Six Greek Heroes. Cathy WilliamsЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER TWO

      ENTERING the imposing mansion that Elyssa and her wealthy husband, Finlay Southwick, had renovated at reputedly vast expense, Hope smoothed her V-necked black dress down over her hips with damp palms.

      The party was already in full swing, for Andreas did not believe in early arrivals. She was very nervous and was resisting a powerful urge to stick to him like superglue. She had been so scared of wearing the wrong thing that she had opted to play it safe with black, but women all around her were wearing rainbow colours and she felt horribly drab and unadventurous. In addition, her plan to spend half the day grooming herself to her personal best in the presentation stakes had been interrupted, cast into confusion and pretty much destroyed by Andreas arriving three hours early.

      Warm colour blossomed in Hope’s cheeks. A business meeting had been cancelled, leaving Andreas free to finish early. The intimate ache between her thighs testified to the enthusiasm with which Andreas had taken advantage of that rare gift of extra time with her.

      A youthful blonde caught up in the crush stared at Hope in surprise and stopped dead. ‘It is you, isn’t it? You’re the handbag lady who does the stall in Camden market…aren’t you?’

      ‘I think you will find that you are mistaken,’ Andreas interposed in a cool, deflating tone that would have crushed granite.

      Hope tensed. The teenager already reddening with embarrassment had vaguely familiar features. ‘Yes…that’s me,’ she confirmed with a warm smile to ease the girl’s discomfiture.

      ‘My mother adores the bag I gave her for her birthday and loads of her friends are desperate to find out where she got it from! I’ll be calling back soon,’ the blonde promised.

      Before Hope could confide that she had given up on selling at the market, Andreas had curved a firm hand to her spine to urge her past. The foyer was big and crowded with noisy knots of chattering guests. He pressed her into a doorway to say in an icy undertone, ‘Is it true? Have you been flogging merchandise from a stall?’

      Taken aback, Hope looked up at him in dismay. His gleaming dark eyes were hard and cold. ‘Yes. Initially, I was doing market research to find out what sells to which age groups. It helped me keep in touch with current trends—’

      ‘You’ve been keeping a market stall,’ Andreas sliced in, cold, incredulous disapproval etched into the hard angles of his lean, strong face. ‘Trading in the street as though you were penniless and without means of support! How dare you affront me in such a manner?’

      Hope was paralysed to the spot. Astonishment had leached all the natural colour from below her skin. ‘It never occurred to me that you might be so snobbish about it,’ she muttered unevenly.

      ‘I am not a snob.’ Andreas rejected that accusation out of hand.

      Anxious turquoise eyes clear as glass rested on him. ‘I’m afraid you are, but with your privileged background that’s perfectly normal and understandable—’

      ‘Theos…what has my background to do with this?’ Andreas grated, his annoyance fuelled to anger by the expression of gentle and compassionate forgiveness that she wore. ‘Why did you not tell me that you were working as a street trader?’

      ‘For goodness’ sake, it was only an occasional casual thing. I had no idea you would feel like this about it. I didn’t even think that you would be interested,’ Hope murmured unhappily. ‘As it happens, I’m not doing the market any more—’

      ‘You should never have stooped to such a level. From now on you will respect the standards required to conserve your dignity.’ Devastatingly handsome features set in grim lines of intimidating impassivity, Andreas reined back his temper with difficulty.

      ‘I don’t think I’ve got any to conserve,’ Hope confided apologetically, deciding that it might not be the best time to tell him that she had only given up the market in favour of craft fairs.

      Sometimes, the cocoon of his own stratospheric wealth made Andreas hopelessly impractical, she thought ruefully. After all, she was virtually penniless. She had lived like a church mouse on her student loan and had since stretched her meagre earnings to paying for all her outgoings but it was a real uphill battle. Only the fact that she had no rent to pay for the roof over her head had enabled her to manage. Was he even aware of the contribution she made to the household bills? Or did one of his staff deal with all his domestic expenditure at the apartment?

      ‘But I have, so cultivate dignity for my benefit,’ Andreas delivered with cutting clarity, refusing to be softened by the playful light in her gaze.

      His pride was outraged by the very idea of her rubbing shoulders with market traders and serving customers. Such a milieu was beneath her touch and she ought to know that without being told. She was too naive and she lacked discrimination. How much over-familiarity and coarseness had she endured without complaint? What other foolish things did she get up to that he didn’t know about? His unquestioning trust in her was shaken. For the first time he acknowledged the inherent flaw in his own all too regular absences abroad. If he had been around more, he would have found out about the market-trading project and he would have suppressed it. In the future he would need to take a much closer interest in her activities.

      Hope knew Andreas too well not to recognise his distaste and it cut her to the quick at a moment when she was already feeling vulnerable. He was disappointed in her. It was plain that he believed she had embarrassed him and that really hurt. The cool distance stamped in his stunning dark golden eyes hit her hardest of all.

      At that point she registered that the crush had magically cleared to allow them a clear passage. But she was discomfited by the discovery that they appeared to be the cynosure of all eyes. A perceptible ripple of excited awareness was travelling round the big reception room, turning every head in their direction. Eyes skimmed over her with curiosity but lingered with fascinated awe on the tall, authoritative male at her side. Andreas was the main attraction and the crowds parted before him as though he were royalty. Certainly, he was royally indifferent to the power of his own presence. He ignored all but a tiny number of the hopeful and gushing greetings angled at him.

      A beautiful young woman with sultry dark eyes and long brown hair, her slender figure displayed to advantage in a strappy iridescent pink dress, was hurrying towards them. Hope, who had often seen photos of Elyssa in gossip magazines, recognised Andreas’s sister instantly and smiled. Her tummy felt tight with nerves. She so much wanted her meeting with the other woman to go well. Elyssa focused her attention on her brother and kissed him on both cheeks in ebullient welcome even as she uttered a spirited barrage of complaint about his late arrival.

      Untouched by that censure, indeed laughing, Andreas flicked a glance at Hope as though he was about to introduce her to his sibling. However, a heavily built older man approached him just then and addressed him in a flood of Greek. ‘Excuse me a moment,’ Andreas said to both women, his mouth tightening with impatience as he stepped to one side.

      ‘I’m Hope,’ Hope confided as she extended a friendly hand to Elyssa. ‘I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.’

      A glittering smile pinned to her burgundy-tinted mouth, Elyssa fixed sullen dark eyes on her, ignored her hand and murmured with stinging scorn, ‘You’re my brother’s whore. Why would I want to meet you?’

      As Elyssa walked