‘It has been a few eventful days filled with many second chances,’ he replied in a light tone filled with sardonic dryness, ‘for here I am, giving them back to you. They will be perfect with this lovely dress, don’t you think?’
Maybe they would. ‘But…’ The necklace sparkled and glittered across the backs of his fingers. She lifted wary eyes to his and instantly felt as if she was drowning in a thick, dark sea of lazy indulgence. Let’s go back to bed, she wanted to say. I feel safe there with you. ‘Don’t you think my wearing them tonight would be like slapping your family in the face with the fact that I am back? M-maybe I will wear them another time.’
‘But you are back,’ he pointed out with devastating simplicity. ‘You are my beautiful wife. I gave these beautiful things to you and I want you to wear them. So turn around…’
She turned around, taking that sudden gleam of determination in his eyes with her. The necklace came to lie against her skin, circling the base of her throat as if it had been specially made to do so.
‘A new beginning for you and I also mean a new beginning for everyone, agape mou,’ he said deeply as she felt the warm press of his lips to her nape.
Then he was gently bringing her round to face him. With a neat flick the matching bracelet arrived around her slender wrist. Her stomach began to dance when he reached up to gently remove the tiny gold studs she was wearing in her ears. She could not believe there was another man alive who knew how to thread the fine hooks, from which there were suspended matching emerald-and diamond-studded scrolls, into the piercing of a woman’s ears without hurting.
He was standing so close—close enough for it to take only the slightest movement from her to close the gap. She stared at the sensual shape of his mouth and wanted badly to kiss it. Her breasts began to ache, her breathing shallowing out to hardly anything at
all.
Flustered by her own crass lack of control around him, she turned away to stare into the mirror again. He was right about the jewellery looking perfect with the dress, she conceded reluctantly.
Her eyes flicked up to catch his in the mirror. He stood a head and the white-covered width of his shoulders taller than she did. She saw dark and light, frailty and strength. They contrasted in every way there was, yet fitted together as if it had always meant to be this way.
‘I still think that wearing these is like a slap in the face to your family,’ she insisted.
Reaching up with a hand, he ran the gentle tip of a finger around the sparkling necklace. ‘I think I am going to enjoy myself not too many hours from now.’
He was talking about sex on a bed draped with his wife wearing nothing but diamonds and emeralds. He was conjuring up enticing visions with which she didn’t need any help to remember for herself. He laid a kiss upon her shoulder; she quivered, he sighed—then stepped away to pick up the other velvet box he had brought into the room with him.
She had forgotten all about it until he flicked up the lid. Her stomach was not the only thing to dance with fine flutters as he took a ring between finger and thumb. Ridding himself of the box, he slid the ring onto her finger until it came to rest against her wedding ring.
‘This stays where it is,’ he said very seriously.
The huge central stone seemed to issue a proclamation as he lifted it to his mouth. The diamonds framing the emerald almost blinded her beneath the overhead light. She might not know much about precious stones but she could recognise quality when she saw it.
‘Who did these belong to—originally, I mean?’ she asked curiously.
A mocking look appeared along with a lazy grin. ‘The emeralds once belonged to a Venezuelan pirate who wore the one in the ring set into his front tooth.’
She laughed; it was irresistible not to at such an outrageous fairy tale. ‘He would have had to have huge teeth!’ she exclaimed.
‘A swashbuckling, dark giant of a man with a black velvet patch worn over one eye,’ he embroidered shamelessly. Then, so unexpectedly it took her breath away, he bent to kiss her full on the mouth.
He stole her lipstick; she didn’t care. He stole her every anxiety about tonight by reminding her of what really mattered. They left the bedroom hand in hand and walked down the stairs, meeting her mother, who was just making her way down the hallway, looking so lovely in her blue dress threaded with silver that her daughter stopped and sighed, ‘Oh, Mum…’
The nerves returned when they turned into the driveway of a mansion house set in beautiful gardens lit to welcome its guests. Isobel’s mother refused the use of her wheelchair, waving it away when their driver attempted to help her into it. Dignity and pride came before common sense tonight, though Silvia could not dismiss her need of her walking frame, no matter how independent she would prefer to be. However she was feeling buoyant and determined to enjoy herself.
Her daughter wished she could find the same motivation. Leandros’s hand resting against her lower spine instilled some reassurance but the line-up of people waiting at the entrance was so daunting that Isobel was glad they were forced to take their time by matching their pace to her mother’s slower steps.
She was introduced to Mr and Mrs Santorini and their daughter Carlotta, who was a lovely thing with dark hair and even darker liquid, smiling eyes. All three welcomed Isobel graciously but they were obviously curious about her, no matter how they tried to hide it. Nikos reminded her of Leandros when she had first met him, before life had got around to honing his handsome face. Nikos’s smile was rueful as he greeted her with a lazy, ‘Happy to see you here, Isobel.’ As he bent to place a kiss on her cheek he added softly, ‘And about time too.’
It was a nice thing for him to say, and helped to ease the next moment when Isobel had to face Leandros’s mother. Thea looked stiff and awkward as she greeted the daughter-in-law who had been such a big disappointment to her. She was kind to Silvia, though, showed a genuine concern about her accident and promised to spend time with her later, catching up on what had happened.
‘See, it wasn’t so bad,’ Leandros said quietly as they moved away.
‘Only because you’d obviously primed them,’ she countered.
The click of his tongue told her she had managed to annoy him. ‘The chip on your shoulder must be very heavy, agape,’ he drawled caustically, and the hand at her spine fell away. Feeling suddenly cast adrift as they stepped into a large reception room, Isobel then had to stand alone to deal with something like a hundred faces turning her way.
Some stared in open surprise, others glanced quickly down and away. Her skin began to prickle as the nerves she had been keeping under tight control broke free. Leandros could prime his family but he could not prime everyone, she noted painfully as the hiss of soft whispers suddenly attacked her burning ears.
It was awful. She felt that old familiar sensation as if she was beginning to shrink. With a lifting of her chin she stopped it from happening. Damn you all, her green eyes flashed.