contacted Leonidas in preference to her cousin. ‘I think I’ll make a polite excuse,’ she said uncomfortably. ‘My relatives are going through a bit of an adjustment period just now. It’s probably best if I let them have some time to get used to the fact that you’re my husband.’

Leonidas quirked an eloquent black brow. ‘What on earth are you talking about? Why should they need time?’

Maribel winced. ‘The Strattons were rather like the spectres at our wedding feast,’ she admitted ruefully. ‘I’m afraid my aunt was initially very upset when she realised that you were Elias’ father—’

His brilliant dark eyes flashed gold.’ How was that her business?’

‘I know it’s a long time ago, but you and Imogen were once an item.’ It was a reluctant reminder, for Maribel was already wishing she had chosen to be less frank on the subject. The habit she had recently developed of telling Leonidas everything had gone deeper than she appreciated.

‘No, we weren’t.’

‘Possibly not on your terms.’ Maribel was performing a mental dance to choose the right words to explain how her relatives felt. ‘Had you had a child with anyone but me and married that person, it wouldn’t have bothered them. But when it’s me, they can’t seem to stop thinking that I somehow poached on Imogen’s preserves.’

Leonidas frowned. ‘But I didn’t date Imogen.’

Maribel stared fixedly at him. ‘Maybe you didn’t call it dating, but you were involved with her for a while—’

‘Sexually?’ Leonidas cut in. ‘No, I wasn’t.’

Gobsmacked by a statement that turned years of conviction upside down, Maribel shook her head as though to clear it. ‘But that’s not possible. I mean, Imogen herself said—I mean, she talked as if—’