“What are your favourites?”
“Sweet peas,” she said without hesitation and then, more cautiously, and with a surprising overwhelm of emotion. “My mother used to grow them.” Mila remembered their fragrance and how much her mother had loved the pretty, wild flowers.
“Your mother,” Maggie prompted softly, eyes so like Leonidas’ running across Mila’s face.
“She died when I was just a girl,” Mila explained, surprised to hear the words come from her mouth. She didn’t make a habit of sharing so much of herself.
Maggie’s eyes studied Mila a moment longer and then, she squeezed her hand. “Come inside, Mila. Let’s have a cup of tea together. It’s been a long time since I’ve had an English guest who actually appreciates the art of a perfect brew. My sons are all coffee drinkers.” Maggie wrinkled her nose. “As for my husband, I could never convert him. I made a cup of tea every morning, but he refused to so much as taste it.”
“He would call it a waste of water,” Leonidas interjected. “And I cannot say that he was wrong.”
Mila threw a glance over her shoulder, catching Leonidas’ eyes. Her step faltered and perhaps misinterpreting that, he rushed forward, an arm coming around her waist easily. “Is your ankle bothering you?”
Alarm skittled her. Not at his solicitous concern, so much as her body’s immediate response, to the way her insides trembled and she felt an overpowering sense of being right where she needed to be.
“It’s fine,” she dismissed. “Just a little sore.”
“You should sit down,” he said firmly.
“I will, once I’ve helped Maggie make the tea.” She smiled sweetly, warning him with her eyes not to boss her around.
His lips compressed in an exasperated line.
“Your brother’s here somewhere, Leonidas. Go and find him. He should meet your guest.”
“Thank Christ,”Thanasi grunted as Leonidas strode into the gym. The older brother had been working out, evidently, shirt off, torso wet with sweat, arms toned, chest defined. “Someone has arrived.”
“She seems fine,” Leonidas clipped defensively.
“Then she’s putting on a brave face for you. Give her time and you’ll see what I’ve been seeing. She’s not coping.”
Leonidas’ chest hurt with the truth of that. His mother had looked, immediately, frail, so much more slender than she’d been only weeks earlier.
“I’m here now.”
“And you’ll stay for the weekend?”
“I can’t,” he said, lifting his hands to forestall the objection he could already hear coming from Thanasi. “I will come back. But I didn’t come here alone; we can’t stay.”
“We?” Thanasi lifted his brows, skepticism obvious. “Who the hell have you brought at a time like this?”
He bristled at Thanasi’s tone. “Listen, I appreciate everything you’ve done for mum, but you are not the authority on this situation. I have every right to be here with whomever I wish.”
“And who is this person?” Thanasi pursued.
“A friend.” Except, that wasn’t entirely accurate, after all, they’d only known each other for a week. “Of a friend,” he finished lamely. “Benji’s cousin.”
“Benji has a cousin?”
“Yes. And she’s in trouble. I happened to run into her and, given what I owe Benji, obviously felt obligated to help.”
“What kind of trouble?”
Leonidas hesitated a moment, wondering why he didn’t feel that he could be completely honest. It was silly to hold back. Here, Mila was as safe as she’d been with him in France, if not more so. Security at the homestead was tight. “Some crazed stalker. I’ve got Grieg looking into it, but until the guy is caught, I’ve taken her under my wing.”
Thanasi stared at Leonidas for several beats. “Then why don’t you introduce me?”
Mila lookedfrom one brother to the next with obvious bemusement. She would have said Leonidas had broken the mould for tall, dark and handsome when he was born, but standing beside him was another such example of overt masculinity. Thanasi was the same height as Leonidas, with similar broad shoulders and athletic physique, their inner-strength abundantly clear, but their faces were quite different. Thanasi had his mother’s eyes, and a softer mouth. He smiled more readily, and there was a dimple in one cheek. His chin was covered in stubble, which gave him a sense of rebellion she warmed to.