‘Stay…’ Maddie heard herself whisper, without even being aware that she was about to say it.
After an instant of hesitation Giannis lowered himself gracefully down beside her on the bed. Scarcely crediting his presence, she lay so still that she hardly dared to breathe. He snaked an arm round her and eased her back against him.
‘Go to sleep,’ he urged. ‘You look incredibly tired.’
Maddie could have done without that information, as she was already painfully aware that she was not looking her best, but the heat and solidarity of his lean, powerful body next to hers was amazingly soothing. The faint familiar tang of his cologne flared her nostrils and, weary though she was, stark hunger for a greater intimacy stirred delicious tension in her.
Giannis let his hands slide below her camisole top to rest on the place where her waist had once been. ‘May I?’ he whispered huskily.
‘Anything you like,’ she muttered, a slight quiver rippling through her as she voiced her gruff invitation.
But it was her pregnant shape that had provoked his interest. His lean hands were very gentle, his long, shapely fingers splaying in slow, uncharacteristically tentative exploration over the gentle swell of her stomach. ‘Amazing…’ he commented, his breath fanning her cheek.
Giannis felt a little flicker below his palm. When it became more pronounced, he murmured in a tone of awe, ‘Is that one of the babies kicking?’
‘Yes, they’re very active,’ Maddie said in a small voice, recognising that at that moment he was much more entranced with the miracle of conception than her far-from-perfect body.
Maddie listened to the buzz of a language other than her own at the far end of the stateroom and smiled.
In every way that mattered, her wedding promised to be Greek in nature. The day before she had flown out to board her bridegroom’s yacht, Libos I, which was cruising the Aegean Sea. Determined to protect their privacy as far as possible, Giannis had so far succeeded in ensuring that the wedding location was unknown to the media. Aware that Maddie had no family to perform the usual ceremonial roles, he had also, with her agreement, invited two of his cousins to act as her bridesmaids. Although Apollina and Desma were deeply in awe of Giannis, the vivacious brunettes had quickly lost their cautious manner around Maddie.
Maddie was amused that her attendants were so preoccupied with their private conversation that they had just about forgotten about her. ‘That must be some juicy piece of gossip the two of you are sharing!’
The sisters broke out of their huddle and sent her tense glances. ‘Gossip?’ Apollina queried worriedly.
‘I was only teasing you.’
‘Only teasing…’ Desma repeated with an air of relief.
‘Is there something wrong?’ Maddie prompted, for it seemed to her that both young women were rather on edge.
Apollina, the older sister, moved closer. ‘Of course there is nothing wrong. You look wonderful, Maddie.’
‘It’s a fantastic dress.’ Maddie turned and twisted in front of the tall mirror, endeavouring to see herself from every conceivable angle. The beaded lace bodice and narrow sleeves were fitted and stylish. Glorious textured silk fell from below the bust and did a remarkable job of skimming over her tummy. Shimmering pearls had been patiently strung through her hair, and she felt truly glamorous for the first time in her life. A magnificent heart-shaped diamond pendant glittered at her throat. A wedding gift from Giannis, it had been delivered to her over breakfast.
‘It’s not the dress—it is you who looks wonderful,’ Desma corrected. ‘When they see you, everyone will understand why Giannis fell in love with you.’
Maddie’s eyes shadowed. She wandered over to the window and realised that the huge vessel was finally heading towards land, after spending more than twenty-four hours in the open sea. Apollina and Desma were just trying to be kind, she thought ruefully. The sisters probably had no idea that she had barely seen Giannis over the past three weeks. He had slept beside her that one night at Harriston Hall, but he hadn’t touched her, and he had been gone by the time she wakened. In fact they had not made love since Morocco. Recently she had seen him only twice, and then in company. He had held her hand with the sort of awkwardness that suggested he didn’t really know what to do once he had it, and on three separate occasions he had kissed her brow and her cheek as if she was a little old lady or a child. Evidently her sex appeal had headed in much the same direction as her waist, and what was she supposed to do about that?
‘That’s Libos.’ Apollina had joined her by the window. ‘What could be more perfect for a secluded wedding than a private island?’
Having answered the phone, Desma passed the receiver to Maddie.
‘What do you think of your future home?’ Giannis asked.
A thickly wooded green headland ran all the way down to a white beach lapped by sparkling turquoise blue water. Hills studded by tall cypresses surrounded a picturesque village with white houses and a harbour. ‘It’s truly beautiful…It sounds trite, but it’s just like a postcard—the sort you want to walk right into,’ she confided shyly.
‘Go out on deck—you’ll get the best view from there.’
Impervious to her bridesmaids’ lamentations, Maddie went out onto the viewing terrace beyond her stateroom. Her copper curls blew back in the breeze, but she was smiling like mad while Giannis carefully directed her attention to various landmarks and explained that his villa was not visible from the sea.
‘Where are you?’ she prompted.
‘Down at the harbour, having a last drink as a single man. See you in ten minutes, pedhi mou.’
The familiar sound of his dark, deep drawl had banished her anxiety about the future. Libos I docked, and the crew lined up to wish her well before she walked down the gangway. She was enchanted by the beribboned open carriage and two white horses waiting to collect her. The church had a tall tiered bell-tower, and presided in some state over an elegant square that seemed surprisingly large for a small village.
Giannis strode down the steps to help her from the carriage. In a formal suit, with his black hair gleaming in the sunshine, lean bronzed features unusually expressive as he smiled, he was downright irresistible. In the instant before she stepped out she was madly aware of the close scrutiny of his dark golden appraisal.
Giannis stiffened with distaste. ‘Yes. My lawyers are on it—’
‘But what did it say?’
‘Nothing of any consequence.’
‘I insist—’
‘Insisting won’t get you anywhere, pedhi mou,’ Giannis told her squarely. ‘You’re a Petrakos now. The press are beneath your notice.’