There were photos of them boarding the plane at Northolt, where the fields surrounding the airstrip were soft and white and more clouds of snowflakes swirled from the sky. There was even a shot from inside the wedding reception—though it was a mystery who had taken it—in which she and Drakon had been feeding each other hunks of creamy wedding cake.
Nobody would have guessed from that laughing image that at that precise moment Lucy had been in an agony of self-doubt about Amy and her place in Drakon’s life. Yet now that fear had been banished and they were just about to begin their married life together and everything should be just fine and dandy, shouldn’t it?
Shouldn’t it?
Cosseted in the luxury of Drakon’s plane, Lucy scrolled down the newspaper website past all the pictures. English Nurse Marries Greek Billionaire! ran the headline, and she found herself wondering why newspapers seemed obsessed with stereotypes.
Her smile was wry. Or maybe they were simply more perceptive than she gave them credit for. Perhaps they had homed into her dreamlike state before, during and after the ceremony—and managed to work out for themselves that this all felt as if it were happening to someone else, not her.
The jet flew them straight to Prasinisos and once Drakon had dismissed the flight attendants, he pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her. And wasn’t it strange how sex could melt away your misgivings? Because the only thing she seemed able to rely on was her body’s reaction whenever Drakon touched her. It had only been a few hours since they’d last made love but already she was hungry to feel him inside her again. To feel him and taste him and shudder out her pleasure as he filled her with his thrusting hardness. Inside the plane’s master bedroom, he peeled off her clothes with care, as if he were slowly unwrapping a Christmas present, and he laughed when she tugged at his clothes with more eagerness than finesse.
‘Are you going to rip my shirt off, Lucy?’
‘If you could be bothered to help me with the buttons that wouldn’t be an option.’
‘Or maybe I’m enjoying being the passive object of your desire?’
‘You? Passive? I don’t think so.’
‘I don’t think so either,’ he growled, pushing her back on the bed to bury his dark head beneath her thighs, so that she had to bite at the knuckles of one hand to prevent herself from shouting out her pleasure. Eventually he moved back up her body and thrust deep inside her and she could feel the shimmering of another intense orgasm waiting in the wings. Afterwards she repaired her hair as best she could but her cheeks still had a fiery glow as the plane touched down on his private island.
It felt strange to be back. Last time Lucy had visited Prasinisos had been for an unexpected freebie weekend when it had been impossible not to be overawed by the beauty of Drakon’s exclusive home. But she’d also been aware of how broke she was in comparison to her wealthy host—a difference which had been brought home when his driver had been sent to meet her, widening his eyes before quickly composing himself.
That same driver was here today—Stavros, his name was—but there was no such look of bewilderment on his face. Maybe he didn’t even recognise her as the same woman. Why, when she’d looked into the mirror this morning Lucy had barely recognised herself! Her designer clothes were exquisitely cut and hugely flattering and she knew that the cost of her shoes and handbag had been eye-wateringly high. She looked expensive and felt expensive—as if she had every right to be married to one of the world’s wealthiest men. But inside she was the same Lucy, wasn’t she? The woman who was not really a complete woman, married to a man who seemed indifferent to love and emotion.
But unless she wanted to ruin this honeymoon, she was going to have to put a lid on her insecurities. To learn how to manage and adjust them. She had just married the most amazing man and was about to experience the holiday of a lifetime and she owed it to them both to make the very best of it.
Drakon was quiet as they drove up the rugged path towards his cliff-top villa past the dramatic outcrop of rock which some people said resembled a man’s face. He could feel the tension of the last few weeks leeching from his body, and not simply because of the post-sex endorphins which were lingering after that amazing mid-flight encounter with his new wife. No. It was a sense of achievement which now prevailed because it had all worked out exactly as he’d planned. He’d pulled it off. He had gained a suitable mother for his baby nephew and all he needed to do now was to play the part of contented newly-wed with convict
ion. Still, if the first twenty-four hours of married life were anything to go by, that shouldn’t be too difficult. Leaning back against the leather seat, he gave a small smile as Lucy’s excited voice broke into his reflection.
‘Look! Over there. What’s that, Drakon?’
He narrowed his eyes in the direction of her pointing finger. ‘It’s a peregrine falcon. Never seen one before?’
‘I’m not sure. And if I did I wouldn’t know what to call it.’
‘Call yourself a country girl?’ he teased.
‘As you know, I only live an hour outside London, which is hardly rural isolation,’ she protested as she leaned forward to get a better look at the falcon. ‘Wow. That’s amazing. So fast and so graceful.’
‘And so deadly,’ he commented, deadpan. ‘To small mammals, at any rate.’
‘I suppose so.’ She turned to look at him. ‘And the sea is very blue. Do you suppose there’s any chance of going swimming?’
Drakon thought how wistful her voice sounded and was reminded of the first time he’d seen her here—with her body ploughing through the azure waters of his pool. ‘It’s December, Lucy,’ he reminded her gently.
‘And people in the UK swim in all weathers,’ she informed him. ‘In the newspapers recently was a photo of a woman in Scotland who had to smash her way through the ice with a pickaxe before she could go for her daily swim.’
He laughed. ‘I’m not sure I’d trust you with a pickaxe. We’ll see. But not today. Today I have only one thing in mind and that’s to take my beautiful wife to bed as quickly as possible.’
Lucy wanted to object. To tell him not to say things like that because she wasn’t beautiful and they sounded dangerously romantic and she was afraid of getting sucked into a vortex of false promise, which would make her long for things which were never going to happen. Because flattering words didn’t really mean anything, did they? They were just words.
They reached the palatial villa where all the staff were lined up to greet them and it was only after she had shaken everyone’s hands that Lucy noticed the giant decorated tree which was glittering in one corner of the vast sitting room which led off the marbled foyer.
‘I didn’t know you had Christmas trees in Greece,’ she said wonderingly as she gazed at lush branches strewn with stars and fairy lights.
‘On the contrary, we love them. Sub-zero temperatures aren’t obligatory,’ answered Drakon with soft mockery in his voice. ‘On Christmas Eve the children sing carols and carry model boats painted gold and decorated with nuts. And we give presents, of course.’