She was silent again. Then she spoke, in that same hesitant manner.
‘I mean—in general—about us?’
The slightest prickle of irritation started up in him. He’d known women do this before—talking about ‘us’ in that way, making plans, forming expectations. False ones—they always were. He hoped to God that Vanessa weren’t going to start on that. It was one of the things he appreciated most about her—that she simply went with the flow, the way he liked to do.
He gave an inward sigh. Maybe it was time to make that clear to her.
He shifted his weight, and her, so that she was tilted back to lie against the pillows. He lifted himself on to his elbow.
‘Vanessa—what is this?’
She stared up at him. Something was flaring in her eyes, and he felt a momentary pang of guilt. She was so easy, never made demands, did everything he wanted and said, never made a fuss, never complained—went with the flow.
He could see her lips quiver.
His expression softened. Swiftly he lowered his mouth to kiss her briefly.
‘Vanessa—we’re having a great time. Don’t let’s get heavy about things, OK?’
She was staring up at him. Her eyes were huge. There was an expression in them he didn’t like to see. It made him uncomfortable.
He firmed his lips, then spoke again.
‘Vanessa, I appreciate having you around more than any other mistress I’ve ever had,’ he told her. ‘And I think I show my appreciation—don’t I?’ He lifted one of the opals set into the necklace looped around her neck.
Something shuttered in her eyes.
‘You—you don’t think I expect you to give me beautiful things, do you, Markos? Please don’t think that. I couldn’t bear it!’
‘I like to give you beautiful things.’
‘Yes, but you don’t have to! Oh, Markos, you do believe that, don’t you?’
There was such anxiety in her voice suddenly. He smiled. ‘I told you—I like to give you things like this.’
‘Yes, but—’ She fell silent. She was gazing up at him, searching his face with troubled eyes. ‘Markos…’ Her voice was hesitant still. ‘I…I’m not trying to be clingy, honestly. I know you’d hate that. It’s just that…’ Her voice trailed off.
Markos let go the necklace and took his hand away. He didn’t want this conversation. He seriously did not want it. But even more he did not want Vanessa returning to the subject another time. These things were best nipped in the bud. Another ripple of irritation went through him. A sense of ill-usage. Vanessa had seemed so different from the other women who’d tried this sort of thing on with him.
He didn’t like to think she was the same as them. She’d been so different, all the time she’d been with him. Had someone been putting ideas in her head? His expression darkened momentarily.
Cosmo Dimistris. Was he responsible for this? Making her see that she could so easily pick herself another lover?
Even as the thought formed he felt a stab of rage go through him. Thee mou, no way was Vanessa going to pick herself another lover! She was his—and that was an end of it!
With instinctive possessiveness he lowered himself down off his elbow, sliding his arm around her again. That was better. Holding her felt good. He settled himself back comfortably against the pillows, positioning her against his shoulder, and felt his mood lift.
‘Now you can cling all you like,’ he said smilingly. He settled his free hand on her rounded stomach again, splaying out his fingers the way he liked to do. He felt her tense suddenly.
Was she worried about gaining weight? Worried he might not approve? He didn’t want her thinking that.
‘Don’t panic,’ he told her, amusement in his voice now. ‘I like you soft and rounded—like a ripe peach.’
But his lightly spoken words did not seem to relax her. Maybe she was still upset from the exchange that had taken place? Well, there was nothing he could do about that. He lived his life on his own terms, nobody else’s, and that was that.
And for the foreseeable future—for as far ahead as he was prepared to look, and that wasn’t far, because there was no reason to look further, he would live his life with Vanessa at his side. In his bed.
Maybe that was what was worrying her. Maybe she thought her shelf-life was up. Well, he could set her right on that, at any rate. He’d told her so before, that night she’d come up when he’d been speaking to the Duchesse—reassuring her that he still wanted her as his mistress. Clearly it was time to repeat the message.