The Marakaios Baby (The Marakaios Brides 2)

‘Oh, I can feel that!’ Margo exclaimed, one hand pressed to her bump. ‘I hadn’t felt anything since I fell, but I felt that.’

‘This little one doesn’t like being poked,’ said the doctor, who also spoke English, with a smile. ‘Everything looks fine. You’ll have your twenty-week scan in a few days, and we’ll check on the placenta praevia then.’ Smiling, the woman put the machine away and Margo pulled down her shirt. ‘You’re free to go.’

It wasn’t until she was dressed and they were back in the car, heading towards the estate, that Leo turned to her, his expression serious.

‘Margo, we need to talk...’

Her body went tense and she turned to stare blindly out of the window.

‘What are you not telling me?’ Leo asked, his voice quiet but insistent. ‘Because there’s something.’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It does matter. It matters because in the hospital you were terrified—’

‘Of course I was!’ She turned to look at him. ‘Leo, I was afraid I was losing my baby.’

‘Our baby,’ he corrected quietly, and Margo bit her lip. ‘Don’t shut me out, Margo.’

She turned back to the window without replying, and they drove in silence all the way back to the Marakaios estate.

CHAPTER TWELVE

WHEN THEY ARRIVED at the villa Leo helped Margo out of the car, one hand on her elbow as he guided her inside.

Xanthe, Ava and Maria all met them in the foyer.

‘You’re all right?’ Ava asked, her face pinched with anxiety.

‘Yes—and, more importantly, the baby is all right,’ Margo said, and smiled when Maria muttered a prayer of thanksgiving and crossed herself.

‘I’m going to get Margo upstairs,’ Leo cut across his sisters’ anxious chatter. ‘It’s been an incredibly long twenty-four hours, and I don’t think either of us slept well last night.’

Actually, Margo had slept better than she had in months, wrapped in Leo’s arms. But she could imagine Leo had spent a considerably less comfortable night, cramming his large body onto the narrow bed, still in his suit.

They went upstairs, and as Margo came into her bedroom she breathed a sigh of relief. She wanted to crawl into the big, soft bed and stay there for about a million hours—good night’s sleep or not.

Behind her, she heard Leo close the door. ‘I need to shower and change,’ he said, ‘and I imagine you’d like to freshen up. And then we’ll talk.’

His tone was implacable, leaving no room for arguments. Still, Margo tried. ‘I’m very tired, Leo—’

‘There will be plenty of time for you to rest today. But I won’t let you put me off, Margo.’ He hesitated, seeming to want to say more, but then simply turned and left the room.

Margo went into the bathroom, stepping into the huge two-person shower with its marble sides and gold fixtures. As the water streamed over her body she had a sudden image of Leo joining her there. They’d showered together a few times during their stolen weekends away, but that felt like a lifetime ago. She felt like a different person from the insouciant, carefree career woman she’d been back then, embarking on a no-strings affair.

But then she was a different person—because that carefree woman had been nothing more than a part she’d played, a mask she’d worn. She hadn’t dared try to be anything else. Anything deeper or more lasting.

In just a few minutes Leo was going to demand answers, and if she was brave enough she would drop that mask for ever and tell him everything. She knew he deserved to know.

She rested her head against the cool marble, willing herself to be strong enough for that kind of hard honesty.

A few minutes later she was dressed in a pair of loose yoga pants and a soft hoodie, curled up on the window seat that overlooked the villa’s gardens, the grass now coated with a thick rime of frost.

Leo tapped once on the door that joined their bedrooms before poking his head in and then coming through completely. His hair was damp from his shower, and he wore a soft grey tee shirt and faded jeans that were moulded perfectly to his muscular legs. Wordlessly he walked over and joined Margo on the window seat.

Neither of them spoke for a long moment; the only sound was the wind rattling the bare branches of the trees outside.

Finally Margo spoke, and each word felt laborious, even painful. ‘I’m not who you think I am.’

‘Who do you think I think you are?’ Leo asked quietly.

‘The woman you met in that bar. That glamorous, confident, sexy woman.’ She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Not that I’m trying to be arrogant, but that’s how I wanted to be...to seem.’