Andreas frowned, and he looked so much like his son that her breathing momentarily lost its rhythm.
‘I’m not sure I understand, Effie.’
‘The word “privilege” makes it sound as if you have to deserve the name in some way. But I think a name is something you live up to. And on that basis, you don’t need anything more from your son,’ she said, her voice catching as she pictured Achileas’s taut, arrogant face because his was an arrogance that masked the hurt that had shaped his character, his life. ‘You should just be proud of the man he is. He’s a strong man. A good man. And I—’
Her blood was pounding through her veins like the music had last night. The scent of the roses was making her feel dizzy. Except it wasn’t the roses. It was something else entirely. Something that made her feel as if the garden was a boat adrift at sea. She could feel herself filling with a warm golden light, brighter than the sun, deeper than the sea, and it was in that moment, staring into Andreas’s blue eyes, that she realised she was in love with his son.
But of course she was. It seemed so obvious now. Love was the reason she had followed him into the darkness last night. And the reason why she had opened her body to his without barriers. She had wanted him to know that her love was different. That it came without conditions to meet or hurdles to cross. That it was fierce and partisan and limitless.
Steadying her breathing, she said quietly, ‘Achileas has worked hard his whole life to build a business of his own. He didn’t need the Alexios name. What I’m trying to say is that he doesn’t need your name now.’
The air seemed to still.
‘In your opinion.’
Andreas’s voice didn’t alter, but she saw his jaw tighten.
‘I’m not sure Achileas feels the same way.’
Effie stared at him, a spark of anger flaring inside her as she remembered Achileas’s face in the moonlight. ‘You don’t know what he feels. You hardly know him.’
Andreas’s blue eyes—Achileas’s eyes—moved to rest on hers. ‘Of course I know him. He’s my son. My flesh and blood.’
Behind him, the breeze was lifting rose petals and sending them into the sky like confetti. She shook her head. ‘No, that’s not enough.’
Now Andreas’s face was flat with shock and an anger of his own. ‘Not enough? My dear, it’s an unbreakable bond.’
‘It should be—yes,’ she agreed. ‘But you broke that bond. You didn’t give him a chance to be your son. You erased yourself from his life and you hurt him. You’re still hurting him now...putting conditions on your acceptance.’
She felt tears burn in her eyes.
‘He would do anything for you because he loves you. And I would do anything for him. I’d have any number of children with him if that was what he wanted, because I love him.’
The words left her mouth before she could check them, but she barely noticed. All that mattered was making Andreas understand what Achileas needed.
‘But we won’t be having a child any time soon. Not until you put him first and become a father to your son.’
‘Effie—’
She spun round. Achileas was standing in the sunlight, staring at her. She pressed her hand against her forehead. How long had he been there? How much had he heard?
He was still staring at her, his eyes fixed on hers. His face was unreadable, but she could feel his anger, and his shock. Breathing shakily, she watched his gaze shift to his father, and then he was walking towards her, and her pulse slammed into her skin as his hand caught her elbow, his grip firm, precise, impersonal.
‘I think I should get you home.’
Up close, she could see the tension in every line of the body she knew better than her own, and memories of that day in London tumbled through her head. Only that had been the beginning, and this felt like the end.
‘Achileas...’ she whispered.
But he ignored her, turning again to his father. ‘Please thank Eugenie for a wonderful lunch.’
Still holding her arm, he guided her away from the house, moving swiftly and silently. She wanted to speak, to apologise, to tell him that she loved him. But the words kept slipping away like rose petals in the wind.
They reached the launch and he helped her on board.
Her heart jolted. He had stepped back onto the jetty. ‘What are you doing? Aren’t you coming with me?’
His face was shuttered. ‘I have to talk to my father.’