Her Greek Groom. Sara Craven

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      At other times Draco drove the pick-up to the island’s peaceful beauty spots, along the coast, or up into the high bare hills. And at night they danced together.

      She was relaxed with him now. They shared a lot of laughter, but they could be quiet together too. When he teased her, she teased back. They had, she thought, become friends—and that was good.

      But she couldn’t deny the painful, ecstatic lift of her heart that happened each time he strode into the courtyard of the taverna to find her. Or the sweet, sensual ache that any physical contact with him seemed to evoke.

      For much of the time he kept her at a distance, and she knew it. Just sometimes, in the drowsy afternoons, he would draw her into his arms and explore her mouth gently with his. Her hair seemed to entrance him. ‘Like pale silk,’ he would whisper, winding strands round his fingers and carrying them to his lips.

      But—so far and no further, it seemed. The merest touch of his lips could ignite her desire, making her burn and melt with longing for the intimacy of his touch, for the consummation that her aroused flesh had been denied, but if he was aware of that, he gave no sign.

      Just once, when he’d kissed her goodnight, she’d tried to hold him, pressing herself against him, her lips parting in mute invitation beneath the pressure of his. Longing to spark the passion that she knew lay just beneath the surface.

      But he’d gently detached her clinging hands and stepped back, bending his head to drop a kiss on each soft palm before he let her go. And she had walked away up the stairs, knowing that he would not follow.

      His control seemed to be total—and yet there were occasional moments when she felt him watching her. Was aware of a strange tension quivering along her nerve-endings, as if her body had somehow discerned the naked hunger in his and was responding to it.

      Someone else was watching her too, she thought. Maria. The older woman was still warmly friendly, but once or twice Cressy had caught an anxious glance, or a little worried frown, and she wondered why.

      But not too deeply. Her only real concern was the moment when she would see Draco again—would hear his voice and feel his smile touch her own mouth.

      And that was all that mattered.

      She didn’t realise, of course, how swiftly and how finally things could change.

      She woke early that day on Myros, to the bleak realisation that there was just over a week of her holiday left. She sat up in bed, hugging her knees, frowning a little. Maybe this was the time to walk away—while she still could. Before she was in too deep and reduced to begging.

      Draco had told her the previous evening that he would come for her just after breakfast.

      ‘So for once you’re not going to work on your house.’ Cressy had raised her eyebrows. ‘I’m honoured.’ She’d paused. ‘How’s it getting on—the house, I mean?’

      He had shrugged. ‘It is almost finished. It has taken longer than I thought.’

      She’d been tempted to say, I’d love to see it, simply to test his reaction, but she had remained silent.

      When she considered, the house was the least of it. There were so many things she still didn’t know about him, she thought, her frown deepening. He had never spoken of his family, or mentioned friends apart from the crowd at the taverna, and even there he seemed to be treated with a certain respect rather than the usual raucous camaraderie.

      But then he was incurious about her background too, she acknowledged.

      She knew all kinds of little details about him, of course. She knew that his lashes were long enough to curl on his cheek when he slept. That there was a scar on his thigh, a relic from his boyhood when he’d gashed himself on a rock while swimming.

      She was also aware that he could only relax for a certain time before he became restive, and that he secretly preferred her to wear dresses rather than trousers.

      There’d been times recently, too, when he’d appeared to retreat so deeply into his own thoughts that it had been impossible for her to reach him, and this had made her feel oddly helpless and a little on edge.

      Perhaps he was trying to find a humane way of telling her that it was over and suggesting she went back to Alakos, she thought desolately as she went to her shower.

      ‘Today we’ll do something different,’ he told her as they walked down to the harbour. ‘There is something I want you to see.’

      She felt a little surge of pleasure. Maybe at last she was going to see the mysterious house—or even meet his family.

      She said lightly, ‘That sounds intriguing.’

      They sailed past their usual beach, heading north.

      ‘Where are we going?’

      ‘You have never been all round the island. I think you should.’ Draco gave her the tiller.

      ‘Oh.’ Cressy masked her disappointment. After a moment, she said slowly, ‘Myros is so lovely, Draco. It’s like part of a different world. I—I shall hate to say goodbye.’

      ‘So enjoy it while you can,’ he said casually. ‘And don’t run us on to the rocks, pethi mou.’

      To the north of the island the coastline became more dramatic, with one high promontory standing out from the rest. And on this jutting headland, clinging to it like a lizard on a rock, was the massive sprawl of a villa, white-walled and roofed in terracotta.

      ‘My God.’ Cressy shaded her eyes. ‘So that’s what was behind the stone wall. It’s absolutely vast. Who does it belong to?’

      ‘The head of the Ximenes Corporation.’ His tone was indifferent. ‘You’ve heard of that?’

      ‘I think so.’ Cressy wrinkled her nose. ‘They’re in shipping, aren’t they?’

      ‘And banking, and a hotel chain. The founder of the dynasty was called Alexandros. Like his namesake, he wished to conquer the world before he was thirty.’ Draco put his hand over hers to alter the tiller. ‘Do not go too close, agapi mou.’

      ‘Because intruders aren’t welcome?’ Cressy pulled a face. ‘Poor rich man.’

      ‘You despise money?’ His sideways glance was curious.

      ‘On the contrary. I work long hours to earn as much as I can.’

      ‘And that is important to you?’

      ‘Well—naturally.’

      ‘More important than being a woman, perhaps?’

      Cressy bit her lip, sudden bewilderment battling with hurt. ‘That’s a cruel thing to say.’

      Draco shrugged a shoulder. ‘You are not a child,’ he said. ‘You live in a society where sexual freedom is accepted, and yet you are still a virgin. Why?’

      She removed her hand from beneath his. ‘I don’t think it’s any of your concern.’

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