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Rhiannon’s mouth was dry, her heart like lead. When he framed it in such stark terms her situation seemed bleak indeed. ‘It’s not about resources,’ she said stiffly. ‘It’s about love.’
‘Can you really see yourself in Annabel’s life long-term?’ Lukas persisted. He kept his voice mild. ‘In Greece? Are you prepared to give up your life in Wales to care for a child that is no relation to you?’
His words wound around her heart, whispered their treacherous enticements in her mind. He was trying to dissuade her from staying, she knew. From complicating his life. And yet he made sense.
If she stayed in Greece she would have a half-life at best—the life of someone who lived on the fringes of a family. Again. Yet surely it was no less of a life than she had now.
‘You’ve done your duty,’ he continued. ‘You’ve brought her to her family. When the paternity issue is resolved, you can return to your home, your life, with a clear conscience. Isn’t that what you really want? Wasn’t that what you planned all along?’
His voice was so smooth, so persuasive, and it made Rhiannon realise how impossible a situation this truly was. Could she really move to Greece, ingratiate herself into the Petrakides family…if they would let her?
Yet she couldn’t leave Annabel. Not like this. ‘I don’t…’ Her mind swam, diving for words, and came up empty. ‘I don’t know,’ she admitted. ‘It’s a lot to think about.’
‘Indeed.’ She heard the satisfaction in his voice and realised he thought he’d chipped away at her resolve. And perhaps he had. She wanted to be in Annabel’s life—she wanted Annabel to be loved.
Yet how could it happen? When Lukas had all the power and she had none? When this world—his world—was so foreign to her? So above her?
Could she ever even remotely fit in?
Lukas kept walking, and Rhiannon followed him. The waves lapped gently at their feet.
‘You said all children are inconveniences,’ he remarked after a moment. ‘Is that how you were viewed?’
Rhiannon’s breath came in a hitched gasp. She was surprised at his perceptiveness. She stared blindly out at the ocean, dark and fathomless, a stretch of blackness, a rush of sound.
‘I was adopted,’ she said after a long moment. ‘My parents never quite got over my arrival into their orderly lives.’
‘Many adopted children have loving homes, caring parents. Was that not the case with you?’
She closed her eyes, opened them. ‘My parents cared for me,’ she said, choosing her words carefully. She would not tarnish their memory. ‘In their own way. But I often wondered about my natural parents, and I didn’t want Annabel to be the same—especially if she discovered when she was older that she could have known her father and I never gave her the chance. I wanted to spare her that pain.’
Lukas was silent for a long moment. ‘I see,’ he finally said.
They continued to walk, Rhiannon with sudden, quick steps as if she wanted to escape the confines of the beach, the island, the reach of this man.
He saw too much, understood too much. And yet understood nothing at all.
Lukas grabbed her arm, causing her to stumble before he steadied her, turned her to face him. ‘Who are you trying to escape?’ His voice was soft, almost gentle, but his hands were firm on her arms and they burned.
‘I want to go back to the villa,’ Rhiannon said jerkily.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you.’ His arms moved up to her shoulders, drawing her closer. ‘I was trying to understand.’
‘You don’t understand anything,’ Rhiannon spat. ‘First you judge me as a blackmailer, then as a woman who is willing to give up a child like so much rubbish.’
‘I may have been mistaken in those beliefs,’ Lukas said quietly. There was no apology in his voice, merely statement of fact. ‘I realise now, Rhiannon, that you want what is best for Annabel. You believed that was entrusting her to her family; I think you’re right.’
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Rhiannon choked, and his hands tightened briefly on her arms.
‘You must trust that I will do my duty by Annabel,’ he said calmly, and Rhiannon let out a wild, contemptuous peal of laughter.
‘That’s the last thing I want,’ she cried. ‘I don’t want Annabel to be bound to someone by duty.’ It came out in a sneer, and Lukas looked at her in surprise.
‘Why on earth not?’
Rhiannon drew in a shuddering breath. He was close. Far too close. So close that in the pale moonlight bathing his face she could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the stubble on his chin.
‘You couldn’t understand.’
‘Not unless you explain,’ he agreed, his voice soft yet firm in the darkness.
‘I want you to let me go,’ she whispered, but it didn’t sound very convincing.
‘I will…’ Yet he was drawing her closer, and closer still, his lips a breath away from hers. Rhiannon let him hold her, let his breath fan her face, let her lips part open.
There was determination in his eyes, a fierce resolve, and Rhiannon knew that, like her, he was fighting against the tide of desire that washed over both of them, threatening to drag them under.
She knew by the light in his eyes, by the way his fingers bit into her shoulders.
And by the way he released her, suddenly, as if she’d scorched him, so she stumbled back in the sand.
‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was low. ‘I didn’t mean to start something here.’
‘To kiss me?’ Rhiannon challenged, irritated at how bereft she felt.
‘I know nothing can happen between us,’ Lukas said flatly. ‘We cannot complicate matters more with a meaningless affair.’
His assessment stung. A meaningless affair? Of course he would never consider her as a worthy candidate for girlfriend, bride, wife.
She was so far below him, his world. All she was worth was an affair. Dirty, cheap. Meaningless.
‘Nothing will happen between us,’ she restated stonily. ‘Because you need to do your damn duty.’
Lukas stared at her for a long moment. ‘I’ve never had someone think so little of me for doing what is right.’
Rhiannon swallowed the guilt that rose up at his quiet words. ‘I want you to want to do what is right,’ she said. ‘Not just do it out of some burdensome sense of responsibility.’
‘You say that as if it’s a dirty word.’
‘It is!’ Rhiannon couldn’t hold back the emotion which caused her voice to tremble, her throat to ache. ‘It is.’
They were standing only a few feet apart, tension binding them together like an invisible wire. Lukas reached out his hands, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her towards him.
‘This is not about duty,’ he said in a savage whisper before kissing her. It was a hard, punishing kiss—a brand, a seal. When he released her they both were breathing in ragged gasps.
‘But you didn’t want that either, did you?’ Rhiannon said when she finally found her voice.
‘Yes,’ Lukas disagreed flatly. ‘The problem is, I want it too much. But I will not have it.’
He turned away, began striding down the beach. Alone in the darkness, Rhiannon had no choice but to follow him back to the distant lights of the villa.
CHAPTER FIVE
THE NEXT MORNING Rhiannon avoided the dining room in exchange for some rolls, yoghurt and honey in the kitchen with Adeia.
She wanted to steer clear of Lukas after their argument last night, and so, with Annabel on her hip and a pair of towels under her arm, she headed for a secluded part of the beach. She slathered them both in suncream and then set up Annabel in a patch of sand. The baby was happy, digging busily, letting the sand trickle through her fingers, chortling with glee at the feel of it on her toes.
Rhiannon watched her, trying to ignore the ache of longing within her, the churning fear at the thought of the future. She wanted simply to enjoy the sun-kissed moment.
Lukas had been completely wrong in thinking she wanted to give Annabel away; it hurt to think he’d judged her so readily, thought so little of her.
It was the last thing she wanted. She’d fought desperately with her conscience over the matter; her heart had wanted to keep the baby, but her mind had told her the father had a right to know. A right to love.
And, her conscience had argued, wasn’t it selfish for a single woman in Rhiannon’s precarious financial position to keep a child she had no real right to simply because she wanted someone to love? To be loved by someone?
Wasn’t it selfish and pathetic?
Yet now, she thought grimly, she might not have the opportunity. Paternity suits, custody battles…
She should have considered this sooner, she supposed. She should have thought of all the possible outcomes to confronting Lukas Petrakides. If only her heart hadn’t deceived her with promises of fairy tale endings and happily-ever-afters.
She really was pathetic.
Annabel looked up, gurgled and pointed, and Rhiannon froze. She knew. She could feel him behind her, picture his easy, long-limbed stride.
‘Good morning.’ Lukas approached them and crouched down next to Annabel. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt and olive-green shorts. He looked clean and strong and wonderful.
Rhiannon tore her gaze away. ‘Good morning.’
‘Sleep well?’ He gave her a questioning glance even as he held Annabel’s chubby fist, poured sand into her waiting palm. She giggled in delight.
‘No,’ Rhiannon confessed irritably. ‘Did you?’
His smile was rueful, honest. ‘No.’
She was gratified by the admission, although she remained silent.
‘She’s a cheerful little thing, isn’t she?’ Lukas said after a moment, as Annabel grabbed his hands and attempted to bring one lean finger towards her open mouth. ‘And teething too, I suppose?’
‘Watch out—she has two front teeth, and they’re sharp.’
Gently Lukas disengaged his finger from Annabel’s grasp. ‘Thank you.’
‘If Christos is Annabel’s father, who will look after her?’ Rhiannon asked suddenly. She needed to know. An idea had begun to form in her mind—hopeless, impractical, her only chance. ‘She’ll need a nanny, won’t she?’ she continued, and Lukas regarded her shrewdly.
‘Undoubtedly.’
‘Better for it to be someone she knows,’ Rhiannon continued, and Lukas’s mouth tightened.
‘Infants form attachments easily. In any case, if she is Christos’s child, I will adopt her.’
The thought weighed as heavily as a stone on her heart. She swallowed, looked away.
Lukas laid a steadying hand on her arm. ‘I realise your own adoptive parents might not have been ideal, but this will be different.’
‘Oh?’ Rhiannon forced herself to look at him. ‘How?’
‘I will care for her—’ Lukas began, looking slightly, strangely discomfited.
‘My parents cared for me too.’ Rhiannon cut him off. ‘But let me tell you, Lukas, duty is a hard parent. It doesn’t kiss your scrapes better, or cuddle you at night, or check for monsters under the bed. It doesn’t make you feel loved, make you believe that no matter what happens, what you do, there’ll be a place to come home to, arms to put around you. Duty,’ she finished flatly, ‘is a cold father.’ She stared blindly down at the sand, trying to rein her emotions, her memories, back under control.
Lukas’s fingers grasped her chin, tilted it so she was looking at him, and she knew he could see the hurt, the pain shadowing her eyes.
‘Is that how your father was?’ he asked quietly. ‘Your mother?’
Rhiannon shrugged. ‘I don’t blame them. They did the best they could.’
‘But it wasn’t enough, was it? And you’re afraid that Annabel will suffer as you did?’
‘Yes, I am,’ she admitted. ‘And shouldn’t I be? You’ve already shown me what a cold, restrained person you are.’
The look he gave her was full of hidden heat. ‘Have I?’ he murmured, his tone so languorous that Rhiannon jerked her chin from his hand, scooted a few feet away.
‘Yes. In terms of how you see your responsibility towards Annabel.’
He shrugged, spread his hands. ‘I can only promise to do what is right. To give her every opportunity, every comfort.’
‘That’s not enough.’
‘It will have to be.’
She knew it was more than most men would give—more than she had any right to expect. But it wasn’t enough. She wouldn’t let it be enough.
Because she knew how duty without love became a burden, a weight. A resentment. As it had become with her. Lukas couldn’t see that, couldn’t understand.
A loud whirring filled the air, and Rhiannon blinked up in surprise as a helicopter came into sight.
‘That’s not the press, is it?’ she asked, one hand shading her eyes, and Lukas shook his head.
‘No, it is a Petrakides helicopter.’ He pointed to the side of the craft. ‘See the entwined Ps? That is our emblem.’
Rhiannon saw the entwined letters, first in the Roman alphabet, then in Greek. ‘What is a Petrakides helicopter doing here?’ she asked.
Lukas took her hand in his, tugged. ‘Come and see.’ There was a surprising smile on his face, like that of a little boy, and, scooping up Annabel, Rhiannon followed him to the landing pad.
A young Greek man emerged from the helicopter as they approached, and Lukas called a greeting. The man called back, and began unloading boxes and parcels from the body of the chopper.
Rhiannon stood back uncertainly, until Lukas beckoned her. ‘Come. These things are for you.’
