Her Greek Groom: The Tycoon's Mistress / Smokescreen Marriage / His Forbidden Bride. Sara Craven

my bride, not drown with you.’

      She laughed, leaning back in his embrace, the breeze from the sea lifting her hair, happiness warming her like her own private sun.

      Lips touching her hair, Draco whispered words of love and need, his voice raw as he switched to his own language.

      ‘I wish I could understand what you’re saying,’ Cressy sighed, her fingers lightly caressing the strong arm that held her so securely.

      ‘I will tell you one day.’ There was a smile in his voice. ‘But only when we are married.’

      In the hour it took to return to Myros harbour, they also made some practical plans.

      It was agreed that Cressy would catch the midday ferry to Alakos, to pack the rest of her things and check out of the Hellenic Imperial. And make a few necessary phone calls, she thought, with a sudden bump of nervousness.

      ‘I would take you myself,’ Draco said, frowning. ‘But there are things I must do at my house, arrangements I must make.’ He paused. ‘You’ll stay there with me until our marriage, pethi mou? You’ll trust me?’

      ‘Is that really necessary?’ Flushing slightly, Cressy met his gaze directly. ‘Draco—I love you. I want to belong to you.’

      ‘And so you will,’ he said gently. ‘In our house, in our bed, on our wedding night. That is how it must be, Cressida mou.’

      She shook her head. ‘You have a will of iron, kyrie.’

      His gaze caressed her. ‘When you look at me like that, kyria, I have no will at all.’

      At the taverna, she went up to collect her things, leaving Draco to talk to Yannis.

      As she fastened her travel bag she heard a sound behind her, and looked round to find Maria standing in the doorway.

      ‘Maria.’ Cressy smiled at her a little shyly. ‘You’ve heard the news? I’m hoping very much that you’ll lend me your wedding dress again.’

      ‘Kyria Cressida.’ Maria took a step forward, her face troubled. ‘Are you sure about this? Kyrios Draco—how well do you know him?’

      ‘I know that I love him.’

      ‘You should take care,’ Maria said quietly. ‘This is not a marriage of equals.’

      Cressy bit her lips. ‘I understand what you’re trying to say. That we’ll have to make more adjustments than other couples. But…’

      Maria gestured impatiently. ‘That is not what I mean. There are things you do not know.’

      Cressy stared at her. ‘What sort of things?’

      Yannis shouted Maria’s name from below and she turned to go. ‘I cannot say more. But you must be careful.’ She left Cressy staring after her.

      She was quiet as she walked down to the ferry with Draco at her side.

      ‘Already regrets?’ He smiled at her.

      ‘No,’ she denied, a little too quickly. She wanted to ask about Maria’s warning, but it needed an oblique approach, and there wasn’t time because people were already boarding the ferry.

      He kissed her mouth, and she felt his thumb trace the sign of the cross on her forehead.

      ‘Come to me soon,’ he whispered. ‘I shall be waiting for you, my beloved.’

      As she collected her key from Hotel Reception, Cressy wondered what the deferential concierge would say if he knew she was planning to marry one of his countrymen.

      She’d had time to think on the ferry trip, but hadn’t come to any firm conclusions.

      Perhaps Maria simply doubted that Draco had sufficient means to support a wife. After all, Cressy had little real idea of what he did for a living, she realised with a touch of unease.

      Or had there been something more cynical in her warning? Did Maria suspect that Cressy’s real attraction for Draco was as an affluent tourist?

      But I’m not rich, and he knows it, Cressy thought. I’m well paid, but when I stop working that’ll be it. And I’ve still got rent to pay, and bills to settle back in England.

      On the other hand even quite modest savings might seem a fortune to an impecunious fisherman.

      She found herself remembering the silences—all the times she hadn’t known what he was thinking. And, in spite of herself, began to wonder.

      That total certainty about the future—her inner radiance—had taken a jolt, but a few doubts were perfectly natural, surely.

      Anyway, she and Draco couldn’t get married immediately, she reminded herself. There were all kinds of legal and religious formalities to be completed first.

      And plenty of time for any lingering qualms to be assuaged.

      She was halfway through her packing when the telephone rang.

      ‘Cressy, my dear.’

      ‘Why, Uncle Bob.’ She sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘What a surprise. I—I was actually planning to call you—’

      ‘Cressy,’ he interrupted firmly, ‘I’m afraid you must listen carefully. I’ve got bad news.’

      Ten minutes later she replaced the receiver. Her face was colourless and she felt deathly cold.

      Her wonderful golden dream had gone, to be replaced by bleak and frightening reality. A chilling reminder of exactly who she was. Not some silly, lovesick child swept away by a handsome face, but a woman with a career, duties and obligations. A woman with a life far removed from some half-finished shack on a piece of Mediterranean rock.

      Her father was not only ruined, but alone and ill. He might even be dying. Their recent estrangement was suddenly meaningless. She had to go back to England at once.

      For a moment Draco’s face seemed to swim in front of her. Gasping, she wrapped her arms round her body. She couldn’t let herself think about him, or the folly of the last ten days. She had quite deliberately to wipe him from her mind, and her memory. There was no place for him in her life now, and never had been outside a crazy dream. He was a luxury she couldn’t afford, she thought, biting her lip until she tasted blood.

      As it was, no real harm had been done, and she had to be thankful for that.

      It made her wince to think how naive she’d been—how easily she’d been beguiled to near disaster.

      Draco had been so clever, using his sexuality to keep her in a torment of frustration and longing. All those kisses, she thought bitterly. The fleeting caresses that had aroused without satisfying.

      And all leading to what? Not marriage, she was certain. He was probably bluffing about that. No, he was counting on her walking away once he’d shown her the life she could expect. But not until she’d handed over a hefty payment for his injured feelings, no doubt.

      It was fate, she told herself as the plane took off from Athens. Fate intervening to stop her making the most hideous mistake of her life.

      She had to see it like that or she’d go mad. She had to block the pain or she’d moan aloud. Had to tell herself that Draco was just a beach boy on the make or she’d mourn him for ever.

      And she had her father’s problems to sort out. She had no time for her own.

      All very reasoned, Cressy thought now, as she brought her car to a halt in front of the house. Very rational. If only there hadn’t been an unknown factor in her equation. A factor that still seemed to be pursuing her.

      Cressy spent most of the afternoon on the telephone and sending e-mails, informing her father’s creditors that she’d be negotiating on his behalf during his stay in hospital. But if she’d hoped for instant response or cooperation, she was disappointed.

      She was