She stared at him, inwardly horrified but outwardly icy calm as she waited for his reaction, and when it came it wasn’t the explosion she expected. ‘So,’ he drawled thoughtfully, his hard mouth twisting slightly, ‘it is me you feel you have to armour Jill and yourself against. Yes?’
There was nothing she could say and so she merely glared at him, her violet-blue eyes sparking. Hateful, hateful man!
‘Have you always been such a fierce protector?’ he asked, his voice so soft now she could barely hear it. ‘And, if so, why did you let your sister marry my brother? He could not have made her happy and certainly Michael has no idea of what a father is.’
She was too amazed to hide her shock, but it was at that moment Dimitra turned, calling them to join the others to which Sophy responded with a promptness she knew was not lost on Andreas. But she couldn’t help it. Jill had been right—they were out of their league here and she still wasn’t sure what was going on. This family was like a proverbial minefield.
Sophy had downed two champagne cocktails before Ainka called them into dinner, but she felt she needed a little Dutch courage. She knew every time Andreas’s dark eyes flashed over her and it was often, often enough for her to feel constantly shaky inside. That in turn made her angry with herself and churned her stomach still more. Which was ridiculous, darn it. He was just Theodore’s brother.
Jill, on the other hand, was chatting away to Dimitra as though the two of them had known each other all their lives; Evangelos looking on indulgently and joining in the women’s conversation now and again. In fact, everyone seemed at ease and relaxed apart from her, Sophy thought irritably.
But it would be better once Andreas left. She supposed she should have expected Theodore’s brother would be around for the first few hours, but having his own home meant he would just call by now and again. Didn’t it? She prayed it did, Sophy reiterated as she finished the first course—a delicious soup made with yoghurt and garlic and fresh vegetables—and looked at the dishes Ainka was piling on to the table.
She was sitting next to Dimitra with Jill opposite her and Andreas at the side of Evangelos, who was heading the table, so she had found it easy to avoid the granite-grey eyes. Nevertheless Andreas’s dark, brooding presence had the effect of making her all fingers and thumbs, and when she knocked over her wine glass—white wine, fortunately, and not red—she wasn’t really surprised. The whole evening was an accident waiting to happen!
‘Oh, your beautiful dress.’ Dimitra looked aghast at the puddle in Sophy’s lap, which Sophy was hastily mopping with her table napkin. ‘You must sponge it down with water or it will stain.’
‘It’s all right, really.’ She knew her face was fiery but she was so furious with herself she could scream. So much for the calm, cool, cosmopolitan woman of the world, she thought bitterly as she felt the wine soak through to her panties. Talk about pride going before a fall! What on earth was Andreas thinking?
What he was thinking became evident in the next moment when he rose to his feet, pushing back his chair with the backs of his legs before walking round the table and drawing her up with an authoritative hand at her elbow.
‘Come and repair the damage in the downstairs cloakroom,’ he said in a tone which left her no choice but to obey when married to his grip on her arm. ‘It won’t take a moment and it would be a shame to spoil such a delightful dress.’
Was she the only one who could hear the sarcasm in his voice? Sophy asked herself as she submitted to being led from the room with as much grace as she could muster. Apparently so, from the smiles and nods from the others. They clearly thought Andreas was playing the perfect gentleman. The manipulative swine!
She waited until they were in the hall and the dining room door was closed before shaking off his hand with enough venom to make the dark eyebrows rise. ‘Thank you, I can manage perfectly well now,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’ve dealt with worse than this before.’
‘Oh, I have no doubt you can look after yourself, Sophy,’ he said from his vantage point of six foot plus, staring down at her delicate fairness with hooded eyes. ‘You might look as though a breath of wind would blow you away, but there is a backbone of steel in that fragile frame, is there not?’
‘Don’t tell me, you disapprove of that too!’ she returned frostily. No doubt he was one of those men who preferred his women to be for ever batting their eyelashes and playing dumb. She knew his type all right.
‘Did I say that?’ he asked in a tone which suggested suppressed amusement. ‘Now, be fair, did I?’
Nothing could have got under her skin more than to think he was laughing at her, and her voice sharpened as she said, ‘You didn’t have to. You can say talk more effectively without saying a word than anyone I’ve ever met.’
‘Another snap decision.’ He stood back a pace, folding his muscled arms and staring down at her for a second or two as she glared back at him. ‘What a little harridan you’re going to be in a few years,’ he observed nonchalantly, before taking her arm again and whisking her over to a door to the right of the dining room which he opened with his free hand. ‘The cloakroom,’ he stated unnecessarily as Sophy surveyed a room large enough to swallow at least half of her little London flat. ‘Now, let’s see about getting you cleaned up.’
In spite of his comment about the backbone of steel he was making her sound as though she hadn’t got a grain of sense, Sophy thought furiously, her anger blinding her to the fact that Andreas had entered the cloakroom with her until it was too late to protest. She stared at him as he casually began to fill one of the bowls—of which there were three—with cold water. ‘What are you doing?’ she managed at last.
&n
bsp; ‘Cold water is best for white wine.’ He raised innocent eyebrows.
‘I’m not referring to the wine stain,’ she said tightly. As he very well knew. ‘I’m perfectly capable of sponging down my own dress.’
‘What kind of host would I be to let you struggle alone?’ he countered with a charming smile which didn’t fool Sophy in the slightest, especially when she looked into those glittering eyes.
‘I’d prefer to struggle, actually.’
‘Sophy, you are a guest in my parents’ home.’
The eyebrows were raised again, she noted irritably, and they made her feel like an errant child who was having a tantrum. ‘So?’ she snarled tightly. What had that to do with anything?
‘So I am not about to…abuse that position,’ he murmured gently, the soothing tone positively insulting.
‘I didn’t think for a moment you were!’ It had the added advantage of being absolutely truthful, something Andreas couldn’t fail to recognise. ‘Of course I didn’t.’
He stared at her for a long moment and by the end of it Sophy had to grit her teeth in order not to look away. He had been leaning against the wall whilst they talked, and now he levered himself upright, his eyes taking on a distinctly pewter quality as he ground out, ‘You really are the most—’ before stopping abruptly, and visibly controlling himself.