Bound to the Greek (18 page)

She let him lead her just as she had that afternoon. Hazily Eleanor thought she’d probably like Jace to hold her hand for ever. She loved how easily his fingers laced through hers, how protected and cherished she felt from such a small and simple gesture.

Outside a candlelit table had been elegantly laid for two; Agathe was nowhere in sight. Jace pulled out her chair and laid the heavy damask napkin in her lap, then poured her a glass of wine, the rich red liquid glinting in the candlelight. After filling his own glass, he raised it, and Eleanor did likewise.
‘Opa,’
he said, and Eleanor murmured it back before they both drank.

‘So what does
opa
mean?’ she asked once she’d set her wine glass back down.

‘I don’t know if there is a direct translation, but something close to cheers or—what is it you say in English?’ He pursed his lips. ‘Hooray.’ Jace grinned. ‘But if we were going to be truly traditional, we’d throw our plates on the ground.’

Eleanor widened her eyes in mock horror. ‘And waste good food?’ She speared a plump olive resting on top of her Greek salad. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘My sentiments exactly.’

The meal passed quickly as Agathe slipped in and out with dish after delectable dish, and Jace kept her wine glass amply filled. Eleanor’s nerves seemed to have evaporated in the warmth of his smile, the heat of his gaze. By dessert, rich, honey-soaked baklava, Eleanor felt entirely at ease and utterly relaxed.

She propped her chin on her hands and gazed at Jace speculatively, enjoying the way the candlelight glinted on his hair and caught the silvery depths of his eyes. He lounged back in his chair, a smile curving the mouth Eleanor had spent a good part of the evening gazing at, remembering how it felt on hers.

‘What are you thinking?’ Jace asked, and Eleanor gave a little shrug.

‘Lots of things.’

‘Such as?’

She wasn’t quite relaxed enough to admit the true direction of her thoughts. ‘That I like olives. I never did as a child.’

‘They’re an acquired taste. And?’

‘And what?’ She was teasing, flirting, and loving it. She hadn’t acted this way for so long, hadn’t been this relaxed since—for ever.

‘And what other things are you thinking?’ Jace asked softly.

‘What you’re thinking,’ Eleanor returned, and Jace smiled.

‘I’m thinking how lovely you look tonight,’ he said. ‘And how jealous I am of that necklace.’

Eleanor touched the snowflake pendant that nestled between her breasts and blushed.

‘So tell me what you’ve been doing these last ten years besides work,’ Jace said, dispelling the sudden tautening moment, and, a little disappointed, Eleanor picked up her fork.

‘Not much, really,’ she said, spearing her last bite of baklava. ‘Work has been my life, more or less.’

‘And are you happy like that?’ Jace asked quietly.

‘Are you?’ Eleanor returned. ‘Because, based on your private jet and island and who knows what else, I’m guessing that work has pretty much been your life too.’

She heard the challenge in her voice, felt it in her soul, and yet it rushed out of her when Jace replied softly, ‘No. I don’t think I am.’

‘Oh.’ Eleanor sat back in her chair. ‘Well, neither am I, I suppose,’ she admitted. It was the first time she’d ever said it aloud. It was the first time she’d even let herself
think
it.

‘So what would you like to do, if you could do anything?’ Jace asked as he took a sip of wine. ‘Not open a bakery, I guess.’

‘Well…’ Eleanor glanced down at her plate, suddenly shy. She hadn’t expected Jace to ask so many questions; she hadn’t expected to tell him so much. Yet somehow, strangely, it was easy. ‘I had this dream—a daydream, really—about opening a non-profit foundation. I do love planning parties, and I’ve?dreamed?about doing it for charity. For sick kids or poor kids who can’t afford or arrange a party of their own.’ She looked up, smiling wryly. ‘I don’t know if it’s even possible, but I like the thought of providing something fun? frivolous, even—for children who can never experience that.’ And then, even though it had been easy to tell him, Eleanor suddenly found her throat becoming tight and her vision blurred. She looked back down at her plate and swallowed hard. She couldn’t tell Jace more than that, or just why that dream was so precious. She’d told him enough already.

She felt the warmth of Jace’s hand as he covered her own. ‘That sounds like a very worthwhile dream.’

‘Thanks.’ She cleared her throat and risked looking up. ‘What about you? What would you like to do with your life, if you could do anything?’

Jace sat back in his chair; Eleanor missed the warmth and security of his touch. ‘I don’t know. I’ve been so focused on building my business?making money?that I’ve never thought of doing anything else.’

‘And it’s not as if money is a concern,’ Eleanor said lightly. ‘You could do anything you wanted to, Jace.’

His lips twitched and from the warm gleam in his eyes Eleanor was suddenly quite sure he wasn’t thinking about business. And neither was she. ‘Mmm. That’s an intriguing thought.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ she agreed shakily. Jace’s gaze didn’t leave hers as he drew his napkin from his lap and tossed it on the table. ‘I think we’re done with dinner.’

‘Yes… ‘Eleanor whispered. Waiting.

Slowly, silently, Jace took her hand and drew her up from the table. Still without speaking he led her back into the villa, now washed in moonlight. Eleanor’s heart hammered
and her throat turned dry but still she followed him without a protest. Without a word.

When she saw he was leading her to his bedroom—not hers—she gave an involuntary little gasp, no more than a breath of sound, but Jace turned around to look at her, his face a question. ‘Eleanor?’ he asked, and she simply nodded.

Yes.

J
ACE
opened the door. His bedroom was cloaked in darkness, but in the glimmer of moonlight Eleanor made out the huge shape of a king-sized bed, the sheen of a satin duvet. Jace turned to face her, and her breath caught. He looked so intent, so intense, so… reverent. And so beautiful.

She realised then just how much she wanted this. Had been waiting for this. Even so, a flutter of fear forced her to admit, ‘It’s been a long time… for me.’

‘Me too, actually,’ Jace replied, and Eleanor heard the smile in his voice.

‘Really?’ She couldn’t keep the disbelief from her own voice. Somehow she’d imagined that Jace had been enjoying countless easy and meaningless love affairs in the last ten years while she’d had only a handful of failed relationships.

‘Really,’ he confirmed, one eyebrow lifting in irony. ‘And just why would you think otherwise?’

She shrugged, unable to admit that when he’d left her she’d painted him as a womaniser, a user. It had made her own loss more bearable. She was still holding onto what she’d once believed?assumed?about him, rather than what she really knew. What she was beginning to believe.

‘I don’t know,’ she admitted softly. ‘Maybe it’s because I can’t imagine any woman resisting you.’

‘I only care about one woman,’ Jace replied, his voice as soft as hers, ‘and she’s been quite accomplished at resisting
me.’ His voice caught, and Eleanor heard the vulnerability. ‘I only hope she doesn’t resist me now.’

‘She won’t,’ she whispered, and Jace drew her to him, cupping her face in his hands as he kissed her with a sweetness that left Eleanor fulfilled and aching at the same time.

He pulled away, and she saw the glimmer of his smile, the flash of his teeth in the darkness, as he led her to the bed. Nerves fluttered through her once more. She was ten years older and probably ten pounds heavier than the last time they’d been together. She might look killer in a business suit, but naked? She had
stretch marks.

And Jace looked just amazing. That belief was confirmed as he shrugged out of his shirt, his chest gleaming in the moonlight. He reached for the zip of her dress, and in one simple, sensual tug he pulled it all the way down to her waist. Eleanor shrugged, instinctively, and the dress slithered to the floor. She caught her breath, waiting as Jace gazed at her; she wore only her bra and underwear.

‘You are beautiful,’ he whispered. ‘And I’ve waited a long time for this.’

‘So have I,’ Eleanor whispered back, a laugh lurking in her voice. Smiling, Jace slipped her bra straps from her shoulders. Within seconds she was naked, struggling between self-consciousness and a confidence she wasn’t sure she really felt. Yet when Jace reached out one hand and with his fingertips gently traced a path down her body from her collarbone to her hip she felt as if he were memorising the map of her body, as if he were treasuring it. And she relaxed.

Even better, Jace shrugged out of the rest of his own clothes so he stood there, magnificent and naked, before leading her to the bed. The satin duvet was slippery on her skin until Jace peeled it back, stretching out beside her so their bodies just barely touched. The only sound was their breathing. Carefully, cautiously, Eleanor laid a hand on Jace’s chest. His skin was warm. God help her, she was so nervous. So afraid. And yet still so happy. It was a strange, unsettling mix of emotions.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ Jace whispered. He brushed a strand of hair away from her face, dipping his head so his lips were inches from her. ‘We don’t have to do this.’

Eleanor felt the plunging sensation of deep disappointment. ‘Oh yes, we do. You’re not running away now.’

‘I’m not moving,’ Jace assured her. His lips grazed her ear, her jaw, and Eleanor shuddered. ‘I’m not going anywhere,’ he promised.

Eleanor closed her eyes as his lips moved from her jaw to her neck to her breast, and she added silently,
Not
ever.

Conversation became improbable after that, and then impossible. The exquisite sensation of being, not only cherished, but also possessed forbade all speech or even thought. Jace moved over her, teasing, treasuring as Eleanor’s slick fists bunched on his back, her nails digging into his skin as he kissed his way up and down her body, taking his time in the most sensitive places.

Then, when Eleanor thought she could bear it no more, he rolled over so she was on top of him, his erection pressing insistently against her stomach as he looked up at her and smiled. ‘Your turn.’

‘My?turn?’ Now she was shy. Now she had control. Slowly Eleanor lowered her head and kissed his chest. She remembered this, remembered how good it had once been between them. It had been so long, but she remembered. She moved lower, gaining confidence as she heard Jace’s moan of pleasure.

Then, before she could move to the very heat and heart of him, he flipped her over and with a low growl said, ‘All right. Now it’s
both
of our turns.’

He entered her in one sweet, smooth stroke, and Eleanor closed her eyes, felt the surprising sting of tears behind her lids. This was so good. So right. To know and be known. To be as one.

One. One
person.

That was how it felt in this moment of sweet union, the connection between them more intense and powerful than
it had ever been, wiping away ten years of history, ten years of memories and sorrow and pain. This was more. This was better.

This really was starting over. Something new, something new and good and pure.

Afterwards they lay silently, Eleanor in the circle of Jace’s arm, her head on his shoulder. She drifted her hand across the taut skin of his abdomen, half amazed at how comfortable she already was with his body.

‘You know,’ Jace said quietly, ‘we didn’t use protection.’ Instinctively Eleanor stiffened, and Jace felt it, his arms tightening around her. ‘I’ve never thought I had to ask this before, but is there any chance you could become pregnant?’

Such a simple question. So honest, so blunt, so basic. Eleanor swallowed. ‘No,’ she said quietly, her throat tight, ‘there isn’t. It’s—taken care of. I’m on the pill.’

Jace nodded, saying nothing, and Eleanor was too afraid to ask. Did he
want
a baby, now he thought it might be a possibility? He’d implied before that his fertility wasn’t a concern, yet how could it not be? How could it not be a consuming desire?

Her throat was tight, too tight, and the sleepy, sated feeling that had been stealing through her now seemed to evaporate completely, leaving her tense and wide awake. She should say something, start explaining, yet she couldn’t. She was too afraid to ruin this moment, to ruin everything.

She closed her eyes, her throat still tight, the emotion too near the surface, seeping through.

‘Eleanor?’ Jace queried softly. She knew he could sense her sorrow. She just shook her head, unwilling to speak. In response Jace pulled away a little, but it was still too much. Her eyes were still closed, but she knew he was looking at her. Examining her. Then, with one gentle finger, he traced the silvery line of one of the stretch marks that ran along the inside of her hip. His voice, when it came, was no more than a husky murmur. ‘Tell me about our daughter.’

Eleanor let out a choked sob of surprise.
‘Jace
?
‘

He bent his head and kissed that silver streak of skin, the badge of her motherhood that never was. ‘Tell me,’ he whispered, but Eleanor knew it was a command. She knew he deserved to know. And, surprisingly, amazingly, she realised she wanted to tell him.

In actuality it was easy. She’d been dreading this conversation for days, weeks,
years,
but now that it was here, that Jace had asked, the words spilled from her lips. No one else knew. No one else had been there.

‘She was beautiful,’ she whispered.
‘Beautiful.’
Jace didn’t speak, but she felt the welling of his own emotional response, the swell of sorrow he must now feel that she had been living with for ever. ‘Perfect,’ she added. ‘And I don’t just mean the usual ten fingers, ten toes. Her face was like a little rosebud. A folded up, unfurled rosebud.’ Eleanor could still see the closed eyes, the pursed lips. God, it hurt.

Jace’s hand found hers. He squeezed her fingers tight, hard, almost hurting, and Eleanor welcomed the touch.
Touch me,
she silently commanded.
Hold me. Don’t ever let me go. Not now, especially not now.