CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER TEN
T HE BLUE - GREEN WATERS of the Aegean broke across the bow of the yacht in lacy curls of white foam as Santos stood at the helm and guided it towards the private dock at his villa on Amorgos. It had been three days since they’d left Barcelona, three glorious, sun-soaked, lazy, languorous, lovely and loving days.
Mia was doing her best not to over-analyse anything; simply to take every day, every moment, as it came and enjoy it for what it was. Something had shifted between Santos and her during that tumultuous evening when they’d made love, and then made up as well. They’d had to make up because of the hurtful things said—and thought—on both sides. Mia was very grateful for Santos’s understanding, as well as his humility. He was a proud man, maybe even an arrogant one, but he’d still been able to say sorry when he’d felt the need to. Love wasn’t never having to say sorry, Mia had thought ruefully, but rather the reverse: love was being willing to, however many times.
That was if Santos loved her all. She still had her doubts; saying something in the passion of a moment was different from living it out day by day.
I love you, Mia.
The memory of those words, and the thrum of his voice as he’d huskily said them, still had the power to rock Mia to the very marrow of her bones. She still didn’t know how she felt about it, and more importantly how to respond. After their heart-to-heart that evening, which felt as though it had changed everything, they’d both mutually, silently, agreed on something like a truce. Or at least silence , but not a tense and accusing one like before. This one felt both healing, good and, more importantly, necessary. They needed simply to be with each other, rather than analysing every word that came out of their mouths.
And so, in three days, they hadn’t had any ‘talks with a capital T’ at all. There’d been no raking over the past, remembering the loss, grief, sorrow or pain. There’d been no talking about it. No thinking about it, even—at least, Mia had tried not to. And now they were here, about to spend a week at Santos’s private island on a sun-soaked Greek island in the middle of the Aegean. It looked like paradise. Mia hoped it really would be.
‘Welcome to Villa Paraiso, Se?ora Aguila,’ Santos said with a glinting smile as he stretched out one hand to help her from the yacht while a staff member secured it. Smiling, Mia flicked back her hair as she took his hand, his warm, dry palm sliding confidently across hers as she stepped onto the dock.
The villa was barely visible through a hillside grove of fig and pomegranate trees, with oleander and frangipani growing in rampant, beautiful abandon. Mia could only glimpse a wall of gleaming white stucco and several pairs of bright blue painted shutters. She felt a leap of anticipation inside at the prospect of exploring everything.
She’d always loved going to new places—wandering down cobblestone streets simply to soak in the sights, or sitting in a café and watching the world go by. Whenever her lifestyle had made her lonely—and it had, more often than she cared to admit, even to herself—she’d reminded herself of all the adventures she’d had, all the beautiful and remarkable places she’d seen...including Villa Paraiso on the island of Amorgos.
‘I want the grand tour,’ she told Santos with a smile. ‘Of everything.’
‘And I’ll give it to you, I promise.’ His golden-brown gaze was warm and approving as it rested on her and made her feel as if she were melting inside. The last three days had been really, really good. If only they could always be like this—escaping reality, never having to dig deeper...
But that wasn’t how life worked, was it? Unfortunately, Mia couldn’t keep the practical, pragmatic side of her brain from piping up. At some point they’d have to face reality...and whatever that meant...but not yet. Thankfully, not yet.
‘Come, let me show you,’ Santos said, drawing her along the dock by the hand. Laughing a little, Mia let him lead her up the winding path through the garden, the bright-yellow and pink frangipani flowers releasing their soft, peachy scent as their waxy petals brushed against her. At the top of the garden, a wrought-iron gate opened to a wide terrace that overlooked the sea, with three sets of French doors open to the sultry breeze.
For a second Mia simply stood there and let herself soak in the view: the undulating, flower-strewn hillside down to the deep-blue sea that stretched untroubled to the horizon. She turned slowly to take in the rest of the view: the olive grove to the side of the villa; the gnarled trunks and twisted branches of the trees looking as old as time itself. Then the villa: three sets of doors led into a huge lounge with a terracotta-tiled floor and comfortable sofas in varying shades of cream scattered across the huge, relaxed space.
Still holding her by the hand, Santos drew her inside. A smiling, round-faced woman came from the kitchen to greet them, her dark hair pulled back into a neat bun.
‘Se?or Aguila.’ She turned to give Mia a warm smile. ‘Se?ora Aguila. It is so lovely to meet you at last.’
‘This is Rosita.’ Santos introduced them. ‘She’s housekeeper here, and her husband Alvaro manages the grounds.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you, as well,’ Mia replied. Santos was still holding her hand in a way that Mia found she liked. Back at the Aguila estate in Seville, they’d kept their gestures of physical affection—even the barest of handholds—to private moments. Although she and Santos had never actually discussed it, Mia had had the sense that physical affection was frowned upon by his mother, not seen as the appropriate behaviour for the head of such an august family or his wife.
Apparently it wasn’t that way here, and she was glad. It was just one more way that this felt like a time out of reality. But she wasn’t going to think too much about that, she reminded herself. She was just going to enjoy this time together...however long it lasted.
‘Rosita,’ Santos was saying, ‘My wife wants a tour of the villa. Where should I start?’
‘Upstairs?’ Rosita suggested with a rather ribald wink that made Mia choke on a laugh. The housekeeper turned to her with an unabashed grin. ‘We have quite the honeymoon suite here.’
‘Do you?’ Mia murmured as Santos tugged on her hand to lead her up the curving staircase from the foyer. ‘And why is that?’
‘I designed this place to be my bolt hole,’ he explained as they climbed the stairs. ‘A hideaway...and one that I hoped, one day, to share with my wife.’
‘So, were you planning on taking me here?’ Mia asked, genuinely curious. ‘I mean, before...’ She stopped, wishing she hadn’t started down that bumpy road.
Before we lost our baby. Before life felt unendurable. Before I left. There were far too many ways to finish that sad sentence.
‘I certainly hoped to,’ Santos replied easily enough, neatly sidestepping any potential recriminations, which was a relief. Like her, he seemed to want to ride this pleasurable wave for as long as it lasted.
And, Mia told herself, maybe that would be a long time, longer than either of them expected.
For ever...?
She pushed the thought away, determined to stay in the moment and revel in it.
‘Here it is,’ Santos said, pushing open a door before he stepped aside so Mia could go in first.
Shooting him a quick smile of gratitude, she walked into the bedroom, drawing her breath in sharply with appreciation. She’d been in a lot of beautiful rooms since she’d met Santos, far more than her ragtag childhood and wandering adulthood had ever allowed her. She’d been in his five-star hotel suite in Portugal, as well as the one they’d shared in Barcelona, both the epitome of luxurious living; and of course she’d spent several months at the Aguila estate in Seville, with its wood-panelled rooms, the walls lined with oil paintings and the floors of cold tile. They’d been elegant in their own way, steeped in history and importance.
But she’d never been in a room like this. It was built out over the hill with floor-to-ceiling windows opening onto a balcony that hung out over the hillside, practically over the sea itself. In every direction she could see the Aegean shining as brightly as a jewel. Until she’d come to this vantage point, she hadn’t realised the villa was built on a peninsula; they were surrounded by sea on every side, and it made her feel as if she were floating, flying.
Slowly Mia turned in a circle, taking in and savouring the view. Then her gaze caught on the main piece of furniture in the room—a king-sized bed on its own dais, giving it all the benefits of the room’s amazing view. A canopy of near-transparent linen blew in the sea breeze, seeming to beckon her forward. The only other furniture in the room was a pair of discreet bedside tables and a cream velvet chaise longe on the opposite side of the room, positioned towards the balcony. Doors led to a sumptuous en suite bathroom, as well as a massive walk-in wardrobe.
‘I know it’s all rather bare,’ Santos said with a wry grimace, ‘But I didn’t want anything to take away from the view, which really is the centrepiece of the place.’
‘It’s perfect,’ Mia told him, her tone heartfelt as she turned to face him. ‘Like...an eagle’s nest. I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.’
And, Santos thought, he didn’t want to be anywhere else either. His heart felt full as he walked towards Mia, catching her hands in his. She smiled as he drew her gently towards him, brushing his lips against hers and then settling there. Their hips bumped and heat flared deep within.
The last few days had been wonderful, filled with both desire and joy. It had reminded him of how they’d been together back at the beginning, lost in wonder and love. Yes, he thought almost fiercely, love —or at least a version of it. Maybe they hadn’t known each other well enough then, but they knew each other now, or at least were getting to know. He hoped what they’d been building over the last few days was strong enough to last...but they didn’t have to test it just yet.
‘That bed is very comfortable,’ he murmured against her lips as he steered her towards it until the back of her legs hit the dais, and then he hoisted her onto the bed, falling onto the mattress next to her as she let out a breathless laugh.
‘It’s broad daylight and Rosita is right downstairs...’
‘Trust me, she won’t come up to check on us.’ He ran his hand up her calf and thigh, revelling in the feel of her smooth, golden skin. She was wearing a sundress in pale green cotton, and it was wonderfully easy to slide his hand under the thin material, right between her legs.
Mia let out a gasp. ‘Santos!’
He pressed his palm against her and she let out a groan, offering her hips up to him as her eyes fluttered close. He loved how he only had to touch her to make her come apart. And he loved how she only had to look at him to accomplish the same thing.
Sure enough, Mia’s eyes fluttered open again and she gazed at him with blatant hunger that made Santos feel as if he were about to explode. He captured her mouth in another kiss as Mia twined her legs around his, pulling him closer to her as his fingers slipped inside her underwear to feel the damp heat beneath.
‘Santos...’
He loved how she said his name—both as a plea and demand, her body arching up against him, giving and receiving. And he loved how he could answer both—with his lips, with his hands, with his body. They’d never had any trouble talking like this, he thought as he lost himself in her. It was the purest form of communication, of bliss...
Later, as the sun slanted lazily over their twined bodies, the sheets rumpled about them, Mia finally stirred, brushing her tangled hair out of her face.
‘Rosita will wonder where we went to,’ she remarked wryly.
Santos stroked her side from breast to hip. Even sated as he was, he still felt the need to touch her and memorise the feel of her. ‘I think she might have guessed.’
Mia’s face went pink with embarrassment, which he found rather adorable. ‘Really? But you just came up to show me the bedroom...’
‘We are newlyweds,’ Santos reminded her. ‘And this is, in effect, our honeymoon.’
Mia’s embarrassed expression dropped away, replaced by something far more pensive. She rolled over on her side to face him, tucking one hand under her cheek.
‘Can it be that simple?’ she asked quietly. ‘A reset is all we need?’
Santos was jolted by the stark honesty of that question. It was the closest either of them had come to addressing what this time in Greece was, what it could be, as well as all that had painfully gone before.
‘Why shouldn’t it be that simple?’ he countered, his gaze steady on hers. He wanted it to be that simple. He needed it to be, because having Mia in his life again reminded him of why he’d married her in the first place. When he was with her, he was the man he wanted to be—light, laughing, with an ease and joy inside him he’d never experienced anywhere, or with anyone, else.
‘I don’t know,’ Mia replied slowly. ‘I suppose because we ran into problems before. Because we’re still so different.’
‘And, like I said before, differences don’t have to be deal-breakers, Mia. We can work through them. We are working through them...don’t you think?’ He caught her free hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a kiss to each of the tips of her fingers. ‘Haven’t these last few days been pretty good?’ he asked, a hint of playfulness in his voice, although he meant the question with utter seriousness.
She let out a shaky laugh as her face softened and she brushed his lips with her fingers, a kind of kiss in return. ‘They’ve been wonderful,’ she told him quietly, her tone heartfelt. ‘Some of the best days of my life, Santos.’
‘Some of?’ He pretended to be affronted, if just a little, wanting to keep the mood light for her sake as much as his own ‘And what were some of the others?’
‘Those first few days in Portugal with you,’ she replied with simple honesty. ‘It was everything in between then and now that was hard, Santos...for both of us.’
It took him a few seconds to realise the allowance she was making. She was acknowledging that it had been hard for him, too, and yet, in a flash of insight, Santos realised it hadn’t been nearly as hard for him as it must have been for Mia. She’d had to come to an entirely new place, a house full of strangers who didn’t speak her language and seemed suspicious of her, and try to fit in. And within weeks of that she’d found out she was pregnant with a baby she hadn’t envisioned having for years.
He hadn’t had to deal with any of that, and yet he’d resented her—or acted as if he had—because she’d struggled with all the adjustments. How had he not realised any of that before? How had he not told her so?
‘What is it?’ Mia asked unsteadily. ‘You’re looking at me in a funny way.’
‘I’m just realising how incredible you are,’ Santos replied. ‘And how amazingly strong.’
‘What?’ Mia looked surprised as well as relieved, and Santos realised she must have been bracing herself for some sort of criticism. Why? Had he really been that negative before, that ungenerous?
‘I should have told you before,’ he said, ‘Back in Seville, at the estate. You took on a lot, Mia, coming home with me. Trying to work out a whole new way of life.’
‘I don’t think I did a very good job of it,’ Mia replied, biting her lip. ‘I suppose I could have tried harder.’
‘I could have tried harder too.’
She stared at him, her brow furrowed, as if she couldn’t quite believe or trust what he was saying, but she didn’t ask any more questions, and Santos was relieved. He still needed to untangle his own thoughts...as well as his own feelings. And just now he wanted simply to enjoy what they had.
Mia must have felt the same, because a smile entered her voice as her hand slipped tantalisingly down his chest. ‘We’ve talked enough for now, I think,’ she murmured. ‘This is our honeymoon, remember?’ She rolled on top of him, and now the smile was on her lips and in her eyes too, her hair brushing his bare chest as her body moved against his. ‘Let’s make the most of it,’ she whispered.
And that, Santos decided as his mind hazed with desire, seemed like a very good idea indeed.