Okay…so maybe he should not have goaded her that way. It wasn't as if he believed half of what he had said. No matter what kind of negative feeling hovered over him when he thought of his marriage, he knew himself well enough to know he would never stoop to paying for sex.
He felt like hell. Sexual frustration was lousy on his temper. She ought to know that, but then maybe she didn't usually tell him no. The thought made him ache.
What had he done in taunting her?
He wanted Eden, had woken up wanting her and had acted on that desire. But she had not liked him calling her baby. She claimed he usually called her yineka mou. That assertion did strange things to his insides—because, as he told her, he considered that endearment very personal.
Would he have used it on a wife he didn't want?
More importantly, why had he been so loathe to use it now? Two words and she would have let him into her body. He was married to her, those words should not be so hard to say, but they were. Impossible, in fact.
He'd never used them with a girlfriend, not once. He was a possessive guy, but yineka mou implied a level of possession he had never accepted reciprocally. He had only her word he had used the phrase, but why would she lie?
Her assertion that she could not make love to him when he did not consider himself married in his heart stood his view of her on its head. Unless it was some deep strategy on her part. The whole scenario made him question the wisdom of getting involved sexually with her.
He never lied to women, not in word or action. If he made love to her, would he be implying feelings he did not have?
His sense of integrity would not allow that, nor was he comfortable with the overwhelming nature of their intimacy. He'd lost himself and been tempted to lie to her just to get inside her body. That implied she had way more power over him physically than he had ever ceded to another woman and he wasn't sure he was willing to cede it to her.
"I don't understand why Theo and I can't stay here and return with you to Greece when you are done with your business."
Aristide frowned, unwilling to voice the key reason for his request that his wife and son fly back to Greece with the rest of his family the next day.
He feared his ability to refrain from making love to her. The longer he was in her company, the more he wanted her. It was an addiction he had no intention of feeding until he understood his marriage better. Hell, he wasn't sure even then he wanted to allow her the chance to wrap him up in a prison of her subtle sensuality.
He was confused enough with the holes in his memory; he could not afford to further cloud his thought processes with sex. Even if it was mind boggling, as he suspected it would be.
Besides, his wife had made it clear she would balk at sharing her body with him when he did not remember her. She had implied she thought his amnesia was subconsciously deliberate. He'd taken that to mean she acknowledged he had reason to do so.
However, that did not mean she liked being forgotten, or would want him touching her while he couldn't remember making her a Kouros…couldn't even remember the first time they met.
"A hotel room is not the most comfortable environment for a nine-month-old baby."
She glared up at him, her slight body stiff with displeasure. "Only in your rarified environment could someone label this two-bedroom suite a mere hotel room. Many people raise their children in apartments smaller than this."
"I am not one of those many people and there is no reason for my son to be cramped here when there is a perfectly good villa in Greece childproofed and arranged for his comfort."
"I'd planned to do more Christmas shopping while we were here."
Memories of his step-aunt's excesses bombarded him. "Surely the past four days have been sufficient time to buy all you were going to buy…even for the most voracious shopper."
Her lips pursed, as if his words had offended. "You might be surprised by this, but I've had too much on my mind the past few days to go shopping."
"You want me to believe you were so worried about me that you refrained from the delights of the shopping Mecca that is New York?"
"I don't expect you to believe anything good about me. You haven't so far." She turned away and started walking toward the door. "I'll fly home with your family. Heaven knows you didn't show a marked preference for my company before you forgot who I was and became convinced I am evil incarnate. It would be ludicrous to think you'd discover an untapped desire to be with me now."
He grabbed her shoulders and stopped her from leaving. Spinning her around to face him, he asked, "And why did I not like spending time with you?"
"I didn't say you didn't like to be with me."
"You said—"
"That you didn't show a marked preference for my company. It's not the same thing. Your business has always come first."
"You are sure it is not because I had a wife that made life away from home preferable to life at home?"
She twisted from his grip. "Believe what you like."
Damn it. Why did she have to sound so disheartened, like his awareness of her mercenary nature really hurt her?
She turned at the door to the bedroom, her eyes filled with sadness. "In answer to your question…I would say it's pretty obvious you found life at home boring or unpalatable, maybe even both. If you didn't, you would have spent more time there."
"You look pensive, Son. What are you thinking?"
Aristide looked up at his mother. Phillippa's beautiful brown eyes were fixed on him with obvious concern.
A striking woman, she was young enough to raise eyebrows when she announced the fact she was a grandmother. It was no surprise to him that she had finally remarried. The surprise had been that it had taken her so long.
She had been much younger than his father and still in her prime when Eugenios died. Yet, she had loved him so much that it had been more than a decade after his death before she accepted another man into her life. Aristide doubted she ever would have if she had not met Rachel's father. Vincent had been so obviously wounded by the years spent searching for his daughter that Phillippa's tender heart had been moved. First to compassion, and then to a love so genuine no one would ever deny its existence.
"I do not like this inability I have to remember my wife."
"No, of course not. Your amnesia is very difficult on both of you."
"So everyone keeps saying."
She reached out and squeezed his hand. "And we are all right. You hate to acknowledge weakness of any kind, but I know you must be very frightened by these holes in your memory."
He didn't want to dwell on his infirmity. He could not change it, therefore he would ignore it.
There were other matters of far more interest to him. "Was my marriage everything it should be?"
His mother's eyes widened in shock and then narrowed with an emotion he could not quite decipher. "Why would you ask me such a thing?"
"Doctor Lewis believes I had a reason for forgetting her. I am wondering if you know what it is."
"Eden is a good wife." His mother's staunch support of her daughter by marriage did not surprise him.
She was like a mama lion with her cub when it came to Rachel. He had no doubt that same attitude had prevailed with Eden upon his marriage, but he needed honesty, not platitudes given as a result of blind loyalty.
"Please, Mama, this is important."
Phillippa sighed, looking very uncomfortable and convincing him she knew more than she wanted to say. "Did you ask Eden?"
"She says she thinks I was not ready for marriage, that I forgot her because I never wanted the commitment to begin with."
"That is ridiculous." His mother's voice was laced with outrage. "No son of mine would be so weak!"
"I agree."
"But…" His mother's mouth drew down in a frown and she bit her lip as if trying to decide whether or not to remain silent.
"Tell me."
"Neither you nor Eden ever expressed dissatisfaction with your marriage. You must understand this."
"Your caveat is duly noted."
She accepted his words with a regal nod. "I am not certain how best to say this, but there were times I believed you were naively complacent."
"Me…not Eden?"
"Yes, you."
For some inexplicable reason the confirmation of his wife's unsuitability shocked him to the core, particularly coming from his mother. "What exactly are you saying?"
"You asked me if your marriage was all that it should be and I must tell you that many times I suspected it was not."
"Did I marry her to secure my place in Theo's life?"
"I often worried that was a larger part of your decision to marry than it should be. I had always hoped there was more genuine affection between you, but I did not pry."