Bought To Carry His Heir. Jane Porter

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СКАЧАТЬ about Elsa shimmered and danced. But she had once, hadn’t she? She’d been happy once...before she’d married him. Before she’d come to regret everything about her life with him...

      Nikos smashed his hand into a tight fist, squeezing hard, fighting the past that haunted him always. He prayed the baby would mean new life...not just for the child but for him, too. He prayed that if he were a good father, he’d find peace. Redemption.

      Or was it too late for that?

      He forced his attention to Georgia. A footstool had been placed on the ground for her, making it easier for her to enter the lifted four-wheel drive vehicle, but she seemed amused by the stool, her full lips quirking as she stepped onto it and swung easily into the passenger seat.

      He didn’t understand her smile. He didn’t understand such brazen confidence, either. She seemed to be throwing down the gauntlet. Challenging him.

      He wasn’t sure he liked it. She’d only just arrived.

      Fortunately he had his temper well in check. His pulse had quickened, but he was still in control. Once upon a time his temper had been legendary. But it was better now that he was older. He’d matured, thank God. He’d never really lost his temper with Elsa, but she’d been nervous around him. Skittish.

      He shook his head, chasing away the memories. He didn’t want to think of Elsa now. Didn’t want to be haunted by the past any longer. It was why he’d hired the donor and surrogate. He was trying to move forward, trying to create a future where there hadn’t been one in far too long.

      Climbing behind the steering wheel, he glanced at Georgia. She was fastening her seat belt and pale, gleaming hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back like a golden waterfall. Beautiful hair. Longer than Elsa’s had ever been.

      Nikos felt a lance of appreciation, and then clamped down on the sensation, more than a little bit baffled by his attraction. He didn’t want to find Georgia Nielsen attractive. Didn’t want to find anything about her attractive. She was here as a surrogate...

      A vessel.

      A womb.

      But his body had a mind of its own, and the heavy ache in his groin grew, his body tight with a testosterone-fueled tension that made him ruthless and restless. A tiger on the prowl. A beast out of the cage.

      He didn’t like feeling this way. He didn’t like anything—or anyone—that tested him, challenging him, reminding him of his dark edges. He hadn’t known until he married Elsa that he had such a frightening personality. He hadn’t known until Elsa began hiding from him that he was such a beast...a monster...

      Thirio.

      Teras.

      If he’d known who he was before he married, he wouldn’t have married. If he’d known he would destroy his beautiful wife with his temper, he would have remained a bachelor.

      And yet he’d wanted children. He’d very much wanted to create a family. To have people of his own...

      From the corner of his eye he saw Georgia cross one leg over the other, drawing his attention to her legs. The tunic hit high on her thigh and the boots stopped at her knee and her legs, in the gray tights, were slim and shapely.

      “We’re about fifteen minutes from the house,” he said roughly, starting the engine, battling his thoughts, battling the desire that made him feel as if he had gasoline in his veins instead of blood.

      “And town?” she asked, adjusting the belt across her lap.

      His gaze followed, focusing on her waist. For the first time, he could see the gentle swell of her belly. She was most definitely pregnant. The cut of the cashmere tunic had just hidden the bump earlier.

      The bump jolted him. His child. His son.

      For a split second he couldn’t breathe. It was suddenly real. The life he’d made...his seed...her egg...

      “Do you want to touch him?” she asked quietly.

      He looked up into her face. Her cheeks were pale, and yet her gaze was direct, steady. “He’s moving around,” she added, lips curving faintly. “I think he’s saying hello.”

      Nikos dropped his gaze to her hands resting at her side, and then back to the gentle curve of her belly.

      “Isn’t it too soon for me to feel him moving?” he asked.

      “It might have been a week or two ago, but not anymore.”

      He stared at her bump for another moment, conflicted. He wanted to feel his son kick, but he couldn’t bring himself to touch her, not wanting to feel the tautness of her belly or the warmth of her skin. She wasn’t supposed to matter in any way, and yet suddenly she wasn’t this vessel, this hired womb, but a stunning young woman carrying his son.

      “Not right now,” he said, fingers curling around the stick shift, changing gears, driving forward. His gut was hard, tight. Air ached in his lungs. What had he done bringing this woman to him? How could he have thought this would be a good idea? “But it is good to know that he’s moving and seems healthy.”

      “He’s very healthy. I trust you’ve been getting the reports and sonograms from my checkups?”

      “Yes.” But he didn’t want to talk about the baby. He didn’t want to talk at all. She was here now so she didn’t have to fly late in the third trimester, but he hadn’t brought her to Kamari to create a friendship. There would be no relationship between them. He needed her to be safe, but beyond that he wanted nothing more to do with her, and the sooner she understood that, the better.

      “And town?” she repeated, catching a fistful of billowing golden hair.

      He shifted gears as he accelerated. “There’s no town. It’s a private island.”

      She was looking at him now. “Yours?”

      “Mine,” he agreed.

      “And the house? What’s that like?”

      “It’s close to the water, which is nice in summer.”

      “But not as nice in winter?”

      He shot her a swift glance. “It’s an old house. Simple. But it suits me.”

      Her hand shifted on her mass of hair. “Mr. Laurent referred to it as a villa.” She shot him another curious look. “Was he wrong?”

      “In Greece, a villa is usually one’s country house. So, no, he wasn’t wrong, but I myself do not use that word. This is where I live now. It’s my home.”

      She opened her mouth to ask another question but he cut her short, his tone flat and flinty even to his own ears. “I am not much of a conversationalist, Georgia.”

      * * *

      If Georgia hadn’t been quite so queasy, she might have laughed. Was that his way of telling her to stop asking questions?

      She shot him a swift glance, taking in his hard carved features СКАЧАТЬ