Smokescreen Marriage

Smokescreen Marriage
Sara Craven

Kate's marriage to Michalis Theodakis is in the past–in all but name.She knows he married her only to cover up his affair with his mistress, so how dare he expect her to play the dutiful wife? And now Michalis wants to escort her to his sister's wedding! Kate has no intention of returning to Greece–until Michalis blackmails her: if she'll attend the wedding, he'll set her free.Only, Kate soon finds she doesn't want to be free of Michalis, or the intense sensuality between them. If they still burn for each other's touch, can their marriage really be a sham?

“You want a simple divorce. Which you can have—at a price.”

“That’s blackmail.” Kate’s voice shook.

“Is it?” he said. “But perhaps I do not agree that our marriage has ‘irretrievably broken down,’ as you allege.”

Kate drew a deep breath. “You’re bluffing. You don’t wish to stay married any more than I do.”

His mouth twisted. “You’re mistaken, agapi mou. I am in no particular hurry to be free.”

SARA CRAVEN was born in South Devon, England, and grew up surrounded by books, in a house by the sea. After leaving grammar school she worked as a local journalist, covering everything from flower shows to murders. She started writing for Harlequin Mills & Boon

in 1975. Apart from writing, her passions include films, music, cooking and eating in good restaurants. She now lives in Somerset.

Sara Craven has recently become the latest (and last ever) winner of the British quiz show Mastermind.

Smokescreen Marriage

Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

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CHAPTER ONE

THE room was in deep shadow. Moonlight pouring through the slats of the tall shuttered windows lay in thin bands across the tiled floor.

The whirr of the ceiling fan gently moving the warm air above the wide bed was barely audible against the ceaseless rasp of the cicadas in the garden below the room.

Once, she’d found these sounds alien. Now, they were the natural accompaniment to her nights in this house.

As was the firm masculine tread approaching the bed. The warm, husky voice, touched with laughter, whispering ‘Katharina mou.’

And she, turning slowly, languidly, under the linen sheet that was her only covering, smiling her welcome, as she reached up to him with outstretched arms, her body alive with need—with longing…

With a gasp, Kate sat up in the darkness, throat tight, heart pounding violently.

She made herself draw deep calming breaths as she glanced round the room, seeking reassurance. Her bedroom, in her flat. Curtains masking the windows, not shutters. And, outside, the uneasy rumble of London traffic.

A dream, she thought. Only a bad dream. Just another nightmare.

At the beginning, they’d been almost nightly occurrences, as her stunned mind and bruised senses tried to rationalise what had happened to her.

She had never really succeeded, of course. The hurt, the betrayal had cut too deep. The events of the past year were always there, in the corner of her mind, eating corrosively into her consciousness.

But the bad dreams had been kept at bay for a while. It was now almost two weeks since the last one.

She had, she thought, begun to heal.

And now this…

Was it an omen? she wondered. Tomorrow—the next day—would there be some news at last? The letter—the phone call—that would bring her the promise of freedom.

God knows, she’d made it as easy as she could, going right against the advice of her lawyer.

‘But, Mrs Theodakis, you’re entitled…’

She’d stopped him there. ‘I want nothing,’ she said. ‘Nothing at all. Kindly make sure the other side is—aware of that. And please don’t use that name either,’ she added constrainedly. ‘I prefer Miss Dennison.’

He had assented politely, but his raised brows told her more loudly than words that no amount of preference could change a thing.

She had taken off her wedding ring, but she couldn’t as easily erase the events of the past year from her tired memory.

She was still legally the wife of Michael Theodakis, and would remain so until she received his consent to the swift, clean-break divorce she had requested.

Once she was free of him, then the nightmares would stop, she told herself. And she could begin to put her life back together again.