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She was in a guest bathroom large enough to run to several pieces of furniture in addition to the usual fixtures. A stray glimpse of herself in a mirror on the nearest wall made her tense. Her face was pink because she was warm, her hair tumbled, the illusion of straight, smooth locks destroyed by the damp atmosphere that was reviving her natural waves. She stared in dismay, thinking of how ordinary she looked against the grand backdrop, how incongruous a match she was for Leonidas with his jaw-dropping good looks. The idea that she had been fighting day and night since Hermione Stratton’s upsetting phone call crept in: Imogen would have looked so much more at home.
For a dangerous moment, Maribel pictured her late cousin, garbed in a designer frock and reclining along the same sofa. With her curtain of silvery blonde hair draped across one shoulder and a mocking smile on her beautiful face, Imogen would have maintained a flow of entertaining chatter. Amusing men had come naturally to her cousin. It was only thanks to Imogen that Maribel had ever met Leonidas Pallis, and if Leonidas had not decided he needed company after Imogen’s funeral, Elias would never have been conceived. A sharp pang of discomfiture and unhappiness attacked Maribel as she made herself confront those humiliating truths.
Springing upright, Leonidas hit the call button on the wall and opened the door to Diane, the nanny, whom he had summoned to take over. While Elias was distracted by the new arrival, Leonidas bent down to close a hand over Maribel’s and tug her off the sofa and out into the corridor.
Dragged without warning from her troubled thoughts and her comfortable seat, she spluttered, ‘I left my shoes in there—’
‘You won’t need shoes where you’re going,’ Leonidas told her bluntly.
‘But Elias—’
‘He’s falling asleep sitting upright! But if he kicks up a fuss, Diane will call us, hara mou.’ As Maribel hovered indecisively Leonidas scooped her up into his arms to forestall further protest.
As a manservant stepped back against the wall out of his employer’s path, Maribel felt totally annihilated by embarrassment. ‘Leonidas, it’s barely eight o’clock in the evening!’ she hissed in a frantic whisper.
‘I like to take my time.’ Coming to a halt in a spectacular bedroom, Leonidas slid her slowly down the length of his long, lean body.
Just as quickly, brought into lingering physical contact with his strong muscled frame, Maribel was intensely conscious of his potent masculinity. As her breasts rubbed against his broad chest their sensitive peaks tingled. Her stomach grazed the hard, flat slab of his abdomen and his big hands welded to the generous curve of her hips to bring her even closer. Registering the rampant evidence of his desire sent a wanton thrill of anticipation winging through her. Her cheeks flushed with fiery colour, she hid her face against his shirt. It was still damp from Elias’ antics in the bath, but Leonidas had the body heat of a furnace and the linen was drying fast. The hard-muscled warmth of his lithe, powerful form and the intrinsically familiar scent of his skin filled her with a sensual awareness that left her legs as weak as matchsticks.
Long fingers speared through her tumbled amber coloured hair to tug her head back. ‘I like your hair longer—the way you used to have it. Grow it for me,’ Leonidas instructed softly.
‘You can’t tell me how to wear my hair,’ Maribel told him tautly.
‘Why not?’ His level dark golden eyes didn’t leave hers for a single second. For emphasis he scored her cheekbone with a reproachful forefinger. ‘Don’t you want to please me?’
‘Do you want to please me?’ she dared.
‘Ne—yes, but I don’t need any pointers, mali mou.’
‘But you think that I do?’
‘You can’t learn if I don’t teach you,’ Leonidas countered soft and low, his tone eminently reasonable.
‘This doesn’t sound like much of an equal partnership.’
‘I’m a Greek. I have a traditional outlook. So you grow your hair again,’ Leonidas repeated, impervious to hints. ‘It will be charming.’
His powerful gaze held her as effectively as a chain round her ankle.
‘Is this, like, Lesson One in the How-to-be-a-good-little-Pallis-wife course?’ Maribel dared unsteadily.
‘If you want to think of it that way.’ Cupping her derrière, Leonidas lifted her against him. ‘But there haven’t been any good little wives in my immediate family for a long time.’
She was holding her breath even before he bent his handsome dark head and claimed a devouring kiss. Sensation ravished her senses. She found the taste of him utterly seductive. There was a delirious intimacy to the way he made love to her mouth. Tiny shivers darted up and down her spine. Her hands clenched as she held back out of pride from just grabbing him. With the tip of his tongue he explored and delved in the tender interior until she was pushing back against his lean, hard body in helpless, gasping response.
