Stavros watched her eyes widen, the pupils dilating in those green depths, and felt a stab of savage satisfaction. Even from here he sensed her fear, though she stood ramrod-straight, her jaw angled up defiantly.

      Good. She deserved to worry about his next move. He’d been tempted to have his staff call the police. They’d keep her locked up while they dealt with the charges. Trespass at least. No doubt they could arrange a few others, perhaps threats of violence or attempted blackmail?

      But much as he’d prefer to be rid of her disturbing physical presence, Tessa Marlowe wasn’t going anywhere. If he released her into police custody there was a chance her story would leak to the Press. Some tantalising snippet aimed at persuading him to be generous in his settlement.

      No. Ms Marlowe would stay right here where he could keep an eye on her.

      He rolled his shoulders, still stiff with the strain of repressed anger that had escalated through the night.

      Every congratulatory comment at last evening’s party, every good wish for a fruitful union, had notched the tension in his gut tighter. For the first time in his life he’d felt a fraud, lying to his family, his friends and to the woman he’d decided to take as his wife.

      He didn’t like the feeling one iota. Or the sensation of matters being beyond his control. That he, who prided himself on his well-regulated world, should be caught in this preposterous situation, barely one step removed from bigamy—it was untenable!

      ‘What do you want?’ Her voice was a fraction rough, proof that she wasn’t as calm as she tried to appear.

      He paced into the room, ignoring the spike of heat in his bloodstream as he approached her. That was the ultimate insult to his pride and his intelligence. The fact that, even recognising her as a greedy opportunist, he wanted her, with a potent longing that astounded him.

      Lust had never been so urgently consuming. He had to fight the raw compulsion to reach out and feel her soft flesh beneath his, lose himself in her.

      He, a man of honour. Who had just vowed to marry another woman!

      No matter that he’d chosen his fiancée because of her impeccable credentials in meeting his requirements for a wife, hostess and mother of his children. No matter that their emotions weren’t engaged, or that they’d yet to consummate their relationship. He owed her his loyalty.

      He’d spent the night coming to terms with the unpalatable fact that it was Tessa Marlowe who stirred his blood, not his fiancée, Angela. He wouldn’t grant this woman the satisfaction of realising it.

      ‘I’ve come to see if you need anything.’

      Her fine brows arched up and the look she sent him could have befitted a supercilious monarch. She really did have attitude.

      But they both knew it was a bluff. He had the power to break her if he chose, despite the fact of the marriage contract they’d signed. Money spoke loud and clear. Always. And his sort of wealth could achieve almost anything. She’d do well to remember that.

      ‘What more could I need when my host is so…generous with his hospitality?’

      Despite himself, Stavros felt his mouth kick up at one corner in appreciation of her reckless courage. Obviously, despite the doctor’s concerns, she was fit enough to fight.

      He’d come in here expecting to see her languishing at death’s door. Severe physical and mental exhaustion, the doctor had said, plus borderline malnutrition and the after-effects of giardia from drinking tainted water.

      For a while there, Stavros had seriously questioned whether he’d misjudged her. But, seeing her now, it seemed clear the doctor had taken her word about the symptoms and been duped by an excellent actress. As for the malnutrition—starving herself in order to get her hands on several million dollars wasn’t out of the question. Unfortunately Stavros had first-hand experience of women unscrupulous enough to do even that. He was long past the age when a sob story and a show of feminine weakness might impress him.