Powerful Greek, Housekeeper Wife

Chloe scanned Iona’s large bag. ‘Are you going to stay ’cos Neelie’s gone?’

‘Only for today,’ Luke told her.

Who was Neelie? Mother? Nanny?

‘I’ve brought some things you might like to do with me, and a few books you might not have seen before,’ Iona said.

That seemed to satisfy Chloe, who obeyed immediately when her father announced, ‘Take Ms Guthrie out onto the terrace, Chloe, and show her your horse.’

Horse? Surely he didn’t carry around a horse as part of his ménage?

He did. A splendid rocking horse, dappled grey, with flared nostrils and flowing mane, and a saddle and bridle fit for a queen. ‘His name is Pegasus,’ Chloe informed her in that precise, neutral voice.

She glanced up at Iona, who asked, ‘And does he fly, like the horse in the legend?’

It seemed she might have passed some subtle test, for the child smiled at her. ‘Nearly. He used to be Lukas’s horse when he was a little boy.’ Her tone expressed a hint of disbelief, as though she simply couldn’t conceive of her father ever being small enough to ride the horse.

Why did she call him by his first name?

More to the point, where the heck was her mother? Dead? Divorced? Not interested?

None of your business, Iona warned herself, and said gravely, ‘You and your father are very lucky. Pegasus is a magnificent animal.’

‘He’s my best friend.’

Like her father, Chloe spoke excellent English; unlike him she had no trace of an accent. Not, Iona recalled, that Luke had much—really, only the merest hint…

Just enough to imbue every word he said with a subtle under-note of disturbing sensuality that had deepened when they’d made love.

Don’t even think about that!

Iona said, ‘Pegasus is lucky too—to have such a good friend as you. Would you like to show me how well you can ride him?’

After a moment Chloe hitched up her skirt and climbed onto the horse, setting it rocking with a gleeful enthusiasm that warmed Iona’s heart.

‘She is reserved, but not shy,’ her father said from behind.

Startled, Iona swivelled. Dressed in a superbly tailored business suit that showed off his lean, powerful body, he was a formidable presence. A stab of awareness shocked Iona with its swift intensity, reminding her of all the reasons—those foolish, dangerous reasons—she’d embarked on their affair.

Moving out of earshot of the child, she asked in her most practical voice, ‘Is there anything I should know about Chloe before you go?’ When his black brows drew together she added briskly, ‘I gather her mother is not here? No doubt Chloe will be missing her.’

‘You assume too much.’

Iona lifted her head at the touch of hauteur in his words. Something odd was going on here, and if it was likely to affect Chloe she needed to know about it. ‘Very well,’ she said, in a tone that matched his for bluntness, ‘but is there anything I should be aware of?’

Lukas didn’t try to moderate the frown that always made his subordinates tread very carefully. It didn’t seem to affect Iona. Those unusual sea-shaded eyes mirrored both the colour of whatever she wore and her emotions. Today they were a direct, cool blue with a hint of challenge.

Yesterday in the powder room when she’d been half-naked they’d been blue-green, wide and shocked, and then full of mystery.

He’d had to rein in a hunger so elemental and direct it had taken him by surprise.

Why the hell had she run away from him in Tahiti? Because he’d cast his suggestion she stay with him as a proposition rather than a proposal?

Surely she’d realised it was too early in their relationship for an admission of anything more than a passionate hunger? He’d wanted them to get to know each other—discover if their superb compatibility extended beyond the raptures of the bed—but clearly she hadn’t reciprocated those inchoate, hardly formed feelings.

Ruthlessly repressing the sharp twist of sensation in his gut at the memory of just how good they’d been together, he forced his mind back to her question.

Discreet she might be, but he wasn’t going to let her in on any family secrets. He’d had enough of seeing his private life—or fiction about it—splashed across newsprint. If the circumstances of Chloe’s birth and his subsequent adoption of the child ever leaked out, some parts of the media would have a field day.

That he could cope with. What made it imperative that he keep the secret until he could trust Iona was his father’s latest threat—to contest the adoption and demand custody of the daughter Aristo had refused to accept.

Chapter Three

STILL, Lukas reluctantly conceded Iona had a point.

Yesterday he’d ordered his security people to check her and her cousin out; the report had arrived first thing that morning. They were clean—practically saints, he thought sardonically.

After a glance at Chloe’s absorbed little face as she rocked rhythmically on the horse, Luke made up his mind, but even so, he chose his words with care.

‘Her mother has never been part of Chloe’s life.’ She hadn’t even named her. He’d called her Chloe after his maternal grandmother.

Irritated, because the silken allure of Iona’s skin and the grace of her movements still had the power to stir him, he went on more curtly than he’d intended, ‘I have always cared for her, and her nanny has been with her since she was a year old. Unfortunately she was called away to England last night, so it is possible Chloe will talk about Neelie. I have explained the circumstances to her—that Neelie had to go to her sick mother—and she appears to understand and accept that. I have left a contact number beside the telephone; if there is any emergency—but only in an emergency—ring me.’

Her eyes veiled by her lashes, Iona nodded and replied with composure, ‘I don’t panic easily.’

Lukas resisted another flash of hunger, deep and arousing. She didn’t fit the classical standards of beauty—her face was striking rather than pretty—but something about it and her smoothly lissome body still retained a disturbing power to intrigue him.

However, he had responsibilities he couldn’t neglect, and although it was some months since he’d last had a woman it would be inconvenient to embark—re-embark, he corrected cynically—on an affair right now with a woman who’d already caused him enough sleepless nights.

And if he’d learned anything in his life it was to control the urges of his body.

Iona resolutely turned her face away to watch Chloe, absorbed on her flying steed. Luke should mean nothing to her, and neither should the possibility that he’d been married when he’d made love to her with such blazing desire.

Yet she struggled with a foolish sense of betrayal.

Ignoring it, she asked, ‘Roughly what time are you planning to be back?’

‘This meeting should finish at a reasonable time—before five o’clock,’ he told her, a note of austerity in his words telling her he wasn’t used to being questioned. ‘If it threatens to stretch further I—or my PA—will contact you. Do you have an appointment tonight?’

Iona met eyes that were unexpectedly keen. ‘No.’

His expression didn’t change as he turned and called, ‘Chloe, I have to go now.’

The child scrambled down from the rocking horse and came running with outstretched arms. Watching him swoop down to lift her high, Iona relaxed. Luke wasn’t effusive, but his love for his daughter was clear; he held her with great tenderness, and murmured something in a language Iona supposed to be Greek.

Forget the way that voice sends shivers down your spine, she warned herself. Concentrate on Chloe.

Nothing to worry about there—the child’s body language proclaimed her complete faith and trust in her father. Nestled against his big frame, she looked tiny as she gave him his kiss with perfect confidence, and his hard-hewn, handsome face softened.