The Santorini Bride Read online

  “There’s more than one blond man in the world, Theo. I haven’t seen Julian since that awful day in his apartment.”

  She hadn’t even thought about him in months. Could barely remember what he looked like.

  Theo was frowning furiously. Then he shook his head. “But then who’s—” He looked again at Garrett and then shot a sideways glance at her belly, but then his gaze zeroed in on her.

  “His name is Garrett Something-or-Other,” Martha said. “He went to school with your sister. You should come home more often,” she told him. “Then you’d know who her friends are.”

  Theo grunted and spared Garrett one last long look, then turned back to Martha, to dance again, but just barely. He held her hand in his. She could feel his other palm warm against her back as he looked down at her intently. “Then it’s not…his?”

  It.

  Well, what had she expected?

  “No,” she said firmly and calmly as she lifted her eyes and looked straight at him. “It’s not.”

  “Then—” But he couldn’t seem to say any more. He looked as if someone had drained all the blood right out of him. He swallowed. His Adam’s apple bobbed. His eyes probed hers.

  Then the music stopped, and out of the corner of her eye, Martha saw Elias spin Tallie around and bend her back over his arm to give her a long hungry kiss.

  “It’s mine?” Theo demanded harshly beneath the noise of clapping and laughter.

  “Actually,” Martha said with a brittle smile, “it is a boy. And he owes half his gene pool to you, yes. But he’s my son!”

  And she pulled her hand out of Theo’s grasp, turned and, head high, walked briskly out of the room.

  “So, I take it you and Martha have met.” The petite dark-haired woman with the spiky hairstyle arched her tweezed eyebrows at him. She had been standing next to Martha when he’d asked her to dance. And while they didn’t share much resemblance, the tone said there was a definite connection.

  Theo grunted a reply. He barely registered the woman in front of him. His brain was still seeing Martha in her swirly red dress, Martha with her full breasts and flashing eyes and—his child.

  She was pregnant!

  And it wasn’t Julian’s. She wasn’t Julian’s!

  Her child was his.

  “I’m Cristina,” the woman said cheerfully, thrusting out a hand and grabbing his.

  Theo shook it. His own was oddly shaky with no help at all.

  “I’m Martha’s sister,” Cristina clarified. “And you are…?”

  He didn’t answer. Barely knew his own name. Finally when she kept waiting he managed, “Theo Savas.”

  “Ah.” One word that spoke volumes. “Tallie’s brother?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you met Martha…?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where did you meet Martha?” she persisted with infuriating patience.

  Good God, were they going to play Twenty Questions?

  “On Santorini,” Theo snapped.

  Cristina beamed. “Of course. That explains it.”

  Not to him. To him there were a hundred questions that needed answering. And the only person who could answer them had disappeared down the steps and out the door.

  “That’s where Alex was conceived,” Cristina went on, just as if he found out he was becoming a father every day of the week. “Alex is my son,” she explained. “He’s almost a year now. He’s over there with his grandma.”

  She pointed to a black-haired baby in the arms of a woman he recognized as Martha’s mother. His own mother was cooing and gooing at it, doubtless babbling about wanting a grandchild of her own and—

  Theo shut his eyes.

  “Amazing things happen on Santorini,” Cristina said cheerfully. “Must be something in the water.”

  “Must be,” Theo said, opening his eyes again and turning toward the door through which Martha had vanished. His fingers were curling into fists and uncurling again. “I have to go,” he said abruptly and stalked off in search of the mother of his child.

  Martha could hear approaching footsteps on the wooden planks behind her. She didn’t turn around.

  Instead she sat on the edge of the yacht club’s dock, her back to the reception going on in the clubhouse up the hill. Her back was straight, her feet dangling in the cold water of Long Island Sound.

  It was February. Not exactly the weather for it. But Martha didn’t care. The heat of the moment was enough to keep the chill away as she sat and listened distractedly to the music, the laughter, and the general joviality that went with warm wonderful Greek weddings. Mostly, though, she listened to the sound of footsteps moving ever closer.

  She had been waiting for them. Sort of.

  Maybe, she’d told herself, he wouldn’t come. Maybe he wouldn’t find her. Maybe he wouldn’t even bother to look.

  If Theo came looking for her, if he found her and wanted to discuss it, she would talk. She wouldn’t hide. There were plenty of places she could have gone where he would never find her.

  But she wasn’t hiding. Not now that he knew.

  She owed him an explanation if he wanted one. So she would answer his questions if he came after her. She would explain what had happened, and she would absolve him of responsibility. She would let him go back to the freedom he so clearly craved.

  The footsteps stopped directly behind her.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” His voice was harsh.

  Slowly Martha turned to look up at him. The breeze off the ocean had parted his dark suit coat, displaying a dazzling white shirtfront now open at the collar—as if the news had strangled him, she thought—and a loosened tie.

  “I didn’t imagine you’d want to know,” she said.

  He certainly looked as if he didn’t. His expression was dark and forbidding, the skin taut across his cheekbones, his jaw working, his fists clenching.

  She thought about the laughing Theo, the teasing Theo, the Theo she had grown to love. And then she tried not to think about that Theo, because that Theo didn’t exist anymore.

  Maybe he never had—except in her fantasies—and for one stolen week on Santorini.

  This Theo was a stranger. And the father of her child.

  So she needed to be calm, rational, deliberate.

  “Not know! Why the hell would you think such a stupid thing?” He was shouting now, and thank God his words were carried away by the wind.

  Martha drew her feet out of the water, picked up her sandals and stood, wrapping her fine red woollen shawl around her shoulders because suddenly she didn’t feel warm at all.

  “Come on. Let’s walk on the beach,” she said. No one would overhear them there. He could shout all he wanted.

  Theo opened his mouth as if he might argue, then shrugged and shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers. Then he gave a curt nod. “If you want.”

  She didn’t want to do this at all, but it was necessary. So she headed back up the dock, then led the way down the steps onto the beach.

  Someone was waving at them from the clubhouse, but Martha looked the other way. If Theo noticed, she couldn’t tell. She walked quickly. But with his long strides, Theo kept beside her.

  Once they were on the beach, he kicked off his shoes and left them by the steps. Martha was going to carry hers, but he took them away from her and tossed them next to his.

  “I suppose you want to know how it happened,” she began.

  “I have a damned good idea how it happened,” Theo said harshly. “I also remember you said you were on the pill.”

  “And I was. I didn’t lie to you. But apparently my body got out of adjustment when I was jet lagged. I tried to be careful. I followed the directions. But—” she shrugged helplessly “—apparently under the circumstances, it didn’t work.”

  “Apparently.” His tone was dry.

  She ignored his sarcasm. “So there was a gap in there where anything could happen.”

  “And obviously did.” Theo raked
a hand through his hair.

  “That’s right,” Martha said firmly. She was not going to apologize. She had been shocked herself to discover she was pregnant. She had, after the first moment of terror, felt oddly exhilarated, pleased and even blessed. Not that she expected Theo to understand any of that.

  “Well, don’t worry about it,” she said now. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Of course you will be,” he said, surprising her.

  She turned her head and looked at him curiously.

  “We’ll get married.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  MARTHA stopped dead and spun to face him. “What?”

  “I said, we’ll get married.” Theo’s voice was sharp, impatient. His black hair was whipping in the wind. He raked a hand through it.

  “Don’t be ridiculous!”

  Of all the scenarios she’d imagined between her and Theo when she broke the news, that he would suggest marriage had never entered her mind.

  He scowled furiously. “What do you mean, ridiculous? It’s the sane, sensible thing to do.”

  As if that were the reason two people should get married!

  “No, it’s not. People don’t get married for babies anymore, Theo!”

  “Well, not always, of course, but under the circumstances—”

  “No! You don’t want to be married! To anyone! You told me that! No strings, you said. No responsibilities!”

  “But this—” he flung a hand in the direction of her midriff “—is a string! It is a responsibility!”

  “Well, I absolve you of it,” Martha said tightly. “Don’t let it cross your mind.”

  “Cross my mind?” Theo stared at her as if she’d lost hers. “How the hell am I supposed to forget a thing like that?”

  “It’s not a thing, Theo. It’s a child! My child!”

  “And mine!”

  Martha shook her head. “You don’t want it.”

  “How the hell do you know what I want?”

  “You told me.”

  “That was then.”

  “Then. Now. It makes no difference. Don’t worry about it.” She tried to walk away, but he caught her arm and hauled her back.

  “I’m not worried! I’m going to take care of you. I’m going to marry you, damn it!”

  “No, damn it, you’re not!”

  He stared at her, his chest heaving as if he’d run a mile.

  Hers hurt. Her eyes burned. Her throat closed. She jerked her arm out of his grasp and fiercely shook her head. “I won’t marry you, Theo. I’m only marrying for the right reason, Theo.”

  “This is a right reason!”

  Resolutely Martha shook her head. “No. It’s not.”

  “But—”

  “Love is the reason, Theo. And love—” her voice nearly broke, but she hung on “—has nothing to do with this.”

  There. She said it.

  And Theo didn’t contradict her.

  He just glowered at her and ground his teeth, jammed his hands into his pockets and kicked sand. “For God’s sake, Martha, be sensible.”

  “I am being sensible!” If she were any more sensible, she would burst into tears. “I don’t want a marriage without love. And you don’t want a marriage at all. Not really. You’re just being noble. It’s not necessary. You don’t have to bother with either of us. Thank you for the offer, Theo, but no.”

  “Martha—”

  “No! I won’t marry you. I won’t!”

  No?

  She’d said no?

  Theo couldn’t believe it. Not any of it.

  Not that she was pregnant with his child. Not that he’d actually proposed marriage a few minutes ago. And certainly not that Martha had acted like he was insulting her and then flat-out turned him down.

  He was thunderstruck, then furious. His world, normally neat and linear and uncluttered, suddenly seemed spilling over with chaos and totally out of control. He was stunned and astonished and—

  “Hey!” He looked around to see his brother George waving at him from the deck of the yacht club. “What’re you doing down there? Wading? Come on! Ma says you’re needed on the dance floor.”

  Theo shook his head and waved him off. But George, apparently under dire maternal threat, wasn’t taking no for an answer. He jogged down the steps and demanded, “What the hell d’you think you’re doing hiding out down here?”

  Theo shook his head, unable to speak, and even if he could, certainly not about to discuss what had just transpired.

  “Well, it’s not on,” George said flatly. “You can’t stay here. Ma saw you leave. And it’s more than my life is worth, not bringing you back. There’s a dance going on in there, and a dozen ditsy women, and Ma’s determined they’re going to have partners. Demetrios has got a gaggle of ’em, but Yiannis is no help at all, too busy with that girlfriend of his. And I’m damn sure not going to dance with the rest of them. Come on.” And he grabbed Theo’s arm and began to haul him toward the steps.

  “I’m not dancing,” Theo protested.

  “Tell that to Ma,” George suggested as he pushed Theo through the door into the clubhouse. “She’s right over there.”

  She was—and looking daggers in their direction. Theo gave her a brief, stony look, then shifted his gaze at once to scan the room for Martha.

  She was nowhere to be seen.

  The band began another song and couples, including George and a flame-haired miss, who cooed at him and fogged his glasses, moved out onto the floor. Theo craned his neck, still looking.

  “Theo.” His mother appeared at his side, looking annoyed. “What’s the matter with you?”

  She might have enjoyed hearing he’d just learned he was going to be a father. Indeed, she’d probably have shouted it from the rooftops. But it wasn’t any of her business. Not now. Not yet.

  “I’m looking for someone.” And he didn’t stop, moving purposefully around the edge of the dance floor, gaze darting this way and that, seeking a dark-haired woman in a red dress. A pregnant dark-haired woman in a red dress!

  His mother dogged his steps. “Have you talked to Cassandra?”

  Theo stopped abruptly, so that his mother crashed into his back. He spun around, catching her by the arms. “Bloody hell! She’s here?”

  “I thought you liked Cassandra? She said you had a lovely time on Santorini together.” His mother smiled hopefully.

  “Did she?” Theo growled. Yeah, he supposed she might have. Apparently Cassandra often played fast and loose with the truth. “Where is she?” Because he was definitely staying the hell away from her!

  His mother shook her head. “I don’t know. Probably dancing,” she said, turning to scan the floor. “She isn’t fool enough to simply wait for you. She’ll stand you up, Theo, find someone better—not that there is anyone better,” his mother added loyally.

  “Thank God,” Theo muttered, still scanning the crowd. Still not finding Martha. Where the hell had she gone?

  “Dance with Aunt Ophelia.” His mother gave him a shove in the direction of his aunt with the fruit basket hat.

  Short of snubbing her, Theo had to do just that.

  Of course he nearly got his eye put out by a banana for his trouble, but at least Aunt Ophelia didn’t tread on his toes. And at the end of the dance, which he spent trying to keep his ears on her conversation and his eyes busy distinguishing red dresses from apples on the hat, she said to him, “If you’re looking for that pretty little sister of the groom, she left.”

  “What?” Theo stumbled and stepped on her toes then.

  Aunt Ophelia shrugged her shoulders and her mighty bosom. “She left,” his aunt said again succinctly and gave him a speculative look, no doubt seeing the wild desperation in his own.

  “How did you—?” Theo stared at her, shaking his head.

  “I have eyes, my boy. And plenty of time to use them. You danced with her.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “And only her.”

  “I—”

  �
��And then you went out looking for her.”

  “I—”

  “Went down to the beach with her.” Aunt Ophelia tsked and sighed disapprovingly. “Good heavens, Theo. She could have caught her death of cold out there. It’s the middle of winter. You young people.”

  “I didn’t make her go out there, damn it! I went after her.”

  “But you didn’t bring her back in. She looked frozen when she came in. Absolutely frozen,” Aunt Ophelia repeated with a certain morbid satisfaction. “Shaking.”

  “Where’d she go?” There was no point in trying to convince his aunt she hadn’t seen any of that.

  “Don’t know. Far, far away, I should think. Somewhere warm. Poor child. Is it yours, Theo?”

  “What?” Theo was jolted as much by the question as by the answer he knew was true.

  Aunt Ophelia rolled her eyes, then reached out and patted his arm. “I suggest you find her, dear boy. And then do the right thing.”

  “Believe me,” Theo said through his teeth, “that’s exactly what I’m trying to do.”

  She wasn’t anywhere to be found. And he couldn’t make a production out of asking where she’d gone.

  The last thing he wanted—and the very last thing he was sure she would want—was making a big deal out of finding her. He would find her. If not now, tomorrow. He didn’t know where she lived in the city, but he could find out.

  And when he did, he’d camp on her bloody doorstep until she came to her senses.

  “Theo, darling, dance!” his mother commanded imperiously.

  But Theo had had enough of dancing. Enough of women. He only wanted to set eyes on one woman now—the mother of his child.

  His child!

  The mind boggled. Theo felt—Hell, he didn’t know what he felt. Beyond dazed and gutted. And desperate. He damned sure felt that.

  “Theo! Theo, where are you going?” His mother’s voice followed him up the stairs and out the door. “Theo!”

  But he didn’t turn back. So, fine. Martha didn’t love him. Big deal. He didn’t do love anyway.

  But no matter what Martha thought, he intended to do marriage.

  “Are you sure?” Martha’s brother-in-law looked at her warily. “Now?”