The Greek's Innocent Virgin. Lucy Monroe
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burning him with indictment for the pain he saw there. “If you don’t have the necessary papers for me to sign before I leave Greece, I will see to the disposal of the properties when I return to America.”
She turned and walked from the room, ignoring his demand she wait. He watched her go, frustration gripping his insides.
Damn it all to hell. Why had he said that?
Rachel had come into his uncle’s study and set all of Sebastian’s preconceived ideas on their head. She had proven in the most basic way that her mother’s influence over her values and actions was negligible and still he had taunted her with being Andrea’s daughter.
It had been unfair and obviously painful to her.
He could not remember the last time he had apologized to a woman, but he was sure he needed to offer one now.
Rachel sat across from Phillippa Kouros and wondered why she’d talked herself into joining the family for dinner. She’d felt rude asking for yet another meal to be served in her room and then there had been the message from Sebastian. He’d sent a servant to inform her he expected her to share the meal with the family.
And she’d come, not wanting to offend him.
Why did she care what the judgmental tyrant thought of her? He’d shown her that despite his kindness in the past, just like everyone else, he saw her through a glass tinted by her mother’s bad blood. So what if he was the one man she’d ever felt a physical reaction to?
Her adolescent fantasies of him as the hero of her dreams were just that and she needed to vanquish those images forever from her brain.
Which meant she should be doing her best to complete the break with the Kouros and Demakis families.
Nevertheless, she found herself trying to draw his mother into conversation. The older woman’s dark eyes were too sad for Rachel’s tender heart to ignore.
Sebastian had been called from the table to take an urgent international call at the beginning of dinner. His brother had left the island with the rest of the family after the wills had been read.
“I’ve only got a small patio at my apartment, but I keep an herb garden,” Rachel said as the salad course was served.
Phillippa’s great passion was gardening and Rachel gave silent thanks for something to talk about unrelated to the family’s recent loss.
“Basil and mint grow especially well in pots,” Phillippa replied, her dulled eyes lighting a little with interest. “I had not expected you to like gardening. Andrea was appalled by the very idea of getting dirt on her hands.”
“My mother and I shared very little in common.”
“That is unfortunate.”
“Yes.” What else could she say?
“A mother and a daughter can find much joy in sharing one another’s lives. My own mother taught me many things, not least of which was a love of growing things.”
“She must have been a very special woman.”
“She was. She and Uncle Matthias were always close.” The grief came back to settle over Phillippa like a physical mantle.
“Did you teach your sons to garden?” Rachel honestly couldn’t imagine Sebastian or Aristide tending plants, but she hoped the question would get Phillippa’s mind off of her grief.
The older woman smiled with indulgence. “No. Those two were always too busy for such a time intensive hobby.” She shook her head. “I have two wonderful sons, but I would have liked having a daughter as well.”
“I’m sure when they marry, their wives will find you a welcome addition to their lives.”
The thought of Sebastian married to a proper Greek girl caused pain deep in the region of her heart, but Rachel disregarded it. She had grown very adept at ignoring her feelings.
But Phillippa was shaking her head again. “They were too busy as boys for hobbies and are too busy as men making money to find wives. Sebastian is already thirty and he has never even dated a woman longer than a few weeks.”
“I’m sure when the time is right…” Her voice trailed off at the strange look in the older woman’s dark eyes.
But before she could question it, Sebastian returned from his telephone call.
He folded his tall frame into the chair at the end of the table. “Mama, there is something I would appreciate you doing for Rachel.”
The Greek woman looked at her son with obvious love and approval. “What is it, my son?”
“She wants to donate her mother’s possessions to auction for charity, but she doesn’t want anything of sentimental value to the family to be sold.” He looked to Rachel as if expecting her to confirm or deny his words.
So, she nodded. “That’s right.”
Phillippa’s dark brown eyes expressed her surprise. “You wish me to go through your mother’s things with you?”
“Just the things in her room. Anything that might be considered hers in the other rooms of the house can simply stay with the villa.” She’d thought about it and that seemed the easiest way to handle the situation.
“But surely you’ll want the things she treasured.”
“No.”
“I have a few items of my mother’s. They give me comfort when I think of her.”
“I will find more satisfaction knowing her possessions brought something good to the lives of children in need.”
The compassionate understanding in Phillippa’s eyes was almost enough to make Rachel lose the rigid hold she had on her emotions. “I understand. I would be pleased to help you.”
“Thank you,” Rachel replied with deep sincerity.
The sweet fragrance of honeysuckle mingled with the warm, salt laden air off the sea, wrapping around Rachel while her toes sank into pebbly sand. Unable to sleep, she’d come down to the beach, thinking a walk would help settle her mind.
But it wasn’t her mind that needed settling.
It was her body.
Being around Sebastian always did this to her, made her aware of her femininity in a way she managed to ignore the rest of the time. After what had happened to her when she was sixteen, that wasn’t hard, but somehow the powerful tycoon undermined defenses that were rock-solid around other men.
And he didn’t even try.
Sebastian Kouros had no interest in her, had never once intimated that he was aware of her as anything other than his beloved great-uncle’s stepdaughter.
But that didn’t stop her hormones from raging, or her heart from tying itself in knots over him.
“What are you doing out here, pethi mou?”
Spinning around at the sound of his voice, her heart climbed right up into her throat. She staggered backward away from that all too close masculine body, her feet hitting wet sand and then water. “Sebastian!”
His hands shot out and grabbed her shoulders, stopping her from an ignominious landing in the shallow water. “You did not know I was here?”
She shook her head dumbly.
He pulled her forward until her feet were once again on dry land, but he did not move, leaving her way too close to him. “I made no attempt to disguise my approach.”
“I w-was thinking.” She stumbled over her words, her brain processing the new sensory input from his arrival.
His fingers were warm and solid through the silk-thin cotton of her sleeves and his scent, spicy and overwhelmingly male, dominated her senses. The full moon supplied sufficient light for