Greek Affairs: Tempted by the Tycoons: The Greek Tycoon's Convenient Bride / The Greek Tycoon's Unexpected Wife / The Greek Tycoon's Secret Heir

‘I’ve changed my mind,’ Rhiannon choked, and his hands tightened briefly on her arms.

‘You must trust that I will do my duty by Annabel,’ he said calmly, and Rhiannon let out a wild, contemptuous peal of laughter.

‘That’s the last thing I want,’ she cried. ‘I don’t want Annabel to be bound to someone by duty.’ It came out in a sneer, and Lukas looked at her in surprise.

‘Why on earth not?’

Rhiannon drew in a shuddering breath. He was close. Far too close. So close that in the pale moonlight bathing his face she could see the gold flecks in his eyes, the stubble on his chin.

‘You couldn’t understand.’

‘Not unless you explain,’ he agreed, his voice soft yet firm in the darkness.

‘I want you to let me go,’ she whispered, but it didn’t sound very convincing.

‘I will …’ Yet he was drawing her closer, and closer still, his lips a breath away from hers. Rhiannon let him hold her, let his breath fan her face, let her lips part open.

There was determination in his eyes, a fierce resolve, and Rhiannon knew that, like her, he was fighting against the tide of desire that washed over both of them, threatening to drag them under.

She knew by the light in his eyes, by the way his fingers bit into her shoulders.

And by the way he released her, suddenly, as if she’d scorched him, so she stumbled back in the sand.

‘I’m sorry.’ His voice was low. ‘I didn’t mean to start something here.’

‘To kiss me?’ Rhiannon challenged, irritated at how bereft she felt.

‘I know nothing can happen between us,’ Lukas said flatly. ‘We cannot complicate matters more with a meaningless affair.’

His assessment stung. A meaningless affair? Of course he would never consider her as a worthy candidate for girlfriend, bride, wife.

She was so far below him, his world. All she was worth was an affair. Dirty, cheap. Meaningless.

‘Nothing will happen between us,’ she restated stonily. ‘Because you need to do your damn duty.’

Lukas stared at her for a long moment. ‘I’ve never had someone think so little of me for doing what is right.’

Rhiannon swallowed the guilt that rose up at his quiet words. ‘I want you to want to do what is right,’ she said. ‘Not just do it out of some burdensome sense of responsibility.’

‘You say that as if it’s a dirty word.’

‘It is!’ Rhiannon couldn’t hold back the emotion which caused her voice to tremble, her throat to ache. ‘It is.’

They were standing only a few feet apart, tension binding them together like an invisible wire. Lukas reached out his hands, grabbed her shoulders, and pulled her towards him.

‘This is not about duty,’ he said in a savage whisper before kissing her. It was a hard, punishing kiss—a brand, a seal. When he released her they both were breathing in ragged gasps.

‘But you didn’t want that either, did you?’ Rhiannon said when she finally found her voice.

‘Yes,’ Lukas disagreed flatly. ‘The problem is, I want it too much. But I will not have it.’

He turned away, began striding down the beach. Alone in the darkness, Rhiannon had no choice but to follow him back to the distant lights of the villa.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE next morning Rhiannon avoided the dining room in exchange for some rolls, yoghurt and honey in the kitchen with Adeia.

She wanted to steer clear of Lukas after their argument last night, and so, with Annabel on her hip and a pair of towels under her arm, she headed for a secluded part of the beach. She slathered them both in suncream and then set up Annabel in a patch of sand. The baby was happy, digging busily, letting the sand trickle through her fingers, chortling with glee at the feel of it on her toes.

Rhiannon watched her, trying to ignore the ache of longing within her, the churning fear at the thought of the future. She wanted simply to enjoy the sun-kissed moment.

Lukas had been completely wrong in thinking she wanted to give Annabel away; it hurt to think he’d judged her so readily, thought so little of her.

It was the last thing she wanted. She’d fought desperately with her conscience over the matter; her heart had wanted to keep the baby, but her mind had told her the father had a right to know. A right to love.

And, her conscience had argued, wasn’t it selfish for a single woman in Rhiannon’s precarious financial position to keep a child she had no real right to simply because she wanted someone to love? To be loved by someone?

Wasn’t it selfish and pathetic?

Yet now, she thought grimly, she might not have the opportunity. Paternity suits, custody battles …

She should have considered this sooner, she supposed. She should have thought of all the possible outcomes to confronting Lukas Petrakides. If only her heart hadn’t deceived her with promises of fairy tale endings and happily-ever-afters.

She really was pathetic.

Annabel looked up, gurgled and pointed, and Rhiannon froze. She knew. She could feel him behind her, picture his easy, long-limbed stride.

‘Good morning.’ Lukas approached them and crouched down next to Annabel. He wore a short-sleeved white shirt and olive-green shorts. He looked clean and strong and wonderful.

Rhiannon tore her gaze away. ‘Good morning.’

‘Sleep well?’ He gave her a questioning glance even as he held Annabel’s chubby fist, poured sand into her waiting palm. She giggled in delight.

‘No,’ Rhiannon confessed irritably. ‘Did you?’

His smile was rueful, honest. ‘No.’

She was gratified by the admission, although she remained silent.

‘She’s a cheerful little thing, isn’t she?’ Lukas said after a moment, as Annabel grabbed his hands and attempted to bring one lean finger towards her open mouth. ‘And teething too, I suppose?’

‘Watch out—she has two front teeth, and they’re sharp.’

Gently Lukas disengaged his finger from Annabel’s grasp. ‘Thank you.’

‘If Christos is Annabel’s father, who will look after her?’ Rhiannon asked suddenly. She needed to know. An idea had begun to form in her mind—hopeless, impractical, her only chance. ‘She’ll need a nanny, won’t she?’ she continued, and Lukas regarded her shrewdly.

‘Undoubtedly.’