The Kyriakos Virgin Bride (10 page)

It was empty.

No sign of Maria cleaning…and she'd seen Zac heading for the boathouse.

Her gaze hurriedly scanned the desk, the bookshelves, taking in the bank of computer ware, the clean, organised surfaces…but no sign of her cell phone or Zac's.

About to leave, she noticed the flicker of the screen saver. Feeling like a thief, she scuttled around the desk and perched on the edge of Zac's big black leather chair. With a sense of nervous elation, she hit the enter button and waited.

A document opened. Zac had not logged out. Fingers shaking, she minimised the document and hit the Internet connection icon. A home page opened. Relief and a kind of shaky guilt made her sag. She cocked her head. Only silence. No sound of the pantherlike tread of Zac's returning footsteps.

She tapped in a Web-mail address and waited a moment before keying in her log-in and password.

Pandora stared at the screen. A list of unread messages sat in her in-box, several containing subject headers congratulating her on her marriage. No time to read them now.

Hurriedly, she clicked on the new message tab and typed in her father's e-mail address. After a moment's reflection, she filled
Need your help
into the subject line. It was much more difficult to find the words than she had expected. She wanted to tell her father that her marriage was over, that she needed him to rescue her from this mess.

But how to explain it all? She hesitated. How could she tell her father that she'd lost her virginity after some stupid visit to a nightclub with a man she'd barely known three years ago? Her father had trusted her to go stay with Nicoletta and to behave as he expected. How could she disappoint him?

And what would happen about the lucrative contract her father had signed with Zac? He'd walk away from it, putting her first.

No, she couldn't let her private failures screw up her father's business relationships. She had to sort this out herself. Her twenty-first birthday was less than a month away. She was an adult now, not a child who needed to run home to Daddy every time something went wrong.

Zac had brought her here against her will. To talk, he'd said. She'd been bitter, too angry to talk, and had flung her loss of virginity in his face. The diversion had worked. And she'd retreated to her room to sulk, wasting three days waiting for him to come seek her out.

It was way past time to grow up, to take control of her life and her future. She had to find Zac and have it out with him.

But first she owed her father a chatty, upbeat e-mail. He'd been so happy about her marriage. With a small sigh, she started to type.

“What the hell are you doing?”

Pandora jumped when Zac's voice exploded behind her. Spinning the high-backed leather chair around, she blurted out, “E-mailing my father. He'll be worried—and hurt—if I don't keep in touch.”

“Daddy to the rescue,” Zac said, but the deep lines of tension around his mouth receded.

“I don't need my father to fight my battles.”

The glint in his eyes changed to something that she thought might be reluctant admiration. Then he spoiled it by saying, “I want to read what you have written.”

Her chin went up. “Don't you trust me?”

His eyes flickered to the screen.

Pandora scooted the chair forward, blocking his view of the screen. “It's private, my communication to my father. I'm simply assuring him that I am well and that we are on an island—how do you spell Kiranos by the way? It would look strange if I didn't get it right.”

After a fleeting hesitation Zac, spelled it out.

“Thanks.” Pandora bent her head and continued to type. Tense now, she waited for Zac to move closer, to peer over her shoulder…to stop her sending the e-mail. But he didn't move. Finally she clicked the send button and looked up. “Done.”

Zac was watching her, a bemused expression on his face. “I'm reputed to be a suspicious, hardheaded bastard. I can't believe that I trusted you to do that.” He shook his head and held out a hand. “Come, let's go sit on the terrace and see the day out.”

As Pandora rose and took his hand, a deep inner tension unwound and a delicious warmth spread through her. But she suppressed the treacherous want that unfurled inside her.

She and Zac needed to talk.

“Z
ac, if you can trust me to e-mail my father, then surely there's no point in keeping me prisoner on this island?”

The sun was still hot on the terrace, but the shadows were starting to lengthen. For a moment Pandora thought Zac wasn't going to respond and that the words she'd flung at his broad back would be lost in the sea wind.

Then Zac swung around from where he'd been leaning against the white railing at the end of the cobbled terrace that overlooked the Ionian Sea and let the binoculars fall. “Kiranos is hardly a prison. You didn't enjoy your swim earlier today?”

Pandora slumped back in the deck chair Georgios had set out on the terrace along with a couple of side tables. If she were honest, she had to admit it was a pretty luxurious prison—her every whim catered for. Behind Zac, the sea lay blue and inviting. But it was a prison nonetheless. She lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “Swimming wouldn't have been my first choice of things to do.”

“So what would have been your first choice of…things…to do?” The suggestiveness in his richly sensual tone made her flush.

“Certainly not
that.
”

His gaze raked her, reminding her of the skimpiness of the fitted dress, with its shoestring halter neckline that left her shoulders bare and dipped to reveal a generous amount of curving breast. In the wake of his gaze, the heat ran riot.

He flashed her a grin. “Sure about that?”

“Yes,” she bit out, resenting the effect he had on her body. She couldn't help noticing how cool and assured he looked in a pair of cargo shorts and a white Polo shirt. “I'm sure. There's lots better stuff I could be doing at High Ridge right now.”

“You'd walk away from a stay on a Greek island, sunning yourself on a private beach, in favour of winter in New Zealand? Where it's bone-cold right now?”

Pandora hunted his face for signs of sarcasm but found none. “What good is a Greek island when you're only there as a hostage?” she said at last.

“You're not a hostage.” Zac looked annoyed. The grin had disappeared. “Tell me, have I hurt you? Tortured you? Locked you in your room? Starved you?” With every word he came closer.

“No.” She stared back at him, challenging him. “But keeping me here against my will—it's barbaric.”

Zac shrugged. “So I'm a barbarian. Greek legends are full of tales of abduction. You need look no further than Orpheus—”

“Who took Persephone to hell!”

Zac gestured to the calm stretch of blue sea and the silver sunlight streaming down on to the water. “This is hell?”

“No. Yes. Whatever. It's not where I want to be. What you're doing is against the law. I'm going to report you to Interpol the first chance I get.” He looked remarkably unconcerned about her threat, even though she knew it was an empty one. He hadn't hurt her, and she didn't really want him incarcerated for kidnapping.

“So where do you want to be,
agapi mou?
”

“Stop it! Don't call me
My love
in that phony way.”

His jaw clenched. “I'm not going to argue with you in this mood.” He lifted the strap from behind his head and held out the binoculars. “Here, take a look, there's a school of dolphins out there.”

Anger forgotten, Pandora reached for the binoculars and came to her feet. “Where?”

“Under the swarm of seabirds.”

“Oh, I see them. Five…seven…no, eight. I see about eight. There must be more underneath.”

“It's a big school.” Zac spoke from behind her, and she tried to ignore the fact that he stood so close that the scent of his skin enveloped her. “They've been frequenting the island for years. I recognise the big bull with the chip out his dorsal fin.”

“This is wonderful. We get them at home. Whales, too. But it's lovely to see the dolphins here, as well. And such a big school. Oh—” she squealed. “Did you see? One just jumped out of the water.”

“It's great to have them out there. That's why I pour millions into coastal and ocean conservation each year. So that their survival is assured.”

With the binoculars against her eyes, Pandora said, “But you own supertankers and transport crude oil. Isn't that a contradiction? What if there is an oil spill?”

“The Exxon
Valdez
incident was a tragedy. But it increased everyone's awareness of the danger to the environment. My supertankers are among the safest in the world. While all tankers are vulnerable to storms and human error and mechanical failure, mine are part of the new breed that are double-hulled for greater stability.”

In the sea, two dolphins arched over the water. Zac watched her squeal with delight, his mouth curving into a smile—her pleasure was infectious.

“It gives me such a kick to know they're there.” She lowered the binoculars and looked at him, the laughter fading from her eyes. “You know why that is, don't you?”

Zac didn't think he wanted to know what had caused the happiness to fade from her face, but he could see from the battle gleam in her eyes that she was intent on telling him. “Why?”

“Because they are free.” She handed the binoculars back to him. “You need to let me go, Zac.”

Zac looked away, unable to hold her defiant gaze. He didn't answer. If he let her go, would he ever see her again? Or would this consuming force between them be lost to him forever? How could he explain the corrosive fear that if she left, he'd be alone for the rest of his life?

He couldn't utter those words. Because she was all wrong for the man he'd been raised to be. So he swung around and strode away.

Five minutes later, his face annoyingly clear of expression, Zac returned from the villa carrying a tall frosted glass filled with amber liquid that looked like beer in one hand and a small sherry glass in his other hand.

Pandora eyed the tiny glass of sherry Zac held out to her and a surge of rebellion rose within her. A sudden urge of devilry prompted her to say, “That looks like something my great-aunt Ethel would drink on a cold winter's evening in front of the fireplace at High Ridge. I'd like a margarita, please, with crushed ice and lots of salt around the rim. And don't go too light on the tequila.”

Zac did not look pleased. “Sherry is what the women in my family traditionally drink before dinner.”

“Not this woman. Perhaps you should ask what I like to drink?” She cast him a quick look. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed in a thin line. “In fact, cancel the order for a margarita. Make it a Sex on the Beach. Please.”

For a moment Zac looked stunned, then his eyes turned molten.

Pandora backtracked furiously. “It's a cocktail…made with vodka, peach schnapps, orange—”

“This is not funny,” he interrupted. “My wife does not order such things to drink.”

“It wasn't meant to be funny.” From behind her fringe she tried to gauge his mood. “And I won't be your wife for much longer.” Zac scowled and he loomed over her. She stuck her chin out, defensive now. Her attempt to put him in his place had backfired on her. Badly.

She tried to make amends. “Look, I can't drink wine. It gives me a headache. Spirits suit me better.”

Some of the dark turbulence left his eyes. “Would a gin and tonic do?”

She nodded. “Even just tonic water with ice and some lime would be good.” And she heaved a sigh of relief as he headed back to the house. She let her body sag in the deck chair and tried not to think about the sudden flare-up between them. Her resentment and ongoing urge to needle him weren't helping matters.

Zac returned with a long glass. She took a sip—it was cool and tasted of fresh lemons with the tiniest hint of juniper berries. “Thank you.”

“Pandora…” Zac gave his head a shake and sank into the deck chair beside her, stretching his long, tanned legs out in front of him. “We've gotten off on the wrong foot. Believe me, I want this marriage to work.” His eyes were intent, greener than she'd ever seen them and desperately serious. “I want it to be a real marriage, with you at my side.”

“How can this be a real marriage if you won't let me go? If you stand over me when I e-mail my father? If you won't even give me my damn cell phone back?” She gave a sigh of exasperation when he didn't answer. “And all because of some random family legend, right?”

“It's not that random,” he said, and she could feel the waves of tension coming off him from where she sat. “But you know what? Somehow the legend is not important anymore.”

“Not important?” She set the glass down. “When you believed that I'd be the perfect patsy to marry?”

His brows drew together. “It wasn't like that.”

“It was
exactly
like that. You convinced me that you loved me. You married me because you thought I was a virgin. Who told you that, anyway?”

“Your father.”

“My father?”
She gaped at him in shock. “I don't believe you.”

“I don't lie.” The distaste in his tone quelled her instant response. “Your father wanted this marriage to happen. I was in Queenstown for an ecology conference. We met. He told me all about you—he's very proud of you. It was no secret that I needed a wife—the right wife.”

“A virgin bride, you mean?”

He gave a slight nod.

How humiliating! The whole world knew Zac needed a virgin bride. No wonder he hadn't wanted her reading the newspapers after their engagement was announced. The tabloids' speculation must've been lewd. And her father had put her up as a pure-as-driven-snow candidate. Ack. Suddenly Pandora was fiercely glad she'd decided against e-mailing her father for help. Of course, her father didn't know about…the incident.

“So everyone knew about this…virgin deal…except me. I was stuck in the backcountry bush, looking after guests at High Ridge, while you guys plotted my fate. God, it sounds so feudal.” She hauled in a deep breath and covered her eyes with her hands. “And I thought it was fate. True love. Jeez, you must have thought me a silly, gullible little fool.”

“I thought you were exquisite. Sweet, charming, funny. I wanted to share my—”

“Stupid. That's what I was,” she interrupted him, dropping her hands and fixing him with a determined gaze. “A world-class idiot. So how are we going to fix this…this disaster?”

His eyes flashed. “It need not be a disaster. We can work it out. But first I want to hear about this man.”

“What man?” But she had a horrible feeling she knew exactly what he was talking about.

Zac's deck chair scraped across the terra-cotta cobbles. He leaned toward her and held her gaze squarely. “The one who claimed your virginity.”

“Zac!” Pandora gazed at him in fascinated horror. “You can't expect me to talk about that.”

“Oh, yes, I can.” His brows drew together, and the dusky evening light that fell across his face dusted his harsh features with gold. “You might not have lied to me intentionally, but you've put me in a situation I never anticipated. I need to know the full facts to put a game plan in place to cope with any possible fallout.”

She stared blindly at the pink-and-orange clouds scattered across the western sky. This wasn't about her, about her dignity, about her future with him. This was about
him.
About
his
business. About a fortune in share losses. About how
he
was going to handle their divorce…except he'd said he wanted to stay married, hadn't he? She shook her head to clear it of the confusion and the ugliness.

Her relief when Georgios appeared to tell them dinner was ready was short-lived. No sooner had they made their way to the dining room and sat down at the table, where the silver cutlery glinted in the glow of half a dozen tall white candles, when Zac demanded, “Talk to me.”

“Okay,” she said in a flat little voice, and picked up her fork to toy with the seafood salad in front of her. “I'll tell you exactly what happened. His name was Steve. He was charming, fun, good-looking—”

“I don't want to hear that part,” Zac growled, a muscle pulsing high on his lean, tanned jaw. “I want to know who his family is, where you met this man.”

“I don't know anything about his family,” Pandora said awkwardly, uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

“So how the hell did you meet him?”

She stopped picking at her food. “Sometimes my father allowed me to spend the August vacation with my best friend, Nicoletta. Her father was a very wealthy industrialist. They came from Milan, and a couple of times I stayed at their holiday home in Sardinia. A few times Nicoletta stayed with us. But High Ridge in winter isn't as much fun as Sardinia in summer, so that didn't happen often. She had an older brother—”

“Ah,” said Zac.