Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
N ick put the phone down, his mind whirling with the implications of his last few calls.
His conversation with Allen just now had brought grimmer news. In the bid to trace the rebel leader, Allen had dug deeper into the Nawakan’s background. Interpol wanted Mwana for several kidnappings, two of which had ended in deaths, the victims both female. One of them had been sexually assaulted.
Murderous rage grew at the thought of the madman coming anywhere near his wife.
His investigators had also finally come through, albeit a little too late. They’d traced one of the phone numbers Richard Francis had used to call Belle’s father. Nick had informed the police in London, and they were tracking down the address he’d supplied them with.
Nick had tightened Belle’s protection considerably, and now he had to find a way to break it to her that her security detail had been tripled. He grimaced. She would hate it, but he had no choice.
He’d also dispatched guards to patrol the waters surrounding Althea. Until Mwana was behind bars or dead, he had no intention of letting his guard down.
Lips set in a determined line, he sat back in his chair. If the bastard thought he’d get within a mile of his wife, he had another think coming. Belle was his life, his treasure, his soul.
Something sharp and painful shifted inside him, then settled as if it had finally found a comfortable resting place. The alien feeling at once frightened and soothed him.
Theos , he was losing his mind. But the more he examined the feeling, the more unsettled he felt. He threw his phone down and jumped up, the need for Belle almost too strong to bear.
He needed to see her, to hold her.
Striding to the door, he threw it open. They had one last night before Fate decided what was in store for them. He was determined not to waste it.
In the dim light of a hotel bathroom, Charles Mwana stood in front of the mirror and carefully peeled away the prosthetic nose and fake moustache. Next, he used the cleanser and deep pore astringent to wash off the heavy make-up masking his scar. When his face was devoid of the trappings aiding his disguise, he rubbed his jaw, lost in thought.
His plan was unravelling. No, not unravelling…taking a different course. But he was nothing if not adaptable. His prize was close at hand, he could feel it in his bones. Thanks to the breaking news, he now knew where Belle was headed.
Hearing her voice on the phone last week—thanks to Richard coming through for him with a phone number—had brought both pleasure and a pain. The promise of seeing her again held him together. She would have a good explanation for deserting him; he knew she would. And this time he didn’t intend to let her ex-husband get in his way.
He looked around the hotel room, at the arsenal of weapons laid on the bed. Whoever had said money and sweet words greased the way through life didn’t know of a much, much more powerful tool—one that had served him well for almost twenty years. As puppets went, Richard Francis was a highly efficient one. Funny how one man’s tiny indiscretion could dictate the course of the rest of his life.
His puppet had been dispatched on another diversionary errand, one that would ensure that Mwana would triumph once and for all over his enemy.
He went back to the bedroom and picked up Belle’s passport. Opening it, he stared at the photo. Her face smiled back at him.
He ran a finger over the image.
Soon .
With the certainty of their union lifting his spirits, he let his forgiveness for the way she’d left him ease his pain. She would make it up to him when he found her, he was sure of it. She’d promised herself to him, and he knew she wasn’t a liar. He’d seen the truth in her eyes.
It was her ex -husband—he had no idea why the press referred to him as her husband—who kept her from him. When he found her, he’d free her from the bastard. He passed his fingers over Belle’s passport picture one last time, placed it over his heart, and turned off the light.
Belle came down after her shower to find Nick standing at the large open French doors of the living room, his back to her. He’d changed into a pair of grey tailored trousers and short-sleeved shirt. From the dampness in his hair, she guessed he’d also taken a shower. As usual, his breadth of shoulder and leanness of hip made her pulse race. Unable to resist the urge, she went up to him and slid her arms around his trim waist.
He gave a small start, then turned to hook an arm around her to bring her to face him.
A strange light she couldn’t decipher gleamed in his eyes, but it was the strained set to his mouth that caught her attention. Wondering whether anything else had happened after she’d gone upstairs, she asked, “Is everything all right?”
For a moment he didn’t answer, just continued to look into her face. Then he leaned down and brushed her nose with his.
“Kiss me first, then ask me again.”
She did, then lifted her head when he went to deepen the kiss.
“What’s wrong?”
He took her hand and led her to the sofa, sitting down before pulling her onto his lap. A zing of pleasure went through her as she realized this was fast becoming her favourite place to sit. When he lifted her hand and deposited a hot kiss in her palm, she momentarily lost her ability to think. But she rallied, regarding him in silence until, resigned, he took a deep breath.
One hand caressed her back in a soothing motion. “I’ve spoken to my PR people. The only sure-fi re way to avoid being hounded by the media is to give a small press conference. Give them what they want, this time. Let the world see you, assure everyone you’re okay. Then we can return to London and live in blissful anonymity.” The last words were said tongue-in-cheek, eliciting an unladylike snort from her.
“That’d be the day. Besides, don’t we have a despotic bastard to take down first?”
His smile held a hint of tension. “We do. Demetra’s packing our bags. The jet’s on its way from Athens. We leave first thing in the morning.”
“I didn’t want to come here, but now I don’t want to leave.” She couldn’t suppress her sadness. She fingered the rings on the chain, drawing Nick’s eyes to them.
Expecting him to comment, she was surprised when he just smiled.
“Come on. Demetra insists we have an early supper since neither of us did justice to the lunch she so lovingly put together this afternoon.”
Recalling the emotional rollercoaster the picnic had turned into and the passionate lovemaking that had preceded and ended it, she blushed. “Was she very upset?”
“No. I told her other things came up, so we didn’t have the appetite for food.”
She felt her colour deepen. “Other things? But she’s going to think?—”
“And she’d be right. Other things did come up, so to speak.”
“You’re incorrigible!”
“That’s the second time you’ve said that today. And this time you’re not going to get away with it,” he said before hauling her to him. He sealed her lips with his.
She wasn’t sure how long they were lost in the kiss, but at the sound of Demetra’s delicate cough, she sprang away. Or tried to, anyway. Nick took his time releasing her. He spoke to Demetra, then took Belle’s arm and led her to the dining room.
Suddenly ravenous, she wolfed down a bowl of creamy mushroom soup, followed by a leg of lamb served with dauphinoise potatoes and roasted zucchinis. She earned herself a beaming smile of approval from Demetra when she came to clear the plates. The older woman then served delicate pastries with delicious yogurt.
They’d almost finished their meal when one of the maids came to inform Nick he had a phone call.
Beside her, he tensed.
“Is something wrong?” she asked again, realizing she’d asked that question more times today than she had throughout their marriage.
He laid a hand over hers as he stood. “No. I’ve been expecting a call from Allen. I won’t be long. Are you staying downstairs?” he asked, a slight frown on his face.
“I suppose so—maybe I’ll read in the living room. Why?”
“I’d rather you didn’t make yourself a visible target by going outside. Stay inside, okay?”
She nodded, her stomach churning at the reminder that danger still lurked. Pushing away her plate, she picked up her wineglass and made her way to the living room. As they’d done with alarming frequency today, her fingers toyed her rings, almost of their own volition.
Nick had warned her that nothing but a yes would do. She was almost certain that was the answer she’d give. Because now when she brought the rings out to re-examine in detail, she admitted when it came to her feelings for Nick, nothing had changed.
She loved him as deeply and intensely as the day she’d promised to be his wife.
But could she live with knowing Nick might never love her in return? With knowing she might never bear his child? Would her solitary love be strong enough to sustain her through a childless marriage?
She started in surprise when the pain she’d prepared herself for rose on cue, but it wasn’t as debilitating as she’d expected. Yes, she still wanted a child with every fibre of her being. But she loved Nick more than she did the promise of a child. She just hadn’t realized it six months ago. Given time, would the hollowed emptiness of unfulfilled motherhood pass completely, or would it re-emerge at some point in the future like a spectre that wouldn’t go away?
Still battling her thoughts, she placed her unfinished wine on the table and padded onto the enclosed terrace, glancing out the window. Off the coast, a small dot of light from a passing boat winked.
She stared into the reflective water of the swimming pool.
The question really was, although her experiences in the last several months had now given her the courage to walk away, did she have the courage to stay and fight for Nick’s love? Could she gamble on the uncertainty that he may—or may not—grow to love her the way she loved him, and to be able to say as much? She took a deep, sustaining breath and let it out, knowing there was only one answer.
She loved Nick. Walking away again wasn’t an option. She was strong enough to fight for what she wanted—equality in their marriage and a right to his love.
Now that she knew why Nick was afraid to be a father, her turmoil had been eased somewhat. He’d been hurt badly by his parents’ treatment of him, but Belle firmly believed that they could work through his misgivings, given time. A Marine who risked his life to save children wasn’t a lost cause. With time, he might open up even more and come around to the idea. And if he didn’t?—
She sucked in a breath. If he didn’t, they would deal with that, too.
Completely at peace with her decision, she started to turn away from the window. A glance at the sea showed that the light of the boat was much closer.
A fist of fear clutched her heart before she dispelled it. No, Mwana wasn’t foolish enough to risk a second attack.
Nevertheless, they had a real threat to deal with before she and Nick could find their way fully back to each other. As she watched, the light on the boat winked out, and the sound of the motor receded until she could only hear the soothing sound of waves.
Relief pounded through her. She picked up her glass and swallowed the rest of her wine. After steadying her nerves, she made a quick detour through the kitchen, then headed upstairs.
Demetra knocked on the door five minutes later, clutching the armful of candles Belle had requested.
“ Efkharisto .” Belle smiled her thanks.
The old woman gave her a sad smile in return, and muttered in Greek.
“I’m all right, I promise,” Belle reassured her.
“ Ne , ne ,” the housekeeper agreed, reaching out to pat her hand. Then with another watery smile, she handed over the candles and left.
Belle headed for the bathroom, where she’d placed several more candles.
Handmade by a specialist on the neighbouring island of Santorini, the sensual candles she’d chosen on her visit to his shop during her honeymoon had never been used. As a young newlywed, not totally comfortable with her sexuality, she’d more often than not chickened out when it came to making the first move in the bedroom. The candles had never been given a proper outing.
Tonight she had every intention of using them.
She placed the smaller candles on the bedside tables and the larger ones on the floor in their holders. One by one she lit them, inhaling the exotic fragrance of amyris, saffron, and crushed rose petals.
In the bathroom, she rubbed on a small amount of the luxurious body cream she’d purchased from the same shop, enjoying the pearlescent glow it gave her skin. Next, she slipped into a floor-length negligee.
Looking down at the diaphanous garment, she almost blushed at the sight of her aroused nipples peeking through the gauzy peach material. Not quite ready to look farther down, she picked up her hairbrush and ran it through her hair, letting the repetitive motion calm her heating senses.
Finally, she returned to the bedroom and, careful to avoid the naked flames of the candles, sat down on the bed and reached behind her neck. Unclasping the chain, she let the skin-warmed rings fall into her palm.
Nick took the stairs three at a time. His heart hammered a wild beat as he approached the bedroom door. He forced himself to slow down and, with another deep breath, tried to regulate his breathing so as not to give himself away.
The snaking fear that had seized him when he’d entered the living room to find the French doors still open but Belle nowhere in sight snapped like a live electric wire. Although logic told him she would likely be upstairs, he couldn’t dismiss the irrational fear.
He turned the doorknob, and his anxiety vanished.
She sat in the middle of their bed, an ethereal vision, surrounded by candlelight and rich, exotic scent. His hand shook so hard the doorknob rattled. Dear God, she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
That alien emotion was back again, tightening around his chest, making his breath snag in his lungs. This time when his heart ground to a halt and resumed hammering with thunderous force, it wasn’t driven by fear, but by the intensity of his need for this woman. His Tinkerbelle.
Without realizing he’d moved, he arrived at the foot of the bed, his eyes never once leaving hers.
In a sinuous move that made his throat dry and his cock harden, she swayed upward, rising to her knees. Her lower lip caught between her teeth, she reached out her hands to him.
Again his heart stopped. A violent tremor shook his frame when he saw the rings glittering on her finger.
His gaze flew back to her darkened blue gaze, where what looked suspiciously like tears glistened on her lashes. “Is this what I think?” He paused, almost afraid to ask the question out loud.
She gave one shaky nod, causing his heart to hammer anew. “Yes, my husband,” she confirmed. “It is.”
Belle saw a raw emotion she couldn’t name spread across Nick’s face as he swallowed visibly. He reached out to take her hands. Bringing them to his lips, he kissed the rings before kissing each knuckle.
Then he pulled her to him and, for the longest time, held her tight, the only sound the fierce pounding of his heart beating as one with hers.
At last he pulled away and, looking deep into her eyes, said, “You have made me the happiest man alive, yineka mou , and for as long as I live, I will make sure you don’t regret your decision.”
A sob caught in her throat, but before a single tear could fall, he kissed her with such adoration, thoughts of tears were immediately forgotten. “I intend to hold you to that promise,” she whispered.
Her eager hands winding themselves around his shoulders and bringing him home to her, she kissed him back with equal fervour. She felt him tremble…or was that her? She lost all thought as Nick’s tongue caressed hers, his groans of need matching hers. She reached for his clothes, her hands working to divest him of his clothes.
In the end, he took over, disrobing first himself, then her, while murmuring soft Greek words she didn’t understand.
She started to follow him when he pulled her down on the bed, until she remembered she was the seducer tonight. With strength she didn’t know she possessed, she reversed their positions.
Nick’s look of surprise disappeared when she proceeded to utilize all the expertise she’d learned from him.
But, being a man most comfortable in the dominant position, he soon took the lead.
He made love to her with such gentleness, such thoroughness through the night, all other thoughts were wiped clean from her mind.