Her mouth fell open. ‘You cook? But Greek men never cook—’
Her grandfather didn’t so much as make a cup of coffee.
‘I frequently come here alone,’ he told her calmly, ‘so it was learn to cook or starve.’
Alesia stared at him in confusion, realizing that perhaps she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. But just exactly how much time had she spent with her new husband? she reminded herself. Virtually none. Apart from their wedding day, when they had barely been on speaking terms, the only time they’d spent together up until the nightclub had been spent in bed. They hadn’t even shared a meal since their wedding.
Sebastien walked over to the glass doors and slid them open. ‘Lie down for a few hours. I’ll be on the terrace if you need anything.’
Alesia waited for him to go and then stripped down to her underwear and slid between the cool sheets with a sigh of relief.
Her head was still pounding from lack of sleep and the alcohol she’d unwittingly consumed the night before and suddenly nothing seemed clear any more.
Telling herself that she’d work it all out later, she drifted into a deep sleep.
When she awoke it was sunset and she sat up feeling guilty. How long had she slept? Too long—
And there was no sign of Sebastien.
She slid out of bed and searched for her jeans.
‘They have been disposed of,’ came a dark drawl from the doorway and she gave a start and shot back into bed, pulling the sheet up to her neck.
‘You scared me—’
He surveyed her with no small degree of amusement. ‘Since we are the only two people on the island, I couldn’t have been anyone else. And your schoolgirl modesty is totally unnecessary, agape mou. I’m perfectly happy for you to walk around naked.’
She flushed to the roots of her hair. ‘Well, I’m not happy,’ she muttered, wondering if she’d ever feel comfortable with her body in the way that he did. ‘And what do you mean, you’ve disposed of my jeans? You told me not to pack anything. The only clothes I have are the ones I was wearing earlier.’
‘And you won’t be wearing them again,’ he said smoothly, strolling into the room. He’d changed into a pair of cool linen trousers, the sleeves of his casual shirt rolled up to reveal bronzed forearms dusted with dark hairs. ‘Since you didn’t appear to have purchased anything suitable for a hot climate, I took the liberty of arranging a suitable wardrobe for you.’
Still clutching the sheet, she gazed at him warily. ‘A wardrobe?’
He knew she hadn’t bought anything. He knew—
She closed her eyes. Well, of course he knew. He’d been into her dressing room in Athens and seen it empty apart from her wedding dress, her jeans and a few tops and, whatever else he might be, the man wasn’t stupid.
‘You’re not used to shopping, are you?’ His tone conversational, he walked into her dressing room and returned carrying a narrow sheath of peacock-blue silk. ‘An intriguing quality in someone who clearly requires such a large income to support her lifestyle.’
Alesia froze and waited in horrified stillness for him to ask the obvious question—why she’d demanded so much money when she didn’t even seem to spend it.
Frantically rummaging around in her brain for a suitable answer and coming up with none, she almost cried with relief when he simply dropped the dress in her lap.
‘Get dressed,’ he ordered quietly, strolling back towards the terrace with a thoughtful glance in her direction, ‘and then meet me on the terrace. We’ll have supper and talk.’
Talk?
Alesia fingered the beautiful dress and stared after him in dismay. It had been easier when Sebastien had done his vanishing act, she conceded. At least then she hadn’t had to worry about giving anything away.
Suddenly he seemed to have developed a desire to get to know her and that was going to present her with a big problem.
Fresh from the discovery that his new wife was certainly not lacking in personality, Sebastien lounged on the sun-baked terrace, staring at the azure-blue pool in brooding contemplation.
Never before had he felt confused by a woman. Out of control.
In his experience their behaviour followed a totally predictable pattern. They shopped, they lunched, they partied. Even when he switched one woman for another, which he did with monotonous regularity, the pattern didn’t change.
So he’d never had any expectations that his new wife would prove to be different. Hadn’t she, sole heiress to the Philipos fortune, demanded an enormous sum of money to marry him?
Once in possession of such generous funds, he’d expected her to shop and shop until her feet were blistered and yet it was rapidly becoming clear to him that she hadn’t purchased a single item of clothing since their wedding day.