The Greek's Virgin Bride

'Piraeus,' replied Nikos. 'The port of Athens.'

'The what?’

"The port of Athens,' Nikos repeated. 'Where we embark.'

'Embark?'

Nikos looked across at her. Now what was she making a fuss about?

Andrea gazed wildly out of the window. She had been pay­ing no attention to their journey from her grandfather's villa, deliberately diverting her mind from what she had just done by thinking about what would be involved in moving Kim out to Spain as soon as possible. But instead of drawing up outside some five-star hotel in the middle of Athens, whence she could easily take a taxi to the airport the following morning, the car had stopped on what she could now see was a quayside, along­side what seemed to be a huge, gleaming vessel.

The chauffeur opened her door and stood back to let her get out. Stiffly, aware that her legs had suddenly started to ache again with unexpected tension, Andrea climbed out and looked around her.

There was a vessel moored at the quayside all right. Absolutely huge. Vast. Stretching like a gleaming monster from bow to stern. A wide gangplank faced her.

'Come,' said Nikos.

He took her arm.

'I'm not going aboard that! What the hell is it?'

His mouth tightened. Hadn't Yiorgos even bothered to tell his granddaughter about his latest spending spree?

'It's your grandfather's new toy,' he told her. 'He's lent it to us for our honeymoon.'

Andrea stared. 'I thought we were going to spend the night in Athens. At a hotel.'

'What for?' countered Nikos. 'We might as well set sail as soon as possible.'

'I'm not going on that thing!'

Her face was set. Aware, as she was blissfully not, of the highly interested if superficially indifferent attention not only of the chauffeur but of the crewmen at the foot of the gang­plank, Nikos impelled her forward. He was not about to have his brand-new bride balk him.

She stumbled slightly, and with a sudden gesture Nikos swept her up into his arms. She gave a small shriek, but Nikos only gave a victor's laugh.

'I'm carrying you over the threshold.' He grinned down at her, as much for the sake of his audience as himself, and plunged up the gangplank.

Short of screaming blue murder, Andrea had no option but to let herself be carried aboard the monstrous vessel. She was too terrified to struggle in case they both landed in the murky water lapping beneath the gangplank.

Nikos set her down on the deck and said something in Greek to the man standing there. Hurriedly she smoothed down her jacket and tried to regain her composure. Then Nikos was in­troducing her.

'This is Captain Petrachos, Andrea mow,' he said smoothly.

Andrea took in a smartly dressed middle-aged man in an immaculate white naval uniform, with a lot of rings around his cuffs and gold epaulettes, sporting a trim, nautical beard.

'Welcome aboard, Kyria Vassilis. I hope you have a very enjoyable voyage.'

'Thank you,' she murmured in a strangled voice. It wouldn't be an enjoyable voyage, she thought wildly, it would be a very short one!

'If you're both ready, I'll get her underway.'

'Thank you,' said Nikos. He held out a hand to Andrea. 'Come, let us explore.'

His fingers closed around hers, tighter than was strictly nec­essary. Meekly, Andrea went off with him. She was rearranging her thoughts as quickly as possible. OK, so she had assumed— rashly so, it seemed!—that they would spend the first night of their honeymoon at some luxury hotel in the middle of Athens. Instead they were launching out on this floating private liner! Well, she thought grimly, so what? Her ludicrous marriage

could come to a speedy and ignominious end here as well as anywhere else! They'd be docked right back here again before tomorrow morning.

Despite her best intentions to remain indifferent to her oh-so-temporary accommodation, Andrea found her eyes widening automatically as Nikos conducted her around the boat.