Smokescreen Marriage by Sara Craven

Author:Sara Craven
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2001-08-30T20:00:00+00:00

‘I thought tomorrow I would ask your sister to show me around,’ she said later, when she was alone with Mick in their bedroom, changing for dinner. ‘Get to know her.’

‘A word of advice,’ Mick said, adjusting his black tie. ‘Don’t get drawn into Ismene’s intrigues. They always end in tears.’

‘I’m not,’ Kate protested. She was sitting at the dressing table in bra and briefs putting the finishing touches to her makeup. ‘But your father’s choice of a husband for her doesn’t sound very appealing.’

‘Don’t worry about it. There will be no enforced marriage.’ He paused. ‘Your hair looks beautiful.’

‘Someone called Soula did it.’ Kate touched the artfully careless topknot with a self-conscious hand. ‘Apparently your father sent her to look after me. She did all our unpacking, too, and would have helped me dress if I’d let her.’

‘Then I’m glad you sent her away,’ Mick said softly. ‘I wish to retain some privileges.’ He went into the adjoining dressing room, and emerged a moment later with a length of black silk draped over his arm. ‘Wear this tonight, agapi mou.’

‘Really?’ Kate’s brows lifted doubtfully. It was an elegant bias-cut dress with a low neck and shoestring straps that he’d bought her in New York. ‘Isn’t that a little much for a family dinner. I—I can’t wear a bra with it.’

‘I know.’ He undid the tiny clip, and slipped off the scrap of lace. ‘So—have this in its place.’

It was a diamond, cut in a classic tear-drop shape, and glowing like captured fire against her skin. Kate gasped in disbelief, as Mick fastened the fine gold chain round her neck. Her voice shook. ‘It’s—beautiful.’

His eyes met hers in the mirror. ‘But the setting,’ he told her gently, ‘is even more exquisite.’ And for a tingling moment, his hands grazed the tips of her bare breasts. ‘A jewel,’ he whispered. ‘For my jewel.’

He dropped a kiss on her shoulder and straightened. ‘Stand up, matia mou.’

She obeyed, and he dropped the black dress deftly over her head, without disturbing a strand of hair, and zipped it up.

She said unsteadily, ‘You are—almost too good at that.’

Laughing, he took her hand. ‘You inspire me, my Kate.’

Then why don’t you tell me you love me? she wondered fiercely. Because you never have. Not once in all these months.

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