The Good Greek Wife? (16 page)

‘And you think that is the only reason why I married you?' The question might have been formed in ice, the words were so cold and stiff.

‘I know it!' Penny cried. ‘Oh—you fancied me—you made
that obvious of course! You couldn't keep your hands off me. Which must have made it all the easier for you.'

‘You think?'

‘I know. After all, there wasn't much else going for me. I only have to think of that carved bed head to know—'

‘I had a carving made,' Zarek interrupted, ‘Just for you.'

‘Oh, yes.'

She couldn't erase the bitterness from her tone.

‘Oh, yes—the mouse. The damn
mouse
.'

But Zarek was shaking his head, sending his dark hair flying over his forehead.

‘But not just any mouse.'

‘Oh, how can you say that? A mouse is a mouse—small, creeping, nervous… Insignificant.'

‘But not this one. Come here…'

Penny was still trying to back away, her hands coming up defensively before her, when he reached her and lifted her from her feet, swinging her up into his arms. Holding her tightly against his chest, he carried her out into the hallway, heading for the stairs.

‘Zarek, put me down!' Penny wriggled nervously in his hold.

‘Keep still,' he warned as he mounted the stairs, ignoring her protests. ‘And, no, I won't let you down—not until you see.'

‘See what?'

He looked down at her for a moment. A searching, burning stare that seemed to flay away a much-needed protective layer of her skin.

‘Until I make you see just how wrong you are.'

J
UST
how wrong?

That sounded shockingly hopeful.

Was it possible that there was something Zarek could show her, tell her, that could make this all right? In spite of herself, Penny couldn't subdue the tiny spark that suddenly lit up in her heart and made her feel so very different about the way he held her, made her stop fighting against his hold.

They were at the top of the stairs now, a couple of long strides across the landing and Zarek kicked open the door that led to their bedroom.

‘In here.'

He carried her over to the bed and let her down onto the softness of the coverings. But then, when she would have jumped back up again, getting to her feet, not sure whether she needed to escape or should stay, he pushed her back into place, holding her still with the strength of just one hand. And looking up into his face, into the dark, barely focused eyes, the formidable set of his jaw, she suddenly had a rush of nervous panic.

Had she got this all wrong? Was Zarek not going to tell her what she most wanted to hear? Was his plan something else entirely?

Hadn't she played right into his hands by telling him that she'd lied about wanting a baby? Showing that she wanted to be with him, no matter what?

‘Zarek—don't do this. Please.'

Tears burned the backs of her eyes. Tears of loss of the hope she had allowed herself to feel even if just for a moment. Tears of anguish and despair at the thought that he might once again be using only sex as a way of communicating with her. That still passionate desire might be all that he was feeling.

Tears of defeat at the thought that no matter how much she wanted to fight it, rationally at least, physically, she knew that she could not.

Defeat at the admission that she had settled for the sort of second best she had told herself she was never going to agree to. But she couldn't fight both Zarek and herself at the same time.

Even now just the touch of his hands on her sent excitement fizzing through her. Even now, the memory of being held close to the heat and hardness of his body as he had carried her up the stairs, the steel-hard strength of his arms supporting her, her head against his chest, made heat burn along the line of every nerve.

Even though his hands were now used to restrain her, keep her in place, she knew that she wanted them there, where they were holding her so tight that she couldn't move. Even though the powerful length of his denim-covered legs was so close to hers that she only had to move an inch or so to make them brush against each other. And his head was bent so that it was so close to her, his eyes boring into hers—but did they burn so intensely in an attempt to entice or to dominate?

‘Zarek—let me go!'

She broke off as his grip tightened on her and he gave her imprisoned hand a tiny shake.

‘Penny—listen. Listen—please.'

And it was that
please
and the voice in which he spoke it that stunned her, shocking her into silence and stillness, all the fight draining out of her in a rush.

‘Please…' he repeated.

Suddenly it was as if the fighting had been all that had held her upright. Her spine sagged, her struggles stopped completely and she could only freeze into total stillness, staring up into the clouded darkness of his eyes.

‘Zarek…'It was just a whisper. But his head was so close to hers that a whisper was all she needed. ‘Just what are you doing?'

‘Penny, don't fight—or talk—not yet. Just look at this…'

After that shaken, shattering
please
he'd recovered some of his self-assurance. The pleading note had gone from his voice but at the same time there was a strangely ragged sound to the words as if they—or he—were starting to fray at the edges.

He was turning her as he spoke. Practically lifting her bodily from the bed and twisting her round so that she was facing away from him and looking directly at the ornately carved wooden bed head. The one they'd been given as a traditional wedding gift and that she had seen for the very first time on their wedding night.

Recalling that night, the first night they had ever spent together, the night she had given him her virginity, Penny could only be grateful that she was sitting down. As it was she knew that her whole body was trembling in a way that Zarek, still holding her, must surely feel now.

He had been tender that night, careful and gentle as well as so ardently passionate that she had felt she were going up in flames just to be held by him, touched by him. Loved by him. At least at that time she had allowed herself to think of the word love, hope for love from him.

But that had been before Jason had warned her that the only thing that drove Zarek was the need for an heir. Hermione had commented on it too. And then she had seen it for herself, the determination to focus on the company almost to the exclusion of everything else. She hadn't realised then that Jason and his mother had their own personal agenda. In her naiveté she had listened to both of them and she hadn't turned to the one man who could tell her the truth.

But when she'd challenged him downstairs, he'd reinforced everything she'd feared.

‘That's exactly why I married you,' he'd said. What else was there to say?

Swallowing hard, she looked up at Zarek's dark, intent face.

‘Tell me about it,' she said, and she knew that she didn't just mean the carving on the headboard. The carving that danced before her eyes when she tried to focus on it.

But to her total shock and consternation Zarek suddenly shook his dark head. His mood seemed to have changed abruptly as he raked both his hands through his black hair, ruffling it in a way that was disturbingly appealing. The gesture took his hands away from her arms, releasing her completely, but Penny found that, although she was now free, the last thing she wanted to do was to escape. Now she was the one holding herself completely still, sitting on the edge of the bed, waiting, needing to hear what he had to say.

‘I'm sorry,' he said, making her blink in shock as he dropped down beside her on the bed, sitting close but not too close. Somehow he managed to hold his long body away from hers so that he was not touching her, but at the same time she couldn't feel that he was holding himself away from her because he wanted to put distance between them. On the contrary, she had the impression that he was doing it for her
sake. Because he didn't want to crowd her. Because he wanted
her
to feel separate from him until…

Until what?

‘I'm going about this all wrong,' Zarek said suddenly. He was leaning forward with his arms resting on his thighs, hands clasped, staring down at the floor as if carefully considering what he had to say. ‘I should have started with saying how sorry I am…'

‘You just did,' Penny put in, but her response was greeted with another shake of his dark head.

‘No—not for that—and that was not enough. What I mean is that I am so sorry for never understanding the reality of love.'

‘I…'

Penny tried to speak but nothing would come. Had he just said
love
? And what did he mean?

‘I'll admit that I never learned much about love. My mother was dead by the time I was four, and my father lost interest in life as a result. That was what left him open to Hermione and her scheming. When he became ill, I promised him I would make sure I had an heir—a member of our family to leave the company to.'

‘So that was why you were so angry when you thought I was selling out to Jason. Not because you believed I had moved on to him.'

Zarek's eyes lifted briefly, burned into hers.

‘You thought I was dead. You believed you were a widow. I couldn't expect you to wait for ever.'

‘Oh, but…'

He hadn't heard her interjection, Penny realised. He was focused so intently on what he had to say that he talked straight through it.

‘But you didn't, did you? I should have realised it from the
start but it was only when I found those plans—the ones for the
Calypso
. I knew there was something wrong there but…'

‘Zarek…'

She didn't know if he heard her this time, only knew that he turned to look at her, to stare deep into her eyes as if to draw the truth out of them. But at the same time what she saw in the black depths of his own gaze was that he knew the truth already. Knew it at a heart-deep, soul-deep level that needed no further explanation, no details. But he gave them anyway.

‘One of the earliest plans was just right—perfect. It was everything I'd talked about, everything I wanted on that boat. But that was the one that was pushed to the back, kept at the bottom of the pile. And every other week there was a new one—one where you'd erased things, changed things, worked on the details a little more—when they didn't need it. And why…'

‘I…' Penny began before she realised that he wasn't asking her why, but starting to tell her. That he had worked it out for himself and he really did understand. And because of that she knew she wanted to tell him herself. To let him hear the words from her mouth.

‘I did it for you. I wanted to finish the designs on the
Calypso
because I knew how much it meant to you. I wanted the boat to be—to be…'

Remembered emotion made her stumble over the words.

‘To be your memorial. But I knew that if it was finished, if
Calypso
ever went on sale, then I would really have to admit that you were gone and were never coming back. And I couldn't do that. And then Hermione—Jason—started pushing for—for a “rationalization” of the situation as far as Odysseus Shipping was concerned. But I said that I couldn't possibly think of that, not until I'd completed my memorial to you.'

‘So you kept saying that it needed something new—some
thing more. And you were erasing everything you'd worked on, showing them the incomplete version when all the time you had the perfect design hidden at the bottom of my desk drawer. You were holding them off, refusing to give in, in just the way that you kept all my clothes, when any sort of sense would say—'

‘I couldn't let you go!' Penny cut in, needing to say it, to declare at least part of the truth about how she had felt even if she didn't dare to go the whole way. ‘I just couldn't.'

‘I know.'

There was such certainty in his tone that it made her stomach twist into tight, yearning knots. He had come so far but not quite far enough.

‘I recognised what you were doing because it was how I was with my father. When I came home the only way I could win my father's attention was by being part of Odysseus Shipping—working for it—working with him. If I'd needed any proof that you'd loved me, it was there in front of me.'

‘If…' Penny could only echo the word, unable to believe he'd actually used it. Had he really not needed proof?

‘I realised that I was looking for “love” in all the wrong places. I saw it in the big things—like passion and hunger. I didn't know how to express myself any other way. I thought that if I gave you that you would know that I cared. And so when you started to withdraw from me I saw that as evidence that you had never loved me. Especially when you seemed to want to make sure that we never had a child.'

‘The heir you wanted so much.'

‘No.' Once more Zarek was shaking his head.

‘No?'

‘The child I wanted—or, rather, the child I didn't know I wanted until you made me so aware of the difference.'

‘But you said…' Pain twisted in her heart, blurred her eyes as she remembered how he had stood before her and, calm, controlled, and totally certain, had declared, ‘Yes, that's exactly why I married you.'

‘I know what I said. And I had to say it because you asked for the truth. You insisted on it—and I wanted to be honest too. So I told you what it had been like. What had been in my mind in the moment that I asked you to marry me. I wanted you—
Thee mou
but I wanted you—and we both wanted a child. I thought that would be enough. It would make a great partnership. It was only later that I realised it didn't make a marriage.'

‘When…?' She couldn't get the words out, the tears were so thick and heavy in her throat, almost choking her.

‘When did I realise?' Zarek finished for her. ‘As soon as I'd walked out on you in a rage. When I realised I was so damn furious because I was disappointed. On the
Troy
when I woke alone and missed you curled up next to me. On the pirates' boat when I thought that this might be the end—that I'd never see you again. In the black night on a black sea, when it seemed there was just one reason to hang on, to keep my head above water. I vowed that if I got out of there I would come back and tell you how I felt and ask you to start again. And this time I'd look for the smaller things, the quieter things. The things you gave when you worked on the
Calypso
—or last night when you came to my room.'

He paused, looked deep into her eyes as if searching for something and Penny could only hope that he found it in her own gaze because, even though her heart was so full of hope that she feared it might burst, she didn't dare yet actually speak what was in her thoughts.

‘Just when I'd begun to realise how much brighter my life
was married to you, Fate took a hand,' Zarek continued. ‘I was rescued—my life was saved but I lost my memory. I spent two long years wondering who I was—and wondering just why I always had this sense that something was missing. Something important. Something vital.'

‘And when you came back…' He'd heard her saying she wanted him declared dead. Wanted to move on. ‘That day at the beach…'

‘I was totally off balance after seeing you with Jason. I had never known such a rage of jealousy before. Never cared enough to. But with you…'