Tessa frowned. ‘I don’t understand.’
A flurry of outraged Greek singed her ears and in the next instant a large body invaded her space, crowding her back against the corner of the sofa.
Large hands grabbed hers, yanking her around so that she faced him as he sat beside her. Searing heat surged into her, from his touch, his body, his glittering eyes.
He was furious, grim, dangerous.
And he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.
Her throat closed in panic.
‘Tell me now,’ he whispered, and the softly menacing tone scared her more than his earlier outrage. ‘Exactly how much will it cost me to be free of you?’
‘I…Nothing,’ she croaked, wondering suddenly if he meant to harm her.
His hands tightened round her wrists. His jaw clenched in a spasm of tension. His eyes burned into hers.
‘I will be free of you, either by annulment or divorce, whatever is faster. And I will pay a reasonable amount to purchase your silence, with a watertight, legally binding agreement.’
Tessa’s eyes widened as she watched his lips move, heard his words. Yet they didn’t make sense. This was crazy!
‘But there’s no need. We were never married!’
‘Sto Diavolo! Of course we were married. Why else would you have my ring? Why else would you be here, angling for my money?’
She shook her head and the room swirled round her. She was almost glad of his tight grip holding her steady.
‘But the man who performed the ceremony—he wasn’t a priest. The ceremony was a sham, a ploy to help me escape.’
His eyes bored into hers and something twisted in the pit of her stomach. For an instant she thought she saw a flicker of doubt in his expression.
But then he was speaking again, slowly, clearly, almost brutally. She fought to catch her breath as his words pounded into her brain.
‘He wasn’t a priest. He was from the local town hall and he was legally empowered to marry us.’ His words were slow, deliberate and unavoidable. ‘Everything was done legally, even the witnesses for the official record.’
Tessa opened her mouth to gasp in some oxygen, to protest. But his words continued: remorseless, fantastic.
‘The marriage was legitimate,’ said Stavros Denakis. There was a bitter twist to his lips, utter distaste in his eyes.
‘We are husband and wife.’
CHAPTER THREE
TESSA’S pulse galloped, loud in the raw silence that echoed with his words. Her hollow stomach cramped.
‘You’re not joking, are you?’ she whispered at last when she found her voice.
The mocking slant of his eyebrows betrayed scorn. That expression of disdain on his hard, aristocratic face made him look like some superior pagan god.
‘I do not joke about such things.’ He leaned back against the leather sofa and crossed his arms over his deep chest. Scepticism and impatience radiated from him.
And still she felt the sizzle of heat where his hands had encircled her skin.
‘Are you sure?’ she was desperate enough to ask. ‘Absolutely sure?’ That day had been so chaotic after all.
‘Your show of astonishment is truly touching,’ he murmured. ‘But don’t keep up the act on my account.’
She winced as his sarcasm flayed her fragile self-possession. The man’s tongue was pure poison.
‘You really believe I would make a mistake about something like that?’ He paused, his eyes narrowing as he scanned her features. ‘I even have the wedding certificate to prove it. Signed, witnessed and legally binding.’
Tessa sank back into the embrace of soft leather, her mind racing.
She was married? Had been married for four years?
She pressed a hand to her chest where a sharp knot of shock bruised her. She was married to him?
‘But why did you use a justice of the peace? It didn’t have to be a real marriage. Just something to…’
‘To get you out of prison?’ No mistaking the sneer in his tone. It matched his frosty eyes and the curl of his lip. His expression was judgemental, dismissive.
‘Any stranger would have done.’ Tessa refused to be cowed. If this was true, this ridiculous situation was his fault, not hers! ‘There was no need actually to marry me!’
‘Believe me,’ he leaned close and the wrath simmering in his eyes forced her back away from him, ‘if there’d been an alternative, any alternative, I would have taken it.’
His gaze held her in a grip so powerful she could barely breathe. She felt as if her ribs were in a vice, constricting the flow of air to her lungs.
‘It may have escaped your notice,’ he said, ‘but a little town the size of San Miguel can be remarkably short of helpful strangers willing to perjure themselves in order to rescue a foreigner from the local gaol.