Greek Bachelors: Buying His Bride: Bought: The Greek's Innocent Virgin / His for a Price / Securing the Greek's Legacy. Julia James
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dancing with him was shameful, sinful and like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
Her mind and body moved into a different place altogether and when the music finally shifted to a different rhythm it took her a moment to register her surroundings and return to reality.
They stared at each other for an endless moment, and then he released her and stepped away from her.
There was a strange light in his dark eyes as he studied her.
‘I’ll fetch us both a drink.’ His tone was noticeably cooler than it had been before they’d danced.
He strode off and she blinked several times, disorientated by the sudden change in his attitude. A moment ago they’d been in another world, just the two of them, and now—
She took a few deep breaths, trying to settle the intense reaction of her body. He seemed angry—but why would he be angry?
It had been his choice to dance, not hers.
And she hadn’t trodden on his toes or fallen on the floor.
Wondering what she’d done to bring about such a change in him, she was about to melt into the background when a woman approached her.
‘I’m Marianna Killington-Forbes.’ She spoke in a lazy English upper-class accent, and the smile that touched her mouth went nowhere near her eyes. ‘You look very familiar. Have we met?’
Oh, yes, they’d met.
Chantal’s legs started to shake as her disguise fell away. She felt naked and exposed, her past no longer safely concealed but rising in front of her like some vile, malevolent demon. She was going to die of embarrassment and humiliation. Right now. Right here. ‘I—’
‘She doesn’t speak much English, Marianna. I told her to stay with me and not wander off, but we were separated in the crowd.’ The heavily accented voice came from directly behind her, and Chantal turned to find a man by her side. She guessed him to be in his seventies, but he was still ridiculously handsome and his eyes were kind as he smiled down at her. He said something to her in a language that she didn’t understand and then took her freezing cold hand in his, tucking it firmly into the bend of his arm as he drew her close. ‘Marianna?’ His eyes lost some of their warmth as he looked at her tormentor. ‘Is there something that you wish to say? I can try and translate, if you would like?’
The woman’s mouth tightened. ‘She didn’t seem to be having any problems communicating with Angelos.’
The man smiled. ‘As you no doubt noticed, they use an entirely different method of communication.’
Jealousy flashed in the other woman’s eyes and she turned her attention back to Chantal. ‘Well, I wish you luck with your relationship. The ability not to converse could stand you in good stead, given that Angelos never expects conversation from his women anyway.’
Still frozen with horror that Marianna had recognised her face, Chantal watched with relief as the other woman stalked away, apparently unable to recall her name or exactly how she knew her.
‘You’re shaking.’ The man’s voice was soft, and Chantal clung to his arm, struggling to pull herself together. Desperately hoping that her dance partner wasn’t going to choose that moment to reappear, she took several deep breaths.
‘Do you think—could you just stay with me for a minute?’ Her voice cracked. ‘I don’t want to be left on my own just now.’
‘You are not on your own.’ His hand covered hers, and she felt the warmth of his fingers thaw the chill in her bones.
‘Thank you,’ she whispered, so pathetically grateful for his intervention that she almost hugged him on the spot. ‘I don’t know why you did that, but I’ll never forget it. You’ve been so, so kind. How did you know I needed rescuing?’
‘When she walked up to you, your face turned white. I thought you were going to faint. You don’t like her, no?’
‘Well, I—’
‘Don’t be embarrassed. I don’t like her either,’ the man said firmly. ‘I never could stand that woman. I wonder why she was invited.’
Chantal thought back to the misery of her schooldays. ‘Her daddy is very rich.’
‘Really? He clearly didn’t spend his money feeding his family.’ The man made a disparaging noise. ‘To look at her you’d think she was starved from birth. Her bones should be classified as a lethal weapon. If you bumped into her, you’d be bruised all over.’
Despite her insecurities, Chantal couldn’t help laughing. He was not only kind, he was also funny. She glanced at him curiously, thinking that he reminded her of someone. ‘I’d better leave—’ She started to move, but he tightened his grip on her arm.
‘If you leave,’ he said softly, ‘then they’ll think they’ve won. Is that what you want?’
She stilled, wondering how he knew what she was feeling. ‘Everyone is staring at me—’
‘So smile,’ the man instructed calmly. ‘Lift your chin and smile. You have as much right to be here as the rest of them.’ Without giving her the chance to argue, he led her to two vacant chairs. ‘Sit for a moment and keep a lonely old man company. I hate these things. I always feel out of place.’
‘That can’t possibly be true. You look as confident as anyone here.’
‘But appearances can be deceptive, can’t they?’ His gentle comment made it clear that he was aware of how uncomfortable and insecure she felt.
His unusual insight probably should have worried her, but it didn’t. All she felt was the most profound gratitude. Not only had he rescued her from a potentially embarrassing situation, he was now pretending that her fears and insecurities were nothing out of the ordinary.
‘Why are you being so kind to me?’
‘I’m not being kind. I hate these events. You can’t blame me for enjoying myself with the best-looking woman in the room.’
She wished her hands would stop shaking. ‘If you hate them, why did you come?’
‘To please my son. He is worried that I haven’t been getting out enough lately.’
‘In that case he won’t want to see you wasting your time with me.’ And she should be leaving. Before Marianna remembered who she was.
‘That dance—’ The man glanced towards her, the corners of his eyes crinkling. ‘It was like watching one person. The rhythm was perfect, the chemistry between the two of you—Only lovers can dance the Argentine tango like that.’
Lovers?
Chantal opened her mouth to tell him that they hadn’t even exchanged names, but then decided that it would be embarrassing to admit that she’d danced like that with a total stranger.
What had Marianne called him? Angelos?
So she’d been right about one thing; he definitely wasn’t English.
What would it be like, she mused dreamily, to be loved by a man like that?
‘And even now you can’t stop thinking about him, can you?’ The man sounded pleased. ‘You share something deep. He cares. I can see with my own eyes. The way he looked at you. The way you looked at him. The way you moved together, as if there was no one else in the room. The body says more than words. I can see from watching you that your relationship is serious.’
His observation shocked her out of her dreams. ‘Oh. Well, no, it isn’t exactly—’
‘You don’t have to be secretive with me. I may be old enough to be your father, but that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be in love. I want to know how you felt the first time you saw him. Tell me!’
Chantal hesitated and then smiled, drawn by