The Greek Tycoon's Defiant Bride

‘Maribel…conspicuous consumption goes hand in hand with being a Pallis. The eight hundred guests will expect lots of bling, and most of them will be wearing their jewels.’

Later that morning, finally free of the combined attentions of the hair stylist, the beautician, the manicurist and the make-up artist, Maribel examined her unfamiliar reflection in the bedroom mirror. She was secretly enthralled by her appearance. Every day of her adult life she had played safe with fashion until she’d fallen madly in love with a bold eighteenth-century-style gown in a bridal portfolio. The boned and piped corset top accentuated her tiny waist before flaring out into a glorious full crackling skirt. Fashioned in rich gold taffeta and silk, it was a wonderfully glamorous dress. The tiara looked superb anchored in the glossy chestnut coils of her upswept hair with a gossamer-fine French lace veil caught at the back of her head.

The church, a substantial building in weathered stone, was on the Heyward Park estate. Its private entrance, allied to the heavy security and a police presence, ensured that the paparazzi could not get closer than the road that lay beyond the solid hedge.

‘I admire your calm so much,’ her cousin, Amanda Stratton, remarked sweetly, while Ginny and several parents coaxed the enchantingly pretty flower girls and the lively little page-boys into matching pairs. ‘As Mummy says, nine out of ten women would be threatening to leave Leonidas Pallis standing at the altar.’

Maribel frowned. ‘Why would I do something like that?’

Ginny Bell leant closer to Amanda Stratton and said something. The pretty blonde went red and stalked off.

‘What was she getting at?’ Mirabel asked her friend in an urgent undertone.

‘Maybe the rumour that Leonidas is marrying you without even the safety net of a prenuptial agreement was more than she could bear. Or, maybe it’s the sight of your diamonds. Whatever, its source is the sour grapes of envy and you shouldn’t pay the slightest heed to it,’ the older woman told her roundly.

Maribel felt as though she had just received a very sensible piece of advice. The sinking spirits she had suffered before midnight had been raised by her natural energy and optimism. Her marriage, she reflected, would be what she made of it. She breathed in deep as the doors were opened and the sweet mellow notes of organ music swelled out into the vestibule. The scent of the massed roses in the church hung heavy on the air.

Leonidas had nerves as strong as steel, but he had not enjoyed the most soothing start to the day and matters had only got worse. He had spent the morning in a disturbing state of indecision unlike anything he had ever experienced. Aware that his supposed stag cruise exploits might well feature on certain television news channels and on various celebrity websites, he had wondered what he would do if Maribel accessed either before she left for the church. On no less than three occasions he had reached the conclusion that he should move fast and give her his version of events first, only to change his mind again.

‘The bride has arrived,’ his best man, Prince Rashad, delivered in an aside, quietly marvelling at his friend’s perceptible tension and unease, and wondering if he was witnessing the reaction of a reluctant bridegroom. It was true that Maribel was a comfortable ten minutes late, but Rashad found it hard to credit that Leonidas could have feared that his wife-to-be might not turn up.

Leonidas swung right round to check that information out firsthand. And there was Maribel, exotic and vibrant in rustling gold-and-white taffeta that provided a superlative frame for her smooth creamy skin and chestnut hair. She lit up the church in a vivid splash of colour and he was so entranced he forgot to turn back again to face the altar in time-honoured tradition.

‘Mummy!’ It was Elias, who broke the spell by wriggling off his nanny’s lap with the speed and energy of an electric eel to hurl himself in Maribel’s direction.

Leonidas strode forward to intercept his son and he hoisted the little boy high before he could trip the bride or her attendants up. Laughter and smiles broke out amongst their guests.

Maribel’s attention locked to Leonidas and refused to budge. In tails and pinstripe trousers matched with a stylish cravat that toned with her dress, he would have made any woman stare. She met his stunning dark golden eyes and it was as if the rest of the world, and certainly everyone in the church, had vanished in a puff of smoke. All she was aware of was Leonidas. A sweet, wanton tide of warmth slivered silken fingers of anticipation through her slim frame.

Ginny took Elias from Leonidas. Leonidas grasped Maribel’s fingers and bent his darkly handsome head to press a kiss to the delicate blue-veined skin of her inner wrist. It was more of a caress than a kiss and, although that contact only lasted for an instant, it sent a tingling sensual message to her every nerve-ending and left her trembling.