All That Glitters by Linda Howard
But he wasn't that easily satisfied; she had wounded his arrogant Greek pride in trying to leave him, and he spent the long hours of the night making her admit time and again that he was her physical master. He wasn't brutal; at no time did he lose control. But he aroused her with his insistent, prolonged caresses and forced her to plead with him for release. At the time, she was so submerged in sensuality that nothing mattered to her except being in his arms and accepting his lovemaking. It wasn't until she woke the next morning and looked over at her sleeping husband that a chill ran over her, and she wondered at his motivation.
Had the night been only a demonstration of his mastery of her? Not once, even in the depths of his own passion, had he uttered a word of love. She began to feel that his lovemaking had been as calculated as before, designed only to make her accept his domination; there was also his stated intention of making her pregnant.
She turned her head restlessly on the pillow, aware of a cold knot of misery in her stomach. She didn't want to believe any of that; she wanted him to love her as she loved him; yet what else could she think? Tears slipped down her cheeks as she stared at the ceiling. Charles had warned her from the beginning not to challenge Nikolas Constantinos. His instinct was to conquer; it was part of his nature, and yet she had thrown her own will into opposition to his at every turn. Was it any wonder that he was so determined to subdue her?
Since she had met him, she had been on an emotional seesaw, but suddenly the never-ending strain had become too much. She was crying, soundlessly, endlessly, and she couldn't stop, the pillow beneath her head becoming wet with the slow rain of her tears.
"Jessica?" she heard Nikolas ask sleepily, lifting himself onto his elbow beside her. She turned her head and looked at him, her lips trembling, her eyes desolate. A concerned frown puckered his brow as he touched his fingers to her wet cheek. "What's wrong?"
She couldn't answer; she didn't know what was wrong. All she knew was that she was so miserable she wanted to die, and she wept softly.
Some time later, a stern Dr. Theotokas gave her an injection and patted her arm. "It's only a mild sedative; you won't even go to sleep," he assured her. "Though it's my opinion that rest and time are all that are required to make you well again. A severe concussion isn't something one recovers from in a matter of days. You've overexerted yourself, both physically and emotionally, and now you're paying the price."
"I know," she managed to say, giving him a weak smile. Her tears had slowed, and already the sedative was making itself felt in the form of a creeping relaxation. Was her weeping a form of hysteria? Probably so, and the doctor wasn't a fool. She was nude in her husband's bed; he'd have had to be blind not to know how they had spent the night—therefore the discreet warning about overexerting herself.
Nikolas was talking to Dr. Theotokas in Greek, his voice hard, rough, and the doctor was being very positive in his replies. Then the doctor was gone, and Nikolas sat down on the bed beside her, putting one arm on the other side of her and propping himself up on it. "Are you feeling better?" he asked gently, his dark eyes examining her closely.
"Yes. I'm sorry," she sighed.
"Shhh," he murmured. "It's I who should be apologizing. Alexander has just cursed me for being seven kinds of fool and not taking better care of you. I won't tell you what he said, but Alexander knows how to make a point," he finished wryly.
"And…now?" she asked.
"Now we return to the island, and you're to spend your time doing nothing more tiring than lying on the beach." His gaze met hers squarely. "I've been forbidden to share your bed until you've completely recovered, but we both know the concussion isn't the only problem. You win, Jessica. I won't bother you again until it's what you want, too. I give you my word on that."
Seven weeks later, Jessica stood on the terrace and stared absently at the gleaming white yacht anchored out in the bay; unconsciously her hand went to her stomach, her fingers drifting over the flatness. His promise had been scrupulously kept, but it had been given too late. It would still be some time yet before her condition began to show, but already she had seen the little smiles that Petra and Sophia exchanged whenever she was unable to eat any breakfast yet raided the kitchen later with a ravenous appetite. In a thousand ways, she had betrayed herself to the women, from her increased sleepiness to the way she had learned to move slowly to prevent the dizziness which swept over her if she stood abruptly.
A baby! She wavered between a glowing contentment that she was actually carrying Nikolas's child, and a deep depression that the relationship between them hadn't improved at all since they had returned to the island. He was still restrained, cool. She knew that it distressed Madame Constantinos, but she couldn't bring herself to make up to Nikolas, and he wasn't doing any making up, either. He'd made it plain that she would have to take the next step, and she had backed off. If anything, she was more confused than before, with the knowledge of her pregnancy weighing on her. The yo-yo effect the pregnancy had on her emotions kept her unsettled, unable to decide on any course of action. But right now, she was just recovering from a bout of nausea and feeling resentful that Nikolas should have made her pregnant so easily, and she glared at the yacht below.
Andros had brought the yacht in yesterday. Nikolas had worked like a demon these past weeks, both to catch up on his work and to divert himself, but he had decided that a cruise would be a welcome change, and he had sent Andros to the marina where the yacht was berthed to bring it to the island. Nikolas had planned to leave in two days, with Jessica and his mother along, and Jessica was beginning to suspect that he meant to settle things between them whether she liked it or not once he had her on the yacht. He had given his word that he wouldn't bother her, but he had probably never thought that the situation would last this long.
She resentfully turned away from the sight of the graceful ship and met Sophia's smiling dark eyes as she held out a glass of cool fruit juice. Jessica took the glass without protest, though she wondered how Sophia always knew just when her stomach was upset. A tray with dry toast and weak tea was also brought to her every morning now, and she knew that the coddling would intensify as her pregnancy advanced. The women hadn't said anything yet, knowing that she hadn't informed Nikolas of his impending fatherhood, but she would have to tell him soon.
"I'm going for a walk," she told Sophia, giving the empty glass back to her, and their ability to communicate had improved to the extent that Sophia understood her the first time and beamed at her.
Walking slowly, careful to avoid the sun whenever she could, Jessica picked her way cautiously down the steep path that led to the beach. She was joined by a leaping, prancing Samantha. Nikolas had even had the small dog brought over, and Samantha was having the time of her life, romping with unlimited freedom. The village children spoiled her terribly, but she had attached herself to Nikolas, and now Jessica made a face at her. "Traitor!" she told the dog, but Samantha barked so happily that she had to smile.
She found a piece of driftwood and amused herself by throwing it for Samantha to retrieve, but halted the game when the dog showed signs of tiring. She suspected that Samantha had managed to get in the family way again;
Nikolas had reported, laughingly, that he'd seen her being very friendly with a native dog. She sat down on the sand and stroked the dog's silky head. "Both of us, my girl," she said ruefully, and Samantha whined in pleasure.
At length, she began retracing her steps up the path, concentrating on her footing to make certain she didn't fall. She was taken totally by surprise when a gruff voice behind her barked playfully, "What are you doing?" She shrieked in alarm, whirling about, and the sudden movement was too much. She had a glimpse of Nikolas's dark, laughing face before it swam sickeningly away from her, and she flung out both hands in an effort to catch herself as she pitched forward. She didn't know if she hit the ground or not.
When she woke, she was in her bedroom, lying on the bed. Nikolas was sitting on the edge of the mattress, washi
"I—I'm sorry," she apologized weakly. "I can't think why I fainted."
He gave her a brooding glance. "Can't you?" he asked. "Maman has a very good idea, as do Petra and Sophia. Why haven't you told me, Jessica? Everyone else knows."
"Told you what?" She delayed, pouting sulkily, trying to put off the moment when she actually had to tell him.
His jaw tightened. "Don't play games with me," he said harshly, leaning over her with determination. "Are you having my baby?"
In spite of everything, a certain sweetness pierced her. There were only the two of them in the room, and this moment would never happen again. A slow smile, mysterious in its contentment, curved her lips as she reached for his hand. With a timeless gesture she placed his palm over her still-flat abdomen, as if he could feel his tiny child growing there. "Yes," she admitted in perfect serenity, lifting her glowing eyes to him. "We've made a baby, Nikolas."
His entire body quivered, and his black eyes softened incredibly, then he stretched out on the bed beside her and gathered her into his arms. His hand stroked her tawny mane of hair, the strong fingers trembling. "A baby," he murmured. "You impossible woman, why haven't you told me before? Didn't you know how happy you would make me? Why, Jessica?''
The heady sensation of his warm body lying against her so dazed her mind that she forgot to think of anything else. She had to gather her thoughts before she could answer. "I thought you'd gloat," she said huskily, running the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. "I knew you'd never let me go if you knew about the baby…"
His gaze went to her mouth as if drawn by a magnet. "Do you still want to go?" he muttered. "You can't, you know; you're right in thinking that I'll never let you go. Never." His tone thickened as he said, "Give me a kiss, darling. It's been so long, and I need your touch."
It had been a long time. Nikolas had been strict about not touching her, perhaps doubting his control if he allowed himself to kiss and caress her. And once Jessica had recovered from her shock, she had missed his touch and his hungry kisses. Trembling slightly at the memory, she turned to him and lifted her face.
His mouth touched hers lightly, sweetly; this was not the type of kiss she had received from Nikolas before. She melted under the petal-soft contact, nestling closer to him and lifting her hand to his neck. Automatically her lips opened and her tongue darted out to touch his lips and move within to seek the caress of his own tongue. Nikolas groaned aloud and abruptly the kiss changed; his mouth became ravenous as the pressure increased. Instantly heat rose in Jessica's middle, the same mindless desire he had roused in her before pride and anger had forced them apart. She ached for him; she felt as if she would die without his touch. Her body arched to him, seeking relief that only he could give.
With a deep moan, Nikolas lost control. Every muscle in his big body was shaking as he opened her dress and removed it. The wild light in his eyes told her that he might hurt her if she resisted, reminding her for a stricken moment of their wedding night, but then that frightening vision faded and she moved against him. Her own shaking fingers unbuttoned his shirt, her lips searching across his hairy chest and making his breath catch. By the time she reached for his belt, his hand was there to help her and impatiently he shed his pants and moved over her.
His mouth was drink to a woman dying of thirst; his hands created ecstasy wherever they touched. Jessica gave herself to him simply, sweetly, pliant to his every whim, and he rewarded her tenfold with his care of her, his hungry enjoyment of her. She loved this man, loved him with all her heart, and suddenly that was all that mattered.
When she floated back to earth, she was lying in his arms, her head pillowed on his shoulder while he lazily stroked her body as one would a cat. Smiling, Jessica lifted her head to look at him and found that he was smiling, too, a triumphant, contented smile. His black eyes were sleepy with satiation as he met her gaze. "I had no idea pregnant women were so erotic," he drawled, and a fiery blush burned her face.
"Don't you dare tease me now!" she protested, not wanting anything to spoil the golden glow that still enveloped her.
"But I'm not teasing. You were desirable before, God knows, but now that I know you have my child inside you, I don't want to turn you loose for even a moment." His deep voice went even deeper, became thick. "I don't think I can stay away from you, Jess."
Silently she played with the curls of hair on his chest. This afternoon had changed everything, not least of all her own attitude toward him. She loved him, and she was helpless before that fact. She had to put away her resentment and concentrate on that love, or she wouldn't have a life worth living, because she was bound mind and body to this man. Perhaps he didn't love her, but he was certainly not indifferent toward her. She would give him her love, wrap him about so tightly with the tender bonds of her heart that someday he would come to love her, too. And she had a powerful weapon in the child she carried; Nikolas would adore the baby.
A gnawing worry had been lifted from her mind. Since their return to the island, she had been terrified that he would make love to her, haunted by her contradictory but still bitter memories of their wedding night and the one other night she had spent with him. This afternoon, in the golden sunlight, he had proved to her that lovemaking could be sweet, too, and he had satisfied her with all the skill of an experienced lover. She knew now that with time those bitter memories would fade, lost in the newer memories of nights in his arms.
"No more empty nights," he growled, echoing her thoughts. He leaned over her, and his dark face was hard, almost brutal with a resurgence of his desire; unfortunately she was still thinking of their wedding night, and she gasped in alarm when she saw his face looking so much as he had looked then. Before she could stop herself, her hands were pushing at his shoulders, and she had cried out, "Don't touch me!"
He jerked back as if he had been slapped, his face going pale.
"Don't worry about that," he said tightly, swinging off the bed and grabbing up his pants. "I've done everything I can think of to make it up to you, and you've thrown it all back in my face. I have no more arguments, Jessica, no more persuasions. I'm tired, damn it, tired of—" He broke off and jerked his pants on, and Jessica came out of her frozen horror at what she had done.
"Nikolas, wait—it isn't—"
"I don't give a damn what it isn't!" he ripped out savagely, his jaw set like granite. "I won't bother you again." He slammed out of the bedroom without looking at her again and Jessica lay on the bed, stunned by the violence of his reaction and by the raw emotion that had been in his voice. She had hurt him, something she hadn't thought possible. Nikolas had always seemed so tough, so impervious to anything she said or did, except to be angry when she defied him. But he had his pride, too; perhaps he had finally tired of a woman who resisted him at every turn. The thought made her shrink inside, thinking of being without his absorbing interest in everything she did, his open appreciation of her body.
She left the bed, too, and pulled on her robe. Restlessly, miserably, she paced the room. How could she have done that to him? Just when she had admitted that she needed him, she had let her silly fears drive him away and she was totally lost without him. What would she do without his arrogant strength to bolster her when she was depressed or upset? From the day they had met he had supported her, protected her.
Her head had begun to throb and she rubbed her temples abstractedly. At last she gathered up her courage and pulled on her clothing with trembling hands. She had to find Nikolas and make him listen, explain why she had pushed him away.
When she entered the living room, Madame Constantinos was there and she looked up from her book as Jessica entered. "Are you all right, my dear?" she asked in her soft French, her sweet face worried.
"Yes," Jessica muttered. "I— Do you know where Nikolas is, Maman?"
"Yes, he and Andros have locked themselves in the study with strict orders not to be disturbed. Andros is flyin
Andros was handling that? Jessica passed a shaking hand over her eyes. Nikolas should have been handling that merger, she knew, but he was delegating the responsibility to Andros so he could take time to be with her on the yacht. How could she have been so blind?
"Is anything wrong?" Madame Constantinos asked worriedly.
"Yes—no. Yes, there is. We've had a quarrel," Jessica confessed. "I need to see him. He misunderstood something that I said."
"Mmmmm, I see," said his mother. She looked at Jessica with those clear blue eyes. "You told him of the child, then?"
Evidently her condition was well-known to all the women of the household, she reflected. She sat down and sighed wearily. "Yes. But that isn't why he's angry."
"No, of course not. Nikolas would never be angry at the thought of becoming a father," mused Madame Constantinos, smiling a little. "He is undoubtedly as proud as a peacock."
Yes," Jessica admitted huskily, remembering the look on his face when she had told him of the baby.
Madame Constantinos was looking out the glass doors of the terrace, smiling a little. "So Niko is angry and upset, is he? Let him alone for tonight, my dear. He probably wouldn't listen to you anyway, right now, so let him stew in his own misery for a little while. That is a small-enough punishment for the misery he has caused you. You've never said why you were on the beach so early in the morning, my dear, and I haven't liked to ask, but I do have a fairly accurate picture of what happened that night. Yes, let Niko worry for tonight."
Tears welled in Jessica's eyes. "It wasn't all his fault, Maman," she defended Nikolas. She felt as if she would die. She loved him, and she had driven him away.
"Don't fret," Madame Constantinos advised serenely. "You cannot think clearly now. Tomorrow everything will be better, you'll see."