A Baby on the Greek's Doorstep

* * *

Almost a month later, Pixie watched Tor climb, still dripping, from the pool, after the acrobatics he had performed there to entertain Alfie, and cross the main deck to speak to the yacht captain, a bearded man currently sporting an apologetic smile.

While they were chatting she lifted Alfie, who was already half-asleep, and moved down to the cabin where her son was sleeping to change him and put him in his crib for a nap. Their nanny, Isla, was probably sunbathing on the top deck because Pixie and Tor usually kept Alfie with them in the mornings. She went for a shower and was towelling herself dry when Tor reappeared in the doorway.

‘We have an unscheduled stop to make this evening to take on supplies. While the crew are dealing with stocking up, we’ll be enjoying a sheltered cove and dining in a restaurant which the captain assures me is a hidden gem,’ he related lazily as he peeled off his shorts.

Heat mushroomed in her pelvis as she watched and dimly wondered if she would ever become accustomed to Tor’s utterly stunning masculine beauty. His gleaming bronzed gaze struck hers and she stilled, her heartbeat quickening, her breath catching in her throat. ‘Se thelo,’ he breathed, thick and low.

I want you—one little Greek phrase she had become hugely familiar with over the past four weeks.

Hunger lightening his eyes to gold, he reached for her, disposing of the towel with an aggressive jerk to release her small body from its folds and hauling her up against his hard, hot length.

‘I always want you,’ he breathed with a slight frown, as if he couldn’t quite work out why that should be so. ‘You’re turning me into a sex addict.’

Pixie flushed, knowing that she matched him there. She couldn’t keep her hands off him, couldn’t back off from the allure of that raw masculine magnetism he emanated if her life depended on it. It flared in her every time she looked at him, every time he reached for her, like a flame that had only been fed into a blaze by constant proximity. A month was a long time for a couple to be alone together, she acknowledged, just a little sad that they would be returning to London the following day. It had been a wonderful holiday though, her honeymoon, something she had not been quite sure it was when they’d first set sail on their wedding night. But they had both needed that time and space to get to know each other on a deeper level and it had worked. Tor had probably planned it that way, she conceded, having finally come to understand that Tor planned most things. It was just the way he operated. Only with sex was Tor spontaneous or impulsive.

‘What’s wrong?’ Tor husked as he backed her into the cabin again, all hungry predatory resolve and indescribably sexy in the role.

‘Absolutely nothing,’ she told him truthfully, because she reckoned that she would have to be a very demanding person to want more from him than she already had, and she refused to allow herself to feel discontented.

He spread her out on the bed and she tingled all over, her skin prickling with high-voltage awareness and anticipation as he feathered his sensual mouth over her protuberant nipples, making her moan. He stroked a provocative fingertip between her legs, where she was already swollen and damp, and a fierce smile of satisfaction slanted his lean, darkly handsome features. Without any further preamble, he thrust into her hard and fast and a shot of dynamite pleasure ravaged her pliant body. His compelling rhythm sent her to a stormy height of need faster than she would have believed. It was good, it was so good she climaxed crying out his name...and something else. ‘I love you!’ she gasped, just seconds before her brain could kick in again and make her swallow those words.

And Tor said...nothing. Pixie told herself that possibly he hadn’t heard or that he was just politely ignoring that accidental word spillage of hers and that that was better than forcing her to discuss the issue. For Tor would see that declaration as an issue, not a benefit, not a compliment, not something he should treasure and be grateful for. In turmoil, she turned away from him, her face literally burning with mortification and a sense of humiliation. Why? Why had she had to let those words escape?

Maybe it was pathetic to be so happy with a guy who didn’t love her when deep down inside her there was still this dangerous nagging need to have more from him and, of course, it bothered her. After all, love couldn’t be turned on like a magic tap by anyone but perhaps, over time, Tor would come to care for her more, she had recently soothed herself. Life wasn’t a fairy tale, Eloise had warned her, but, in truth, Pixie couldn’t help still yearning for the fairy tale.

Yet at the same time, honesty lay at the very heart of her nature and she had wanted to share her feelings with Tor, give him that warmth and validation. After all, she knew for a fact that life could change in a moment with an accident, an illness, some other terrible event, and she needed to live in the moment. Secrets weren’t her style.

It was true though that there were still little black holes in their relationship where she didn’t dare travel. He never ever talked about Katerina or Sofia, not even accidentally. It was as if he had locked that all up in some underground box on the night of the crash when he’d lost his wife and child and, sadly, only an excess of alcohol had unleashed his devastating emotional confessions the evening he and Pixie had first met. The rest of the time? Tor might as well have been a single man rather than a widower when she’d married him.

Yet Tor had asked her so much about her parents and her childhood memories, had freely satisfied his own curiosity and it had brought them closer, of course it had. Why couldn’t he do the same for her when it came to his first marriage? His silence was a barrier that disturbed her. Why was he still holding back? It was because of her honesty that Tor now understood a great deal better why she was so attached to her half-brother, the boy who had stood up for her in the playground when other children had teased her about her diminutive size, the adult male who had comforted her after the death of their father and her mother by promising that he would always be there for her.

‘Need a shower,’ she muttered, pulling free of the arms anchored round her and heading for the bathroom as though her life depended on it because his silence hurt her. Was it possible that he was still in love with his dead wife? Or was she being fanciful?

Tor rolled over and punched a pillow, perfect white teeth clenching now that Pixie was out of view. For a split second he was furious with her for putting him in that position. Just because he wasn’t prepared to lie, wasn’t prepared to pretend! Those three words were so easy to say, had routinely featured between him and Katerina and they had been absolutely meaningless and empty on her side.

But was it fair to punish Pixie for Katerina’s lies and pretences?

He froze as that possibility penetrated his brain for the very first time. He wasn’t punishing anybody, he roared defensively inside himself. He was simply insisting on a higher standard of honesty in their marriage, which meant that there would be a smaller chance of misunderstandings occurring between them. They needed a lot of things in a successful marriage, but love wasn’t a necessity, not as respect and loyalty and caring were, he reasoned in exasperation. Pixie was just young and rather naïve and had yet to grasp such fine distinctions. And it wasn’t as though believing that she loved him was likely to do her any harm, he rationalised, denying the warmth spreading through his chest and the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

* * *

That evening Pixie dressed to go ashore for dinner in a glorious white sundress that flattered her new tan, her blond curls tumbling round her shoulders in abundance. Her wardrobe had expanded over the month because Tor had taken her to more than one exclusive shopping outlet where he had insisted on buying her stuff. Jewellery such as she had never expected to own sparkled in the diamonds at her ears and throat, the slender gold watch on her wrist, the glittering rings on her fingers. On the outside she looked like a rich woman; on the inside, though, she still felt like an imposter, she acknowledged unhappily. She had won Katerina’s place onl

y by the other woman’s death and an accidental conception. She was basically just Katerina’s imperfect replacement and even Alfie was only a replacement for the little girl who had died.

The launch delivered her and Tor to a beach, where he insisted on carrying her across to the steps that wound up the cliff to where the restaurant sat. Pixie examined her feelings for him as he set her carefully down on the steps, so attentive, so honourable, so everything but not loving. How could she condemn him for that lack? she scolded herself sharply, annoyed that she was letting her own humiliation linger and twist her up to the detriment of their marriage. That was foolish, short-sighted, and in the light of that reflection she linked her arms round his neck before he could straighten and stretched up to kiss him. He didn’t have to love her because she loved him; they could get by fine as they were.