Irresistible Greeks Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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arms to you again? Take up with you again just where you left off—or rather, just before where you left off, at the bit where you hadn’t yet denounced her as your brother-in-law’s marriage-wrecker?
Of course she wasn’t going to tamely come right back to him. Of course she was going to throw him out on his ear …
His eyes flashed darkly as he berated himself yet again.
You never stood a chance of getting her back. Not after what you did to her.
Then his expression hardened. Yes, well, she had no call to feel herself ill-used. She was the one who’d welcomed the attentions of a man she knew was married. That was what he had to remember. Then another thought flickered uncomfortably across his consciousness—that cramped, dilapidated cottage she lived in, stark evidence of a penurious background that would have meant Ian’s lavish attentions being so very tempting to her. No wonder a practised, suave philanderer like his brother-in-law had been able to impress her, lead her astray. She’d fallen head first for his superficial charms and turned a conveniently blind eye to the wedding ring he wore.
That was what he had to remember. That was what justified what he’d done to her.
But another emotion slashed across his consciousness, obliterating any others. What did it matter now whether he was or was not justified in what he’d done? The fact that he’d done it had destroyed his chances of getting her back—that was all. Marisa had sent him packing and that was that. She was gone. He’d lost her.
All that was left was frustration.
One more emotion. One he was trying hard not to admit to. Because in comparison even the most obsessive frustration was easier to endure.
We were good together—it worked. I don’t know precisely why, or how, but it did. It was easy being with her—natural.
His mind went back to that idyllic fortnight in the Caribbean, remembering how his mind had plucked so troublingly at what he was doing, what he was going to have to do when they went back to London, when he could no longer shut his eyes to the purpose he’d set out with, when he’d have to set aside what they were enjoying now and destroy it all …
Well, I did destroy it—and I can hardly sit here and complain that I can’t get her back, can I? I did what I did for my sister’s sake, and now I have to accept the consequences.
It was stern talk, and he knew he had to hand it out to himself. But even as he did so, he could hear another voice, deep inside.
Saving your sister’s marriage has lost you something you will never recover … never …
His eyes gazed out unseeing over the conference hall.
His face as bleak as a winter wind.
Marisa turned down the radio and cocked her ears. It was a car approaching, she could tell. She frowned. It wasn’t the day for her grocery delivery, and very little traffic other than heavy farm vehicles ventured this far along the dead-end lane. Setting down her paint roller and clambering off the chair she’d been standing on to reach the parlour ceiling she was busy painting, she made her way to the front door. As she got there an envelope came through the letterbox. Opening the door, she saw the postman getting back into his van and reversing. She gave him a half wave of acknowledgement and picked up the envelope. Her frown deepened. She got very little post, but the handwriting was familiar. She felt a knot start in her stomach.
It was from Ian.
Slowly, she took the envelope into the kitchen and slit it open, drawing out a handwritten letter.
My dearest Marisa—I have something I simply must say to you …
The knot tightened in her stomach, but she made herself read on. When she reached the end she stared for a moment, blinking.
Should she really do what Ian was asking?
It took her all day and all of a sleepless night to find the answer, but in the morning she dug out her mobile and texted him. It was the first time she’d contacted him since she’d sent him away—over a month ago now. He texted back almost instantly, cock-a-hoop, telling her he’d made the arrangements and all she had to do was get herself to Plymouth railway station. He would meet her at Paddington that afternoon.
His buoyancy did not elicit a similar response in her. Foreboding filled her. Should she really go ahead with this? She looked about her. The little cottage looked a lot better now than it had when she’d first fled back here. She’d subjected the whole place to a spring clean, and was now working her way round the rooms, brightening them with fresh paint. Outside, the garden was in full spring glory—daffodils thronging the beds, primroses nestling near the sun-warmed earth, the foliage in verdant green leaf. There was birdsong in the air, which was sweet and mild with the eventual promise of summer to come.
Could she really face leaving this remote, tranquil haven, where she had finally started to find some peace after all the torment she had been through? Could she really face going back up to London, doing what Ian wanted of her?
Becoming part of his life again …
Deep reluctance warred with longing.
But he was so adamant that now was the time. That he was finally brave enough to do what he knew with every fibre of his being he had to do. Tell the truth about them.
He said as much to her when he sat down with her over a drink in a pub close to Paddington station, where he had taken her after meeting the train.
‘I’ve got to do it, Marisa,’ he said, his expression full. ‘I’ve got to tell Eva. And you have to be there when I tell her, so that she will believe how much you mean to me.’
Anxiety and doubt filled her eyes. ‘Ian, I’m just not sure … ‘
‘Well, I am sure,’ he told her. He took her hand, squeezing it fondly. ‘I won’t live this lie any longer. I’ve tried to—God knows I’ve tried. I tried while you were here in London and I hated it—keeping you a secret the way I did. And I tried when you went back to Devon and buried yourself there. But I hated it still—and I will go on hating it, Marisa, until we stop keeping this a secret.’
He took a breath and went on. ‘Things are different now. It’s not just that I’ve missed you like the devil since you went away, but things have changed for me, too. You know I chucked in the job at Eva’s brother’s company? Well, I’m glad I did. I’ve got another job, and it’s one I really want to make something of.’
His expression changed, and Marisa could see the enthusiasm in it, hear the vigour in his voice.
‘I’ve been taken on as marketing director of a third world fairtrade company that wants to tackle the supermarkets. I’m really fired up by it—it’s a great cause, and I feel I can use my talents to do something important.’ He made a rueful face. ‘It also frees me from any sense of obligation or gratitude towards Eva’s brother. In the circumstances—’ he eyed Marisa meaningfully ‘—that’s pretty much essential.’
He squeezed her hand again.
‘Finally I feel I’m in a position to open up about you—to come clean. And that’s what I want to do tonight.’ He took one last decisive breath. ‘We’ve got to do it, Marisa. You and me—telling the world about us.’ He got to his feet, drawing her with him. Smiling down at her. ‘Let’s go and do it,’ he said.
Still filled with anxiety, Marisa went with him.
Absently, Athan fingered a wine glass set out on the table in one of the hotel’s private dining rooms. Eva was talking to the butler, telling him she’d changed her mind about what desserts to have.
For himself, Athan couldn’t have cared less what she’d chosen for that evening. He had no appetite—none at all. Certainly not for this travesty of a ‘family celebration’ that Eva had said she was organising at her favourite Park Lane hotel.
‘It