Yet Lukas dismissed the thought of his father in contemplation of the woman shrouded in misery opposite him. Rhiannon sat with Annabel on her lap, her face averted towards the window.
Lukas felt an unwelcome twinge of unease. He no longer believed Rhiannon was a blackmailer, yet he still didn’t trust her. He couldn’t trust a woman who was willing to give up a child entrusted into her care, no matter what excuse she gave … or what she had convinced herself to believe.
He suspected she’d persuaded herself it was for the best, that she was acting nobly, yet he saw the truth in her hunched position, in the awkward way she held the baby.
She wasn’t used to children, he thought. She probably lived in a chic little flat that wasn’t equipped for infants. No doubt she was eager to get back to her life … her lover. The thought made his expression harden in distaste … and in remembrance.
It doesn’t matter to me. Take him.
He shook his head, banishing the memory, the mocking voice.
This was a different situation, a different woman … even if some aspects seemed the same.
His thoughts shifted to the baby in Rhiannon’s arms. Her dark, curly hair and soulful eyes reminded him of photographs of himself as a baby. She had the look of a Petrakides. If Annabel was indeed Christos’s daughter, which to Lukas now seemed a near certainty, there could be no question of her future. It would be in Greece, with the Petrakides family.
And, he acknowledged with grim certainty, Rhiannon Davies would not fit into that picture at all.
The baby gave a little shuddering sigh, and Rhiannon stroked her downy hair, a tender smile lighting her face. Lukas watched, feeling a now-familiar tightening in his gut. In his heart.
She looked as if she cared for the child, but he couldn’t believe it. Didn’t want to. It would be much easier for everyone, he mused, if there was no emotional attachment between Rhiannon and Annabel. Still, even if there were, he was confident he could convince her to return to Wales, to relinquish through the courts her guardianship of the child. All it took was the right price.
He watched Rhiannon smooth an errant curl back from her forehead, and he was suddenly stabbingly reminded of his own hand in those tangled curls, drawing her to him, tasting her wine-sweetened lips, burrowing himself in the warmth of her.
The kiss last night had been a mistake. A mind-blowing, sense-scattering event, but an error nonetheless. He’d wanted her; he still did. He didn’t completely understand his desire for such a slight, average-looking woman, but he acknowledged the truth of it. Perhaps he had been without a woman for too long; perhaps it was something more.
It didn’t matter. He never gave in to desire, never catered to need.
What mattered was his family, the Petrakides name, and his duty towards it. That was all.
Two hours later the jet landed on the airstrip of the Petrakides private island.
Rhiannon stared numbly out of the window at the sparkling blue-green of the Aegean Sea, at the rocky shore leading up to landscaped gardens and a long, low, rambling villa of whitewashed stone.
‘Come,’ Lukas said, taking her hand as he helped her out of the plane. ‘My father will be waiting.’
Rhiannon transferred a sleeping Annabel to her other shoulder as she stepped out into the sunshine. The air was hot and dry, the sky a hard, bright blue.
She inhaled the dry, dusty scent of rosemary and olive trees, combined with the salty tang of the sea. Annabel stirred, rubbed her eyes with her fists, and then looked around in sleepy wonder.
‘Wait here.’ Lukas stayed her with one firm hand, his countenance darkening with suppressed tension by the second.
A man was striding stiffly towards them. Tall, spare and white haired. Rhiannon had no doubt this was Theo Petrakides, founder of the Petrakides real estate empire. And he looked furious.
She stepped backwards into the shadow of the plane as the two men squared off.
Theo said something in rapid Greek; Lukas replied. A muscle bunched in his jaw but his voice was flat and calm, his posture almost relaxed.
This was a man in control. A man who did not give in to emotions, whims. Desires.
What about last night? Rhiannon shook her head in denial of the question her heart asked but her mind wouldn’t answer.
Last night had been a moment of weakness for both of them and, as Lukas had said, it wouldn’t happen again.
They were still speaking in rapid but controlled tones. Then Annabel let out a squeal as a gull soared low overhead, and Theo Petrakides’s sharp grey gaze swung to her.
Rhiannon froze, her arms tight around a now struggling Annabel. Her heart rate was erratic and fast as the older man walked slowly towards her. He stood in front of her, a flat look in his eyes.
‘This is the child? Christos’s child?’ he said slowly in English.
‘We don’t know yet for certain,’ Rhiannon managed carefully, her voice a cracked whisper.
‘His bastard.’
She jerked back as if slapped, saw the frank condemnation in Theo’s eyes. She glanced involuntarily at Lukas, saw him shake his head in silent warning. Still, fury bubbled up within her, gave her courage.
‘Annabel Weston is in my care,’ she told the man quietly. ‘She is my responsibility, no matter who the father turns out to be.’
He glanced at her, reluctant admiration flickering briefly in his eyes before he shrugged. ‘We shall see.’
Panic rose in her throat, and she tasted bile. Was Theo implying that they would take Annabel away from her if Christos was the father? Lukas had said something similar.
Why had she not considered how this might happen?
Because you wanted the fairy tale.
Theo strode away, and Lukas put his arm around Rhiannon’s shoulders, guiding her towards the rocky path that led to the villa.
‘None of you want her,’ she choked out in a whisper, and Lukas simply shrugged.
‘It’s not a question of want.’
‘But of responsibility, right?’ She shook her head. ‘I wanted more for Annabel.’
‘I’m afraid,’ Lukas said quietly, ‘that what you want is not my primary consideration.’
She glanced at him, saw the grim determination hardening his eyes, his mouth, his words, and felt a stab of fear. She was not his primary consideration … or any consideration at all, she finished bleakly.
An hour later Rhiannon prowled restlessly around her bedroom. It was large and spacious, with a wide balcony overlooking the sea. Annabel sat on the floor, playing happily with some seashells Rhiannon had found in a decorative bowl.
There was a light knock on the door, and with her heart rising straight into her throat she called out, ‘Come in.’
Lukas opened the door. He’d changed from his business attire, was now dressed in jeans and a white cotton shirt open at the throat. Those few undone buttons revealed a tanned column of skin that Rhiannon couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from.
‘Have you found everything to your satisfaction?’ he asked, and she jerked her eyes upwards towards his face.
His hair was damp, brushed back from his face, his eyes sparkling silver as he smiled with a wry amusement that caused her face to burn with humiliated realisation.
He knew how he affected her, and he thought it was amusing. No doubt he had women falling for him all the time, and he obviously had no problem putting them in their place. Rejecting them.
‘Yes,