sun, and sparkling aquamarine water in every direction. ‘Still, it’s a blessing,’ she said as she took a sip of the sparkling wine. It was crisp and bubbly on her tongue. ‘And I’ve learned not to take those for granted.’ She spoke the words unthinkingly, too relaxed to guard her tongue, and Alekos swept her with a considering gaze.
‘How have you learned that, Iolanthe?’
Something about the way he said her name, taking his time with the syllables, made a tremor go through her. Just seeing him there sprawled in his chair, the T-shirt moulded to his chest and the board shorts emphasising his long, muscular legs, the wind ruffling his dark hair, caused another tremor. He was so beautiful, with his bronze skin and topaz eyes and air of utter masculine authority. Her gaze fell to his fingers cradling his wine glass and she remembered what those fingers had felt like on her body, touching her in secret places. Quickly she looked away.
‘I suppose it’s called growing up,’ she said with a wry smile. ‘Happens to everybody.’
‘Maybe,’ Alekos allowed. ‘But some people have to grow up more quickly than others.’
‘Like you did?’ She’d rather talk about him than herself, and in truth she was curious about his past and the few references he’d made to it.
‘Yes, I suppose I had to grow up fast,’ Alekos said. His voice was measured, a little wary.
‘Tell me,’ Iolanthe said. ‘Considering our...situation, we should get to know more about one another.’
Alekos looked as if he was about to resist but then he caught sight of Niko gazing out at the water and he said, reluctance audible in his voice, ‘What do you want to know?’
‘You said you lost both your parents when you were young.’
A terse nod. ‘My father left when I was four years old.’
‘You mean...he just walked out?’
‘That’s exactly what I mean.’ Alekos shrugged, rotating his glass between his fingers as he gazed down into its swirling depths. ‘Plenty of men shirk their responsibilities to their families. I never intend to be one of them.’
Guilt assailed her then, as piercing and accurate as an arrow. ‘That’s what you said...’ she began, and Alekos’s gaze narrowed.
‘When?’
‘Then. That night.’ And just like that the memory of that evening seemed to shimmer in the air between them, and Iolanthe felt her limbs tremble with weakness as desire flooded through her. How could it still be so strong, after all these years? After all the sadness? But maybe her reaction to Alekos was simply because she hadn’t felt desire or experienced male attention for a long, long time. For the entire length of her marriage.
‘Yes, I did say that then,’ Alekos said. His gaze was trained on hers, seeking, burning. ‘And I meant it.’
‘I’m sorry,’ she said quietly. ‘I hadn’t realised about your past...’
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t tell you. And the truth is...’ He glanced down at his glass again, his expression shadowed. ‘I didn’t act charitably towards you then. That night or after.’
Iolanthe could feel her heart bumping in her chest. She’d never expected Alekos, so cold and arrogant and unyielding, to admit even that much. Deciding the mood needed to be lightened, she gave him a small, wry smile. ‘Wait, was that actually an apology?’
He smiled back, slow and sensual, making her senses somersault. ‘Something like it.’
‘I’ll take it. Thank you.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And I didn’t act charitably towards you in keeping my pregnancy from you. I’m sorry.’
‘Apology accepted.’
Was it that easy? They’d said their apologies, they could draw a line across the past, and start afresh? Did she even want that? Confused by her own muddled feelings, Iolanthe took another sip of wine, gazing out at the horizon to keep from looking at Alekos with what she feared might be hunger in her eyes.
Being here with him like this, when he seemed warm and approachable and sexy, brought back too many memories. Wonderful memories, and other, awful ones corroded by confusion and hurt. Tangled together, they made her more uncertain than ever, not knowing how to feel.
‘You mentioned that you lost your mother soon after...?’
Alekos shifted in his seat. ‘My mother did the best she could, but she couldn’t manage all of us.’
‘All of you?’
‘I had—have—three siblings. We were separated when I was six, to various distant relatives or foster families.’
Iolanthe stared at him, appalled. ‘They couldn’t keep you together?’
‘No one had the money or resources to care for four children.’
‘But that’s terrible.’ Iolanthe shook her head slowly. ‘Where did you go?’
‘A foster family. They were nice enough, kept me clothed and fed, made sure I got to school.’ But loveless, Iolanthe surmised. Alekos had grown up without love or affection.
‘And your siblings?’
‘We lost touch over the years. The social workers tried at first, but it’s all too easy for kids to slip through the cracks, and my mother died when I was ten, which made us even more lost in the system.’ He sighed, rotating his glass between his fingers. ‘One of my sisters was adopted, and my brother got into trouble with the law. Beyond that...’ He shrugged, letting the words trickle away.
‘You mean you don’t know what happened to them? You never found out?’
‘No.’ Alekos’s voice was hard. ‘I never tried too hard because I suspected they didn’t want to be found. They could have found me just as easily.’
‘But that’s so sad.’ A lump formed in her throat. No wonder Alekos was so determined to be a good father to Niko. ‘I’m sorry.’
He shrugged. ‘I’ve moved on.’
But did anyone move on from that kind of sadness? Iolanthe decided they needed to lighten the mood. She cleared her throat and took another sip of wine. ‘When are we going to get to this private island of yours?’
‘We’re almost there.’ Alekos rose from his chair in one fluid movement. Iolanthe had the sense that he was as discomfited by their conversation as she was. ‘Look.’ He reached for her hand and Iolanthe enjoyed the sensation of his fingers sliding along hers as he drew her up to join Niko at the bow of the yacht. ‘Do you see that blur of green on the horizon?’ he asked them both.
Iolanthe squinted as she gazed out at the sea. ‘Yes...is that your island? It looks rather big.’
‘A few square miles.’
‘Wow.’ Impressed, she watched as the strip of green came closer, and soon she and Niko could make out rocky outcroppings, the twisted trunks of olive trees, and a lovely white strip of sandy beach.
Alekos Demetriou was a successful man, Iolanthe acknowledged afresh, as the yacht was guided towards the dock. A rich man. Above them a sprawling villa of white stone, its many windows possessing wrought-iron balconies that overflowed with pots of trailing bougainvillea, perched with views of the sea in every direction.
Now that they were about to get off the yacht, Niko had started acting nervous of the next step. Iolanthe could hardly blame him; she was as well. She touched his shoulder lightly, a second’s reassurance, and he shrugged away and jammed his hands into the pockets of his shorts, hunching his shoulders.
Alekos noticed the change in his son and thankfully took it in his stride. ‘Why don’t you and your mother have a look round the villa?’ he suggested. ‘You can choose what bedrooms you like. My staff will deal with the luggage.’