‘What’s wrong?’ Pixie asked abruptly, watching sharp tension tighten the sculpted lines of Apollo’s lean, hard face.
‘Nothing. I forgot,’ Apollo said equally abruptly, ‘I have a couple of work calls to make. Will you be all right settling in here on your own?’
‘Of course I will be.’
Apollo strode down the stairs like a hungry lion in search of prey. If Pixie was pregnant, there would be no home birth, he reasoned with immediate resolve. No, she was going to a fully equipped hospital regardless of how she felt about that decision. He would also engage a standby medical team. He wouldn’t take any risks with her because he was too conscious that something quite unexpected could happen during a birth. He wouldn’t mention that to Pixie though. He wasn’t that stupid. He didn’t want her worrying and certainly not to the extent he was suddenly worrying.
For a split second he was grudgingly amused by his own attitude. He had married Pixie to have a child and now that there was a chance they might have succeeded at step one, he was suddenly awash with anxiety. She was so small…and the baby could be big as he had been…and now he needed a drink.
By the time Pixie had watched her luggage being unpacked, enjoyed a cup of tea on the shaded terrace alone and even taken Hector for a walk through the meandering gardens with tree-lined paths alone, she had accepted that Apollo was not as excited by the concept of becoming a father as she was excited about becoming a mother. He had vanished like Scotch mist and she felt that they did not have the kind of marriage that empowered her to go looking for him as a normal wife might have done. Looking for Apollo any place struck Pixie as clingy and she refused to act clingy.
Dr Floros arrived, middle-aged and bearded and relentlessly cheerful even in the face of Apollo’s grave demeanour. Yes, Apollo had finally reappeared and Pixie could not help but notice that her husband was as grim as a pall-bearer in comparison to the chirpy medical man. Maybe the actual prospect of a child was a little sobering for a playboy, Pixie reasoned uncertainly as she took the test and vanished into the palatial cloakroom on the ground floor. It would be foolish of her to think that he had lost his original enthusiasm for conception. That wasn’t possible, was it?
‘My wife is very small in size,’ Apollo remarked to the doctor while Pixie was absent.
‘Nature has a wonderful way of taking such differences into account,’ Dr Floros assured him without concern. ‘I’ll take a blood test as well if the result is positive.’
Pixie watched the test wand change colour, but since the packaging and instructions were in Greek she had no idea what was a positive and what was a negative and had to return in continuing ignorance to the two men.
Dr Floros beamed before she even reached them. ‘Congratulations!’ he pronounced in English.
Pixie felt a little dizzy at the confirmation that she was going to be a mother and she sat down hurriedly, her attention locked to Apollo’s lean, strong face. He froze, betraying nothing, neither smiling nor even wincing in reaction and she wanted to slap him for it. Apollo explained about the blood test and Pixie stood up a little nervously because she didn’t like needles. Indeed Dr Floros only got as far as flourishing his syringe before Pixie felt faint, her knees wobbling so obviously that Apollo gripped her to steady her.
‘Are you all right?’
And no, she wasn’t all right because at that point she fainted and resurfaced lying on a sofa.
‘Don’t look at the needle…’ Apollo urged, quick as always to identify the source of her fear, and he crouched down beside her and held her hand as tightly as if she were drowning.
The test was done. She apologised to the doctor and he said it was probably the combination of the good news and stress that had made her pass out. Dr Floros departed and Apollo reappeared with Olympia carrying a pot of tea.
‘You could say something now,’ Pixie prompted when they were finally alone.
Apollo frowned. ‘About what?’
‘Well, it did only take us six weeks…you could look happy, look pleased!’ Pixie emphasised in annoyance.
‘I am pleased,’ Apollo assured her unconvincingly. ‘But not if it makes you ill and you collapse like that. That was scary.’
‘I didn’t exactly enjoy it. I hate needles and injections and I felt so dizzy and then everything went dark,’ Pixie explained rather curtly. ‘I’m not about to be ill. I’m simply pregnant and there are a few symptoms that come with that. Dizziness is one of them. Holly was always getting light-headed.’
‘Luckily we have a lift, so you won’t have to use the stairs.’
Pixie studied him in wonderment. ‘You expect me to use a lift to go up or down one floor? Are you crazy?’
‘You could fall on the stairs,’ Apollo traded with deadly seriousness.
‘Thank you, Mr Cheerful.’ Pixie rested her head back and tried to imagine becoming a mother. She wasn’t about to let Apollo’s strange lack of enthusiasm take the edge off her sense of joy and achievement. A baby, a darling, gorgeous little baby who was hers and his. She couldn’t keep Apollo but she could keep their baby. She was happy, really, really happy about that aspect and suspected it would be something of a comfort in the future when Apollo was no longer a constant part of her life.
There would be a divorce first, she reminded herself doggedly. Then she would have to get accustomed to seeing him with other women in tabloid pictures, knowing he was sharing a bed with them while also knowing exactly what he was doing with them there. Doubtless he would phone her to keep up to date with their child’s development and from time to time he would visit in person until the child was old enough to go and visit him. It would all be very civilised and polite but she was already painfully aware that losing Apollo would smash her heart to smithereens!
Apollo studied the tears rolling down Pixie’s cheeks as she stared up at the ceiling. She wasn’t happy about being pregnant and he wondered why he had expected otherwise. She liked kids, he knew she did, but then they weren’t having a child in the most ideal circumstances, he reminded himself grimly. She was having a child she would pretty much raise alone and possibly she felt trapped because at her age most women were young, single and free as the air.
A chilling shot of rage assailed Apollo at the image of Pixie reclaiming her freedom after a divorce and becoming intimate with another man. He had the strangest possessive feelings where she was concerned, he conceded in bemusement. For some reason too he was feeling as exhausted as if he had climbed a mountain. Somehow Pixie being pregnant was incredibly stressful. No, worse than stressful, frightening, he adjusted in consternation. For the first time it occurred to him that Vito had been saved from such concerns by only entering his son Angelo’s life when the baby was already six months old. Was it normal for a first-time father to feel on the edge of panic? He crushed the reaction and went into denial.
‘By the way, we’re having a big party here in a few weeks,’ Apollo announced in a determined change of subject. ‘I organised it last month.’
‘Thanks for sharing after the event,’ Pixie said sarcastically.
‘I’ve invited friends and family here to celebrate our marriage but I didn’t fancy a wedding-type event,’ Apollo confided with a cynical twist of his mouth. ‘I settled on a fancy-dress party for a theme.’
‘Oh, joy…’ Pixie mumbled sleepily as she turned her face into a cushion, presenting him with her narrow back.
‘I’ve taken care of our outfits,’ Apollo told her with pride, relieved she would not be put to the worry of wondering what she should wear and very much hoping that she would appreciate the amount of trouble he had gone to.
‘Your way or the highway,’ Pixie whispered unappreciatively. ‘Don’t worry. I knew what a control freak you were the day I married you.’
Apollo surveyed Hector, who was seated on the rug, his little face seemingly anxious. You and me too, buddy, Apollo thought wryly while he wondered if it was possible that Pixie could roll off the sofa and hurt herself wh
ile she slept. For the first time in his life concern was weighing him down like a big grey cloud closing out the sun. He had never truly had to worry about anyone but his father but now he had a wife and a child on the way. He thought it extraordinary that achieving the pregnancy required to fulfil the terms of his father’s will should suddenly and quite inexplicably feel, not like a prize, but more like a poisoned chalice.
*
Apollo came to bed in the early hours. Having persuaded herself that he might not even choose to still share the same room, Pixie was lying sleepless watching the moonlight glimmer through the shadows. She listened to him in the shower, watched him stride naked towards the bed and sensual heat curled low in her body because she could see that he was aroused.
Apollo slid quietly into bed and lay there, thoroughly irritated by the throbbing at his groin. Pixie was pregnant, fragile and definitely off-limits. But it was as if she had lit a fire in him the first time they had had sex. It was a fire only she could seem to cool and that knowledge seriously disturbed him. Throughout his adult life Apollo had viewed sex as a casual diversion from more important activities. Sex had always been easily available and his libido had never homed in on one particular woman. His life had been wonderfully simple, he reflected grimly. He would see a woman he wanted, enjoy her for a while and when he got bored move on to the next. And now, for some peculiar reason, he wasn’t getting bored any more…and he was feeling urges he had no desire to feel.