Yes, thought Jessica, gulping back her tears. Tomorrow she would try to make up to Nikolas for her past coldness, and she didn't dare think what she would do if he turned away from her.
* * *
Chapter Thirteen
By the time morning came, Jessica was pale with her own unhappy thoughts. She wanted only to heal the breach between her and Nikolas, and she was unsure how to go about it or if he even wanted to mend things between them. She was in agony from the need to see him and explain, to touch him; more than anything she needed to feel his arms about her and hear his deep voice muttering love words to her. She loved him! Perhaps there was no rhyme or reason to it, but what did that matter? She'd known from the first that he was the only man who could conquer the defenses she'd built about herself and she was tired of denying her love.
She dressed hurriedly, without regard for how she looked, and merely brushed her hair, then left it hanging down her back. As she rushed into the living room she saw Madame Constantinos sitting on the terrace and she went through the glass door to greet her. "Where is Niko, Maman?" she asked in a trembling voice.
"He's on board the yacht," the older woman answered. "Sit down, child; have your breakfast with me. Sophia will bring something light. Have you been ill this morning?"
Surprisingly she hadn't. That was the only good thing about this morning that she could see. "But I must see Nikolas as soon as possible," she insisted.
"All in good time. You cannot talk to him now, so you might as well have your breakfast. You must take care of the baby, dear."
Reluctantly Jessica sat down, and in just a moment Sophia appeared with a tray. Smiling, she set out a light breakfast for Jessica. In the halting Greek that Jessica had acquired in the weeks she'd been on the island she thanked Sophia and was rewarded by a motherly pat of approval.
Gulping, Jessica chewed at a roll, trying to force it past the lump in her throat. Far below them she could see the white gleam of the yacht; Nikolas was there, but he might as well be a thousand miles away. There was no way she could get out to him unless one of the fishermen would take her, and for that she would have to walk to the village. It wasn't such a long walk, and before, she would have done it without a second thought, but her pregnancy had badly undermined her stamina and she was hesitant about making it that far in the fierce heat. As Madame Constantinos had said, she had to take care of the precious life inside her. Nikolas would hate her if she did anything that could harm his child.
After she'd eaten enough to satisfy both her mother-in-law and Sophia, and had pushed the tray away, Madame Constantinos said quietly, "Tell me, dear, do you love Niko?"
How could she ask? wondered Jessica miserably. It must be evident in every word she'd said since Nikolas had stormed out of her bedroom the day before. But Madame Constantinos's soft blue eyes were on her and she admitted in a strained whisper, "Yes! But I've ruined it—he'll never forgive me for what I said to him! If he loved me, it might be different—"
"How do you know that he doesn't love you?" demanded the older woman.
"Because all he's been concerned with since we met was going to bed," Jessica confessed in deep depression. "He says he wants me—but he's never said that he loves me."
"Ah, I see," said Madame Constantinos, nodding her white head knowingly. "Because he's never told you the sky is blue, you know that it can't possibly be that color! Jessica, my dear, open your eyes! Do you truly think Niko is so weak in character that he would be a slave to his lust? He wants you, yes—physical desire is a part of love."
Jessica didn't dare hope that it could be true that Nikolas loved her; on too many occasions he had totally ignored her feelings and she said as much to Madame Constantinos.
"I never said he is an amiable man," the other woman retorted. "I'm speaking from personal experience. Niko is the image of his father; they could be one and the same man. It wasn't always comfortable, being Damon's wife. I had to do everything his way or he would fly into a rage, and Niko is the same. He is so strong that sometimes he fails to understand that most people do not have that same strength, that he needs to soften his approach."
"But your husband loved you," Jessica pointed out softly, her eyes trained on the remote gleam of the yacht on the crystalline sea.
"So he did. But we had been married for six years before he told me so, and then only because I was suffering from the loss of our second child, a still-birth. When I asked him how long he had loved me, he looked at me in amazement and said, 'From the first. How can a woman be so blind? Never doubt that I love you, even when the words aren't said.' And so it is with Niko." Quietly, her clear blue eyes on Jessica, Madame Con-stantinos said again, "Yes, Niko loves you."
Jessica went even paler, shaken at the wild surge of hope that shot through her. Did he love her? Could he still love her, after yesterday?
"He loves you," reassured his mother. "I know my son, as I knew my husband. Niko lost his head over you; I have seen him look at you with such yearning in his eyes that it took my breath away, for he is a strong man and he doesn't love lightly."
"But—but the things he's said," protested Jessica shakily, still not daring to let herself hope.
"Yes, I know. He's a proud man, and he was angry with himself that he couldn't control his need for you. It is partly my fault, this trouble between you and Niko. He loves me, and I was upset when I thought my dear friend Robert had married a gold-digger. Niko wanted to protect me, but he couldn't make himself leave you alone. And you, Jessica, were too proud to tell him the truth."
"I know," said Jessica softly, and tears welled in her eyes. "And I treated him so badly yesterday! I've ruined it, Maman; he'll never forgive me now." The tears dripped from her lashes as she remembered the look that had been in Nikolas's eyes as he'd left her bedroom. She wanted to die. She felt as if she'd smashed paradise with her own hands.
"Don't fret. If you can forgive him for his pride, my dear, he'll forgive you for yours."
Jessica gasped at the thrust, then admitted to herself the truth of it. She had used her pride to hold Nikolas away, and now she was paying for it.
Madame Constantinos placed her hand on Jessica's arm. "Niko is leaving the yacht now," she said gently. "Why don't you go to meet him?"
"I—yes," gulped Jessica, getting to her feet.
"Be careful," called Madame Constantinos after her. "Remember my grandchild!"
Her eyes on the small rowboat steadily narrowing the gap between it and the beach, Jessica made her way down the path that led to the water. She went down it with a hammering heart, wondering if Madame Constantinos was right that Nikolas truly loved her. Thinking back, it seemed to her that he did—or had. If only she hadn't ruined it!
Nikolas had beached the rowboat and was securing it against the tide when she walked across the sand up to him. He wore only a pair of blue cut-off jeans and his nearly nude, muscular body rippled with lithe grace as he moved. She caught her breath in sheer admiration and stopped in her tracks.
Nikolas straightened and saw her. His black eyes were impossible to read as he stood there looking at her, and she drew in a quivering breath. He wouldn't make the first move, she knew; she'd have to do it. Taking her courage in both hands, she said quietly, "Nikolas, I love you. Can you possibly forgive me?"
Something flickered in the black depths of his eyes, then was gone. "Of course," he said simply, and walked toward her.
When he was so close that she could smell the clean sweat of his body, he stopped and asked, "Why?"
"Your mother opened my eyes," she said, swallowing with some difficulty. Her heart was lodged in her throat and was pounding so hard she could barely speak. He wasn't going to make it easy for her, she could see. "She made me realize that I've been allowing my pride to ruin my life. I—I love you, and even if you don't love me, I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I hope you love me; Maman thinks you do, but even if you c-can't love me, it doesn't matter."
He shoved his fingers
through his black hair, his face suddenly grim and impatient. "Are you blind?" he demanded roughly. "All of Europe knew I took one look at you and went mad. Do you think I'm such a slave to lust that I'd have pursued you so single-mindedly if I'd only wanted you for sex?"
Her heart leaped wildly as he spoke words that were so similar to those his mother had used. So Madame Constantinos did know her son! And as she'd said, Niko was much like his father. She reached out shaking hands and her fingers clutched at the warm skin that covered his ribs. "I love you," she whispered shakily. "How can you ever forgive me for being so blind and stupid?"
A quiver ran through his entire body, and with a deep groan, he snatched her to him, burying his face in her tangled hair. "There's no question of forgiving you," he muttered fiercely. "If you can forgive me, if you can still love me after the way I've hounded you so mercilessly, how can I hold a grudge against you? Besides, my life won't be worth living if I let you go. I love you." Then he lifted his head and repeated, "I love you."
Her entire body began to quiver as she heard his deep voice at last saying those words, and once he had admitted it, he kept on saying it, over and over, while she clung to him with desperate strength, her face buried in the warm, curly hair that covered his chest. He cupped her chin in his palm and turned her face up to his and she was engulfed in his hungry, possessive kiss. Wild little tingles began to shoot along her nerves and she stood on tiptoe to press herself against him, her arms sliding up to twine about his neck. His firm, warm skin beneath her fingers made her feel drunk and now she no longer wanted to resist him; she responded to him without reserve. At last she could indulge her own need to touch him; to stroke his darkly tanned skin and bite sensuously at his lips. A deep groan came from his chest as she did exactly that, and the next moment he had scooped her up in his arms and was striding across the sand.
"Where are you taking me?" she whispered, trailing her lips across his shoulder, and he answered her in a strained voice.
"Over here, to where the rocks hide us from view." And in a moment they were surrounded by the rocks and he carefully placed her on the sun-warmed sand. Despite the urgency she sensed in him, he was gentle as he made love to her, holding himself back, as if he feared hurting her. His skilled, patient attention carried her to rapture, and when she floated back to earth, she knew that their lovemaking had been clean and healing, wiping out all of the pain and anger of the past months. It had sealed the pact of their confessed love, made them truly man and wife. Clasped tightly in his arms, her face buried against his heaving chest, she whispered, "All of this time wasted! If only I'd told you—"
"Shhh," he interrupted, stroking her hair. "No self-recriminations, darling, because I'm not free from guilt either, and I'm not good at admitting when I'm wrong." His strong mouth curved into a wry smile and he moved his hand to her back, the stroking motion continuing as if she was a cat. "I understand now why you were so wary of me, but at the time every rejection was like a slap in the face," he continued softly. "I wanted to leave you alone; you'll never know how much I wanted to be able to walk away and forget about you, and it made me furious that I couldn't. I'm not used to anyone having that kind of power over me," he confessed in self-mockery. "I couldn't admit that I'd finally been defeated; I did everything I could to get the upper hand again, to try to manage my emotions, but nothing worked, not even Diana."
Jessica gasped at his audacity in even mentioning that name to her and she raised her head from his chest to glare at him jealously. "Yes, what about Diana?" she asked sharply.
"Ouch," he winced, flicking the tip of her nose with a long brown finger. "I've opened my bloody mouth when I should've kept it shut, haven't I?" But his black eyes sparkled and she knew that he was enjoying her jealousy.
To get back at him, she refused to be put off. "Yes, you did," she agreed. "Tell me about Diana. That night you said you'd only kissed her once, is that true?"
"Within reason," he hedged.
Furious, she clenched her fist and struck him in the stomach with all her strength, which wasn't enough to really hurt him but which made him grunt. "Hey!" he protested, grabbing her fist and holding it. But he was laughing, a carefree laugh that she'd never heard from him before. He looked exultant, he looked happy, and that made her even more jealous. "Niko," she bit out, "tell me!"
"All right," he said, his laughter fading to a faint smile. His black eyes watched her sharply as he admitted,
"I meant to take her. She was willing, and she was balm to a battered ego. Diana and I had a brief affair some months before I met you, and she made it clear that she wanted to resume our relationship. You had me so confused, so frustrated, that I couldn't think of anything but trying to break the hold you had on me. You wouldn't let me have you, but I kept coming back for more of that delicate cold shoulder and I was furious with myself. You acted as if you couldn't stand my touch, while Diana made it obvious that she wanted me. And I wanted a responsive woman in my arms, but when I began kissing her, it just wasn't right. She wasn't you, and I didn't want her. I wanted only you, even if I couldn't admit to myself just then that I loved you."
His explanation hardly mollified her, but as he still held her fist and her other arm was effectively pinned to her side by his encircling arm, she couldn't take out her anger on him physically. She still glared at him as she ordered, "You're not to kiss another woman again, do you hear? I won't stand for it!"
"I promise," he murmured. "I'm all yours, darling; I have been from the moment you walked across my office toward me, if you'd only wanted me. But I admit that I like that green fire in your eyes; you're beautiful when you're jealous."
His words were accompanied by a wickedly charming grin that accomplished its purpose, for she melted at the look of loving ownership he gave her. "I suppose it tickles your ego that I'm jealous?" she asked, letting herself relax against him.
"Of course. I went through torture, I've been so jealous of you; it's only fair that you be a little jealous, too."
He followed his admission with a searching kiss that had her flowing against him; it was as if her desire for him, so long denied, had burst out of control and she couldn't hold back her pleasure. Like an animal he sensed that and took advantage of it, deepening his kiss, stroking her body with sure, knowing hands. "You're beautiful," he whispered raggedly. "I've dreamed so many times of having you like this; I don't want to let you go for even a minute."
"But we have to," Jessica replied dreamily, her green eyes sleepy with love and need. "Maman will be waiting for us."
"Then I suppose we'd better return," Nikolas growled, sitting up and raising her with an arm behind her back. "I wouldn't like for her to send someone looking for us. And you are sleepy, aren't you?"
"Sleepy?" she asked, startled.
"You won't be able to stay awake, will you?" he continued, his black eyes sparkling. "You'll have to take a nap."
"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes widening as understanding dawned. "I believe you're right; I'm so sleepy I won't be able to stay awake until lunch."
He laughed and helped her dress, and hand in hand they walked up the path. Holding his strong hand tightly, Jessica felt the golden glow of love inside her expand until it included the whole world. For the first time in her life everything was as it should be; she loved Nikolas and he loved her, and already she carried his child. She would tell him the full story of her marriage, explain why she had hidden behind the lies others had told, even from him, but it would make no difference to their love, she knew. In deep contentment she asked, "When did you admit to yourself that you love me?"
"When you were in Cornwall," he admitted gruffly, his fingers tightening. He stopped and turned to face her and his dark face had a grim expression as he remembered. "It was two days before Charles deigned to tell me where you'd gone, and I was on the verge of insanity before he decided I'd been punished enough. I'd spent two days trying to get you on the phone, waiting hours outside your house for you to come home. I kep
t thinking of the things I'd said to you, remembering the look in your eyes as you left, and I was in a cold sweat thinking I'd lost you. That was when I knew I loved you, because the thought of not seeing you again was agony."
She looked at him in surprise. If he'd loved her that early, why had he insisted on those insulting conditions in the prenuptial agreement? She asked him as much, her voice troubled, and in response to the echo of pain he saw in her eyes, he pulled her into his arms and laid his cheek on her head.
"I was in pain, and I lashed out," he muttered. "I'm sorry, darling, I'll have that damned thing torn up. But I kept thinking that you were holding out for a ring so you could get your hands on my money, and it drove me wild because I loved you so much I had to have you, even thinking all you wanted was money."
"I've never wanted your money. I'm even glad you took control of my money, because I was furious with you for bullying me into taking such a large sum for the shares of ConTech when I didn't want it."
"I know that now, but at the time I thought that that was exactly what you wanted. My eyes were opened on our wedding night, and when I woke up and you were gone—" He broke off the sentence and closed his eyes, his expression tormented.
"Don't think of that," she said gently. "I love you." His eyes opened and he looked at her, the clear depths of her eyes shining with the love she felt. "Even when I'm mad with jealousy and frustration, I still have a spark of sanity left," he said, his mouth curving in amusement. "I still had the sense to make you my wife." He leaned down and swept her up in his arms. "Maman is waiting for us. Let's give her the good news, then take that nap. I'll take you home, love"—and he started up the path to their home, his stride long and effortless as he carried her. Jessica curled her arms about his neck and rested against him, knowing she was safe in the strength of his love.