The Greek Tycoon's Bride. Helen Brooks

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      CONTENTS

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

      CHAPTER FIVE

      CHAPTER SIX

      CHAPTER SEVEN

      CHAPTER EIGHT

      CHAPTER NINE

      CHAPTER ONE

      ‘YOU’RE not seriously telling me you’re actually considering going to Greece, Jill? You can’t, you just can’t.’ Sophy tried very hard not to glare as she looked at the small, slim girl sitting opposite her but it was hard. ‘You don’t owe Theodore’s family a thing and you know it. Michael is seven years old now and they have never so much as acknowledged his existence.’

      ‘Well, they didn’t know about it for the first couple of years,’ Jill said reasonably.

      ‘And when they found out? You’d have expected some sort of contact—a letter, a phone call, something.’

      ‘According to Christos, the family did try to write but they never received an answer to any of their letters.’

      ‘And you believe that?’ Sophy’s voice was scornful, her violet-blue eyes expressing her opinion of Jill’s in-laws as forcefully as her voice.

      ‘It is possible, Sophy.’ Jill gazed miserably at her twin, her own violet-blue eyes dark and tragic and her face very white. ‘Theodore was a very proud man, excessively so—you know that. He said he would never forgive them and he meant it. He…he could be implacable when he made up his mind about anything.’

      ‘But he would have talked to you about it,’ Sophy pressed urgently. ‘At least to tell you he’d received some correspondence?’

      ‘No.’ Jill turned away, busying herself folding some washing she had just brought indoors. ‘Not necessarily, not if he’d already made up his mind. When we got married he told me I was his family from that point on and that he had no other, and he meant it. I wasn’t allowed to even discuss them, if you want to know the truth.’

      Sophy stared at her sister’s bent head and not for the first time wondered how happy Jill’s marriage had really been. But that was irrelevant now anyway. Six weeks ago Theodore had been killed in a freak accident when the car he had been driving had been crushed by a falling tree at the height of a bad storm.

      With that in mind, Sophy now said gently, ‘But the funeral, Jill? They never even came to Theodore’s funeral.’

      ‘Christos told them it had been Theodore’s wishes.’ And at Sophy’s loud snort of disbelief, Jill raised her blonde head and looked straight at her sister. ‘It was true, Sophy. There were letters which Theodore had placed in Christos’s safe-keeping some years ago. I didn’t even know anything about them until Theodore died and then Christos felt he ought to tell me before he sent them to Greece. I think he suspected what they contained.’

      ‘Letters?’ Sophy took a quick gulp of coffee as she watched Jill continue to fold the washing in the big wicker laundry basket on the kitchen table. ‘Letters to whom, exactly?’

      ‘To his family. In…in the event of his illness or death. Of course he didn’t expect it would happen so soon or suddenly—’ Jill stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath before she continued, ‘Anyway, Christos and I made the decision to open the letters and read them before we sent them, the day after the accident, and then…then we destroyed them. But Christos felt he had to phone the family and just say Theodore had left instructions he didn’t want them there.’

      Jill now stopped speaking, laying her head on the edge of the laundry basket in front of her and bursting into tears. Sophy jumped to her feet, rushing to her twin’s side and putting her arm round Jill’s shaking shoulders as she said urgently, ‘Oh, love, what is it? Come on, everything will be all right.’

      ‘They were awful, Sophy.’ As Jill raised streaming eyes, she was choking on the sobs she was trying to stifle. ‘Really awful. So bitter and hard and cold. I…I couldn’t send them. Not to his mother and everyone. Think how they’d feel after what has happened to Theodore. So—’ she reached into the laundry basket and extracted a newly dried handkerchief from the pile of sweet-smelling washing ‘—so I burnt them. I burnt them all. Do you think that was wrong of me?’