‘Oh, yes, pure magic,’ Emmie agreed uneasily, thinking how very young and refreshingly unspoilt Nessa seemed.
‘You are so beautiful!’ Nessa commented with satisfaction. ‘Lilah will tear her hair out when she sees you—’
‘As long as it’s not mine. I don’t want to upset anyone—’
‘I know she’s one of my bridesmaids but she’s treated my brother very badly,’ Nessa proclaimed, condemnation tightening her pretty face. ‘He deserved better and she should have dropped out of my wedding, not insisted on carrying out her role when it’s no longer appropriate.’
‘Perhaps Lilah didn’t want to let you down,’ Emmie suggested, sipping at the brandy while appreciating that Bastian’s sister was not at all attached to her brother’s former fiancée.
‘No, she wants Bastian back,’ Nessa contradicted, her conviction sending a current of alarm through Emmie. ‘She doesn’t know my brother as well as she thinks she does though. He’s tough—’
‘I know.’
‘He had to be tough. By the time he was eighteen years old he had lived through four divorces and three stepmothers. People don’t understand what he went through and what all that did to him,’ Nessa declared, fiercely defensive of her half sibling. ‘My mother was the only one who didn’t treat him badly.’
‘That’s something to be grateful for,’ Emmie soothed, curious but keen to stem the flood of information, which she did not feel entitled to receive because she knew Bastian wouldn’t appreciate her knowing such private stuff.
‘Bastian’s never had a family life. He doesn’t know what one is.’
‘Childhood can be challenging,’ Emmie commented vaguely, touched by Nessa’s innocence, comprehending why her brother was prepared to go to such lengths to ensure she wasn’t upset on her wedding day.
Nessa grimaced. ‘Well, I was lucky. I was spoilt rotten by my mum. But Bastian didn’t have an easy time.’
‘He’s a very confident, private man,’ Emmie remarked with gentle emphasis.
‘That’s why I’m telling you this—so that you understand him better. I mean, if you’re waiting for him to tell you anything, you’ll wait for ever.’ Nessa pulled a comic face on the score of her brother’s reticence. ‘The minute I heard you worked with him I knew you would be a normal woman and that’s exactly what I think he needs.’
The two women were interrupted by another knock on the door, telegraphing the arrival of the doctor with Bastian in tow.
‘You don’t need to stay,’ Emmie informed Bastian with a stiff smile.
‘I’m afraid I do. Dr Papadopoulos doesn’t speak any English.’
Suppressing the suspicion that she would never ever get the last word with Bastian, Emmie nodded agreement, poker-faced. Bastian translated the doctor’s questions and then Emmie’s head was examined. The older man finally said that he thought that there wasn’t much wrong with her that couldn’t be cured by a good night’s sleep. He then gave her painkillers for her headache and departed.
‘I’ll get up now,’ Emmie told Bastian before he could leave with the doctor.
‘You heard the doctor…rest,’ Bastian spelt out grittily, noting that the mascara streaks on her cheeks suggested that she had been crying and was probably not half as composed as she would like him to believe. ‘I would have been happier if he had agreed you needed to be checked out at the nearest hospital.’
‘I’m OK…and this household doesn’t need all that fuss the night before Nessa’s wedding,’ Emmie reasoned, knowing that that would carry more weight with him than any other argument.
‘You could go home and try to sue me,’ Bastian commented grimly.
Emmie groaned out loud. ‘I’m not going to sue anyone. I’m not like that.’
His face remained impassive.
Alone again and too warm now in the robe, Emmie took it off, stripped off her damp underwear and slid back naked into the comfortable bed. A little nap would brighten her up, she told herself, but Bastian’s remark, his concern that she might try to sue him for her accident, had troubled her. What sort of a life had he had and what sort of experiences that even a minor mishap taking place in his home could make him that cynical and distrustful? After all, she had suffered no lasting injury. Was he so used to being targeted by greedy people? That accustomed to those who tried to take advantage of his wealth?
TWO HOURS LATER, Emmie wakened from a restful doze. Her head no longer throbbed and she felt a good deal stronger and calmer. While she slept her suitcase had arrived and she opened it up and pulled out clothes for the evening ahead. Apparently there was to be some sort of a party to which The locals were invited. She showered and washed her tangled hair, drying it carefully and renewing her make-up. The party dress was fuchsia pink with a jewelled neckline and short full skirt that swirled with every step she took in the toning shoes. She was ready for anything and prepared to be a pleasant companion, she told herself staunchly while she walked down the magnificent staircase.
In the hall below, Bastian was engaged in greeting dinner guests with his grandfather, Nessa and her bridegroom, Leonides. He frowned in surprise when he saw Emmie actually up and out of bed. And then ten seconds later, overpowered by one of the curious contradictions that continually afflicted him in her radius, he wanted to sweep her straight back between the sheets with him for company. In all his many years of freedom he had never met a woman who could hold a candle to Emmie Marshall with her golden hair bouncing on her slim shoulders, her big blue eyes bright as stars while a natural smile flashed like sunshine across her succulent pink mouth when Nessa saw her and grinned. Well, his sister certainly liked her; in fact Nessa was behaving rather as though he had got engaged again. It would do no harm to depress his sister’s expectations a little after the honeymoon and mention with regret that he had moved on. As he would have to move on, he told himself impatiently, and stop fantasising about riding Emmie’s perfect body with her legs locked round his waist, her beautiful face aglow with desire. His tall, well-built body already tense, Bastian shifted restively at the charge of unholy lust firing his every hormone to a needy flame. He had never wanted any woman as badly as he wanted Emmie at that moment.
‘So, you’re Emmie…’ A tall white-haired elderly man greeted her with a pleasant smile and a handshake. ‘I’m relieved that Bastian didn’t succeed in drowning you in his pool on your first visit,’ he confided. ‘I’m his grandfather, Theron Christou.’
During the meal that followed, Emmie struggled to eat. Nessa had insisted that she sit beside her and Leonides while Bastian was at the head of the table next to his grandfather. Even though she was hungry she was hopelessly on edge, her fingers curving to her wine glass for something solid to hold onto because every time she glanced up she met black-fringed dark golden eyes that sent her thoughts and her speech into a complete loop even as her heart hammered and her mouth ran dry, leaving her thirsty, constantly sipping and yet still overheated. She could not control the slow burn that travelled to her feminine core every time she met Bastian’s stunning eyes and, even worse, she could not suppress the sense of intense longing that constantly gripped her. This wasn’t her, this was not the woman she was, she argued angrily with herself. She had never been the type to get over-excited by a man or whose body yearned for the touch of one. Indeed she had often thought such promptings belonged more to fantasy than reality and now all of a sudden she was finding out how naïve she had been.
After