The Greek's Innocent Virgin Read online

  "This is a wasted discussion. I do not like talking in circles. You are going to marry me and the sooner you accept that, the better it will be for everyone in­volved."

  "You think so?"

  "Yes, because you are too smart and too consci­entious not to do what is best for both you and our unborn child."

  "What do I get out of this?" she demanded, in­censed that he could truly believe marriage to him would be best for her.

  "I will sign the island villa over to you and settle money on you so you will never be without."

  "You want to buy my baby?"

  He came away from the counter in an explosion of movement and pulled her from her chair to face him. "I do not want to buy our baby, nor am I buying you. I am taking care of you. That's all. Okay?"

  He sounded really driven, but she couldn't work up enough moisture in her mouth to answer. She'd never seen him lose his cool like this before. Not even that time on the beach when he'd been trying to convince her to stay in Greece, had he been like this. His hold wasn't hurting, but he was just vibrating with fury.

  He released her and stepped back. "We'll talk about it later. You have a doctor's appointment."

  It turned out she had three doctor appointments and Sebastian insisted on being present for all of them.

  The thyroid specialist explained that her thyroid was actually just beginning to go into the hyper con­dition and that she could take medication to control it during her pregnancy at no risk to the baby. The heart specialist explained that the same meds that controlled her thyroid would most likely prevent a flare-up of the atrial fibrillation. And the gynecologist told her that once the beta-blockers kicked in, she could resume natural intercourse without risk to her heart or the baby.

  She had not appreciated that particular piece of in­formation, or Sebastian's audacity in asking for it.

  Which she told him in no uncertain terms as the limo pulled away from the curb in front of the exclu­sive clinic Sebastian had taken her to.

  "It was a necessary question," he argued, his feel­ings fully under wraps as if he'd never lost his cool in her kitchen.

  "How do you figure that?" She was still feeling belligerent and more than willing to let him see it. "I just could not believe you asked the doctor if it would be safe to resume sexual relations. We don't have sex­ual relations. We had a one-night stand."

  "It was not a one-night stand."

  "How else would you define it?"

  "Anticipation of our wedding vows."

  "You're incredible!"

  He smiled sardonically. "Thank you."

  She huffed out an angry breath and he sighed.

  "Face it, Rachel, a platonic marriage between the two of us will be an impossibility."

  "First, I have not said I would marry you and sec­ond, if I did agree to marriage it would only be with the stipulation we have separate bedrooms."

  "No."

  Just that. One word. No arguments, no justifica­tions. She couldn't believe he was so arrogant he re­ally believed she would let him touch her after the way he had rejected her. What, did he think she was some kind of masochist?

  Well, she wasn't. "I told you, I don't want sex with you again."

  Sebastian turned so his body faced her. "Really?"

  An aura of danger filled the interior of the limou­sine and although he hadn't moved any closer to her, she found herself wanting to back away from him.

  "Yes, really," she said with a voice that quavered embarrassingly.

  "Let's see, shall we?"

  "What? No—" But her protest became nothing more than muffled sound against his lips.

  He did not demand, he did not force, but used a gentle seduction she found infinitely more difficult to fight. He slanted his mouth over hers again and again with a barely leashed hunger she could sense in the tautness of his body, though his lips were tender on hers.

  Her body, frozen for weeks, woke as if it had never been asleep or known bone deep numbness. A million electric impulses jolted through each nerve ending, sending so many messages of pleasure to her brain, she was on instant overload.

  She had thought she was detached, but in reality, she had been starved for a sensation only he could give her.

  He seemed to sense it and cupping her face in his big hands, he brushed sensually against her jaw with his thumbs. His tongue teased the seam of her lips, seeking permission to enter. She gave it on a low moan, parting her lips in blatant invitation.

  He took immediate advantage, sliding his tongue into the warmth of her mouth, tasting her as if he could never get enough of the intimate kiss. She re­sponded with a wantonness that horrified her mind, but her body was powerless to combat. She felt a connection to him that was too primal to be impacted by logic and too strong to be severed by even the still open wounds he'd inflicted on her heart.

  "You taste so sweet," he said against her lips and pulled her onto his lap.

  She didn't protest, but found herself burrowing into the warmth his body provided, her arms locking around his neck.

  He was her anchor in a passionate storm of hurri­cane proportions.

  His hands skimmed over her curves, cupping her breasts and playing with their hard and throbbing peaks through the thin fabric of her bra and oversize silk blouse until she thought she would go mad. She squirmed against him, reveling in the evidence of his desire under her bottom. She wanted his mouth on her and did not protest when he started undoing but­tons.

  Her bra fastened in front and with a deft flick of his fingers, it was undone. He peeled the fabric back from her swollen flesh and began an exploration that left her breathless and panting from desire.

  Suddenly her heart was beating much too fast, feel­ing like it would pound out of her chest and she could not get enough air into her lungs no matter how hard she tried.

  She broke her lips from Sebastian, terror filling her. "Sebastian, stop. I can't..."

  His head came up with a snap and he looked at her with passion dark eyes. "What?"

  "My heart..." She wheezed, trying to breathe.

  He cursed, his eyes filling with concern and a hor­rible self-directed fury. "What was I thinking?" he asked, his accent very thick. "Rachel, are you all right, agape mou?"

  The sensation began to subside as quickly as it had come upon her and she nodded.

  He leaned over, one arm locked securely around her, and pressed the intercom button for the front. He rapped out a series of orders in Greek, then sat back, adjusting her so she was completely surrounded by him and her head was resting on his chest.

  "I should not have kissed you yet." His deep voice was laced with remorse.

  "We have not even filled your prescriptions." He cursed in Greek again. "I am sorry. I did not intend to put you at risk."

  "You had no business kissing me at all." Her an­ger lost some of its impact in translation seeing as how she was cuddled up against him, her fingers now locked in the smooth fabric of his shirt and feeling too physically weak to move.

  "You are my woman. Kissing you is my right."

  So much for remorse.

  "Except when it puts you at risk. Then I must show self-restraint." He spoke in an undertone as if ad­monishing himself.

  "I may be the mother of your child." She sat up so she could look into his implacable gray gaze. "But I am not your woman."

  "You can say this after the way you responded to my kiss?"

  "Yes." But fresh out of arguments to support the stark, one-word answer, she let her head fall against his chest again.

  The sensation of weakness lingered even though

  her heart had settled back to a less erratic rhythm. It was still beating too fast, though.

  Minutes later, they were back at the heart specialist and Sebastian was berating the world renowned doc­tor for allowing her to leave his clinic without having given her a dose of the prescribed medication. The man, who was probably one of the most eminent men in his field, stammered an apology and q
uickly ar­ranged for her to take her first dose of beta-blocker.

  Sebastian was not content and insisted she be kept in the clinic for overnight observation. He would not fly her home to Greece until he was sure she was strong enough to make the trip.

  "I am sorry, yineka mou. It is my duty to protect you, but I took your health risk too lightly. On the surface, you seemed so healthy, so much like your usual stubborn self, I did not realize how fragile you really are."

  She pressed the button to make her bed sit more upright, having given in with bad grace to his insis­tence on her staying overnight under a doctor's sur­veillance. She knew it was the right thing to do, but she had not counted on the sense of obligation she would feel toward Sebastian when she'd called him. Everything he did to take care of her made her feel like she was in his debt and she didn't like it at all.

  "I'm fine. You heard the doctor. My heart would have to get a lot more stressed before we would have to worry about a heart attack or stroke."

  His face turned to stone at the words and she wished she hadn't been so specific. Sebastian's com­plexion was the color of the ocean on a cloudy day and his slate gray eyes were bleak.

  "I am sorry," he said again.

  She would be willing to bet that he had apologized more in the last hour than he had in his whole adult life.

  While she thought he should feel bad for kissing her when he had no right, she felt uncomfortable with his excessive guilt over her reaction to the kiss. He believed that by exciting her physically, he had set off her atrial fib when in fact, anything could have caused it.

  She bit her lip and watched him, conflicting emo­tions tearing at her conscience.

  "I wasn't doing anything more strenuous than sit­ting at my desk when I fainted and had to be taken to Emergency."

  He looked at her as if his superior brain for once could not make out the meaning of what she was saying. She spelled it out for him. "I could have had the atrial fib attack even if all I'd been doing was sitting beside you in the car, minding my own business. It was not your fault."

  "It was." Sebastian was as terrifying in guilt mode as he was when he was angry.

  There was no reasoning with him.

  “According to the doctor, within twenty-four hours on the beta-blockers, we don't need to be worried about another attack, even if we make love." She'd blushed the color of a red ball sunset when the heart specialist had felt compelled to share that information, but she hoped reminding him about it would derail Sebastian's guilt trip.

  "This is good." His smile was shocking after the past hour of him looking so grim. "I am glad you have reconciled yourself to sharing my bed."

  "I haven't," she said, horrified he'd taken her words that way.

  "If you have not then why bring up the future safety of such an event?"

  "I was trying to get you out of guilt mode," she said with total exasperation.

  "Strange that you should care about my emotional well-being when you hate me so much."

  "I never said I hated you."

  He looked way too complacent at that assurance.

  "I said I don't trust you and I don't."

  "You trust me to take care of you and our baby."

  "That is not the same as trusting you to be my lover again."

  "Since you have had no other lovers, I am still your lover."

  "Stop arguing semantics. I am not going to bed with you again."

  "That is all right. We can make love on the couch like we did the first time, but heed this, Rachel. We will make love again. It is inevitable."

  She glared at him. "It is not inevitable."

  His smile said she was wrong and she wished she could be a little more certain in her own heart she was right.

  Sebastian talked her into staying in the clinic for five days until her blood work showed improvement in both her conditions. Heaven alone knew how he achieved it, but the heart specialist and two EMT workers flew to Greece on Sebastian's private plane with them. When they arrived in Athens, she was given a thorough going-over by the heart specialist before being allowed to make the helicopter trip to the island.

  The man was not allowed to go home until he had gone over her medical history with the doctor Sebastian had procured to stay on the island during her pregnancy. She learned from one of the maids that Sebastian had also upgraded the clinic on the island to be equipment ready for most medical emergencies.

  Rachel couldn't even begin to imagine the expense he'd gone to in order to make that happen. The man was obsessed, but since knowing medical help was available if she needed it made her feel more secure, she didn't so much as tease him.

  Nevertheless, the extensive preparations surprised her when he could have kept her in Athens more con­veniently in regard to both his business and her med­ical care. She was even more shocked when three mornings after her arrival on the island, she woke to live music outside her bedroom window.

  While she was still reeling from the effects of waking up in such a manner, a knock sounded on her door.

  She called out permission to enter, feeling disori­ented.

  Phillippa came into the room, her lovely face wreathed in smiles. She must have been ferried over early that morning because she had not been on the island the night before when Rachel went to bed.

  The older woman went to the window and pulled back the drapes. "It is a beautiful day for a wed­ding."

  Rachel had barely digested that statement when one of the maids arrived carrying yards and yards of white satin. Close behind her came another maid with a shoe box under one arm and a huge bouquet of flow­ers in the other.

  Having said not one word, Rachel sat bolt upright in bed and did what any woman would do when faced with a surprise wedding she had not agreed to. She screamed and then she jumped out of the bed and starting yelling Sebastian's name.

  Phillippa and the maids stood stock-still in shock. They no doubt thought she'd lost her mind, but that was no comparison to what they were going to think when she murdered Sebastian. She rushed out of the room, ignoring the cold stone of tile on her feet out in the hall.

  "Sebastian Matthias Kouros!"

  When he didn't show himself, she stormed down the stairs intent on finding the rat and giving him a piece of her mind.

  When she did find him he was leaning against the doorjamb of his study. He looked much too compla­cent for a man facing murder and mayhem.

  She stomped right up to him and shoved her finger in his chest. "How dare you set up a wedding and not tell me? Do you know your mother is in my room right this minute wondering what happened to her fu­ture daughter-in-law? She's going to be upset damn it when the wedding doesn't take place."

  Sebastian's eyes went over her like seeking hands and the unwelcome flutters in her stomach made her even madder.

  "Stop it."

  "What?" he asked in a lazy masculine drawl.

  "Looking at me."

  "But you are so lovely to look at."

  With her hair on end and wearing an old T-shirt she'd filched from him one summer a couple of years back when she'd needed something to put over her

  swimsuit when some of her mother's friends arrived unexpectedly? Not likely.

  She glowered at him. "Well, don't do it like that."

  "And how am I looking at you?"

  "Like you own me." And regardless of her ap­pearance, the flare of desire in his eyes was unmis­takable. "Like you want me."

  "But these things are true. You belong to me and I want you more than I have ever wanted another woman. Do you have any idea how arousing you are in a temper?"

  She wanted to spit nails. "Sebastian!"

  "What is it? I do not think this upset can be good for our baby."

  "You should have thought of that before you started trying to take over my life."

  He straightened away from the doorway, towering over her in all his gorgeous magnificence. "I do not wish to take over you life. I wish to share it."

  Sh
e laughed, feeling and sounding pretty much hysterical. "You don't want to share my life. You want to share my baby."

  Suddenly strong fingers latched around her waist and she went airborne until she came up against un­yielding male flesh, her face only inches from his.

  "Let us get one thing straight, Rachel. We are both parents of that baby inside your womb and I cannot share its life without sharing yours. Do you want to limit my fatherhood to occasional visits and holidays? Is that what this is all about? You want revenge for the way I treated you and you have latched onto the fact that refusing to give our baby my name and re­fusing me twenty-four, seven access to our child, you will achieve it. But have you considered that your revenge on me will also cause pain for our child?"

  "I don't want revenge." She couldn't believe he thought that was what this was about. "I have no intention of withholding our baby from you."