“Yes,” she bit out, resenting the effect he had on her body. She couldn’t help noticing how cool and assured he looked in a pair of cargo shorts and a white Polo shirt. “I’m sure. There’s lots better stuff I could be doing at High Ridge right now.”
“You’d walk away from a stay on a Greek island, sunning yourself on a private beach, in favour of winter in New Zealand? Where it’s bone-cold right now?”
Pandora hunted his face for signs of sarcasm but found none. “What good is a Greek island when you’re only there as a hostage?” she said at last.
“You’re not a hostage.” Zac looked annoyed. The grin had disappeared. “Tell me, have I hurt you? Tortured you? Locked you in your room? Starved you?” With every word he came closer.
“No.” She stared back at him, challenging him. “But keeping me here against my will—it’s barbaric.”
Zac shrugged. “So I’m a barbarian. Greek legends are full of tales of abduction. You need look no further than Orpheus—”
“Who took Persephone to hell!”
Zac gestured to the calm stretch of blue sea and the silver sunlight streaming down on to the water. “This is hell?”
“No. Yes. Whatever. It’s not where I want to be. What you’re doing is against the law. I’m going to report you to Interpol the first chance I get.” He looked remarkably unconcerned about her threat, even though she knew it was an empty one. He hadn’t hurt her, and she didn’t really want him incarcerated for kidnapping.
“So where do you want to be, agapi mou?”
“Stop it! Don’t call me My love in that phony way.”
His jaw clenched. “I’m not going to argue with you in this mood.” He lifted the strap from behind his head and held out the binoculars. “Here, take a look, there’s a school of dolphins out there.”
Anger forgotten, Pandora reached for the binoculars and came to her feet. “Where?”
“Under the swarm of seabirds.”
“Oh, I see them. Five … seven … no, eight. I see about eight. There must be more underneath.”
“It’s a big school.” Zac spoke from behind her, and she tried to ignore the fact that he stood so close that the scent of his skin enveloped her. “They’ve been frequenting the island for years. I recognise the big bull with the chip out his dorsal fin.”
“This is wonderful. We get them at home. Whales, too. But it’s lovely to see the dolphins here, as well. And such a big school. Oh—” she squealed. “Did you see? One just jumped out of the water.”
“It’s great to have them out there. That’s why I pour millions into coastal and ocean conservation each year. So that their survival is assured.”
With the binoculars against her eyes, Pandora said, “But you own supertankers and transport crude oil. Isn’t that a contradiction? What if there is an oil spill?”
“The Exxon Valdez incident was a tragedy. But it increased everyone’s awareness of the danger to the environment. My supertankers are among the safest in the world. While all tankers are vulnerable to storms and human error and mechanical failure, mine are part of the new breed that are double-hulled for greater stability.”
In the sea, two dolphins arched over the water. Zac watched her squeal with delight, his mouth curving into a smile—her pleasure was infectious.
“It gives me such a kick to know they’re there.” She lowered the binoculars and looked at him, the laughter fading from her eyes. “You know why that is, don’t you?”
Zac didn’t think he wanted to know what had caused the happiness to fade from her face, but he could see from the battle gleam in her eyes that she was intent on telling him. “Why?”
“Because they are free.” She handed the binoculars back to him. “You need to let me go, Zac.”
Zac looked away, unable to hold her defiant gaze. He didn’t answer. If he let her go, would he ever see her again? Or would this consuming force between them be lost to him forever? How could he explain the corrosive fear that if she left, he’d be alone for the rest of his life?
He couldn’t utter those words. Because she was all wrong for the man he’d been raised to be. So he swung around and strode away.
Five minutes later, his face annoyingly clear of expression, Zac returned from the villa carrying a tall frosted glass filled with amber liquid that looked like beer in one hand and a small sherry glass in his other hand.
Pandora eyed the tiny glass of sherry Zac held out to her and a surge of rebellion rose within her. A sudden urge of devilry prompted her to say, “That looks like something my great-aunt Ethel would drink on a cold winter’s evening in front of the fireplace at High Ridge. I’d like a margarita, please, with crushed ice and lots of salt around the rim. And don’t go too light on the tequila.”
Zac did not look pleased. “Sherry is what the women in my family traditionally drink before dinner.”
“Not this woman. Perhaps you should ask what I like to drink?” She cast him a quick look. His jaw was tight, his lips pressed in a thin line. “In fact, cancel the order for a margarita. Make it a Sex on the Beach. Please.”
For a moment Zac looked stunned, then his eyes turned molten.
Pandora backtracked furiously. “It’s a cocktail … made with vodka, peach schnapps, orange—”
“This is not funny,” he interrupted. “My wife does not order such things to drink.”
“It wasn’t meant to be funny.” From behind her fringe she tried to gauge his mood. “And I won’t be your wife for much longer.” Zac scowled and he loomed over her. She stuck her chin out, defensive now. Her attempt to put him in his place had backfired on her. Badly.
She tried to make amends. “Look, I can’t drink wine. It gives me a headache. Spirits suit me better.”
Some of the dark turbulence left his eyes. “Would a gin and tonic do?”
She nodded. “Even just tonic water with ice and some lime would be good.” And she heaved a sigh of relief as he headed back to the house. She let her body sag in the deck chair and tried not to think about the sudden flare-up between them. Her resentment and ongoing urge to needle him weren’t helping matters.
Zac returned with a long glass. She took a sip—it was cool and tasted of fresh lemons with the tiniest hint of juniper berries. “Thank you.”
“Pandora …” Zac gave his head a shake and sank into the deck chair beside her, stretching his long, tanned legs out in front of him. “We’ve gotten off on the wrong foot. Believe me, I want this marriage to work.” His eyes were intent, greener than she’d ever seen them and desperately serious. “I want it to be a real marriage, with you at my side.”
“How can this be a real marriage if you won’t let me go? If you stand over me when I e-mail my father? If you won’t even give me my damn cell phone back?” She gave a sigh of exasperation when he didn’t answer. “And all because of some random family legend, right?”
“It’s not that random,” he said, and she could feel the waves of tension coming off him from where she sat. “But you know what? Somehow the legend is not important anymore.”
“Not important?” She set the glass down. “When you believed that I’d be the perfect patsy to marry?”
His brows drew together. “It wasn’t like that.”
“It was exactly like that. You convinced me that you loved me. You married me because you thought I was a virgin. Who told you that, anyway?”
“Your