CHAPTER TEN

LAUREL'S KISS almost undid him.

It was not so much the heated passion of it; it was the taste of surrender he drank from her lips.

She had been his, but only temporarily on that night in New York. Now, holding his wife in his arms on a windswept hill above the Aegean, Damian made a silent vow. This time, when he made love to her, she would be his forever.

Was he holding her too closely? Kissing her too hard?

He knew he might be and he told himself to hold backbit he couldn't, not when Laurel's mouth was so soft and giving beneath his, not when he could feel her heart racing, and he knew that her desire burned as brightly as his. Desire, and something more.

He couldn't think. All he could do was feel, and savour, and when she moaned softly and pressed herself against him, so that he could feel her body moulded to his, he almost went out of his head with need.

" Damian, " she whispered. Her voice broke. " Damian, please... "

He thrust his hands into her hair, his thumbs tracing the delicate arch of her cheeks, and lifted her face to his. Her eyes were dark with desire; colour stained her cheeks.

" Tell me, " he murmured, just as he had that first time, and he moved against her so that she caught her breath at the feel of him. " Say it, o kali mou. "

Laurel brushed her lips against his. " Make love to me, " she sighed, and he caught her up in his arms and carried her to a stone watchtower that was a part of the wall.

The tower was ancient, older, even, than the wall. A thousand years before, it had been a place from which warriors safeguarded the island against pirates. Now, as Damian lay his wife down gently on a floor mounded with clean, sweet-smelling hay, he knew that the battle that would be fought here today was one in which there would be no way to tell who was the conqueror and who the conquered.

He told himself to undress her slowly, despite the hunger that beat within him. But when she moved her hands down his chest, down and down until she cupped his straining arousal, the last semblance of his control slipped away.

" Now, " he said fiercely, and he tore away her sundress. Beneath, she was all lace and silk, perfumed flesh and heat. He tried again to slow what was happening but Laurel wouldn't let him. She lifted her head, strained to kiss his mouth; she stroked his muscled shoulders and chest, drew her hand down his hard belly, and then her fingers slid under the waistband of his shorts. Damian groaned; his hands closed over hers and together, they stripped the shorts away.

At last, they lay skin against skin, heat against heat, alone together in the universe.

" Damian, " Laurel said brokenly, and he bent his head to hers and kissed her.

" Yes, sweetheart; yes, o kaloz mou. "

And then he was inside her, thrusting into the heart of her, and in that last instant before she shattered in her husband’s arms, Laurel, at last, admitted the truth to herself.

She was in love, completely in love, with Damian Skouras.

******

A long time later, in the white-hot blaze of midday, they made their way to the house.

Someone-Eleni, probably-had closed the thin-slatted blinds at all the windows so that the foyer was shadowed and cool. Everything was silent, except for the soft drone of the fan blades rotating slowly overhead.

Laurel looked around warily. " Where's Eleni? "

" Why? Do you need something? " Damian pulled her close and kissed her, lingeringly, on the mouth. " Let me get whatever it is. I've no wish to share you with anyone else just now. "

" I don't need anything, Damian. I was just thinking... " She blushed. " If she sees us, she'll know that we-that you and I-"

Damian smiled. Bits of hay were tangled in his wife's hair, and there was a glow to her skin that he knew came from the hours she'd spent in his arms.

" What will she know, keeria mou, except that we have made love? "

" What does that mean? Keerya moo? "

" It means that you are my wife. " He pressed a kiss into her hair. " And a husband may make love to his wife whenever he chooses. " He put his hand under her chin and gently lifted her face to his. " On Actos, in New York... anywhere at all, so long as she is willing. Do you agree? "

" Only if the same rules apply for the wife. "

Damian's eyes darkened. " Has no one ever told you that democracy was invented here, in these islands? "

Laurel smiled. " In that case... "

She rose on her toes, put her mouth to her husband's ear and whispered.

Damian laughed. " I couldn't have put it better myself, " he said, and he lifted her into his arms, carried her up the stairs and into his bedroom.

*****

The days, and the nights, flew past. And each was a revelation.

Damian, the man who could do anything from saving a dying corporation to making an endless assault against a boulder, turned out to have a failing.

A grave one, Laurel said, with a solemnity she almost managed to pull off.

He didn't know how to play gin rummy.

He was, he assured her, an expert at baccarat and chemin de fer, and he admitted he'd even been known to win a dollar or two at a game of poker.

Laurel wasn't impressed. How could he have reached the age of forty without knowing how to play gin?

" Thirty-eight, " he said, with only a glint in his eye, and then he said, well, if she really wanted to teach him the game, he supposed he'd let her.

He lost six hands out of six.

" I don't know, " he said, with a sigh. " Gin just doesn't seem terribly interesting. "

" Well, we could try playing for points. I'll keep score, or I can show you... what's the matter? "

" Nothing. It's just. .. I don't know. Points, scoring... it seems dull. "

" Okay, how about playing for money? "

" A bet, you mean? Yes, that would be better. "

" A nickel a hand. "

Damian's brows lifted. ''You call that interesting? "

" Maybe I should tell you that I'm the unofficial behind the-runways-from-Milan-to-Paris gin rummy champion. "

" So? What's the matter? Afraid of losing your title? "

Laurel blew her hair back out of her eyes. " Okay, killer, don't say I didn't warn you. We'll play big time. A dime a hand. "

Damian's smile was slow and sexy. " I've got a better idea. Why don't we play for an article of clothing a hand? "

Laurel's eyes narrowed. " You sure you never played gin before? "

" Never, " he said solemnly, and dealt out the cards. Half an hour later, Laurel was down to a pair of jeans and a silk teddy. Her sandals, belt, shirt, even the ribbon she'd used to tie back her hair, lay on the white living room carpet.

" No fair, " she grumbled. " You have played gin before. "

Damian gave her a heart-stopping smile and fanned out another winning hand. He leaned back against the cushions they'd tossed on the floor and folded his arms across his chest. " Well? "

Laurel smiled primly and took off an earring.

" Since when is an earring an article of clothing, keeria mou? An article of clothing for each losing hand, remember? "

Her heart gave a little kick. " You wouldn't really expect me to--"

He reached out a lazy hand, drew his fingertip lightly over her breasts, then down to the waistband of her jeans. " Your game and your rules, " he said huskily. " Take something off, sweetheart. "

Laurel's eyes met his. She rose to her feet. undid the jeans and slid them off.

" Your turn is coming, " she said, " just you wait and see. "

He smiled and dealt the cards. It pleased her to see that his hands were unsteady. Surely he would lose now.

" Dio. "

Laurel ran the tip of her tongue over her lips, and Damian's eyes followed the gesture. Heat began pooling in her belly.

" Damian, you're not going to make me... "

Their eyes met again. She swallowed dryly, then got to her knees. Slowly she hooked a finger under one shoulder strap and slid it off. She slid off the second. There were three satin ties on the teddy, just between her breasts, and she reached for them.

Damian's breathing quickened, but his eyes never left hers.

" One, " she said softly. " Two. Three... "

With a throaty growl, he tumbled her to the carpet. And then, for a long, long time, the only sounds in the room were the sighs and whispers of love.

*****

He refused to believe that she could cook.

They discussed it, one afternoon, as Laurel sat in a field of daisies with Damian's head in her lap.

She reminded him, indignantly, of the bread he'd found rising in her kitchen. He reminded her, not very gallantly, that it had resembled a science experiment gone bad.

Laurel plucked a handful of daisies and scattered them over his chest.

" I'll have you know that I make the most terrific sourdough bread in the world. "

" Uh-huh. '

" What do you mean, 'uh huh'? I do. Ask George. He loves my bread. "

" George, " Damian scoffed. " The man's besotted. He'd say it was great even if it tasted like wet cardboard. "

Laurel dumped more daisies over him. " He is not besotted with anyone but his own wife. "

Damian sat up, reached for her hand and laced his fingers through hers. There was something he had to tell her, something he should have told her sooner. It meant nothing to him, but she had the right to know.

" It's good, for a man to be besotted with his wife, " he said softly.

She smiled and brushed a daisy petal from his hair. " Is it? "

" Did I ever tell you, " he asked, catching her hand and raising it to his mouth, " that I was married before? "

Laurel's teasing smile vanished. " No. No, you didn't. "

" Well, I was. For a grand total of three weeks. "

" What happened? " She tried another smile and hoped this one worked. " Don't tell me. The lady served you a slice of wet cardboard, called it sourdough bread and you sent her packing. "

" Nothing so simple. It turned out we had nothing in common. She wanted my name and my money, and I... "

" And you? What did you want? "

" Out, " he said, with a little laugh, " almost from the beginning. The marriage was a complete mistake. I think we both knew it. "

" Why did you marry her, then? " A chill crept into Laurel's heart, and she gave him a stiff smile. " Was she pregnant, too? "

She regretted the ugly words as soon as she'd said them, but it was too late to call them back. Damian sat up, his face cold and hard.

" No. She was not pregnant. Had she been, I can assure you, I would still be married to her. "

" Because it would have been your duty. " Laurel stood up and dusted the grass from her shorts. " Of course, " she said, and started briskly toward the house, " I almost forgot how noble you are, Damian. Sorry. "

" Thee mou! " Angrily he clasped her shoulders and spun her around. " What is the matter with you, Laurel? Are you angry with me for having divorced a woman I did not love? Or for admitting that I would have done the right thing by her, if I'd had to? "

" I'm not angry with you at all. " Her smile was brittle. " I'm just-you can't blame me for being curious, Damian. After all, I only just found out you have an ex-wife. "

" I told you, the relationship was meaningless. We met, we thought we were in love, we got married. By the time we realized what we'd done, it was too late. "

" Yes, well, that's what happens, when a person marries impetuously. "

" Dammit, don't give me that look! "

" What look? It's the only one I've got-but how would you know that? "

" Don't be a little fool! " Damian glared at her, his face dark with anger. " There is no comparison between this marriage and the other. I married you because - because... "

" Because I was pregnant. "

" Yes. No. I mean... " What did he mean? Of course he'd married her because she was pregnant; why deny it? What other reason could possibly have made him ask Laurel to be his wife?

" You needn't explain. " Laurel's voice was frosty, a perfect match to her smile. " We both know what an honourable man you are. You married me for the sake of our child, and you'll stay married to me for the same reason. Isn't that right? "

Damian's jaw knotted. " You're damned right, " he growled. " I'm going to stay married to you, and you to me, until as the man said, 'Death do us part. '"

He pulled her into his arms and kissed her just as he had the day he'd announced he was going to make her his wife. For the first time since they'd made love in the tower overlooking the sea, Laurel didn't respond. She felt nothing, not desire, not even anger.

" You are my wife, " Damian said. Stone-faced, he held her at arm's length and looked down into her face. " And nothing more needs to be said about it. "

Laurel wrenched free of his grasp. " How could I possibly forget that, when you'll always be there to remind me? "

She swung away and strode up the hill, toward the house.

Damian's hands knotted at his sides. Dammit, what was wrong with her? He thought they'd gotten past this, that Laurel had made peace with the circumstances of their marriage, but it was clear that she hadn't.

Had she been pretending, all those times they'd made love? Had she lain in his arms, touching him, kissing him, and wishing all the while that he'd never forced her into becoming his wife? Because he had. Hell, there was no denying it. He'd given her about as much choice in the matter as the rocks below gave to the ships they'd claimed, over the centuries.

His mouth twisted. So what? They were man and wife.

She had to accept that. As for this afternoon's pointless quarrel... she'd get over it when he took her to bed, tonight.

He took a deep breath, stuck his hands into his pockets and stood staring out to sea.

She hadn't been pretending, when they made love. He would have known if those sweet sighs, those exciting whispers, had been false.

Of course, he would... Wouldn't he?

******

Laurel sat at the dressing table in the bedroom where she'd spent her first night as Mrs. Damian Skouras, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

She hadn't been back in this room since then. Every night-and a lot of long, wonderful mornings and afternoons-had been spent in Damian's bed.

Her hand trembled as she picked up a silver-backed brush and ran it over her hair.

What had gotten into her today? Damian had been married before. Well, so what? She'd had a relationship before, too, and even if Kirk hadn't treated it as a marriage, she had. She'd been faithful, and loving, and when she'd found out that he'd deceived her, her heart couldn't have been more broken than if she had been Mrs. Kirk Soames. She'd loved Kirk every bit as much as if-as if-

A choked cry burst from her lips and she dropped the brush and buried her face in her hands.

It wasn't true. She'd never really loved Kirk, she knew that now. What she felt for Damian made her feelings for Kirk seem insignificant. .

And that was what this afternoon's performance had been all about, wasn't it?

" Wasn't it? " she whispered, lifting her head and staring at her pale face and tear-swollen eyes in the mirror.

Damian had told her he'd been married before, that it had been an impetuous marriage and hadn't worked out, and all she'd been able to think was that he'd married her the same way, impetuously, because it had been the right thing to do.

How she'd longed for him to deny it!

I married you because I love you, she'd wanted him to say, because I'll always love you.

But he hadn't. He'd married her because he wanted his child to have a father, and even though part of her knew how right, how decent, that was, another part of her longed to hear him say he'd married her for love.

She picked up the hairbrush again and stared at her reflection.

But he hadn't. She was Damian's wife, but not his love.

She had his name, and his interest in bed, but if she made many more scenes like the one she'd made today, she probably wouldn't even have that, and never mind the Until death do us part promise. Her mouth turned down with bitterness. She knew all about men like Damian, and promises of fidelity. Oh, yes, she knew all about-

" Laurel? "

Her gaze flew to the mirror just as the bedroom door opened. Damian stood in the doorway, wearing a terry cloth robe. She knew from the experience of the past week that he had nothing on beneath it. His hair was tousled, his eyes were dark and she wanted nothing so much as to jump up and hurl herself into his arms.

Pride and pain kept her rooted in place.

" Yes, Damian, " she said. She smiled politely, put down the brush and turned around, 'Are you feeling better? "

She'd missed dinner, pleading a headache. It would never have done to have told him the truth, that what ached was her heart.

" Much better, thank you. Eleni brought me some tea, and aspirin. "

He nodded and stepped further into the room. " It's late. "

" Is it? I hadn't noticed. "

He paused beside her and lifted his hand. She thought, for a moment, he was going to touch her hair and if he had, that would have been her undoing. She'd have sighed under his hand like a kitten-but he didn't. He only reached out, straightened the dressing table mirror, then put his hand into his pocket.

" Are you coming to bed? "

Laurel turned away and looked into the mirror again.

He'd asked the question so casually but then, why wouldn't he? So far as he was concerned, her place was in his bed. Not only was she his wife, but she'd made it clear she wanted to be there. Her throat constricted as she remembered the things they'd done together m that bed.

Why was it that loving a man who didn't love you, knowing he'd never love you, could suddenly make those things seem cheap?

" Actually, " she said, picking up the brush again, " I thought I'd sleep in here tonight. "

" In here? " he repeated, as if she'd suggested she was going to spend the night on an ice floe in the North Sea.

" Yes. " Briskly, she drew the brush through her hair. " I still have a bit of a headache. "

" Shall I phone the doctor Glassman recommended on Crete? "

" No. No, I don't need a doctor. "

" Are you sure? Laurel, if you're ill-"

''I'm fine. The baby's fine. " She smiled tightly at him in the mirror. " It's just an old habit of mine, Damian. Sometimes, I need a night to myself. Kirk used to say-"

" Kirk? " he said, and the way he said it made her heart stop.

Don't, she told herself, oh, don't do this...

" A man I used to live with. Well, actually, a man I thought about marrying. Didn't I ever tell you about him? "

" No, " he said coldly, " you did not. "

She looked into the mirror again and what she saw in his face terrified her. The brush clattered to the mirrored top of the dressing table and she swung toward him.

" Damian, " she said quickly, but it was too late. He was already at the door.

" You're right, " he said, " a night apart might be an excellent idea for the both of us. I'll see you in the morning. "

" Damian, wait. . . "

Wait? He stepped into the hall and slammed the door after him. She wouldn't want him to wait, if she knew how close he was to smashing his fist into the wall. He stormed into his bedroom, kicked the door shut, then flung open the French doors that let out onto the terrace. The black heat of the Aegean night curled around him like a choking fog.

All right, so she'd lived with a man. So what? It didn't matter a damn. She'd married him, not Kirk, whoever in hell Kirk might be.

Married him under protest. Under the threat of losing her child to him. Under the worst kind of blackmail.

Damian spun around and slammed his fist against the wall. It hurt like hell, and he winced and put his knuckles to his mouth, tasted the faint tang of blood, and wished to God it was Kirk's blood instead of only his own. What sort of name was that, anyway? A stupid name, befitting a man foolish enough to have let Laurel go.

Any man would want her. Would desire her. Would fall in love with her.

And, just that simply, Damian saw the truth. He loved Laurel. He loved his wife.

" I love her, " he said to the night, and then he laughed out loud.

What a fool he'd been, not to realize it sooner. And maybe, just maybe, she loved him, too.

He lifted his face to the moonless sky, as if the answer might be there, in the blazing light of a million stars that dotted the heavens.

It would explain so much, if she did.

The softness of her, in his arms. The passion she could never hide when he touched her. Even her reaction earlier today, when he'd so clumsily told her that he'd been married before.

His heart filled with hope. Maybe what had seemed like anger had really been pain. Maybe she'd felt the same jealousy at his mention of a former lover that he'd felt at the mention of Kirk.

But if she loved him, would she have chosen to sleep alone tonight? Would she have taken such relish in telling him she'd lived with another man and almost married him?

Damian took a deep breath. He'd always prided himself on knowing how to chart a direct path from A to B, but tonight he felt as if he were going in circles.

There was only one thing to do, by God, go back into Laurel's room, confront her, drag her from that bed if he had to, shake her silly or kiss her senseless until she told him what she felt for him...

The telephone rang. Damian cursed and snatched it up. " Whoever you are, " he snapped, " you'd better have a damned good reason for calling. "

It was Hastings, his personal attorney, phoning from New York.

Damian sat down on the edge of the bed. Hastings was not a man given to running the risk of waking his most important client in the middle of the night.

" I'm afraid we have a problem, Mr. Skouras. "

Damian listened and, as he did, the look on his face went from dark to thunderous.

" Gabriella is suing me for breach of promise? Is she crazy? She hasn't got a case. What do you mean, she's going to sell her story to 'The Gossip Line' unless I meet her demands? Who'd give a crap about...? What's my marriage got to do with...? " His face went white. " If she drags my wife down into the mud, so help me God, I'll-"

Hastings spoke again. According to Gabriella, Damian had made promises. He'd said he'd marry her. He'd been not just her only lover but her first lover, since her divorce, and her last.

Damian took a stranglehold on the telephone cord. " All right, " he said abruptly, rising to his feet and shrugging off his robe. " Here's what I want you to do. " He rattled off a string of commands. Hastings repeated them, then asked a question, and Damian glared at the phone as if he could see the attorney's face in it. " How the hell do I know who to contact? That's why you're on retainer, Hastings, because you're the legal eagle, remember? Just get the information by tomorrow. That's right, man. Tomorrow. I'll see you in New York. "

Rage and determination propelled him through the next few minutes. He phoned Spiro on the intercom, called his pilot on Crete-and then he hesitated.

Should he wake Laurel, to tell her he was leaving? No.

Hell, no. The last thing he needed right now was to explain to his wife that his vindictive former mistress was trying to stir up trouble by selling a story to some TV gossip show featuring herself as an abandoned lover-and Laurel as a scheming, pregnant fortune hunter.

Spiro could deal with it. The old man could tell her he'd been called to New York on urgent business. She wouldn't like it, but how long would he be gone? A day? Two, at the most. Then he'd be back, on Actos, and he'd take his wife in his arms, tell her he loved her and pray to the gods that she would say she loved him, too. And if she didn't - if she didn't, he'd make her love him, dammit, he'd kiss her mouth until all memory of Kirk whoever-he-was had been wiped from her mind and her soul, and then they'd begin their lives together, all over again. .

He just had to see her once, before he left. The house was quiet, as he left his room; no light spilled from beneath Laurel's closed door. Damian opened it and slipped inside.

She lay on her back, fast asleep.

How lovely she was. And how he adored her.

" Kali mou, " he murmured, " my beloved. "

He bent and brushed his mouth gently over hers. She stirred and breathed a soft sigh, and it was all he could do to keep from lying down beside her and gathering her into his arms.

First, though, there was Gabriella to deal with.

Damian's jaw hardened as he left his wife's room and quietly shut the door after him.

And deal with the bitch, he would.

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