The Power of the Legendary Greek Read online

  Luke’s mask slipped a fraction as he walked back to her. ‘Spiro showed me the drawing you made of my face. It flatters me.’

  She shrugged. ‘I thought it was pretty accurate, myself. Though I rarely do portraits. Not my field.’ Lord, this was painful. Why didn’t he yell at her, or at least tell her why he’d come?

  ‘Your hair is shorter,’ he remarked. ‘I prefer it long.’

  Her eyes flashed. ‘So do I. Losing a chunk of it was hardly my fault.’

  ‘No, it was mine,’ he agreed grimly and moved closer, his eyes softening. ‘You look tired, Isobel.’

  ‘I’ve been busy today.’

  ‘You have no help here?’

  ‘I have an assistant, but he left a short while ago.’ Tired of small talk, Isobel cut to the chase. ‘I didn’t put an address on my letter, so how did you find me?’

  Luke’s smile set her teeth on edge. ‘For a while I was so furious I had no wish to find you. But, after seeing your painting of my pool, my faithful Andres, who found working with me very difficult after I received your letter, suggested that you might sell your work through a website. The rest was easy. Had you forgotten the power of the Internet, Isobel?’

  ‘No. I just took it for granted that once you received my letter you’d be so angry you’d just put me out of your life and forget me.’

  ‘It was my first reaction,’ he admitted. ‘Out of all the emotions that besieged me, the most violent was anger because you were a coward, Isobel. You rejected me by letter. But my fury soon gave way to a desire to hear you say no to me, face to face. And to give me your real explanation.’ He moved closer. ‘So here I am.’

  Isobel looked at him in silence for a moment, then crossed to the control panel. ‘I leave the security lights on for the paintings in the windows, but at this hour I switch off the rest.’ She turned with a polite smile. ‘Perhaps you’d like to come up to my flat. I’m desperate for a cup of tea.’ Inane, but the truth. Her mouth was so dry it was hard to swallow.

  ‘Efcharisto, Isobel. Then later I will take you out to dine.’

  She made no response to that and opened the private door leading to her stairs. ‘Two flights up, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Is your ankle better? These stairs must have been difficult for a while when you first returned,’ he commented, following her up.

  A lot of things had been difficult. Most of them still were. ‘My ankle’s fine now,’ she said politely. When she reached the small landing at the head of the stairs she opened the door of her sitting room and waved him inside. ‘Do sit down while I make tea.’

  Left alone to inspect them, Luke eyed his surroundings with interest. The artist in Isobel had a flair for the dramatic. A peacock-blue throw draped a jade velvet couch, and ruby and gold silk cushions glowed on a leather armchair. At strategic points around the room small tables of varying design held piles of books and lamps with vivid shades.

  A jewel box of a room, thought Luke, then turned as the jewel who lived in it backed into the room with a tray. ‘Let me,’ he said, and took the tray from her. ‘Where shall I put it?’

  Isobel cleared a space on a table alongside the sofa and Luke set the tray down with care, feeling very male and clumsy in the feminine room. ‘Try the chair,’ she invited. ‘I made coffee for you, by the way.’

  ‘Efcharisto.’ He took the cup from her and put it safe on a table alongside the couch, afraid that if he moved too suddenly he would knock something over. ‘So. Why would you not come to me, Isobel?’ he said baldly.

  She sipped some tea before she answered. ‘I did consider it—I thought about it long and hard. Then something happened which made it impossible. So I wrote the letter.’

  Luke snatched up his coffee cup, ignoring the sting as the liquid scalded his mouth. ‘You met another man?’

  ‘No.’ Isobel took in a deep breath, wishing her heart would stop banging around in her chest. ‘I found out I’m pregnant—I’m having a baby, Luke.’

  He looked as though she’d punched him in the stomach. ‘Is it mine?’ He sat very still, every muscle in his body tense as he watched the colour leach from her face.

  ‘No,’ she said after a taut pause.

  ‘Whose, then?’ he demanded, his pallor outdoing hers.

  ‘Mine.’

  His jaw clenched. ‘You told me you took care of birth control yourself.’

  Isobel stabbed him with a glacial blue glare. ‘I did. But I was kidnapped, remember. The man didn’t give me time to pack my pills.’ Suddenly she sprang up to run to the bathroom and stayed there until she was sure her stomach meant to behave. She would have given much to remain locked in the bathroom for the foreseeable future, but eventually she went out in answer to Luke’s urgent knock on the door.

  He barred her way as she made to brush past him. ‘You are sure of this?’

  ‘Yes. But don’t worry; I’m not asking you for anything.’ Her eyes blazed like sapphires into his. ‘Your knee-jerk reaction to my glad news only confirms how right I was to finish things between us.’

  Luke seized her by the wrists. ‘I apologise, Isobel. I said such a bad thing because the thought of you with another man’s child was a stab to my heart.’

  ‘How melodramatic,’ she said dully, and detached her hands. ‘Perhaps you’d be good enough to leave now, and go back to wherever you’re staying. I’m very tired.’

  ‘But we have much to discuss,’ he said hotly. ‘How do you expect me to sleep after such news?’

  She shrugged indifferently. ‘Frankly, Lukas Andreadis, I don’t care a toss whether you sleep or not. Just go.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said stiffly. ‘I will burden you with my presence no longer. But,’ he added in a tone which made her toes curl, ‘when I return, Isobel, we shall talk.’

  After the menace in Luke’s parting shot Isobel decided to postpone supper for a while. ‘I’ll eat something later,’ she promised, patting her stomach. ‘Sorry about your dad. I’m afraid it’s just you and me, babe.’ But even if she managed some supper she had little hope of getting any sleep later with the prospect of Luke’s return visit hanging over her. Hopefully, he would come at a reasonable enough hour the next day to allow recovery from her daily date with morning sickness.

  The bell on Isobel’s door rang later while she was drying her hair after her bath. She frowned. She wasn’t expecting Jo, or one of the Careys. And her boss, the owner of the gallery, was sunning himself in Mauritius. When the bell rang again she picked up the receiver on her intercom.

  ‘Let me in, Isobel,’ said Luke’s unmistakable tones.

  ‘I didn’t expect you back tonight,’ she said coldly.

  ‘Nevertheless, I am here. And attracting attention. Open the door,’ he ordered.

  Isobel pressed the release button, cursing because she had no time to dress. She ran into the bedroom for her old blue velour robe, tied the sash tightly, raked her fingers through her damp curls, then took a deep breath and opened her sitting room door to Luke’s knock.

  He was wearing different clothes, he was newly shaved and his hair, like hers, was damp.

  ‘Have you eaten?’ he demanded, eyeing the robe.

  ‘No. We weren’t hungry.’

  A pulse throbbed at the corner of his mouth at the ‘we’. ‘You must eat,’ he said disapprovingly. ‘I will take you to my hotel for dinner.’

  She shook her head. ‘I’d rather not be seen with you in public.’

  Colour flared along his cheekbones. ‘Why? Am I not dressed suitably?’

  ‘This is a small town. People know me here. Questions would be asked.’

  ‘That you would not care to answer,’ he flung at her.

  ‘Why are you so angry? I’m the one expecting the baby!’

  Luke controlled himself with visible effort. ‘Come,’ he said, taking her by the hand. ‘Let us sit down and talk like reasonable people.’

  ‘By all means.’ Isobel let him lead her to the sofa. She curled up in a corner and waved
Luke to the chair.

  He looked so overpoweringly male in her feminine room Isobel’s heart started thumping again as his eyes locked with hers.

  ‘If,’ he began, ‘I had not come here to see you, would you have told me about the child? Ever?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said honestly. ‘I intended to wait until after she arrived and see how I felt.’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘You know it is a girl?’

  ‘Not officially. I just feel it in my bones.’

  There was silence for a while. ‘It is a bad thing for a child to grow up without a father,’ he said at last. ‘I have experience of this.’

  As Isobel well knew. She sat still, waiting for him to go on.

  ‘We must marry,’ he said at last.

  Oh, must we? ‘No,’ she said flatly.

  Luke sprang up to loom over her. ‘You cannot say no this time, Isobel. We have another life to consider, not just yours, or mine.’

  She glared up at him. ‘Are you seriously expecting me to marry you and acknowledge you as the father of a child you don’t believe is yours, Lukas Andreadis?’

  ‘I know the child is mine,’ he said impatiently. ‘Are you going to make me pay for the rest of our lives, and our child’s life, because I am human, and in my shock I said words I regretted the moment they were uttered?’

  ‘They hurt, Luke.’ Isobel hugged her arms across her chest. ‘Not least because, before I knew about the baby, I was going to put a different proposition to you when the six weeks were up.’

  ‘What was it?’ he said quickly.

  ‘I didn’t fancy being some sort of playmate you visited when you had time to spare—’

  ‘It would not have been like that!’

  ‘That’s how it seemed to me. Anyway, I was going to suggest that we just lived together, as people do. In your apartment in Athens, or your house in Thessaloniki, or wherever. In basic terms, I wanted to share all your life, not just small doses of it, Luke.’

  He gazed down at her in disbelief. ‘Is this true?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He drew in a deep, unsteady breath. ‘If you had, I would have agreed with much enthusiasm after several weeks apart from you. So what changed your mind?’

  Isobel patted her stomach. ‘I found out about her. I couldn’t come asking to live with you once I found I was pregnant.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘You would have thought that was the only reason for my suggestion. Besides, I was afraid you might question my baby’s parentage. And I was right,’ she added with rancour.

  ‘I refuse to believe that you would be cruel enough to keep our child from me.’

  Isobel’s heart did a little skip at the ‘our’. ‘I suppose not,’ she said quietly.

  Luke raised her hand to his lips and kissed the palm. ‘Our child was conceived in love, ne? So he—’

  ‘She!’

  He laughed unsteadily. ‘So it is only right that our child should grow up secure in the love of parents who are husband and wife.’

  ‘That’s emotional blackmail,’ she protested thickly.

  ‘Call it what you wish. But you must agree, Isobel. We have both suffered from the lack of family in our lives. If you marry me, you will never suffer such lack again.’ He gave her the rare smile that always stopped her heart. ‘You cannot fight fate, kardia mou.’

  Luke drew her to her feet with infinite care, his eyes intent on hers, and with a deep, shuddering sigh Isobel surrendered to his arms as his mouth met hers in a kiss that went on and on until neither could breathe. Luke picked her up and sat down with her in his lap, cradling her close.

  ‘Tell me you love me, Isobel,’ he commanded thickly.

  She gave an unsteady little chuckle. ‘There you go, ordering me about as usual. Not that it matters because I do love you, Lukas Andreadis.’

  His eyes blazed. ‘Then why did you put me through hell? When I read your letter I was like a madman. You did not give your address, and you told me you had destroyed your phone. Andres saved my sanity, Isobel, when he suggested a way to trace you.’

  Her lashes were suddenly wet with tears. ‘I wasn’t doing too well in the sanity department myself. Hormones. I really thought it was the right thing to do at the time.’

  Luke smoothed a hand over her hair. ‘But now the right thing is very obvious to both of us, ne? Even though you never wished for marriage, I swear I will make ours happy for you!’

  ‘But you never fancied marriage either!’

  He bent his head to kiss her. ‘Then I met you, agapi mou, and changed my mind.’

  ‘But you asked me to be your mistress—’

  ‘Lover, not mistress,’ he said with tender violence. ‘I was afraid you would never agree to marriage, Isobel. I was trying to keep you with me in the way I thought you would like best.’

  Her stomach gave a sudden audible rumble and they both laughed.

  ‘Was that my baby saying hello to Papa?’ said Luke in a tone which brought a lump to Isobel’s throat.

  She gave him a wobbly little smile. ‘I think she was telling me to say yes this time!’

  Normally, Isobel enjoyed the short helicopter flight to Chyros, but this time she sent up a prayer of thanks as Luke set the machine down behind the Villa Medusa.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he said tightly as he helped Isobel out.

  ‘Fine,’ she lied, managing a smile as Eleni and Spiro came hurrying to meet them.

  There was a flurry of greetings, then Eleni frowned as Isobel caught her breath on the way into the house. ‘It has started?’

  ‘I think so,’ said Isobel through her teeth.

  ‘What did you say?’ demanded Luke, catching up with them.

  ‘Your daughter has decided it’s her birthday.’

  Luke swore long and volubly, his face haggard as he helped her up the stairs to the master bedroom they shared. ‘I should not have given in to you. We should have stayed in reach of the hospital in Athens.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ she panted. ‘I wanted our child born here on Chyros, like her father.’

  And twelve hours later, by which time Isobel was exhausted and Luke demented, their child came into the world protesting loudly. Dr Riga shook Luke’s hand in congratulation as Nurse Pappas passed the tightly wrapped bundle to Eleni, who proudly handed it over to Isobel.

  ‘You took your time,’ she told her baby drowsily when she was alone with a very pale, haggard husband. She smiled as Luke knelt on the bed to kiss her. ‘Isn’t she beautiful, darling?’

  ‘Almost as beautiful as you, hriso mou,’ he said huskily, and smiled as he touched a finger to the baby’s cheek. ‘But our child is a boy, Isobel. We have a son, not a daughter.’

  She stared at him blankly. ‘Are you sure?’

  Luke nodded, laughing. ‘He is most definitely male.’

  ‘Just like his papa.’ She chuckled weakly. She cuddled the little bundle to her breast, smiling down into the crumpled sleeping face. ‘Oh, well, son, we’ll just have to try for a sister next time.’

  ‘No!’ Luke shook his head vehemently. ‘No next time. Ever.’ He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it passionately. ‘I could not bear it.’

  ‘You don’t have to bear it. I do that part.’

  ‘I am not joking!’ he said sternly and bent to kiss her. ‘I must go. Nurse Pappas says there are things to be done for both of you. Is there something you need first, glykia mou?’

  ‘A huge pot of tea and my phone, please,’ said Isobel promptly.

  ‘You may have the tea, but I shall ring Joanna and Alyssa myself, also Andres, who can spread the word in Athens.’ He smiled proudly. ‘It is the father’s privilege, ne?’

  Her sleepy blue eyes fastened on his. ‘Are you proud of your son, Lukas Andreadis?’

  ‘I do not have the vocabulary to say exactly how much, though I would have been just as proud of a daughter,’ he assured her and stroked her hair. ‘But I am most proud of my wife. You did not complain once.�
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  She laughed unsteadily. ‘No breath to spare for complaints. Besides, all women go through the same process, Luke.’

  ‘But I am not married to other women. Only to you, Isobel.’ He smiled as the baby stirred. ‘What name shall we give our son?’

  She stared at him blankly. ‘I was so settled on Olympia for a girl, I never thought about boy names.’

  ‘What was your father’s name?’

  ‘Paul. Is there a Greek version?’

  ‘Pavlos. But Paul is used also.’ Luke nodded in approval. ‘I like that. It sounds good.’

  ‘Now I have given you a son, Lukas Andreadis, I would like something in return,’ she said, surprising him.

  ‘Anything your heart desires,’ he said huskily and stroked her damp hair. ‘What do you want, hriso mou?’

  ‘When we’ve both recovered from this, I want to give a party here to celebrate Paul’s birth—and to send your grandfather an invitation.’

  Luke eyed her in shock. ‘You ask me this at a time when you know I can’t refuse, ne?’

  ‘That’s right.’ Isobel smiled at him lovingly. ‘You said anything my heart desires, and I desire this very much, darling.’

  He sighed heavily. ‘Then of course I shall agree. After all, it is not so great a thing. He may not come.’ He bent to kiss her gently. ‘And now I must go. While Nurse Pappas and Eleni are making you comfortable I shall offer Dr Riga a brandy in libation to the safe arrival of Paul Andreadis.’ Luke turned at the door to smile at her, looking so pleased with himself Isobel blew him a loving kiss. ‘But I shall make a secret toast of my own. To fate, who gave me the gift of the most beautiful wife and son in the world.’

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-5635-8

  THE POWER OF THE LEGENDARY GREEK

  First North American Publication 2010.

  Copyright © 2010 by Catherine George.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.