Mediterranean Millionaires. LYNNE GRAHAM

than expected and he never lived here. He’s now moved abroad again and the house is back on the market.’

      ‘Wouldn’t this place be too far from the city for you?’

      ‘I’d use the helicopter.’

      Her turquoise eyes were perplexed. ‘It’s just not the sort of property that I would’ve expected you to be interested in. I thought possibly you were thinking of converting it into a hotel or apartments or something—’

      ‘No.’

      ‘Then if you bought it, this would actually be your home?’

      ‘My country home and where I would spend most of my time…yes,’ Andreas confirmed. ‘I like space around me.’

      ‘There’s certainly plenty of that,’ Hope conceded. ‘It’s a huge house. How many bedrooms are there?’

      ‘A dozen or so.’ Andreas shifted a casual shoulder. ‘But I have a large family circle. On special occasions those rooms would be easy to fill.’

      Hope scanned the panelled walls, massive overhead oak beams and the huge elaborate fireplace, which bore the carved date of a year in the sixteenth century. She was fascinated. ‘This must have been the Great Hall. It’s so old and yet so wonderfully well preserved,’ she whispered in frank awe of her surroundings.

      Andreas surveyed her rapt profile and decided it was a done deal; she was reacting exactly as he had hoped. He allowed her to roam where her fancy took her and watched her enchantment grow. No nook and no cranny remained unexplored. An ancient range had been left intact at one end of the vast kitchen and she went into raptures over it and the beautifully carved free-standing units. Inspecting a procession of stream-lined opulent bathrooms almost emptied her of superlative comments.

      Andreas walked her back outside through the courtyard. ‘Do you think I should buy it?’ he asked, confidence riding high.

      ‘Oh, yes…it’s fantastic,’ Hope murmured dreamily.

      Andreas pushed open the cast-iron gate into the walled garden, which was a riot of early summer roses and lush greenery. ‘Close your eyes,’ he urged softly. ‘I have a surprise for you.’

      Obediently she let her lashes dip and then lifted them again at his bidding. A traditional canvas canopy screened the sun from the tumbled cushions that were piled invitingly on the elegant striped rug spread across the manicured grass. A wicker hamper sat invitingly open with linen napkins, a chrome wine cooler and crystal glasses already lined up in readiness. It was a picnic Nicolaidis style, she registered in wonderment, so perfect in presentation and backdrop that she felt as if she had wandered into a picture in a magazine. It would no doubt knock her homemade picnics of the past into a cocked hat.

      Her generous smile lit up her lovely face. ‘Oh, this is a glorious surprise.’

      ‘I wanted to do something special that you’d really appreciate, pedhi mou.’

      Her mobile phone rang. Wishing that she had thought to switch it off, she dug it out. It was Ben. Ready embarrassment coloured her cheeks and she half turned away to speak. ‘Ben…hi.’

      Ben was ringing to congratulate her on the offer she had received from Leonie Vargas.

      ‘Don’t mind me,’ Andreas breathed very dryly.

      ‘Could I call you back later?’ Hope asked Ben in a whisper that sounded to her own ears like a shout. ‘I’m so sorry but I can’t really chat right now.’

      As she put the phone away again the silence fairly bulged with hostile undertones. Andreas was furious. At the optimum wrong moment, Campbell phoned. Was he expected to accept that? Being haunted by the ex-boyfriend? With difficulty he suppressed his annoyance by reminding himself that Hope was friendly with everybody she met.

      ‘Let’s eat,’ Andreas suggested.

      The hamper was packed to the brim with delicious items. Hope sipped fruit juice and ate until she could eat no more. She told him what Leonie Vargas was like in the flesh and made him laugh. Resting back against the tumbled cushions, she relaxed and feasted her eyes on his lean, powerful face.

      Andreas stretched out a lean, long-fingered hand to her. ‘Come here…’ he urged huskily.

      A quiver of forbidden excitement tugged at her. After a split second of hesitation, her hand reached out to close into his. He tugged her close, leaning over her to scan her with brilliant golden eyes. ‘Let’s get married and make Knightmere our home,’ he murmured smoothly.

       CHAPTER EIGHT

      HOPE’S mouth ran dry and shock tore through her tensed body. Andreas had taken her by surprise. She closed her eyes tight against the intrusion of his and let herself savour just for a moment the sheer joy of actually being asked to be his wife. There was nothing she wanted more but she knew that it would not be right for her to say yes unless he said the right words. Unfortunately those same words were words she had long since accepted that she would never hear from him.

      ‘Why?’ she questioned tightly. ‘Why are you asking me to marry you?’

      His ebony brows pleated. ‘Isn’t that obvious?’

      The first twist of disappointment tore at her and she opened strained turquoise eyes. ‘You’re thinking about the baby.’

      ‘Of course. No Nicolaidis that I know of has ever been born outside the bonds of matrimony,’ Andreas informed her with considerable pride.

      His reasons for asking her to become his wife were fairly piling up, Hope conceded unhappily. One, she was pregnant. Two, he was keen to respect the conventions.

      ‘It’s only two days since you told me that you would never marry me,’ Hope reminded him very quietly.

      ‘That was when I was still under the impression that you had been unfaithful,’ Andreas asserted without discomfiture. ‘I think we should go for a quick, quiet ceremony and throw a big party afterwards. What do you think?’

      Slowly, Hope withdrew her fingers from his and sat up. ‘I think you’re not going to like my answer.’

      Andreas misunderstood. ‘If you prefer a more traditional wedding, I don’t mind. Have as many frills as you like. How we do it isn’t important as long as we do it before the baby’s born.’

      Hope pushed herself upright. ‘I’m afraid the answer has to be…no.’

      ‘No?’ She saw that it had not once occurred to Andreas that he might meet with rejection.

      ‘I love the house, love the picnic—’ Love you too, Hope reflected painfully but kept that admission to herself ‘—but unfortunately you don’t want to marry me for the right reasons.’

      Utterly taken aback by that criticism, Andreas sprang upright, dark golden eyes incredulous. ‘What are the right reasons?’

      ‘If you don’t know, there’s no point in me spelling them out for you,’ she said heavily.

      ‘Are you still determined to keep your options open? Is that what this is all about?’ Andreas ground out.

      Her brow indented. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting at.’

      ‘Or are you punishing me for listening to my sister three months ago and letting you down?’ Andreas demanded in a raw undertone.

      Hope studied him with pained intensity. ‘I wouldn’t behave like that. But I am afraid that you were so willing to believe Elyssa’s lies because you wanted your freedom back—’

      ‘I always had my freedom. I made a free choice to be with you!’ Andreas contradicted.

      ‘And when I made the mistake of reminding you that we’d been together