“I’m so happy,” Elena cried, hugging him a third time. “I just know you will be, too.”
“I will—” They both looked up when something struck the house.
Iakovos went out with Spyros to evaluate the damage, returning to the house soaking wet. He took the stairs three at a time, heading for his dressing room since Harry had claimed their bedroom for the day. He changed into his wedding clothes, then paused outside the door, listening for voices. There were none. He stuck his head in to make sure everything was all right.
“You’re not supposed to see the bride before the wedding, you know,” Harry said, looking at her reflection as she stood in front of the mirror on the bureau. “It’s bad luck. Not that I believe that, because honestly, how is that supposed to be bad? You saw me a little bit ago, and you didn’t run screaming from the room declaring you had changed your mind and that you wanted to stay number five and not be stricken off the list. So really, if you didn’t run away then, how can seeing me now be bad?” She turned to look at him as she spoke the last words, her eyes opening wide as she took in his appearance.
He would have been pleased by her reaction, since he’d ordered the tuxedo from his favorite tailor just for the wedding, but he was too busy staring at her to be able to think.
The dress she wore was floor length, a mottled green that started at her shoulders in a pale jade color, flowing down in elegant, rippling lines over her breasts, flaring out with her belly, and falling to gentle folds, the color of the fabric changing from jade to a deep, dark forest green at her feet. Her hair had been swept back off her face, but tumbled down her back in a riotous mass that he longed to touch.
But it was her eyes that made him feel like someone had just punched him in the chest. They glowed with so much love, he wanted to go down on his knees and thank god for her.
“I suppose it’s expected that a bride in my condition should say something about wishing she was thinner and able to wear white on her wedding day, but somehow, I don’t seem to care about that,” she told him.
“You take my breath away, you’re so beautiful,” he said.
She actually blushed, which delighted him beyond understanding. “You take my breath away, too, you know. That tux is gorgeous. I like the white tie. I like the way the pants cling to your thighs. I like the fact that beneath it, you’re naked.”
He pulled a long, slim box from the inner pocket. “I know you don’t want this, and I know you’ll give me hell for it, but I have to do this, Eglantine. I have to give you this.”
“What is it, Yacky?” She looked suspicious as he opened the box. She gave a little shake of her head as she reached out to touch it. “It’s beautiful.”
“Not even remotely close to your beauty. Will you wear it?”
Her fingers ran down the curling gold wire that twisted around and above and below the thick emeralds. He’d asked the designer for something that would mimic the waves of her hair as it lay spread out on his bed, and he was pleased with the results. “Yes, I’ll wear it. Thank you, Iakovos.”
He moved around behind her to drape it around her neck. In her hair were shining gold leaves, twined through the tumbled curls. He brushed aside the heavy fall of hair, pressing a kiss to the back of her neck. She gave a little shiver and looked over her shoulder at him, the fingers of one hand touching the emeralds reverentially.
“How did you know I was going to pick a green dress?” she asked.
He smiled and backed away from her, lest he damn everything but his own need to claim her. “I know how you think, sweetheart. You didn’t do as I asked for the last few dresses, so I knew this one would be green.”
She sighed mournfully. “Well, now all the magic’s gone, and you’ll get tired of me, and then Patricia will be right and I’ll have to eat crow.”
“I am walking away from you,” he said, doing exactly that. “But only because if I stay here with you, I’ll end up stripping that very pretty dress from your magnificent body and spending the rest of the day making love to you.”
“I love you, too,” she called after him, making him smile.
The wedding ceremony was short, sweet, and just exactly how Harry wanted it to be. The wedding night, she mused several hours later as she sat huddled under a blanket in a small sitting room, could have been better.
“If I’d have known I was going to be held prisoner here, I would have brought something to read, at least,” Patricia complained as she paced past where Harry sat.
Elena looked up from one of her magazines. “You can have one of mine.”
A blast of wind hit the side of the house, making the windows shudder. All three women looked silently at the windows for a few seconds before returning to their previous occupations.
“We have books,” Harry said slowly.
“I don’t want your books. Where’s Theo? The least he could do is distract me with sex, so I don’t have to sit here and watch you gestate.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better,” Harry said, suddenly too tired to care, “I don’t particularly want to spend the evening with you, either.”
Patricia glared at her for a moment, then stomped out of the room, only to return a short while later with a stack of catalogs and fabric samples.
“Go through these and tell me what you like,” she said, throwing them down on the couch next to Harry.
“Fabric samples?” Harry asked as she touched them. “You brought fabric samples to my wedding?”
“Is there any other reason I would be here?” Patricia snarled. “You want me to redecorate; I’m redecorating. Now which of the blues do you like for the nursery? And do you want a mural on the wall or stenciling?”
A surprisingly enjoyable half hour was spent sorting through the paint chips, rug samples, and little swatches of fabric, as well as perusing a couple of fixture catalogs. Elena abandoned her fashion magazine to peer over Harry’s shoulder, offering advice and announcing that she wanted her room redone in the style of a harem.
“I suspect your brother will have something to say about that,” Harry said, handing back to Patricia the last of the samples. “And I don’t imagine it’ll be anything positive. Thank you, by the way.”
Patricia gave her a wary look. “For doing my job?”
“For being human.” She struggled to her feet. “I’m sure today couldn’t have been easy for you. Ugh. Must pee or burst.”
She tended to her bladder, braving the journey upstairs to remove her wedding finery, touching once again the lovely gems at her neck. She knew it frustrated Iakovos that she wasn’t much for bling, but she wouldn’t have been female if she didn’t appreciate the necklace he’d picked out for her. It was just the sort of thing she could see herself wearing on those occasions when she had to dress up.
Honestly, could there be a man any more perfect? There couldn’t. He was everything she could ever have wanted in a man.
She gave his pillow a fond pat and started back downstairs. As she approached the stairs, footsteps from below caught her ear. She glanced over the banister to see Iakovos, Patricia at his side. He’d removed his tuxedo jacket and tie, and wore only the shirt, open partway, the white material stark against his darker skin as it molded to the thick muscles of his chest dampened by the rain and spray of the sea.
“Does she know?” Patricia asked, sliding Iakovos an unreadable look.
“No,” he answered, and with a nod, he strode to the bottom of the stairs.
“You are going to tell her soon, I hope,” Patricia called after him.
“Yes.”
Harry hurriedly backpedaled, spinning around to run somewhere, anywhere. The sound of him coming up the stairs sent her into a fast waddle to Elena’s room, where she closed the door and leaned against it, her heart beating wildly.
Perfect man, her ass! That bastard was two-timing her!
The second the thought emerged, she realized just how stupid it was. The look on Iakovos’ face was not even remotely lover-l
ike; in fact, he looked more tired than anything. And there she was, hiding from him, the man she loved with her whole being, and he was tired and could probably use a bit of comfort on a day that he’d done his best to make special for her.
She flung open the door and marched into their bedroom, but it was empty except for a damp shirt lying on the floor.
“I will not do this!” she declared, kicking the shirt because she couldn’t bend down to pick it up and strangle it, as she would have liked. “I will not play this game!”
She marched back downstairs, searching the rooms until she found Patricia standing near the kitchen, talking on the phone.
“I know something is up between you and Iakovos,” she announced, tapping Patricia on the shoulder.
She took great satisfaction in the fact that Patricia looked startled for a moment. Good. If that little blond elfette thought she could drive a wedge between Iakovos and her, she had just better start thinking again.
“I’ll call you back, Leo. One of my clients is having a hissy. Of course there is something between Iakovos and me, darling. I believe I did warn you about that,” Patricia said with a smile that made Harry’s palm itch.
“I don’t care if there’s something between you. I absolutely don’t care. I don’t even want to know what it is, because I trust him.”
“That makes it all so much easier,” Patricia said with a smirk. That smirk did it. It pushed her over the edge.
“You want me to play the jealous wife?” Harry shrugged. “Sure. I can do that.” She reached out and slapped that smug face.
Patricia’s jaw dropped open for the count of three. “You slapped me?”
“Yes,” Harry said, feeling a whole lot better.
Patricia sputtered something rude, and after a moment’s pause, slapped Harry across the left cheek.
“I am pregnant,” Harry roared, slapping the little twit again. “You don’t hit pregnant ladies!”
“I’m half your size,” Patricia snarled, slapping her a second time. “You outweigh me by at least a hundred pounds! That’s just as bad as hitting a pregnant person!”
“Oh!” Harry said, outraged, her cheek stinging.
“Harry, I—Uh . . .” Elena emerged from the kitchen, eyeing the two women. “Is something wrong?”
“I told you before that you’re not going to make me jealous,” Harry said, ignoring Elena.
“That’s why you hauled off and decked me, is it?” Patricia taunted.
“Uh . . .” Elena looked from Harry to Patricia and back.
“If I had decked you, you’d be out cold, you insipid little midget!”
“I am not a midget!” Patricia said, bristling with indignation. “And that is completely non–politically correct! It’s little people, not midgets! Not that I am one!”
“I am not going to go speak with my husband about what it is you two are plotting.” Harry pulled her dignity around herself. “Because I just don’t care. But I am going to have him throw your minute little body off this island.”
“Harry, I don’t think—” Elena started to say.
“Shut up, you,” Patricia snarled at Elena, shoving her face into Harry’s. “You just go right ahead and do what you want. Ruin what you have. See if I care. I’m so sick of you right now, I couldn’t care less what you do.”
Harry opened her mouth to tell her exactly what she thought, but a sudden pain bit hard across her belly. She gasped and doubled over, grabbing her stomach with both hands, tears springing to her eyes.
“Oh my god!” Elena said, staring in horror at her.
“What is it? Pain?” Patricia asked.
Harry nodded, unable to catch her breath, the pain was so bad. She thought for a moment that she was going to collapse.
“Get Iakovos,” Patricia ordered Elena, gripping Harry’s arms and guiding her to a bench that sat against a wall. “Breathe, Harry. Is the pain in front or back?”
“Front,” Harry said, gasping for air.
“Could be a Braxton Hicks. I got them a lot toward the end of my pregnancy. It should ease up in a minute. I know this sounds ridiculous, but if you can relax, it’ll get better.”
It did, just as Iakovos burst into the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of her, kneeling as she rocked with the effort to relax her muscles.
“Are you in labor?” he asked, his hands on her legs.
“No. I don’t think so.”
“I’ll call the doctor,” he said, rising. Then he obviously realized the storm was still raging, and no one would be coming to or leaving the island until it passed. He swore.
“It’s most likely a non-labor contraction,” Patricia told him. “She needs to relax, though. Why don’t you take her upstairs, and we’ll get her into a bath. Those always helped me.”
Iakovos didn’t at all seem to notice the irony of following his ex-lover’s orders, but Harry appreciated it, almost as much as she appreciated the fact that he carefully picked her up and carried her up the long flight of stairs.
“OK, this is way beyond weird,” she said as both Iakovos and Patricia stripped her down, Patricia running a warm but not too hot bath in the big marble tub. “I feel like we’re about to have some sort of bizarre pregnancy fetish threesome.”
“My god, you are huge,” was Patricia’s only comment when she got a look at Harry’s naked belly.
“Iakovos!” Harry gave him a look to let him know she’d reached her limit.
“Out,” he said to Patricia.
“Fine. I didn’t want to be part of your pregnancy fetish threesome anyway,” Patricia snorted, head high as she stalked to the door.
Harry had a long bath, and was relieved that she had no further painful contractions. She had a harder time convincing Iakovos that she was fine and didn’t need to be airlifted to the nearest hospital.
An hour later she wandered back downstairs. “Thank you for your help,” she told Patricia when she found her and Elena back in the sitting room. “I’ve had those little contractions before, but never like that.”
“Sometimes if you move wrong, they can zap you,” was all Patricia said, clearly bored with her presence.
Harry fussed around the room for a few minutes before finally saying, “Oh, this is ridiculous. I’m going to find Iakovos.”
“I’ll come with you,” Elena said quickly, throwing down her magazine.
“I’ll be damned if I’ll be left here by myself!” Patricia added, and hurried after them.
Harry found the men nailing boards across the west side of the long sitting room that had witnessed such spectacular sunsets. There was no sun to be seen now, just broken glass, water, and some branches that had been whipped up by the storm and slammed into the French doors.
“Have you had more pains?”
“Not a one,” she reassured Iakovos when he hurried over to take her hands. She examined his face. He still looked tired but not, she noted with relief, overly worried. “Are we in trouble?”
“From the storm? No. This house is built to withstand it, and I think it’s about to blow itself out anyway. I’m sorry it’s ruined your wedding day, though.”
“Nothing could ruin the day on which I yanked you off that damned list once and for all,” she said, licking his lower lip. “How does it feel to be a former world’s most sexy pants bachelor?”
“Like I’ve been saved from ever answering another question about what I’m looking for in a woman,” he answered, humor lighting his eyes.
“I love you, Mr. Papamoussaka,” she murmured against his mouth.
“And I—”
Glass exploded on the other side of the room, making Harry jump. Iakovos ran to help as Theo, Dmitri, and the mayor pulled aside a small lemon tree that had been lifted, pot and all, and smashed into one of the big windows.
“That doesn’t count, Yacky! You still have to say it!” Harry yelled after him, glaring out at the stormy night sky. “Man, I just cannot get a break!”
Iakovos was rig
ht. The storm, obviously satisfied that it had made its point, faded to just periodic winds not long after the last of the glass was swept up. A few hours later, the mayor and Patricia returned to the mainland.
“It’s not that I haven’t had a perfectly wonderful time, darlings,” she drawled, shooting Harry a sly look. “But I draw the line at having to play marriage witness and midwife on the same day.”
Harry watched the boat as it disappeared over choppy water to the town before turning to Iakovos. “How on earth did you ever stay with her for two years?”
“It wasn’t easy,” he said with a little grimace, and once again Harry was filled with love.
“I think, my handsome Greek, that you deserve a wedding night.” She nuzzled her face in his neck, her belly keeping her from pressing herself against him as she’d like.
“I can think of nothing I’d like more,” he answered, swinging her up in his arms and carrying her up the path to the house. “But we’re not having one.”
“We aren’t?”
“No,” he said firmly, coming to a swift decision. “You’re too close to birth, and with that contraction you had earlier, it could be dangerous.”
She brushed the hair back from one of his ears. “Oh, so now you’re an expert on pregnancy?”
“That’s exactly what I am.” One of them had to think about the consequences, although he’d be damned if he could think at all with her so soft and warm in his arms, her scent wrapping itself around him.
She put her mouth to his ear and whispered, “But there are so many things I want to do to you tonight. And want you to do to me.”
He groaned, thinking of any number of things he’d like to indulge in, as well. “Stop trying to seduce me, Eglantine. I told you I don’t like aggressive women.”
“And I told you that I don’t like men who shove their tongues down my throat without permission,” she said, slipping one hand into his shirt to stroke his nipple.