into the water. Pandora found a flat rock and spread out her towel and stretched out in the morning sun.
What was Zac doing right now? Just thinking about him brought back the unresolved tension between them. She hadn’t seen him since he’d left her room, white-faced, days ago. Where was he? She hadn’t heard the helicopter depart, so she assumed he must still be on the island.
When was he going to release her?
Surely he’d need to return to the corporation he headed? Or did he maintain a makeshift office in the villa—despite his claim that Kiranos was his retreat from the frenzy that he existed in? From under the hat she risked a glance at the villa and scanned the windows overlooking the beach. Eventually she homed in on the three windows a level below the vast glassed living room. If an office existed, it made sense that there would be some sort of telephone, even a satellite phone—he couldn’t be totally out of contact with the rest of the world.
With a sigh, she pushed the thought from her head and closed her eyes.
A little later, made lazy by the sun, she explored the beach, hopping along the pebbles to where a sheer wall of rock ended the curve of beach. Soothed by the gentle lap of the water against the pebbles, Pandora came back to where her towel waited and wedged herself in the shade of a large rock and closed her eyes.
That was where Maria found her when the sun was at its zenith. The tray of sliced fruit and fresh bread with slivers of smoked salmon and chunks of cheese looked delicious, and she thanked Maria. Made hungry by the salty air, Pandora ate with gusto. But she couldn’t help wishing that Zac was here … to share the moment.
When she pushed her plate back onto the tray and pulled out the serviette wedged under a plate, a piece of folded paper fluttered onto the beach.
She bent down to pick it up.
Don’t forget it is hot in the sun. Stay in the shade or come inside. Join me for a drink on the terrace this evening.
Pandora didn’t need the slashed Zac to identify the writing.
At once a host of emotions shook her. Aggravation at his high-handedness. Regret for what might have been. And finally outrage.
How dared he leave her languishing for three days and now tell her what to do and demand her company? She ignored the twinge of fairness that admitted that staying in her room had been her choice. Deep down, she’d wanted him to come running after her, to placate her.
But he hadn’t.
His failure to do so had both infuriated and frustrated her. Yet at the same time she was filled with a kind of relief. The past few days had given her much-needed breathing space and a chance to gain perspective.
She slopped on more sunscreen, telling herself it had nothing to do with Zac’s directive about the heat of the sun, then lay down. But too soon she was hot and itchy. A sheen of perspiration dampened her skin. She wriggled and twisted. But the edgy feeling would not leave. Finally she rose and headed for the sparkling sea.
The water was cool against her heated body, the pebbles smooth under her toes as she edged carefully in. The water crept higher as she went deeper, and finally the unbearable frissons against her sun-warmed skin forced her to dive headlong into the calm water. She came up breathless from the mild shock of the saltwater. Swimming a little way, she turned onto her back and stared at the unfathomable blue of the sky overhead until the on-edge tightness subsided a little. She felt calmer, more able to deal with Zac.
Zac had been watching Pandora from his study on and off the whole morning—and it had shot his concentration to hell. Unsettled, he struggled to read the report his PA had e-mailed to him, a report that had to be finalized—he glanced at his watch—in the next half hour.
Pandora had called him a man without honour. And she was proving to be right. What did he care about a report deadline when Pandora floated on the sea in the tiniest wisps of white fabric bound with provocative silver bows that he itched to untie?
But her words rankled.
Because there was more than a hint of truth in them. Kidnapping her, bringing her to Kiranos when she’d clearly thought he was taking her somewhere to talk before allowing her to leave, had been devious.
He’d intended to talk her into staying married to him, to show her what they had going for them. And then she’d dropped her bombshell.
And it had all gone to hell.
Zac’s gaze narrowed on the inert figure of his bride floating on the sea, only the occasional splash revealing she was awake. All his life he’d known he had a duty to fulfill. He was the Kyriakos heir. He would not fail the family as his father had. He would select a wife carefully when the time came. His bride’s virginity was not negotiable.
Pandora had put her finger on the heart of his quandary: That’s why you’re in this fix. Because there aren’t any suitable virgins out there.
He’d never been drawn to shy, simpering virgins. Since his twenty-first birthday, his family had paraded inexperienced sweet things in front of him—and none had stirred a response. It had taken Pandora, with her sharp wit and gentle beauty, to reach that part inside him that he’d always considered unassailable. He’d been so sure he’d found the answer to his prayers.
Except it had all been a cruel illusion.
He watched as Pandora rolled over in the sea and started to swim toward the shore.
Pandora was not pure in body. Telling himself that a sullied body didn’t mean that her heart was any less pure did not help. He’d been misled. Although it was probable her father had believed his daughter to be untouched.
It was his own fault. He should have asked her outright before proposing. But he’d been too intent on getting her into his bed.
He’d been only too eager to accept she was a virgin.
So what if he’d known about her … flaw … from the outset, before he’d offered her marriage? Would it have changed anything? His head told him he would never have married her. Generations of Kyriakos men had married virgins. It was part of their identity, part of the rich heritage they stemmed from.
Part of the magic of the legend.
Yet his body was wired differently from his brain. Those few innocent kisses during their courtship had hooked him. Taking her to his bed and making love to her had been the most earth-shattering experience of his life.
How could he just let her walk away? Yet keeping her would rock the family to the roots and go against the tradition that his ancestors had established. A knot of pain formed under his heart.
Zac was surprised to discover that the thought of living without Pandora was more disturbing than her lack of maidenhead. Somewhere along the line, his priorities had shifted. He no longer really cared that he hadn’t found the last virgin bride. He no longer cared about the Kyriakos legend. Not if it was about to cost him his wife.
He watched as she waded through the shallows, picking her way between the pebbles to where her towel lay. The sun glinted off her blond hair and turned her skin to a light bronze. Zac shoved his hands into his pockets.
What did his wife’s lack of virginity matter? By marrying Pandora, he’d made her virginity a universal truth. The newspapers had speculated for years about whom he would eventually marry, running articles with accompanying photos of the young heiresses he might favour with a proposal and publicly knocking them off the list when they fell from grace.
He’d made damn sure that Pandora never saw the spate of stories that had followed his announcement of their marriage on her arrival in Athens. Stories headlining her purity to the public.
The tight knot in his chest started to subside. Her lack of maidenhead would be a secret he’d keep from his family—that way there would be no risk of the story leaking into the papers, making a mockery of who he was and destabilising the stock prices. No one else would ever know the truth.
Except