instructed her to. Leaving the tray on the delicate white-painted cast-iron table, he took in the bathroom. No sign of her having had that shower.
Sulking somewhere because he’d denied her what her eager body had been begging for? With a hiss of impatience he set off to systematically search the empty villa, the grounds behind, the swimming pool and the area around the vine-shaded arbour.
Nothing.
Standing at the head of the steps down to the nearest beach, he scanned the empty sands. Nothing.
Anxiety made a furrow on his brow. She couldn’t go far. The island was a mere five miles by three at its widest point. But the midday sun was ferocious.
His stride, long and swift, took him to higher ground. Beyond the olive grove, Yiannis’s goats were scattered. Unused to strangers, something seemed to have spooked them. Or someone.
Moving faster than he had ever moved in his life before, he followed in the direction he was sure she must have taken. Sunstroke or heat exhaustion was a very real danger for someone who wasn’t used to the unforgiving midday climate at this latitude.
His features tight, he cursed himself. He’d needed proof that, denied her first choice of a ton of alimony and her freedom, she had settled for the very real perks of being his wife.
But had she wanted to end their marriage, get him completely out of her life, because she no longer loved him? Because unknowingly he’d done something to hurt or disgust her? But, if so, she wouldn’t have been so eager to have sex with him. Making love didn’t come into it. Much as the idea repelled him, for her it was all about lust. Sex.
Well, he’d had his proof and he didn’t much like himself for it. He was tough in business matters, he’d had to be, but never unfair and certainly never cruel.
Yet he’d been cruel to Maddie—driven her to put as much distance between them as she could manage within the confines of the small island. He despised himself for the first time in his life. He had his proof and it left a sour taste in his mouth, because in getting it he had shattered his code of honour.
And then he saw her. His thumping heart picked up a beat. Her bright head bent, she was too near the edge of the clifftop. The sound of his approach brought her head round and she took a step back, thankfully away from the edge. As he quickened his steps to a flat-out run one hand fluttered up to her forehead, and she swayed, then crumpled in a heap on the ground.
Within heart-banging moments he was at her side, kneeling, cradling her head and reaching into his back pocket for his mobile. Her face was deathly pale, and the delicate skin around her eyes looked bruised. Two calls. His instructions, bitten out, concise. Repocketing the slim phone he lifted Maddie in his arms and began the slow journey back to the villa—slow because he didn’t want to jolt her. He promised himself that once she’d recovered from this—sunstroke?—they would sit down and talk like the sensible adults they were supposed to be. No more threats, demands, mind-games.
As they entered the shaded area in the olive grove she stirred, her eyes drifting open. ‘It is all right,’ he assured her softly, his heart lightening as he saw her colour begin to return. ‘You collapsed, but we will soon be back at the villa and Dr Papantoniou will be with you within the hour.’
‘I don’t need a doctor. Put me down. I can walk.’ A feeble attempt to struggle to her feet had his arms tightening around her—which was absolutely the last thing she wanted, wasn’t it? She wanted distance between them. She didn’t want him to think he had to be kind to her just because she’d been stupid enough to pass out. It was demeaning!
‘I fainted. No big deal,’ she grumbled fiercely. ‘I don’t want a doctor! I skipped breakfast, that’s all!’ Because once again the sight of food had turned her stomach.
‘Save your energy.’ His golden eyes were dark with concern and something else she couldn’t read as he glanced down at her. ‘Just forget your middle name is Stubborn and do as you’re told for once, yes?’
After that Maddie saw no point in pitting herself against his iron will, and submitted, with gritted teeth, to being carried through the cool interior of the villa and gently deposited on the huge bed that had been the scene of her recent stomach-churning humiliation.
But she drew the line when he attempted to undress her.
‘I can do that!’ She batted his hands away, squirmed round and planted her feet on the floor, snapping tartly, ‘If you’ve decided it’s necessary for me to be in bed in a nightie when the doctor calls, to keep up the pretence of not dragging him out here for no purpose, I won’t do it—you can go and wait and make your apologies when he arrives!’
Dimitri stood back, but he didn’t leave the room. To her utter chagrin he even looked slightly amused, standing watching her, his arms folded over his chest.
Thinking of the invitingly cool-looking sea water, Maddie headed for the shower in the huge marble and glass bathroom. He followed. She was spikily aware of those unreadable eyes pinned on her, and as the only slightly warm water sluiced over her grateful body her anger with him, with herself, increased in proportion to the ache of wanting that flickered and burned deep within.
Damn him! Damn him for making her feel like this. She didn’t want it. It was the last thing she needed, she fumed as she grabbed a towel and stumbled back into the bedroom, pointedly sidestepping when he reached out a hand to help her.
Thankfully, the whump-whump of approaching rotors brought an end to the situation that was winding her up to explosion point. Glaring at him, pink-cheeked and furious, she watched him move to the door with the innate grace that was so much a part of him.
‘Tell him there’s nothing wrong with me,’ she flung after him. ‘And apologise for wasting his time.’
He turned back briefly. ‘You are looking better.’ There was an almost-smile on his sensual mouth. It made her want to go and smack it away. ‘Nevertheless …'He spread his hands, palms uppermost, and closed the door gently behind him.
Intent on making a fool of her. Again. Paying her back in spades for taking off, not doing as she’d been told. The fleeting, unwelcome thought that he might have been genuinely concerned about her was swiftly knocked on the head. He didn’t give a darn for her well-being. The only things that mattered to him were any child she might bear for him and Irini. Of course. Mustn’t forget the woman he loved enough to do what he’d set out to do—secure an heir, get rid of an unwanted wife and marry where he truly loved.
Totally unwilling to greet the doctor lying like a wilting Victorian heroine on the bed, when there was not a single thing wrong with her, she grabbed fresh underwear from a drawer and a honey-coloured, gauzy cotton strappy sundress from the closet, dressed at speed, and perched herself in a brocade-covered armchair close by one of the windows, picking up a glossy magazine from a nearby table and pretending to be engrossed.
The doctor had other ideas. A serious-looking beanpole of a man, silver-haired and exquisitely dressed, he indicated the bed and carried out an examination that had her squirming with violent embarrassment—because Dimitri was still looming, taut-featured. Though what he had to be uptight about Maddie couldn’t begin to guess, and wasn’t going to try.
As he removed the blood-pressure cuff Dr Papantoniou stood up, smiling. He swung round to face Dimitri. ‘Congratulations. My best estimate is that your wife will give you a child in around seven months.’ He turned his smile on Maddie. ‘You are fit and well, kyria. And pregnant. I forbid any further treks in the heat of the afternoon. Remember, you are carrying a precious life inside you. Take gentle exercise in the cool of the day, rest and eat well, and be sure of a happy pregnancy.’
Turning to a shell-shocked Dimitri, he advised, ‘I will visit again when you return to the mainland, to arrange tests and make a referral to a top gynaecologist. I foresee no difficulties, but you will naturally demand the very best for your wife and child.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
IF