Her Greek Groom: The Tycoon's Mistress / Smokescreen Marriage / His Forbidden Bride. Sara Craven
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privacy.’ She frowned. ‘Don’t the islanders mind?’
‘There is enough room for all of us.’ He shrugged. ‘If they wish to stay behind high walls, that is their problem.’
There was a silence, then he said, ‘When I saw you, you were limping. Why?’
Cressy fought back a gasp.
She said curtly, ‘You don’t miss much, do you? My foot’s a little sore, that’s all.’
‘You have sprained your ankle?’
‘No—nothing like that.’
‘What, then?’
Cressy hesitated. ‘It’s just a small blister.’ She forced a smile. ‘I seem to have lost the knack of walking.’
He nodded. ‘And also of living, I think.’
Cressy flushed. ‘So you keep saying. But it’s not true. I have a terrific life. I’m very successful, and very happy. And you have no right to imply otherwise,’ she added hotly. ‘You don’t know me, or anything about me.’
‘I am trying,’ he said. ‘But you don’t make it easy.’
‘Then perhaps you should take the hint,’ she flashed. ‘Find a more willing subject to analyse.’
She was suddenly thrown across the seat as Draco swung the wheel, turning his ramshackle vehicle on to the verge, where he stopped.
‘What are you doing?’ Cressy struggled to regain her balance, feeling her breath quicken as Draco turned slowly to face her.
‘You think you are unwilling?’ The agate eyes glittered at her. ‘But you are wrong. You are only unaware.’
He allowed that to sink in, nodding slightly at her indrawn breath, then went on, ‘As for the happiness and the success you speak of, I see no such things in you. A woman who is fulfilled has an inner light. Her eyes shine, her skin blooms. But when I look into your eyes I see sadness and fear, matia mou.’
He paused. ‘And not all high walls are made of stone. Remember that.’
Cressy’s back was rigid. She said raggedly, ‘I’m sure this chat-up line works with some people, but not with me, kyrie. You’re insolent, and arrogant, and I’d prefer to walk the rest of the way.’
Draco restarted the truck. ‘You will hurt no one but yourself, thespinis. And you will walk nowhere until that blister has received attention,’ he added curtly. ‘So don’t be a fool.’
She had never been so angry. She sat with her arms wrapped round her body, damming back the words of fury and condemnation that threatened to choke her. Fighting back tears, too, unexpected and inexplicable.
She didn’t move until the truck stopped outside Yannis’s taverna, and she turned to make a measured and final exit, only to find herself fighting with the recalcitrant door catch.
Draco had no such problems, she realised with gritted teeth as he jumped out of the driving seat and appeared beside her. In a second the door was open, and Cressy found herself being lifted out of the passenger side and carried round the side of the taverna to a flight of white-painted stone steps.
Gasping, she began to struggle, trying vainly to get her arms free so that she could hit him. ‘How dare you? You bastard. Put me down—put me down now.’
She saw Yannis in a doorway with a plump, pretty woman in a faded red dress standing beside him, their faces masks of astonishment. Heard Draco bark some kind of command in his own language as he started up the steps with Cressy still pinned helplessly against his chest.
The door at the top of the stairs was standing open, and Cressy was carried through it into a corridor lined by half a dozen doors in dark, carved wood.
Draco opened the nearest and shouldered his way in. It was a large room, its pale walls tinged with the glow of sunset from the half-open shutters at the window.
The floor was tiled and there was a chest of drawers, a clothes cupboard and a large bed covered in immaculate white linen, towards which she was being relentlessly carried.
And her anger gave way to swift, nerve-shredding panic.
As Draco put her down on the coverlet, she heard herself whisper, ‘No—please…’ and hated the note of pleading in her voice.
Draco straightened, his face cold, his mouth a thin line. ‘Do not insult me. I have told Maria to come to you. Now, wait there.’
As he reached the door, he was met by the plump woman carrying towels, a basket containing soap and shampoo, and, most welcome of all, a bottle of drinking water.
She rounded on Draco, her voice shrill and scolding, and he grinned down at her, lifting his hands in mock surrender as he went out, closing the door behind him.
Maria looked at Cressy, her dark eyes unwelcoming. She said in slow, strongly accented English, ‘Who are you, kyria, and what are you doing here?’
Cressy said wearily, ‘I don’t think I know any more.’ And at last her precarious self-control slipped, and she burst into a flood of tears.
SHE hadn’t intended it, but it was probably the best thing she could have done. Because next moment she’d been swept into Maria’s embrace and was being cooed at in Greek, while a surprisingly gentle hand stroked her hair.
When the choking sobs began to subside, she was urged into the little tiled shower-room.
‘All will be well, little one,’ Maria said as she left her alone. ‘You will see. Men,’ she added in a tone of robust disapproval.
The warm water and shampoo provided a healing therapy of their own, and Cressy felt almost human again as she wandered back into the bedroom with the largest towel wrapped round her like a sarong.
She checked in surprise because her discarded clothing seemed to have vanished. True, she hadn’t been looking forward to putting it on again, but, apart from a change of underwear in her bag, it was all she had. And she could hardly travel back to Alakos in a towel.
Then she saw that there was something lying on the bed—a dress in filmy white cotton, with a full skirt and a square neck embroidered with flowers.
She heard a sound at the door, and turned eagerly. ‘Oh, Maria,’ she began, and stopped, her breath catching in her throat, as Draco strode into the room.
She swallowed, her hand instinctively going to the knot that secured the towel in place.
She said icily, ‘Get out of here—now. Or I’ll scream for Maria.’
‘You will need strong lungs. Maria is busy in the kitchen.’ He put down the bowl he was carrying on the table beside the bed. ‘And I am here on an errand of mercy. Let me see your foot.’
‘My foot is fine.’
‘You wish to have an infection?’ His tone was inflexible. ‘And spend the rest of your vacation in hospital?’ He pointed to the bed. ‘Sit down.’
‘You have an answer for everything,’ Cressy said as she mutinously obeyed. ‘I suppose you trained as a doctor between fishing and dancing in restaurants.’
His mouth twisted. ‘No, thespinis. I took a course in common sense.’
He knelt in front of her and lifted her foot gently to examine it. His fingers were gentle and cool, and she felt a strange shiver of awareness glide between her shoulder blades and down her spine. He glanced up.
‘I am hurting you?’
‘No.’ Cressy bit her lip, trying to appear composed. But it wasn’t easy. The clean, male scent