Bought: One Island, One Bride

‘That’s right,’ he said, relieved that she was starting to see sense.

‘Then I dread the consequences,’ she told him gravely.

‘I think you’d better explain yourself,’ he threatened.

‘If Lefkis is the latest toy in your toy box, what happens when you tire of the island, Alexander? Will you just toss it out of the playpen?’

‘I’m not going to dignify that comment with a reply.’

Her response was to jut out her chin in a way that, had she been a man, would have invited him to take a swing at it. But the issues at stake were too serious to allow this meeting to deteriorate into a game of tit for tat.

‘This would never have happened in my father’s time,’ she said, shaking her head as if he was in the wrong.

It was time for a few home truths. ‘In your father’s time there was no clinic on the island. There was no hospital, no secondary school and people died from influenza before a doctor could arrive by sea from another island. In your father’s time Lefkis was a poverty-stricken pile of rocks where people scratched a living the best way they could—’

‘But they stayed,’ she argued passionately. ‘And why do you think that was, Alexander?’

Before he could tell her they had nowhere else to go, she gave him her version of events.

‘They stayed on because Lefkis was their home, their community, their family. They stayed on because they love the island as I do. Are the fiestas a recent custom? No. They’ve been held on Lefkis for hundreds of years. Do the tourists crowd in to witness some stage show contrived to strip them of their money before they leave? Are these people actors, or shallow charlatans?’ As she pointed to Kiria Theodopulos, her mouth worked with emotion. ‘Is that what you believe, Alexander?’ Her eyes blazed into his. ‘Because if you do, you’ll never be worthy to call yourself a son of Lefkis, even if you do own the island—’

‘Have you finished?’ he said coldly. ‘Good; then let me explain something. My success is founded on the solid rock of self-belief. That and sound judgement. This island is going to change. I will bring power-boat racing. I will clear the deep-water harbour in order to accommodate the bigger vessels. And I will not risk the future prosperity of Lefkis in order to humour you and a few local hotheads!’ Or to placate Kiria Theodopulos, whom he noticed now had reached up to clasp Ellie’s hand.

The silence in the room climbed to a new level as they stared at each other. He had let loose more emotion in these last few minutes than he had in years. And emotion had always been his enemy.

CHAPTER THREE

HE RANG a bell discreetly with his foot. It brought the steward hurrying back. ‘You may take the tea tray away now,’ he told him. ‘We’re finished here.’

‘I’m not finished,’ Ellie asserted, glancing at the steward’s retreating back.

‘I am,’ he told her coldly. Striding past her, he opened the door. ‘Accept what you have been told, or you’ll hear from my agent again. I’d like to keep this friendly, but…’

She got the message. He didn’t need to say anything more. Realisation dawned swiftly behind her eyes. This wasn’t just a question of a berth for her fishing boat, or a power-boat race or anything else that might concern her—it had come down to a decision as to whether or not she would be allowed to remain living on the island.

Instead of crumbling into misery she stared at him with an expression of undiluted fury in her eyes. Then, stalking stiff-legged across the room, she came to join him at the door.

He stood back to allow her to pass. As he did so he caught a whiff of her scent: soap, sea and engine oil. It was something he would never forget. Surprisingly, he found it quite a winning combination. Wisely he kept his wandering thoughts to himself and confined himself to a curt nod of dismissal.

‘Goodbye, Kirie Kosta,’ Ellie intoned with matching formality.

She met his gaze fearlessly. Her mouth was compressed in an angry line and her eyes were still blazing fire at him. She stood in front of him long enough for him to notice that her curly hair was sun-streaked to the point of being blonde at the temples, and however hard she tried to flatten those lips they still curved in a perfect Cupid’s bow.

‘Kiria Theodopulos?’ she said, looking past him into the room.

He had forgotten the old lady was even there, and yet he noticed everything about Ellie. There was a smudge of oil on her cheek that drew his attention back to the ugly scar…As she brought her hand up to cover it he wondered at the shame she was feeling—the shame that showed in her eyes. It puzzled him. It even softened him, just a little. ‘Make an appointment if you want to see me again,’ he said gruffly as the two women walked past him.

‘When can I see you?’ Ellie demanded like a shot.

‘My PA keeps my diary.’ He refused to be pressured by a child. She looked so young standing beside Kiria Theodopulos…and, of course, good Greek manners dictated that he should escort the old lady back to the shore. This wasn’t over yet. He offered his arm to Kiria Theodopulos, and when she took it Ellie had no option but to follow on behind.

When they reached the shore something made him throw Ellie a lifeline. ‘I’m holding a meeting tomorrow. You should attend. It’s on neutral territory,’ he added with some irony.

‘Where?’ She looked at him with interest.

‘In the council building.’

‘I know it.’

Her remorseless enthusiasm for her cause niggled at him. ‘It’s at eleven. Miss it and you won’t get a second chance.’

‘Thank you,’ she said, as if he had offered her something graciously.

Maybe he should have added that she would get a hearing by people on his payroll, but why not let her find that out for herself? It might have more impact that way; show her she was defending a lost cause. ‘Do you have a problem?’ he said, realising she was still standing there, looking thoughtful.

‘My wardrobe is somewhat limited.’

The elders of Lefkis were a formal group who wouldn’t take kindly to someone turning up in a boiler suit—even if that someone was Ellie. ‘I have a secretary who might be prepared to lend you something to wear,’ he offered.

‘I can afford my own clothes, thank you, Kirie Kosta,’ she said, tilting that chin of hers again.

‘Alexander,’ he reminded her. ‘And don’t be late.’

‘I’ll be there,’ she assured him with suppressed excitement.

This was just the opportunity she had been waiting for—what a shame, he thought; it really wouldn’t do her any good. ‘Ellie…’

‘Yes?’

He had been about to offer her an advance on the compensation she would receive for quitting her berth to give her funds to buy some formal clothes, but why should he? Why not let her climb out of the hole she’d dug herself? ‘Forget it,’ he said.

‘You will let me speak tomorrow?’ she said suspiciously.

‘You’ll never know if you don’t turn up, will you?’

Her eyes were round and wounded. He moved in for the kill. ‘If you’d troubled to read the papers my agent served on you, you would know the compensation I’m paying is enough for you to buy a whole new wardrobe of clothes and the best boat on the market—’

‘I already own the best boat on the market. And as for money, contrary to what you believe, it counts for nothing here—’

‘Oh, really? So the economy of this island works on a different system from the rest of the world? Get real, Ellie. Come to the meeting, or call it a day. It’s the only offer on the table—’

‘And if I don’t like the outcome?’

He gave her a look.

‘I have no right of appeal, is that right?’

She understood now.