A Mediterranean Marriage. Lynne Graham
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shook Lily. ‘If he wanted female company to wile away his stay in London that summer, he should have picked someone older and wiser. Instead he led you up the garden path and then ditched you without a word of warning.’
At that angry response, Lily turned startled blue eyes to her sister’s taut profile. ‘I never realised that you felt like that.’
‘I hate his guts,’ Hilary confided with a shocking lack of hesitation. ‘More so since I’ve realised the damage he did to your confidence. It’s unnatural for a girl of your age not to date. You’ve always been a little shy and reserved but, after what he did, it was like you locked yourself up tight and threw the key away! I’m sorry…I should mind my own business.’
‘No, it’s all right.’ Lily swallowed the aching thickness in her throat, touched by Hilary’s loyalty and love but pained by her perception.
Although her sister remained unaware of the reality, she had pushed herself out on dates over the past year, hoping to meet someone who might make her feel as Rauf once had and enable her to finally shake free of the past. Only it hadn’t happened. But, very fortunately, her sibling had got the actual identity of the man who had most damaged Lily’s trust in his sex quite wrong and Lily knew that she would never tell the sister she loved the truth for there would be no gain to be made from causing Hilary such pain now.
Yes, Rauf’s sudden defection had hurt her terribly, but then he had never mentioned love or the future and indeed had told her that he had no intention of ever getting married. On his terms, what they had shared had only been a minor flirtation. She was not bitter about it. Was it Rauf’s fault that she had managed to convince herself that he thought more of her than he in fact had? No, she answered for herself. She had been young, inexperienced and so much in love that she had not wanted to face the unfortunate reality that these days a gorgeous, sophisticated guy expected sex to be part of any relationship, serious or casual. Most probably, Rauf had dumped her because she had failed to deliver on that score.
‘No, it’s not all right,’ Hilary muttered unhappily. ‘You’re almost twenty-four and I really shouldn’t be talking to you and interfering in your life as though you’re still a teenager.’
An involuntary grin lit Lily’s tense face for Hilary was like a mother hen and never stopped interfering. ‘Don’t worry about it.’
Almost fourteen years older than Lily, Hilary often treated her more like a daughter than a sister. Their mother had died from post-natal complications within days of Lily’s birth and from then on Hilary had shouldered a lot of responsibility within their home. Childcare had been arranged for the daylight hours but it had been Hilary who had fed her newborn sister during the night and rocked her to sleep. It had also been Hilary who had sacrificed her chance to go to university sooner than leave her toddler sibling to the charge of an ever-changing series of carers and a father, who had often acted as guide for the tours that had once been the core element of Harris Travel’s prosperity.
She was very conscious of how much she owed Hilary, and there was little that Lily would not have done to lighten her sister’s current load in life. Between family commitments and the endless challenge of battling to prop up a failing business and live on a shoestring, her sister already had too much on her plate and Lily only wished that she were in a position to do more to help. Unfortunately, during term time, she worked in a nursery school a couple of hundred miles away.
In a few short weeks, when the new school term started, she would be returning to work and nowhere within reach when Hilary needed an extra pair of hands or even a supportive hug. Unhappily, flying out to Turkey in Hilary’s stead was all that lay within Lily’s power and, although she dreaded seeing Rauf again, accepting that necessity without dramatising the event felt like the very least she could do in return.
‘There’s a message for you,’ Lily was informed when she finally got to check into her small hotel at two the following morning.
As she trekked after the porter showing her to her room, Lily shook open the folded sheet of paper and then sucked in a sharp sustaining breath.
‘Mr Kasabian will meet you at eleven a.m. on the fourth at the Aegean Court Hotel.’
For what remained of the night, she dozed in stretches, wakening several times with a start and the fading memory of vivid dreams that unsettled and embarrassed her. Dreams about Rauf and the summer she had turned twenty-one. Rauf Kasabian, the guy who had convinced her that a woman could actually die from unrequited love and longing. How had he done that to her? How had he got past her defences in the first instance? It still bewildered Lily that she, who had until then backed off in helpless distaste from masculine overtures, had somehow felt only the most shocking, soaring happiness and satisfaction when Rauf had been the offender.
When she walked out of her hotel later that morning to climb into a taxi, she felt hot and bothered and so nervous she literally felt sick. The document case she carried contained copies of all the relevant account-book entries and bank statements that Hilary had given her as proof that all dues had been paid over to Rauf’s company, MMI, on the correct dates. She was dropped off at an enormous, opulent hotel complex with a long line of international flags flying outside the imposing main doors.
Rauf had not paraded his great wealth in London. In fact she had had no grasp whatsoever of his true standing in the business world until her father had made discreet enquiries through his bank about the male offering him financial backing. Her father’s bank manager had suggested that Douglas Harris break out the champagne to celebrate such a generous offer from a business tycoon whom he had described as being one of the richest and most powerful media moguls in Europe.
In the vast reception lounge inside the Aegean Court, Rauf sank back into his comfortable seat, a glass of mineral water cradled between his lean brown fingers for he never touched alcohol during business hours. He was secure in the knowledge that the staff were hovering at a discreet distance to ensure that nobody else sat down anywhere within hearing for it was his hotel. Conducting his meeting with Lily in a public area would ensure that formal distance was maintained and keep it brief.
But then he might have staged their encounter in his penthouse apartment on the top floor had it not been for the fact that it was already very much occupied by family members expecting him to join them for lunch. The pushy but lovable trio of matriarchs in the Kasabian family had that very morning elected without invitation to come for a heady spin in his private jet. Rauf suppressed a rueful groan, for his ninety-two-year-old great-grandmother, his seventy-four-year-old grandmother and his mother could in combination be somewhat trying guests. Was it his fault that he was an only child and the sole unappreciative focus of their hopes of the next generation?
Shelving that reflection with a wry grimace, he concentrated his thoughts back on Lily. He fully expected, indeed he was even looking forward to, being disappointed when he saw her again. No woman could possibly be as beautiful as he had once believed her to be.
So, it was most ironic that, when Rauf saw the two middle-aged doormen compete in an undignified race to throw the doors wide for the woman entering the hotel, it should be Lily in receipt of that exaggerated male attention that only a very real degree of beauty evoked. Lily, who still seemed to drift rather than walk, her long dress flowing with her fluid movements and baring only slim arms, narrow wrists and slender ankles. As Lily approached the desk, Rauf watched the young clerk rush to greet her and his wide, sensual mouth compressed into a line harder than steel.
Hair the colour of a sunlit cornfield fell all the way to Lily’s waist, even longer than it had been that summer. Her modest appearance, though, was pure, calculated provocation, Rauf thought in raw derision. The plain dress only accentuated her classic beauty and anchoring that mane of fabulous golden hair into prim restraint merely imbued most men with a strong desire to see those pale silken strands loose and spread across a pillow.
In fact it was an education for Rauf to watch every man in her vicinity swivel to watch her move past and note how she affected not to notice the stir she caused. But no woman blessed with her perfect features could remain unaware of the gifts she had been born with. Had he not let himself be fooled by that same air of innocence, had