скачать книгу бесплатно
‘I find I do not wish to eat with you,’ he returned curtly. ‘Besides, I think it best if I go before I do something I shall regret.’
He walked to the door and she followed him, barefoot, holding the slipping dress against her.
She said, her voice faltering a little, ‘Did you drive yourself here? I didn’t see another car.’
‘I parked at the back of the house. The housekeeper directed me.’
‘In my father’s place?’ Her voice rose. ‘Oh, God, how could she do such a thing?’
‘Because, unlike you, Cressida mou, she seems able to accept that I am the master here now.’
Hurt exploded inside her, and an odd sense of desolation.
She said thickly, ‘Damn you,’ and swung back her hand. She wanted to hit him—to drive the expression of cold mockery from his face.
But he was too quick for her, grabbing her wrist with hard fingers, shaking her slightly, so that the damned dress slid off her shoulders again, baring her to the waist.
She saw his face change, become starkly intent. He said softly, ‘There is only one way to deal with a woman like you.’
He swung her round so that her back, suddenly, was against the closed door. She tried to cover her breasts with her hands, but his fingers closed round her wrists, lifting them above her head and holding them there.
He said, ‘It is a little late for such modesty. Rage suits you better.’
She said breathlessly, ‘Let me go—you bastard…’
‘When I choose,’ he said. ‘Not you.’
She heard her dress tear as it fell to the floor. He took her quickly, his anger meeting hers in an explosive fusion that stunned the senses.
She thought, This is an outrage… And then she stopped thinking altogether.
Because his hands were under her thighs, lifting her so that she had to clamp her legs round his waist, join the driving rhythm of his possession.
His mouth was crushing hers passionately, drinking the salty, angry tears from her lips. She was moaning in her throat, gasping for breath, dizzy and drowning in the merciless forces he had released in her.
She tried to push him away, but it was already too late. Deep within her she could feel the first harsh tremors of her approaching climax. As the pulsations overwhelmed her, tore through her, she sobbed her release against his lips, then hung in his arms, limp as a rag doll, incapable of speech, hardly able to think.
Draco stepped back from the door and carried her across the room, dropping her almost negligently on to the sofa.
Cressy lay, staring up at him, her face hectically flushed, her hair wildly dishevelled and her eyes wide and enormous.
His smile was mocking as he casually fastened his clothing. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket for his wallet.
A shower of fifty-pound notes fluttered down on her.
He said softly, ‘I think I have ruined your dress, agapi mou, so buy yourself a new one. Something that does not make you look as if you are in mourning for your virginity, hmm?’
He paused. ‘And do not ever try to reject me again.’
She wanted to reach out to him, to say his name, to ask him to stay with her, but she was too shattered by the impact of the last few minutes to be able to move or formulate coherent words.
She could only watch helplessly as he turned and walked to the door, where he paused.
‘And do not wait for me to apologise,’ he flung back at her. ‘Because I find, after all, I do not regret a thing.’ And he went out, slamming the door behind him.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_a572b765-390b-53b7-a24b-48010157e9e5)
‘I’M GOING to hire a detective,’ said James Fielding. ‘Someone who knows what he’s doing. He’ll find her—persuade her to come home. Of course it will cost a great deal of money, but that’s not a problem. It’s time I was back in the workplace, anyway. I was a damned fool to be talked into early retirement.’
There was an awkward silence. Cressy saw the swift, worried glance exchanged by her aunt and uncle, and looked down at her hands gripped together in her lap.
Every day it was the same, she thought wearily. Schemes to make new fortunes. Plans to win Eloise back. Her father could talk of nothing else. He seemed to have lost all touch with reality.
His financial difficulties—the fact that the house no longer belonged to him—were simply brushed aside as temporary difficulties.
But then who am I to criticise? she wondered. With the nightmare I’ve created for myself?
It had been a week since Draco had slammed out, and since then she hadn’t heard a word from him.
And she was scared.
After he’d gone, she’d lain on the sofa for a long time, limbless, weightless in the aftermath of that raw, savage ecstasy. She’d never dreamed she was capable of such a primitive intensity of feeling. Was stunned by her capacity for passion.
It was as if she’d lived her life only knowing half of herself.
When she’d been able to move again, and think, she had gone up to her room, showered, and changed into jeans and a thin sweater. She had burned the torn dress, along with the money, in the kitchen range, and had thrown away the food and wine. She’d felt too numb to eat. Besides, it had all been too reminiscent of the picnics they’d shared on Myros, and she hadn’t been able to bear to remember the uncomplicated happiness of those days.
Days, she’d thought, when I was falling in love…
And could have wept for the innocence and tenderness of that lost time.
She had recalled the way his arm had held her, fitting her to the curve of his body. The beat of his heart under her cheek. How he’d smiled at her. The reined-back hunger in his eyes. The huskiness in his voice when he’d asked her to marry him.
Everything, she’d thought bleakly, that she’d thrown away with both hands.
And no amount of sex, however mind-blowing, would ever make up for that.
By the time Berry had returned she’d managed to regain some kind of composure. She’d spent the evening in the study, working on her computer, tying up some loose ends from work and listening to music.
‘Has your visitor gone, Miss Cressy?’ Berry looked around her as if she might find him hiding in a corner. ‘You could have knocked me down with a feather when he told me he was the new owner and showed me the papers.’ She lowered her voice. ‘I didn’t really want to leave him here, but he was so persuasive.’ She shook her head. ‘Not an easy gentleman to say no to. But did I do the right thing?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Cressy smiled at her with a tranquillity she was far from feeling. ‘I suppose he thought it was time he saw what he was getting for his money.’
‘And he told me Mr Fielding will be renting the house from him and we won’t have to move out. Oh, that’s such a relief, Miss Cressy. I’ve been so worried.’
So have I, Cressy thought bleakly. And my worries aren’t over yet.
As each long day passed, she felt as if she was living on a knife-edge, waiting for the phone to ring. Scanning her e-mail box for messages.
But the nights were even worse. She lay awake for hours, staring into the darkness, her body aching for him—longing for him. She felt bereft—like a child crying unheard for comfort.
Perhaps he’d decided to cut his losses and shut her out of his life altogether. That was the thought that tortured her every waking moment.
She told herself that she was concerned for her father. Because if Draco had really decided to finish their relationship, it did not follow that he would write off her father’s debts.
But in her heart she knew it would never be as simple as that. That she was using her father’s problems as a barrier—as self-protection against a hurt that might tear her in pieces. Against feelings she dared not examine too closely in case they destroyed her.
‘Cressy, dear.’ Her aunt’s voice reached her from some far distance. ‘I think it’s time we went, and let James rest.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She rose, reaching for her bag, aware that Lady Kenny was watching her with a faint frown.
‘Coffee, I think,’ Sir Robert said when they were in the corridor.
In the hospital cafeteria, he joined the queue at the counter while Cressy and Barbara Kenny found a corner table.
‘It doesn’t get any better, does it?’ Lady Kenny said abruptly. ‘Poor James is like a dog with a bone. He won’t let go.’
Cressy shook her head. ‘And he gets so agitated when he talks about her. I know it’s not good for him. What he’ll be like when he gets home…’
‘I wonder if that’s such a good thing.’ Her aunt played with her wedding ring. ‘Whether he wouldn’t be better living somewhere with no memories. But he’ll have the nurse to keep an eye on him, and dear Berry, so we must hope for the best.’ She gave Cressy a searching glance. ‘Now tell me about this new job of yours.’
‘There’s nothing to tell,’ Cressy hedged. ‘I’m not even sure it’s happening.’
‘I gather it’s connected with the Standard Trust Bank,’ Lady Kenny went on, as if she hadn’t spoken. ‘And that the head of the bank—some Greek tycoon—has made himself personally responsible for your father’s debts. Isn’t that a little unusual?’
Cressy shrugged. ‘I suppose so. I haven’t really thought about it.’
‘Even when he insisted on conducting the negotiations with you personally?’ Her aunt’s tone was acerbic. ‘And when you’d only just come back from Greece?’ She gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Cressy, I’m not a fool. Are you involved with this man?’
Cressy bit her lip. ‘Not in the way that you think, Aunt Bar.’
Which was no more than the truth, she thought unhappily. No one would believe the complexities of her relationship with Draco.
‘I have a short-term contract,’ she continued, ‘which necessitates my working abroad. After what he’s done for Dad, I could hardly refuse. And I can look after myself,’ she added, infusing her tone with brightness.
Lady Kenny snorted. ‘Oh, really? Have you looked in a mirror lately? You’re all eyes and cheekbones.’ She leaned forward. ‘Darling, men like Draco Viannis are not philanthropists. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into. Your uncle and I are both worried sick. And if your father would come down to earth for a few minutes, I know he’d put a stop to it.’
‘It’s for three months,’ Cressy said quietly. ‘If I go at all.’ She swallowed. ‘Mr Viannis may be having second thoughts.’
‘I can’t vouch for this coffee.’ Sir Robert deposited a tray on the table and sat down, fixing his niece with a penetrating look. ‘Now then, Cressy, I want a word about this Viannis chap. Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’
They were both so kind, Cressy thought as she drove home later, and so anxious about her. And she knew she’d done nothing to set their minds at rest.
But what could she say—what reassurance could she possibly give? Especially when she herself felt as if she was operating in some kind of vacuum.
There was a strange car, large, powerful and glossy, parked in front of the house, and Berry was waiting to open the door for her.
‘You’ve a visitor, Miss Cressy. I’ve shown him into the drawing room.’
Cressy’s heart thudded, and her throat tightened painfully as she walked towards the drawing room. Ever since her last encounter with Draco she hadn’t been inside the room, unsure if she could handle the memories it would evoke. In fact, she’d made a point of using her father’s study instead.
Now she had to face him there. Brave whatever he had to tell her.
Swallowing, she twisted the handle and went in.
The anticlimax when she found herself confronted by a stranger was almost ludicrous.
Except that she did know him, she realised after a stunned moment. It was Paul Nixon, who worked as Draco’s PA. She’d seen him briefly in London.
She felt sick. Draco wasn’t even going to break their agreement in person.
‘Miss Fielding. I’m sorry I didn’t make an appointment, but Mr Viannis called from New York last night to say he’ll be returning to Myros next week and wishes you to meet him there. And that doesn’t leave much time.’
She felt as if she’d been reprieved from a death sentence, and was ashamed of the relief and joy that flooded through her.
She said quietly, ‘I understand. Won’t you sit down? Can I offer you some tea or coffee?’
‘Your housekeeper already did that, ma’am.’ He delved into a briefcase. ‘I have a file here, with your itinerary. You’ll fly first class to Athens, and transfer to Myros by helicopter. Also details of the personal allowance that you’ll receive while you remain Mr Viannis’s—companion, and the final settlement he is prepared to make.’
Caught on the raw, Cressy took the folder he handed her.
‘What a lot of paperwork,’ she said coolly, hiding her hurt. ‘All to get a man into bed with a woman.’
Paul Nixon’s solemn face reddened uncomfortably and he gave Cressy an austere look. ‘The details of Mr Viannis’s private life are no business of mine, Miss Fielding. I’m just here to do a job.’
‘You do it well,’ she said. ‘But I’m sure you’ve had plenty of practice.’
He looked more po-faced than ever. ‘You’ll also be requested to sign a contract of confidentiality,’ he went on. ‘Guaranteeing that no details of your time with Mr Viannis will ever be made public.’
‘In case I write a kiss-and-tell story for the tabloids?’ Cressy asked with disbelief. ‘My God, I’m the last person in the world who’d want to go public.’
‘I’m sure that’s how you feel now, ma’am. But things can change, and Mr Viannis would not wish any future marriage he might contract to be compromised by unwelcome revelations.’
She felt as if she’d been punched in the stomach, but she recovered and managed a taut smile. ‘In other words, hell hath no fury, Mr Nixon. Tell your boss I’ll sign his guarantee.’
She took the pen he handed her, and wrote her name where indicated.
Then she showed him to the door, wished him a pleasant drive back to London, and returned to the drawing room.
The folder was lying on the coffee table. The next three months of her life all spelled out for her in clauses, sub-clauses and settlements.
She picked it up, weighed it speculatively for a moment, then, with a small choking cry, threw it across the room as hard as she could. It hit the wall and fell, disgorging its contents on to the carpet.
And then she burst into tears.
Cressy finished rubbing sun screen on to her legs, and put the cap back on the bottle.
It would be tempting, she thought with detachment, to allow Draco to arrive and find her burned to a crisp, and consequently unavailable, but she could not risk the damage to her skin.
