The Greek's Chosen Wife. Lynne Graham

previous year on one of his flying visits. She had entire albums and scrapbooks filled with photos, tabloid cuttings and memorabilia about him. For so long she had acted like a schoolgirl running a one-woman secret fan club.

      Even though she saw him only a handful of times a year, Nikolos had been the centre of her world. His sexy drawl on the phone and the nurse he had insisted on hiring had lifted her sagging spirits when times were tough during her mother’s long, slow decline and after her death the previous year. She had enjoyed days out in London when he would meet her for lunch and afterwards give her the official tour of his latest new office building or his most recent business acquisition. Although she had never lived with him as his wife, she was proud that she had had the maturity to overcome the disillusionment of their wedding night and win his trust as a friend.

      It was really only after Trixie had died that Prudence had had the time to think about her own needs and what was best for her, and she had almost immediately boxed up the albums and put them away. Nourishing a morbid interest in Nik’s taste in other women and cherishing a girlish flame of unrequited love was doing her no favours. Having finally come to terms with those facts, she had sunk her energy into the animal sanctuary. She had got over Nik and her longings for him. That was an achievement of which she was immensely proud. Slowly but surely she had also begun to understand what would really make her happy. To be truly, madly happy, she had decided, she needed a child on whom she could heap all the love she had to give. And very fortunately for her, she thought wryly, medical science meant that she was not dependent on Nik to make her dream of motherhood come true.

      Feeling buoyant at the very idea of attaining her dream of eventually becoming a mother, Prudence reached for the photo of Nik, opened the drawer in the bedside cabinet and carefully put it away. Before she could even contemplate having a child, she had to get a divorce from Nik and she was ready to take that step. Once they were divorced, however, Nik would vanish from her life, for she was convinced that he only maintained regular contact with her out of a sense of duty and responsibility. Some day soon, therefore, she would never lay eyes on him again…

      An unexpected knock on the bedroom door jolted Prudence out of her disturbing thoughts. Dottie, a rotund little dynamo of a woman in her fifties, appeared with a broad smile and a breakfast tray.

      ‘Dottie…my goodness, you shouldn’t have!’

      ‘After everything that you’ve done for Sam and me, I don’t want to hear another word. It’s your birthday. Enjoy! We’ll feed the animals today—’

      ‘No, no way! Leo’s coming and the vet’s due later. You’ll have plenty to do while I’m out. Anyway, breakfast is more than sufficient.’

      But of course Dottie and her husband, Sam, the tenants of the tiny cottage attached to the end wall of the farmhouse, had a card and a gift for her as well. Prudence embarked on the morning feeding routine later than she usually did.

      ‘So…this is the big day,’ Leo commented when he arrived to help her. ‘Ready for blast-off?’

      ‘Stop teasing me.’ Prudence threw the tall, fair-haired teacher a cheerful look of reproach as she doled out bran mash for a pair of elderly donkeys. The sanctuary had a rota of willing helpers but Leo Burleigh was the most knowledgeable and regular. He lived only a field away and in recent years had become her closest friend. ‘Nik won’t bat an eyelash when I tell him my plans. He’s unshockable—’

      ‘With regard to his own freedom of choice,’ Leo slotted in wryly. ‘But I’ll be surprised if he takes the same liberal view of his wife’s lifestyle—’

      ‘For goodness’ sake, don’t call me that.’ Prudence tossed some carrot and apple into the mash before moving on to the next shed to attend to an orphaned fox cub that had been brought in. ‘I’m not and I have never been Nik’s wife—’

      ‘Yet he refers to you as his wife in interviews—’

      ‘That’s just because journalists ask him stupid, nosy questions and he’s forced to pretend—’

      ‘Maybe he’s not pretending. It could be that he’s very much an old-style, unreconstructed and thoroughly sexist Greek tycoon—’

      ‘Nik’s not an old-style anything!’

      ‘Isn’t he? Some would say that accepting an arranged marriage for family reasons was incredibly medieval but he did it. He also runs a stable of mistresses but still has no problem regarding you as his wife—’

      ‘Nik looks on me as a friend but I suspect that a few years back…’ Prudence ducked her head down, wishing Leo hadn’t mentioned the mistresses as her tummy always turned queasy when anyone referred to that subject. ‘…well, back then he had a fair idea of my feelings for him. I think that’s why he didn’t ask for a divorce the minute he was free to walk out of Demakis International.’

      ‘You certainly took the heat off Nik Angelis there,’ Leo mused, watching her take care of the cub with the minimum of fuss. ‘Didn’t your grandfather blame you for walking out on your marriage to come back to England and look after your mother?’

      ‘By that stage I don’t really think my grandfather gave two hoots what I did,’ Prudence countered wryly.

      Just when Theo Demakis had been in the act of divorcing his estranged wife that same year, the lady had announced that she was pregnant. Jubilant at having fathered his own child, her grandfather had lost interest in the idea of Nik and Prudence providing the next generation. Sadly, however, the story had recently reached a most unhappy conclusion when DNA testing had revealed that Theo’s son and heir was not his child after all. A very bitter divorce had taken place and the older man’s response had been anything but gracious when Prudence had written in all sincerity to offer her sympathy.

      ‘But as your husband, Nik may well have a different perspective on your current plans,’ Leo warned her. ‘Just watch how you break the news about the sperm bank…’

      Prudence turned an uncomfortable pink. ‘I wasn’t planning to mention that just yet.’

      Nik was not due until one. But a couple who had adopted a dog from the sanctuary called back for a visit and by the time they departed Prudence was running exceedingly late. She pulled on the long grey skirt and a blouse and jacket that she currently reserved for special occasions and began applying polish to her short nails in a rush. When she dropped the brush and smeared peach polish over her blouse and skirt, she could’ve screamed. The clattering whap-whap of Nik’s helicopter was already sounding overhead. Raking through a wardrobe that offered no formal alternatives, she dragged out a flouncy cerise sun dress that she kept for the garden and hauled it on. It fell to her ankles but bared her shoulders and most of her arms. Grimacing at her reflection, she unfolded a lilac pashmina and wrapped it round her as tightly and thoroughly as if she was facing a blizzard.

      She liked to cover up and hated wearing anything that might draw attention to her full figure. Her mother had once wept inconsolably in her disappointment at having an only child who had failed to inherit her slender blonde beauty. Having accepted that she was homely, Prudence gave very little thought to her appearance. She was five feet two inches tall with a big bosom and generous hips. Although the adolescent plumpness she had suffered had mercifully melted away as she left the teenage years behind, she knew that she had no hope of ever attaining the tall, skinny, long-legged look of her youthful fantasies.

      The helicopter landed in the paddock next to the house. Nik, immaculate in his designer-cut charcoal-grey suit, sprang out and headed for the front door. A man emerged from the barn toting a bale of hay. The two men exchanged nods. Nik hit the doorbell. Just when he was about to try the back door instead, Prudence appeared, breathless and flushed. ‘Nikolos…’

      ‘Pudding…’ Nik bent down to kiss her on both cheeks. Her chestnut-brown hair swung forward, her delicate floral scent filling his nostrils. He stepped back from her again, feeling oddly awkward with her for the first time in years. He wondered if he should mention that pashminas were usually draped rather than tied and decided not to bother.

      Her soft blue gaze