CHAPTER EIGHT

FIVE DAYS LATER, they stood as far apart as they could manage in the anteroom to a judge's chambers in a town just north of the city.

Judge Weiss was a friend of a friend, Damian had said. He'd begun to explain the connection, but Laurel had stopped him halfway through.

" It doesn't matter, " she'd said stiffly.

And it didn't. For all she gave a damn, the man who was about to marry them could be an insurance' salesman who was a justice of the peace in his spare time.

The only thing she wanted now was to get the thing over with.

She hadn't asked anyone to attend the ceremony. She hadn't told Susie or George or even Annie that she was getting married. Her sister had seemed preoccupied lately and anyway, what was there to tell? Surely not the truth, that she'd made the oldest, saddest female blunder in the world and that now she was paying the classic price for it by marrying a man she didn't love.

She'd decided it would be better to break the news when this was all over. She'd make it sound as if she and Damian had followed through on a romantic, spur-of-the-moment impulse. Susie might see through it but Annie, good-hearted soul that she was, would probably be thrilled.

She glanced over at Damian. He was standing with his back to her, staring out the window. He'd been doing that for the past ten minutes, as if the traffic passing by on the road outside was so fascinating that he couldn't tear his gaze from it.

She understood it, because she had been staring at a bad oil painting of a man in judicial robes with mutton-chop whiskers for the same reason. It was a way of focusing on something other than the reality of what was about to happen.

Laurel took a deep breath. There was still time. Maybe she could convince him that his plan was crazy, that it was no good for him or her or even for their baby.

" Mr. Skouras? Miss Bennett? "

Laurel and Damian both looked around. The door to the judge's office had opened. A small, gray-haired woman smiled pleasantly at them.

" Judge Weiss is ready for you now, " she said. Laurel's hands tightened on her purse. It was like being told the dentist was ready for you. Your heart rate speeded up, your skin got clammy, you had to tell yourself to smile back and act as if that was exactly the wonderful news you'd been waiting for.

Except this wasn't 'the dentist's office, and she wasn't going to have a tooth drilled. She was going to hand her life over to Damian Skouras.

" Laurel. "

She looked up. Damian was coming toward her, his expression grim.

" The judge is ready. "

" I heard. " She swallowed hard against a sudden rise of nausea, not from the pregnancy-that had ended, strangely enough, the day Damian had learned of her condition. This churning in her gut had to do with the step she was about to take.

I can't. God, I can't.

" Damian. " She took a deep breath. " Damian, listen. I think we ought to talk. "

His hand closed around hers, tightening in warning, and he smiled pleasantly at the clerk.

" Thank you. Please tell the judge we'll be along in a minute. "

As soon as the door swung shut, Damian turned back to Laurel, his eyes cold.

" We have discussed this. There is nothing more to be said. "

" We've discussed nothing! You've issued edicts and I've bowed my head in obedience. Well, now I'm telling you that it isn't going to work. I don't think-"

" I haven't asked you to think. "

Color flew in to her cheeks. " If you'd been thinking, we wouldn't be in this mess! "

It was an unfair attack, and she knew it. She was as responsible for what had happened as Damian, but why should she play fair when he didn't? Still, he didn't deny the accusation.

" Yes. " A muscle tightened in his jaw. " You are correct. We are in, as you say, a mess, and since it is one of my own making, the solution is mine, as well. There is no other course to take. "

" No other course that meets with your approval, you mean. " She tried to shake off his hand, but he wouldn't let her. " If you'd be reasonable-"

" Meaning that I should permit you to do as you see fit? "

" Yes. No. Will you stop twisting everything I say? If you'd just think for a minute... We have nothing in common. We hardly know each other. We don't even like each other, and yet-and yet, you expect me to-to marry you, to become your wife. "

" I expect exactly that. "

Laurel yanked her hand from his. " Damn you, " she whispered. She was trembling with rage, at Damian, at herself, at a situation that had gotten out of control and had brought this nightmare down on her head. " Damn you, Damian! You have an answer for everything and it's the same each time. You know best, you know what's right, you know how things have to be-"

Behind them, the door swung open.

" Mr. Skouras? The judge has a busy schedule this morning. If you and Miss Bennett wouldn't mind...? "

Miss Bennett minds, very much, Laurel thought... but Damian's hand had already closed around hers.

" Of course, " he said, with a soft-as-butter smile that had nothing to do with the steely pressure of his fingers. " Darling? Are you ready? "

His smile was soft, too, but the warning in his eyes left no room for doubt. Make no mistake, he was telling her; do as I say or suffer the consequences.

Laurel gathered what remained of her self -composure, lifted her chin and nodded.

" As ready as I can be, " she said coolly, and let him lead her into the judge's office.

It was a large, masculine room, furnished in heavy mahogany. The walls were panelled with some equally dark wood and hung with framed clippings and photos of politicos ranging from John F. Kennedy to Bill Clinton. Someone, perhaps the clerk, had tucked a bouquet of flowers into a coffee mug and placed it on the mantel above the fireplace, but the flowers weren't fresh and their drooping heads and faded colours only added a mournful touch to the room. An ancient air conditioner wheezed in the bottom half of a smeared window as it tried to breathe freshness into air redolent with the smell of old cigars.

" Mr. Skouras, " the judge said, rising from behind his desk and smiling, " and Miss Bennett. What a fine day for a wedding. "

It was, Laurel supposed. Outside, the sun was shining brightly; puffy white clouds sailed across a pale blue sky.

But weddings weren't supposed to be held in stuffy rooms like this one. A woman dreamed of being married in a place filled with light; she dreamed of flowers and friends around her, and of coming to her groom with a heart filled with joy and love.

If only this were real. If only Damian truly wanted her, and loved her...

A sound of distress burst from Laurel's throat. She took a quick step back. Instantly Damian's arm slid around her waist.

" Laurel? " he said softly.

She looked up at him, her eyes dark and glistening with unshed tears, and he felt as if a fist had clamped around his heart.

She didn't want this. He knew that, but it didn't matter. He'd told himself that a dozen times over. The child. That was the only thing that mattered. They had to marry, for the sake of the child. It was the right thing to do.

Now, looking down into the eyes of his bride, seeing the sorrow shimmering in their depths, Damian felt a twinge of uncertainty.

Was Laurel right? Was this a mistake?

She had offered to share the raising of their child with him, and he had scoffed. And with good cause. It didn't take a genius to see that what she really wanted was to get him out of her life forever. Still, a clever attorney could have made that an impossibility and he had a team of the best. A child should be raised by two parents; his belief in that would never change. But what good could come of being raised by a mother and father who lived in a state of armed truce?

Why, then, was he forcing this marriage?

Why was he taking as his wife a woman who hated him so much that she was on the verge of weeping? Damian's throat tightened. This wasn't the way it should be. A man wanted his bride to look up at him and smile; he wanted to see joy shining in her eyes as they were joined together.

If only, just for a little while, Laurel could look as if she wanted him. As if she remembered how it had been, that night...

" ... always beautiful but you, my dear Miss Bennett, are a treat for an old man's eyes. And Mr. Skouras. " The judge, a big man with a belly and a voice to match, clasped Damian's hand and shook it heartily. " I know you by reputation, of course. It is a pleasure to meet you, and to officiate at your wedding. "

Damian cleared his throat. " Thank you for fitting us into your schedule, Your Honor. I know how difficult it must have been, but everything was so last minute... "

Judge Weiss laughed. " Elopements generally are, my boy. " He smiled, rubbed his hands together and reached for a small, battered black book. " Well, shall we begin? "

" No! " Laurel's cry was as sharp as broken glass. The judge's smile faded as he looked at her.

" I beg your pardon? Is there a problem, Miss Bennett? "

" There is no problem, " Damian said smoothly. " We made our decision so quickly... my fiancé e is simply having a last-minute attack of nerves, Your Honour. " Damian slid his arm around Laurel's waist. She looked up at him and he smiled. It was an affectionate smile, just as the way he was holding her seemed affectionate, but she knew better. " I suppose, " he said, flashing the judge a just boys grin that made the older man chuckle, " I suppose that no bride is calm on her wedding day. "

" Damian, " Laurel said, " it isn't too late-"

" Hush, " he whispered, and before she could stop him, he tilted her chin up and kissed her.

It was a quick, gentle kiss, nothing more than the lightest brush of his mouth against hers, and she wondered, later, if that had been her undoing. Perhaps if he'd kissed her harder, if he'd tried, with silken tongue and teasing teeth, to remind her of the passion that had once consumed them, everything would have ended in that instant.

But he didn't. He kissed her the way a man kisses a woman he truly loves, with a sweet tenderness that numbed her senses.

" Everything will be fine, kali mou, " he murmured. He lifted her hand to his lips, pressed a kiss to the palm and sealed her fingers over it. " Trust me. "

The judge cleared his throat. " Well, " he said briskly, " are we ready now? "

" Ready, " Damian said, and so it began.

The words were not as flowery, but neither were they very different from the ones that had been spoken in the little Connecticut church, barely more than four weeks before. The sentiments were surely the same; the judge had told Damian, over the phone, that he prided himself on offering a little ceremony of his own creation to each couple he wed.

He spoke of friendship, and of love. Of the importance of not taking vows lightly. Of commitment, and respect.

And, at last, he intoned the words Laurel had been dreading.

" Do you, Laurel Bennett, take Damian Skouras to be your lawfully wedded husband? "

A lump seemed to have lodged in her throat. She tried to swallow past it. The judge, and Damian, were looking at her.

" I'm sorry, " she said, stalling for time, " I didn't-I didn't hear... "

The judge smiled. " I asked if you were prepared to take Damian Skouras as your lawfully wedded husband. "

" Miss Bennett? "

Laurel shut her eyes. She thought of her baby, and of the power Damian held... and then, though it was stupid and pointless, because she didn't love him, didn't even like him, she thought of the way he'd kissed her only moments ago...

She took a shaky breath, opened her eyes and said, " Yes. "

******

The car was waiting outside.

" Congratulations, sir, " Stevens said, as he opened the door. He looked at Laurel and smiled. " And my best wishes to you, too, madam. "

Best wishes? On an occasion such as this? Laurel felt like laughing. Or weeping. Or maybe both but then, the chauffeur was as much in the dark about this marriage as everybody else.

It wasn't easy, but she managed to summon up a smile. " Thank you, Stevens. "

Damian seemed to find that amusing.

" Nicely done, " he said, as the car swung out into traffic. " I'd half expected you to assure Stevens that you were being carried off against your will. "

Laurel folded her hands in her lap and stared straight ahead.

" Stevens was just being polite, and I responded in kind. I can hardly hold him responsible for the dilemma I'm in. "

" The dilemma you're in? "

There was a soft note of warning in his voice, but Laurel chose to ignore it.

" We're alone now, Damian. The judge isn't here to watch our performance. If you expect me to pretend, you're in for an unpleasant surprise. "

" I refer to your attitude toward my child. I will not have it thought of as a dilemma. "

" You're twisting my words again. This travesty of a marriage is what I meant. I want this baby, and you damn well know it. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here, pretending that-that all that mumbo jumbo we just went through is real. "

" Pretending? " His lips compressed into a tight smile.

" There's no pretence in this. I have a document in my pocket that attests to the legitimacy of our union. You are my wife, Laurel, and I am your husband. "

" Never! " The words she'd kept bottled inside tumbled from her lips. " Do you hear me, Damian? In my heart, where it matters, you'll never be my husband! "

" Such a sharp tongue, sweetheart. " He shifted in his seat so that he was leaning toward her, his face only inches away. " And such empty threats. "

" It isn't a threat. " She could feel her pulse beating like a fist in her throat. " It's a statement of fact. You may have been able to force me into this marriage but you can't change what I feel"

He touched the back of his hand to her cheek, then drew his fingers slowly into her hair. The pins that held it up worked loose and it started to come undone, but when she lifted her hand to fix it, he stopped her.

" Leave it, " he said softly.

" It's-it's messy. "

He smiled. " It's beautiful, and it's how I prefer it. "

It was difficult to breathe, with him so close. She thought of putting her hands against his chest and pushing him away, but then she thought of that night, that fateful night, and how they'd ridden in this car and how' she'd wound her arms tightly around his neck and kissed him...

…how she longed to kiss him, even now.

God. Oh God, what was happening to her?

" Really, " she said, with a forced little laugh, " how I wear my hair is none of your business. "

" You are my wife. " He ran his hand the length of her throat. Her pulse fluttered under his fingers like a trapped bird, confirming what he already suspected, that though his bride seemed to have recovered her composure, she was not quite as calm as she wanted him to believe. " Is the thought so difficult to bear? "

" I learned something, when I was first starting in modelling. I never asked a question unless I was sure I wanted to hear the answer. "

He stroked his thumb across the fullness of her bottom lip. A tremor went through her, and her eyes darkened.

" Don't, " she whispered-but her lips parted and her breathing quickened.

His body quickened, too. She wanted him, despite everything she'd said. He could read it in the blurring of her eyes, in the softening of her mouth.

Now, he thought. He could have her now, in his arms, returning his kisses, sighing her acquiescence against his skin as he undressed her.

He bent his head, pressed his mouth to the slender column of her throat. She smelled of sunshine and flowers, summer and rain. He shut his eyes, nuzzled her collar aside and kissed her skin. It was softer than any silk, and as warm as fresh honey.

" Laurel, " he whispered, and he drew back and looked into her face. Her eyes were wide with confusion and dark with desire, and a fierce sense of joy swept through him.

He ran his thumb over her mouth again. Again, her lips parted and this time, he dipped into the heat that awaited him. A soft moan broke from her throat and he felt the quick flutter of her tongue against his finger. Her hands lifted, pressed against his shoulders, then rose to encircle his neck. Damian groaned and pressed her back into the seat.

God, how he wanted her! And he could take her. She was his wife, and she wanted him. She was a sensual, sexual woman and now there would be no other men for her.

What choice did she have, but to want him?

He pulled away from her so quickly that she fell back against the leather seat.

" You see? " he said, and smiled coldly. " It will not be so bad, to be my wife. "

Her face reddened. " I hope you go to hell, " she said, in a voice that trembled, and as he turned his face and stared out the windscreen at the landscape rushing by, he wondered what she would say if he told her that he was starting to think he was already there.

******

He had to give her credit.

He had told her they'd be leaving the country but she didn't ask any questions, not where they were going, or why, and she didn't blink an eye when they boarded a sleek private jet with Skouras International discreetly stencilled on the fuselage.

She settled into a seat, buckled her seat belt, plucked a magazine from the table beside her and buried her nose in it, never looking up or speaking except to decline, politely, when the steward asked if she'd like lunch.

But not even an actress as good as Laurel could keep up the deception forever. Four hours into the flight, she finally put the magazine down and stirred.

" Is it a matter of control? " she said. " Or did you just want to see how long it would take me to ask? "

He looked up from his laptop computer and the file he'd been pretending to read and smiled politely.

" Pardon? "

" Stop playing games, Damian. Where are we going? " He took his time replying, signing off the file, shutting down the computer, stuffing it back into its leather case and laying it aside before he looked at her.

" Out of the country. I told you that yesterday. "

" You told me you had business to attend to and to bring along my passport. But we've been flying for hours and-" and I'm frightened " -and now, I'm asking you where you're taking me. ”

'Greece, " he said, almost lazily.

His answer shocked her. She'd been to Greece once; she remembered its stark beauty as well as the feeling that had come over her, as if she'd stumbled into another time when the old rules that governed behaviour between the sexes were very different than they were now.

" Greece? " she said, trying not to let her growing apprehension show. " But why? "

" Why not? "

" I'm not in the mood for games, Damian. I asked a question, and I'd like an answer. Why are we going to Greece? "

There were half a dozen answers to give her, all of them reasonable and all of them true.

Because I own an island there, he could have said, and there was a storm last month and now I want to check on my property. Because I have business interests on Crete, and those, too, need checking. Because I like the hot sun and the sapphire water...

" Because it is where I was born, " he said simply, and waited.

Her reaction was swift and not anything he'd expected. " I do not want my child born in Greece, " she said hotly. " He--or she-is going to be an American citizen. "

Damian laughed softly. " As am I, dearest wife, I assure you. "

" Then why...? "

" I thought it would be a place where we could be free of distraction while we get to know each other. "

Catlike, he stretched. He'd taken off his jacket and tie, undone the top two buttons of his shirt and folded back the sleeves. His skin gleamed golden in the muted cabin light, his muscles flexed. Laurel felt a fine tremor dance down her spine. Whatever else she thought of him, there was no denying that he was a beautiful sight to behold.

And now, he was hers. He was her husband. The night she'd spent in his arms could be a night lived over again, on the sands beside a midnight sea or on a wild hilltop with the sun beating down on the both of them. She could kiss Damian's mouth and run her hands over his skin, whisper his name as he pleasured her...

Panic roughened her voice.

" I don't want to go to Greece, dammit! Didn't it ever occur to you to consult me before you made these plans? "

Damian looked at his wife's face. Her eyes glittered, with an emotion he could not define.

Fear. She was terrified, and of him.

God, why was he being such a mean son of a bitch? He had forced her into this marriage for the best of reasons but that didn't mean he had to treat her so badly. She was right, he should have consulted her. He should have told her, anyway, that he was taking her to Greece, to his island, Actos. He should have told her that for some reason he couldn't fathom, he wanted her to see where he had lost the boy he'd been and found the man he'd become.

He felt a tightening inside him, not just in his belly but in his heart.

" Laurel, " he said, and touched her shoulder.

She flinched as if she'd been scalded.

" Don't touch me, " she snarled, and he pulled back his hand, his face hardening, and thought that the place he was taking her was better than she deserved.

******

The plane landed on a small airstrip on Crete. A car met them and whisked them away, past hotels and streets crowded with vacationers, to the docks where sleek yachts bobbed at anchor.

Laurel smiled tightly. Of course. That was a Greek tradition, wasn't it? If you were what Susie had called a zilllionaire Adonis, you owned a ship and, yes, Damian led her to one-but it was not a yacht. The Circe was a sailboat, large, well kept and handsome, but as different from the huge yachts moored all around her as a racehorse is from a Percheron.

" Damian, " a male voice cried.

A man appeared on deck, opening his arms as they climbed the gangplank toward him. He was short and wiry; he had a dark beard and a bald head and he wore jeans and a striped T-shirt, and though he bowed over Laurel's hand and made a speech she sensed was flowery even though she couldn't understand a word, he greeted Damian with a slap on the back and a hug hard enough to break bones.

Damian reciprocated. Then, grinning, the two men turned to Laurel.

" This is Cristos. He takes care of Circe for me, when I am away. "

" How nice for you, " Laurel said, trying to look bored. Not that it was easy. Somehow, she hadn't expected such relaxed give and take between the urbane Damian Skouras and this seaman.

Cristos said something. Damian laughed.

" He bids you welcome, and says to tell you that you are Aphrodite come to life. "

" Really? " Laurel smiled coolly. " I thought it was Helen who was carried off against her will. "

If she'd thought to rile Damian, she hadn't succeeded. He grinned, told her to stay put, clattered below deck and disappeared.

Stay, she thought irritably, as if she were a well-trained puppy.

Well, she wasn't well trained. And the sooner he understood that, the better for them both.

She rose from the seat where he'd placed her and started forward. Instantly Cristos was at her side. He smiled, said something that sounded like a question and stepped in front of her. Laurel smiled back.

''I'm just going to take a look around. "

" Ah. No, madam. Sorry. Is not permitted. "

So, he spoke English. And he had his orders. What did Damian think, that she was going to dive overboard and swim for her freedom?

Actually it wasn't a bad idea.

Laurel sighed, wrapped her hands around the railing and gazed blindly out to sea.

It was too late for that. She was trapped.

******

She didn't recognize Damian, when he reappeared.

Was this man dressed in cut-off denims, a white T-shirt and sneakers her urbane husband? And why the change of clothing? It was hot, yes, and the sun beat down mercilessly, but surely it would be cooler, once they set sail.

But Damian's change of clothes had nothing to do with the climate. Every captain needed a crew, and Cristos's crew was Damian.

Except she had it backward. In seconds, she realized that Damian was in charge here, not just in name but in fact. There was a subtle change that took place between the two men as soon as Damian came up the ladder. Even she could sense it, though the men worked together easily. Still, there was no question about who was the leader.

It was Damian, and he led not by command but by example.

She watched him as he took the boat through the narrow channel that led to the open sea. His dark, wind-tossed hair curled around his face. Sunlight glinted on the tiny stud in his ear and when the sun grew too hot, he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it aside.

Laurel felt her breath catch. She'd blocked the memory of how he'd looked, naked, during the night they'd spent together. Now, she was confronted with his perfect masculinity. He was the elemental male, this stranger she'd married, strong, and powerful, and beautiful to see.

The breeze caught at her hair and whipped it free of the pins she'd carefully replaced during the drive from the airport. She put her hand up to catch the wild curls and suddenly Damian was there, beside her.

" Are you all right? "

Laurel nodded. He was so close to her that she could smell the sun and salt on his skin, and the musky aroma of his sweat. She imagined pressing her lips to his throat, tasting him with the tip of her tongue.

" Yes, " she said, " yes, I'm fine. "

His hand fell on her shoulder. " You'd tell me if you felt ill, wouldn't you? "

" Damian, really, I'm okay. The nausea is all gone, and you know that Dr. Glassman gave me a clean bill of health. "

" And the name of a physician on Crete, " he said, and smiled at Laurel's look of surprise. " I told her where I was taking you, and she approved. "

He wouldn't have taken her on this trip otherwise. Still, out here on the sea, with the wind blowing and the waves rising to slap against the hull, he was struck again by his bride's fine-boned delicacy.

" Go on, " she said, with a little smile that might almost have been real, " Sail your boat. I don't need watching. "

His lips curved in a smile. He bent his head and put his lips to her ear, and she shuddered as she felt the soft warmth of his breath.

" Ah, " he whispered, " you are wrong, my beautiful wife. Watching is exactly what you need, if a man is to feed his soul. "

She tilted her head back and looked at him and when she did, he wrapped his hand around the back of her neck, bent his head and kissed her, hard, on the mouth.

" Leave your hair loose for me, " he said, and then he kissed her again before scrambling lithely back to the helm.

Laurel waited until her heartbeat steadied, then raised her head and found Damian looking at her. This was the way a flower must feel, she thought dazedly, as its tightly closed petals unfurl beneath the kiss of the Sun.

His final words whispered through her head. Leave your hair loose, he'd said, just like the night they'd made love, just before he'd undressed her, with such slow, sweet care that her heart had almost stopped beating.

But that night was far behind them, and it had no meaning.

Her shoulders stiffened. Defiantly she raised her arms and began to pin up her hair again.

And then the wind gusted, and before she could prevent it, the pins sailed from her hand and disappeared into the sea.

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