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

towelled her damp hair.

      What had happened to all her high-flown plans about fighting him—about remaining indifferent? she wondered bitterly.

      One kiss—his hand on her breast—and all her resolution had crumbled. Indeed, she could hardly have made it easier for him. She wanted to hate him for the way he had made her feel, but she hated herself more.

      There were mirrors all round the bathroom, throwing back images of a girl whose eyes were heavy with newly learned secrets. The cool lady she’d been so proud of had vanished for ever, swept away on a frantic tide of passion.

      Yet the encounter had left no visible marks on her skin, she thought, with detached surprise. Her mouth was reddened and slightly swollen, and she ached a little, but that was all.

      I got off lightly, she told herself. But she knew in her heart that it wasn’t true.

      When she was dressed, she looked at herself and winced. All those carefully chosen garments—the business suit and prim shirt—had been worn as armour, yet they’d proved no protection at all.

      She went back to her flat and changed into a plain black shift, sleeveless and severe, stuffing the discarded clothing into a refuse sack. She never wanted to see any of it again. She thrust her bare feet into sandals and grabbed a simple cream linen jacket before going down to her car.

      It was a nightmare journey, a battle between her need to concentrate on the road and the storm of bewildered emotion within her. But at last she reached the hospital.

      In one piece, but only just, she thought grimly.

      As she waited for the lift to take her up to the ICU, she was waylaid by a nurse.

      ‘Your father’s been moved, Miss Fielding. He’s made such good progress over the last twenty-four hours that he’s in a private room on “A” wing now.’

      ‘You mean he’s getting better? But that’s wonderful.’ Cressy’s mouth trembled into a relieved smile. ‘Because he looked so ill when I was here last.’

      ‘Oh, he’s still being carefully monitored, but everyone’s very pleased with him.’ The older woman beamed. ‘Mind you, I think all the goodies he’s been receiving—the fruit and flowers from Mrs Fielding—have cheered him up a lot.’

      ‘Eloise has sent fruit and flowers?’ Cressy repeated incredulously.

      ‘Well, there wasn’t an actual card, but he said they must be from her. He was so thrilled.’ She paused. ‘Is Mrs Fielding not with you today? What a shame.’

      When she reached her father’s room, it looked like a florist’s window.

      As she paused in the doorway, admiring the banks of blooms, James Fielding turned an eager head towards her, his welcoming smile fading when he saw who it was.

      ‘Cressy, my dear.’ He spoke with an effort, failing to mask the disappointment in his voice. ‘How good to see you.’

      ‘You look marvellous, Daddy.’ She went to the bed and kissed his cheek. ‘I’ve never seen so many flowers. I’d have brought some, but they didn’t allow them in ICU, and now everyone else has beaten me to it.’ She was aware she was chattering, trying to cover up the awkward moment. Attempting to hide the instinctive hurt provoked by his reaction.

      He didn’t want it to be me, she thought with desolation. He hoped it was Eloise. That she’d come back to him.

      ‘Those lilies and carnations over there, and the fruit basket, came without a card,’ her father said eagerly. ‘But I think I know who they’re from.’ He smiled tenderly. ‘In fact, I’m sure. I just wish she’d signed her name. But perhaps she felt diffident about that—under the circumstances.’

      Diffident? Cressy wanted to scream. Eloise hasn’t an insecure bone in her body.

      Instead, she forced a smile as she sat down beside his bed. ‘Yes—perhaps…’

      He played with the edge of the sheet, frowning a little. ‘Has she been in contact—left any message at all?’

      Cressy shook her head. ‘There’s been nothing. Daddy. Don’t you think I’d have told you?’

      ‘I don’t know,’ he said with a touch of impatience. ‘Certainly there’s never been any love lost between you.’

      ‘Well, that’s unimportant now.’ She put a hand over his. ‘All that matters is that you get well.’

      ‘The consultant says I can go home soon, if I keep up this progress. But he wants me to have a live-in nurse for a while. He feels it will be too much for Berry.’

      His frown deepened. ‘I wasn’t sure that my insurance covered private nursing, but he says it’s all taken care of.’ He paused. ‘What I need to know is—do I still have a home to go to?’

      She said gently, ‘Yes, you have, darling. I’ve managed to do a deal with your creditors. You can go on living at the house.’

      He nodded. ‘That’s good. I’d have hated Eloise to find the place all shut up, or occupied by strangers, and not know where to find me. Because it won’t last—this Alec Caravas thing. She’s had her head turned by a younger man, that’s all.’

      Cressy’s lips parted in a silent gasp of incredulity. For a moment she could feel the blood drumming in her ears and felt physically sick.

      Was that really his only concern—providing a bolt-hole for his worthless wife—if she chose to return? Didn’t he realise she’d been Alec Caravas’s full accomplice—and that the police would want to interview her if she ever dared show her face again?

      She’d expected her father to ask all sorts of awkward questions about the exact accommodation she’d reached over his debts, but he didn’t seem remotely interested. Instead he just took it for granted that she’d managed to get things sorted.

      Just as he’d tacitly accepted the estrangement between them that Eloise had imposed, she realised with a sudden ache of the heart.

      And he would never have any conception of the terrible personal price she’d been forced to pay on his behalf.

      I’ve ruined my life to get him out of trouble, Cressy thought with anguish. And he doesn’t even care. Nothing matters except this obsession with Eloise.

      She got clumsily to her feet. ‘I—I’d better go. I promised the nurses I wouldn’t tire you.’

      ‘Perhaps it would be best.’ He leaned back against his pillows, reaching for the radio headphones.

      She took a deep breath. ‘But there’s something I must tell you first. I—I have to go abroad very soon—to work. It’s a special contract. It may take a few months.’

      ‘Well, that’s excellent news.’ His smile held some of the old warmth. ‘I hope it means more money—or a promotion. You deserve it, you know.’

      She said quietly, ‘I’m not sure what I deserve any more. And I’m not certain if I should go—if I should leave you.’

      ‘Nonsense, darling. Of course you must go. We both have our own lives to lead. We can’t be dependent on each other. And the last thing I want is you fussing round me. Berry and this nurse will be bad enough.’

      ‘No,’ she said. ‘You’re probably right. I—I’ll see you tomorrow.’

      She went quietly to the door and let herself out. In the corridor, she stopped and leaned against the wall, aware that her legs were shaking so badly she thought she might collapse. She closed her eyes as a scalding tear forced its way under her lid and down her cheek.

      She thought brokenly, Oh, Daddy…

      ‘Miss Fielding—is something wrong?’ A nurse’s anxious voice invaded her torturous thoughts.

      Cressy straightened quickly. ‘No—it’s all right.’