With difficulty he retained his charismatic smile. ‘Where would you get such a wild idea from?’

‘You’re my son and I love you, even though you can be very ruthless,’ his mother retorted. ‘But I know you would only give up your freedom for someone very special and that quiet, quick wedding was very much your style. From what I’ve read, though, Ophelia’s had rather an unhappy life to date-’

‘But she doesn’t wear it like a badge. She sparkles.’ Lysander selected the descriptive word with care, thinking of the sassy light in Ophelia’s eyes and the liveliness of her quick movements.

Virginia rested anxious brown eyes on her handsome son. ‘What I’m about to say may annoy you, but if I don’t say it and your marriage ends in divorce, I’ll blame myself. You must’ve been angry about the interview that Ophelia gave to the press. She needs time and support to adjust to our world-’

‘Of course.’

‘Too many women have spoiled you, or perhaps I should say that the possession of power has spoiled you,’ the older woman murmured heavily. ‘You haven’t had to learn how to compromise. I want your marriage to work. I need to know that you have a loving home and family to rely on.’

Lysander paled and drew in a stark swift breath. If your marriage ends in divorce, I’ll blame myself. That assurance in tandem with that word, ‘family’, struck him like a thunderclap. Virginia must always have been eager for him to settle down with one woman. Respect for his privacy had kept her silent until illness had concentrated her thoughts on a future that she feared she might not be around to share. He should have guessed that his mother was secretly longing for him to present her with a grandchild. Even though he was an adult, more toughened than most by his experience of violence, betrayal and cruelty, Virginia continued to worry incessantly about his happiness rather than her own. More moved than he could bear, he sprang up and walked over to the window.

‘Cherish Ophelia-don’t let business become an excuse to neglect her. There, all done,’ Virginia muttered tightly, well aware that she had trespassed where angels feared to tread. ‘I promise that I won’t say another embarrassing word.’

But though Virginia moved on to urge him to tell her about how her childhood home had fared in Gladys Stewart’s hands, Lysander remained disconcerted by what she had said to him. Such interference in his private life was unprecedented and tapped into the concern he contrived to suppress most of the time. Now that concern resurfaced and a hollow sensation filled him. Did his mother know something about her medical condition that he did not? Although her treatment was proceeding well, did she have reason to suspect that her long-term prognosis was poor?

Her first glimpse of Lysander’s island took Ophelia’s breath away; Kastros was very lush and beautiful.

A colourful fishing village lay at one end of the island while Lysander’s stunning contemporary house sat in splendid isolation at the other, the two joined by a winding single ribbon of road. His home overlooked a glorious bay bounded by pine forests and a shimmering white crescent of empty sand. When Ophelia walked through the front door, she was greeted by a smiling group of staff, who could not do enough for her. She was offered an immediate tour of the vast house, which was amazing in terms of design, technology and comfort. A delicious dinner was served on a shaded terrace. The chef even came out to check that she had enjoyed the food. She was impressed to death-she couldn’t help it.

But as the night hours advanced and there was no further word from Lysander, a closer scrutiny of her surroundings had a rather different effect on her. The master bedroom suite was built on palatial lines. She was astonished when she discovered that the closets in the dressing room already contained a remarkable array of brand-new designer garments, sets of silk lingerie and accessories-all in a selection of sizes. The adjoining bathroom was stuffed to the gills with a wide selection of exclusive perfume and cosmetics. Slowly it dawned on Ophelia that the house was a playboy’s paradise where Lysander must have entertained many different women.

She rested newly aware and censorious eyes on the massive bed, the number of mirrors and the mood lighting. His bedroom was a sophisticated adult pleasure room. No prizes for guessing how Lysander liked to relax between business deals! With lots of sex and the sort of women who expected to be richly remunerated for their time in a billionaire’s bed. She thought of the necklace he had given her and shuddered with distaste.

By midnight, Ophelia had installed her possessions in a guest room at the far end of the house. She had to make boundaries and stick to them. Besides, she wanted a divorce and her goal was to become a thorn in Lysander’s flesh. Her good behaviour had not advanced her cause at the airport hotel or during the flight to Greece. Lysander was accustomed to women who accepted being treated like the wallpaper. She should have moaned incessantly and clung to him, but she had shrunk from putting on such an act in front of his staff.

Her pride revolted at the suspicion that she was already allowing Lysander to ride roughshod over her. He had torn her from her busy, fulfilling life and dumped her on a private island where she had neither company nor occupation. And where was he? That was what Ophelia wanted to know. While she was marooned in a giant house in the middle of nowhere, where was her bridegroom and what was he doing? After all, hadn’t he insisted that they pretend that theirs was a normal marriage? Was every single sacrifice to be hers?

Mid-morning the next day, she was informed of Lysander’s imminent arrival long before she actually saw the helicopter flying in over the bay. The staff rushed around. Anticipation hung heavy in the air. Everywhere Lysander went, the red carpet was rolled out to welcome him and awe-inspired ordinary mortals made enormous efforts to ensure that nothing displeased him. She discovered that it took considerable courage to ignore the fuss and the expectation that she behave in a similar fashion.

Lysander was annoyed that Ophelia wasn’t in the front hall when he arrived. He discovered that he had a surprisingly clear concept of how a wife should behave. Ophelia should have been eager to see him and have taken the first opportunity to greet him. Didn’t she know anything at all about what pleased a man? Well, not in the bedroom, he conceded, but he didn’t have a problem with his role of instructor in that department. Virginia’s strictures nudged to the forefront of his mind and his sleek black brows pleated. Of course, if he didn’t tell Ophelia what he expected from her how was she to know? Perhaps he should write it all down in clear, concise language that could not be misunderstood. Proper guidelines would soon sort out the problem.

‘Where is my wife?’ he demanded of his staff.

Lysander could not credit the answer. Broad shoulders straight as axe handles, the carriage of his big powerful frame imposing, he strode through his house and knocked on the relevant guest room door. A man spoiled by too many women or the possession of too much power might not have knocked, might even have raised his voice from the foot of the corridor. But he was not such a man, Lysander told himself with sterling conviction.

On the other side of the door, Ophelia tensed and braced herself for a showdown.

CHAPTER EIGHT

‘YES?’ Ophelia enquired frostily as the door spread back in an ever-widening arc. It was a challenge not to react physically to her sudden view of Lysander, for the minute she saw him she became intensely aware of him. It wasn’t just that he was gorgeous and intensely, unashamedly masculine. It wasn’t even his vibrant aura of energy that attracted her most. It was the powerful buzz of his presence that excited her to the point that she literally held her breath.

Dense black lashes semi-screened Lysander’s stunning bronze gaze and a wicked smile of amusement marked his stubborn, passionate mouth. She might not have been poised by the front door, but she had most definitely been waiting for him. Her crystalline blue eyes glimmered like stars in her heart-shaped face. Her tension and unease were so palpable in the delicate contours of her face and the tautness of her slight figure that his exasperation evaporated. He strode forward and snatched her up into his arms with raw masculine enthusiasm.

‘Sta diavolo…I thought I was never going to get here, yineka mou!’

‘Lysander!’ she squeaked and it wasn’t supposed to be a squeak, it was supposed to be a freezing reproof. But once again he had taken her totally by surprise and had steamrollered over her defences before she could muster a more forbidding stance.

‘I haven’t tasted you since the day before yesterday,’ Lysander declared thickly against the tremulous line of her mouth. Then, pulling her right into him, he strode with her out of the room, both arms wrapped round her in a potent embrace. ‘For a man of my strong appetites that is a very long time, hara mou.’

His deep accented drawl shimmied down her taut spine like a velvet caress.

‘P-put me down,’ Ophelia stammered in a hoarse undertone.

‘You don’t mean that, not now that you finally have me all to yourself. I will never ignore your existence again,’ Lysander husked, letting his white teeth nibble at her lower lip and taking advantage of her strangled gasp to dip his tongue into the moist tender interior of her mouth, which she had attempted to deny him.

Her slim fingers clenched the springy depths of his black hair. He used his tongue to dart and thrust with erotic mastery and she shivered violently in his hold. Her body was awakening in a feverish burst of response that was so powerful it almost hurt. She tried to think, to reason, at virtually the same moment that he pushed her flat on a yielding surface. Her heart was pounding fit to burst. He thrust her green cotton top out of his way and dealt even more expeditiously with the wisp of silk and lace that covered the pouting mounds of her breasts as they rose and fell with the rapidity of her breathing.