e took her out to the parking area, where a dark blue limousine waited; to her embarrassment, Andros sat in the back. He moved to the opposite end of the seat, and Nikolas helped Jessica in, then climbed in beside her. He spoke sharply to the driver, and the vehicle was set in motion.

It was an utterly silent drive. Nikolas was grim, un-speaking, and she had no intention of unleashing his temper if she could avoid it. In a way, she decided that she was grateful for Andros's presence, as it forced her husband to restrain himself. She couldn't even think about later, when they would be alone.

The limousine stopped at the front entrance of a hotel so modern it would have fit in in the middle of Los Angeles more than in a city which had existed for thousands of years. Dragged along like a child in tow, she was forced to match Nikolas's long strides as they entered the hotel and took the elevator up to the penthouse. He probably owned the hotel, she thought wryly.

She was braced for the worst, and it was an anticlimax when he opened the door and ushered her inside the luxurious apartment, said tersely to Andros, "Don't let her out of your sight," and then left without even glancing at her.

When the door had closed behind him, Andros whistled soundlessly between his teeth. He looked at Jessica ruefully. "I've never seen him so angry before," he told her.

"I know," she said, letting out her breath in a long sigh. "I'm sorry you had to be involved."

He shrugged. "He won't be angry with me unless I let you escape from me, and I don't intend to do that. I'm attached to my neck, and prefer to remain so. How did you leave the island?"

"I hid on the helicopter," she explained, sitting down in one of the extremely comfortable chairs and running her fingers over the royal blue upholstery. "I had it all planned, and it worked like a charm—except that the flight to London wasn't until after lunch."

He shook his head. "It wouldn't have made any difference. Don't you know that Niko would have traced you long before your flight landed, and you would have been met as you left the plane? Met and detained?"

She hadn't thought of that, and she sighed. If only she had left that note! "I wasn't leaving him for good," she explained, her voice troubled. "But I need some time by myself to think…" She halted, unwilling to discuss her marriage with Andros. He was much friendlier than he had been before he discovered that she loved Nikolas, but some basic reserve made it difficult for her to be so open.

Andros sat down across from her, his lean, dark face anxious. "Jessica, please remember that Niko isn't a man of compromises; yet he has constantly compromised his own rules since he met you. I don't know what has gone wrong between you. I thought that after the wedding things would be better. Would it make you feel more confident to know that Nikolas must care for you, or he wouldn't act as he does?"

No, that didn't help. Sometimes she thought that Nikolas was capable of feeling nothing but lust for her, and guilt that their wedding night had been such a fiasco for her. Their relationship was so tangled that she wondered if anything could save it now.

"Where did he go?" she asked, her spirit draining from her as she remembered how he had refused to look at her. She had insulted him, deceived him, and he wouldn't easily forgive her.

"Back to the meeting he was attending," answered Andros. "It was urgent, or he wouldn't have returned."

Another black mark against her. He had left an important meeting to collect her, and he would be furious that others knew his wife was attempting to leave him.

"No one else knew," said Andros, guessing her thoughts. "He told me only when we were on the way to the airport."

Thank heaven for small favors, she thought, though she doubted that it would make much difference to Nikolas's temper.

There was nothing to do but wait for him to return; though there were books aplenty in the apartment, she couldn't settle down to read. Andros ordered lunch for both of them, and again she had to force herself to eat. After that, time dragged. She put records on the stereo and tried to relax, a useless effort; instead she paced the room, rubbing her arms as if she were chilled.

The magnificent sun was setting when the door finally opened and Nikolas entered, his dark face still a mask which revealed nothing. He didn't say a word to Jessica but conversed with Andros in rapid Greek. Finally Andros nodded and left the apartment, and she was alone with Nikolas.

Her stomach tightened in anticipation, but still he didn't look at her. Pulling his tie loose from his neck, he muttered, "Order dinner while I shower. And don't even try to leave; the staff will stop you before you reach the street."

She believed him and bit her lip in consternation as he disappeared into one of the rooms that opened off the lounge area. She hadn't explored the apartment, having been too nervous to have any interest in her surroundings, so she had no idea of what the different rooms were. Obediently she lifted the telephone and ordered dinner from someone who spoke excellent English, subconsciously choosing those foods that she had noticed Nikolas particularly liked. Was it a feminine instinct, to soothe away male ire by an offering of food? she wondered. When she realized what she had done, she smiled wryly at herself, feeling a strange kinship with cavewomen from thousands and thousands of years ago.

The food arrived as Nikolas reentered the lounge, his black hair still damp from his shower. He was simply dressed in black pants and a white silk shirt which clung to his body in patches where his skin was wet, leaving his dark skin visible beneath the thin fabric. She watched his face, trying to gauge the extent of his anger, but it was like trying to read a blank wall.

"Sit down," he said remotely. "You've had a busy day; you need to replenish your strength."

The lamb chops and artichoke hearts were the best she had ever tasted, and she was able to eat with an improved appetite despite his hostile presence across from her. She was nearly finished before he spoke again, and she realized that he had waited until then to keep from upsetting her and ruining her appetite.

"I called Maman," he said, "and told her that you were with me. She was frantic, of course; they all were. You'll apologize for your thoughtlessness when we return home, though I managed to gloss over it by telling Maman that you had smuggled yourself to Athens in order to be with me. She was glad that you felt well enough to pursue me so romantically," he finished sarcastically, and Jessica flushed.

"I didn't think of leaving a note until it was too late," she confessed.

He shrugged. "No matter. You'll be forgiven."

She placed her fork carefully beside the plate and gathered her courage. "I wasn't leaving you," she offered in explanation. "At least—"

"It damned well looked as though you were!" he snapped.

"Not permanently," she persisted.

"You're right about that. I would have had you back within two days at the most." He appeared to be on the verge of saying something else, but he bit back the words and said instead, "If you've finished, it would probably be wise if you took your bath now. I'll probably break your neck if I have to listen to your excuses right now!"

For a moment, Jessica sat there defiantly; then she pressed her lips together and did as he had directed. He was in no mood to be reasonable right now, and if she listened to very much more of his sarcasm she was likely to lose her own temper, and she didn't want that to happen. Scenes between herself and Nikolas could quickly become violent and always ended in the same manner, with him making love to her.

She locked herself in the giant bathroom and took a shower, not being in the mood for a long, relaxing bath in the tub. As she toweled herself dry, she noticed a dark blue robe hanging on a hook on the door, and as she hadn't brought a nightgown with her she borrowed the robe and tied it about her. It was enormous, and she had to roll the sleeves up before her hands peeped out She had to lift the hem in order to walk, and she held the gathered material in her hand as she left the bathroom.

"Very fetching," Nikolas drawled from his reclining position on the bed.

Jessica stopped cold, glaring at him. He had turned off all the lights except for the bedside lamp, and the covers on the bed were turned back. He had also undressed.

She didn't pretend to misunderstand his intentions. Nervously she pushed her hair back from her face. "I don't want to sleep with you."

"That's good, because I have no intention of sleeping."

Her face flamed with temper. "Don't play word games with me! You know very well what I mean."

His black eyes were narrowed as he surveyed her from her bare feet to her disheveled hair. "Yes, I know very well that you have an aversion to sharing a bed with me, but I'm your husband, and I'm tired of my empty bed. It's obvious that if you're well enough to smuggle yourself to Athens, you're well enough to fulfill your wifely obligations."

"You're strong enough that I can't fight you off," she said fiercely. "But you know that I'm not willing. Why can't you listen to me? Why do you refuse to let me decide for myself how I feel?"

He merely shook his head. "Don't try to throw up a smoke screen of words; it won't work. Take off the robe and come here."

Defiantly she crossed her arms and glared at him. "I wasn't leaving you!" she insisted. "I just wanted some time by myself to—to think and get myself on an even keel again, and I knew you'd never loosen the chains and let me go if I asked you."

"I'm sorry you feel that way about our marriage," he replied in a silky voice, his expression dangerous. "Jessica, darling, are you going to come here, or am I going to have to fetch you?"

"I expect you'll have to fetch me," she stated, not giving in an inch. She tensed all over at the thought of a repeat of his earlier lovemaking, and her face must have revealed the fear she felt because some of the sternness left his expression.

"You don't have to be afraid," he said, uncoiling his length from the bed with a wild grace. Her breath caught in her throat at the untamed beauty of his naked male body, but at the same time she stepped back in alarm.

"No. I don't want to," she said childishly, putting up a hand to ward him off. He merely caught it and used it to pull her close to him, the male scent of him enveloping her and making her feel surrounded by him.

"Don't fight me," he whispered, opening the robe with his free hand and pushing it away from her shoulders to let it drop about her feet in a blue pool. "I promise you won't be hurt, darling. It's time you learned about being my wife, and it's a lesson you'll enjoy."

Jessica shivered, rigid with anxiety, and goose bumps roughened her skin as he leaned down to press his hot mouth into the tender hollow of her shoulder. She remembered the night before, when he had roused her gently into desire, then left her unfulfilled, a calculated move that had left her feeling both insulted and frustrated. His physical desires were hot and demanding, but his brain always remained alert and cool, unaffected by the wildly shifting emotions that kept her so unsettled. Was this merely another calculated maneuver as he tried to break her spirit, tame her into accepting his authority?

She wrenched away from him, shaking her head in denial. "No," she said again, though she had no hope that he would accept her refusal.

He moved swiftly, lifting her into his arms and carrying her the few steps to the bed. He placed her on the cool sheet and followed her down, his arms and legs securing hers and holding her motionless. "Just relax," he crooned, trailing soft kisses over her shoulder and neck, then up to her trembling lips. "I'll take care of you, darling; there's nothing to be afraid of this time."

Violently Jessica turned her head away from him, and he pressed his lips instead to the line of her jaw, the sensitive shell of her ear. She made a strangled sound of protest, and he murmured soothingly to her, continuing the light kisses as he trailed his fingers over her body, learning the soft slopes and curves and reassuring her that this time he wasn't going to be impatient with her.

She tried to hold herself away from the seductive quality of those light, elusive touches on her skin, but she wasn't cold by nature, and eventually her sense of awareness began to dim and grow hazy. Imperceptibly she began to relax in his arms, and her skin warmed, taking on the flushed glow of a woman who was awakening to desire. Still he lingered over her, stroking and petting her almost as if she were a cat, and finally she let her breath out in a tremulous sigh and turned her head to seek his mouth with hers.

His kiss was slow and deep, passionate without being demanding, and he continued until at last her control broke and she moved eagerly against him, her arms winding around his neck. Excitement coursed through her veins and she felt on fire, her skin burning, and only the touch of his hands and body gave her any relief.

Finally she could stand it no longer and clutched at him with desperate hands, and he moved over her and possessed her soft body with the urgent masculinity of his. Jessica caught her breath on a sob and arched herself beneath him, glorying in the sensation of oneness with him, intent on nothing but the growing, pulsing need of her body that he gently satisfied.

But he wasn't that easily satisfied; she had wounded his arrogant Greek pride in trying to leave him, and he spent the long hours of the night making her admit time and again that he was her physical master. He wasn't brutal; at no time did he lose control. But he aroused her with his insistent, prolonged caresses and forced her to plead with him for release. At the time, she was so submerged in sensuality that nothing mattered to her except being in his arms and accepting his lovemaking. It wasn't until she woke the next morning and looked over at her sleeping husband that a chill ran over her, and she wondered at his motivation.

Had the night been only a demonstration of his mastery of her? Not once, even in the depths of his own passion, had he uttered a word of love. She began to feel that his lovemaking had been as calculated as before, designed only to make her accept his domination; there was also his stated intention of making her pregnant.

She turned her head restlessly on the pillow, aware of a cold knot of misery in her stomach. She didn't want to believe any of that; she wanted him to love her as she loved him; yet what else could she think? Tears slipped down her cheeks as she stared at the ceiling. Charles had warned her from the beginning not to challenge Nikolas Constantinos. His instinct was to conquer; it was part of his nature, and yet she had thrown her own will into opposition to his at every turn. Was it any wonder that he was so determined to subdue her?

Since she had met him, she had been on an emotional seesaw, but suddenly the never-ending strain had become too much. She was crying, soundlessly, endlessly, and she couldn't stop, the pillow beneath her head becoming wet with the slow rain of her tears.

"Jessica?" she heard Nikolas ask sleepily, lifting himself onto his elbow beside her. She turned her head and looked at him, her lips trembling, her eyes desolate. A concerned frown puckered his brow as he touched his fingers to her wet cheek. "What's wrong?"

She couldn't answer; she didn't know what was wrong. All she knew was that she was so miserable she wanted to die, and she wept softly.

Some time later, a stern Dr. Theotokas gave her an injection and patted her arm. "It's only a mild sedative; you won't even go to sleep," he assured her. "Though it's my opinion that rest and time are all that are required to make you well again. A severe concussion isn't something one recovers from in a matter of days. You've overexerted yourself, both physically and emotionally, and now you're paying the price."

"I know," she managed to say, giving him a weak smile. Her tears had slowed, and already the sedative was making itself felt in the form of a creeping relaxation. Was her weeping a form of hysteria? Probably so, and the doctor wasn't a fool. She was nude in her husband's bed; he'd have had to be blind not to know how they had spent the night—therefore the discreet warning about overexerting herself.

Nikolas was talking to Dr. Theotokas in Greek, his voice hard, rough, and the doctor was being very positive in his replies. Then the doctor was gone, and Nikolas sat down on the bed beside her, putting one arm on the other side of her and propping himself up on it. "Are you feeling better?" he asked gently, his dark eyes examining her closely.

"Yes. I'm sorry," she sighed.

"Shhh," he murmured. "It's I who should be apologizing. Alexander has just cursed me for being seven kinds of fool and not taking better care of you. I won't tell you what he said, but Alexander knows how to make a point," he finished wryly.

"And…now?" she asked.

"Now we return to the island, and you're to spend your time doing nothing more tiring than lying on the beach." His gaze met hers squarely. "I've been forbidden to share your bed until you've completely recovered, but we both know the concussion isn't the only problem. You win, Jessica. I won't bother you again until it's what you want, too. I give you my word on that."

Seven weeks later, Jessica stood on the terrace and stared absently at the gleaming white yacht anchored out in the bay; unconsciously her hand went to her stomach, her fingers drifting over the flatness. His promise had been scrupulously kept, but it had been given too late. It would still be some time yet before her condition began to show, but already she had seen the little smiles that Petra and Sophia exchanged whenever she was unable to eat any breakfast yet raided the kitchen later with a ravenous appetite. In a thousand ways, she had betrayed herself to the women, from her increased sleepiness to the way she had learned to move slowly to prevent the dizziness which swept over her if she stood abruptly.

A baby! She wavered between a glowing contentment that she was actually carrying Nikolas's child, and a deep depression that the relationship between them hadn't improved at all since they had returned to the island. He was still restrained, cool. She knew that it distressed Madame Constantinos, but she couldn't bring herself to make up to Nikolas, and he wasn't doing any making up, either. He'd made it plain that she would have to take the next step, and she had backed off. If anything, she was more confused than before, with the knowledge of her pregnancy weighing on her. The yo-yo effect the pregnancy had on her emotions kept her unsettled, unable to decide on any course of action. But right now, she was just recovering from a bout of nausea and feeling resentful that Nikolas should have made her pregnant so easily, and she glared at the yacht below.

Andros had brought the yacht in yesterday. Nikolas had worked like a demon these past weeks, both to catch up on his work and to divert himself, but he had decided that a cruise would be a welcome change, and he had sent Andros to the marina where the yacht was berthed to bring it to the island. Nikolas had planned to leave in two days, with Jessica and his mother along, and Jessica was beginning to suspect that he meant to settle things between them whether she liked it or not once he had her on the yacht. He had given his word that he wouldn't bother her, but he had probably never thought that the situation would last this long.

She resentfully turned away from the sight of the graceful ship and met Sophia's smiling dark eyes as she held out a glass of cool fruit juice. Jessica took the glass without protest, though she wondered how Sophia always knew just when her stomach was upset. A tray with dry toast and weak tea was also brought to her every morning now, and she knew that the coddling would intensify as her pregnancy advanced. The women hadn't said anything yet, knowing that she hadn't informed Nikolas of his impending fatherhood, but she would have to tell him soon.

"I'm going for a walk," she told Sophia, giving the empty glass back to her, and their ability to communicate had improved to the extent that Sophia understood her the first time and beamed at her.

Walking slowly, careful to avoid the sun whenever she could, Jessica picked her way cautiously down the steep path that led to the beach. She was joined by a leaping, prancing Samantha. Nikolas had even had the small dog brought over, and Samantha was having the time of her life, romping with unlimited freedom. The village children spoiled her terribly, but she had attached herself to Nikolas, and now Jessica made a face at her. "Traitor!" she told the dog, but Samantha barked so happily that she had to smile.

She found a piece of driftwood and amused herself by throwing it for Samantha to retrieve, but halted the game when the dog showed signs of tiring. She suspected that Samantha had managed to get in the family way again;

Nikolas had reported, laughingly, that he'd seen her being very friendly with a native dog. She sat down on the sand and stroked the dog's silky head. "Both of us, my girl," she said ruefully, and Samantha whined in pleasure.

At length, she began retracing her steps up the path, concentrating on her footing to make certain she didn't fall. She was taken totally by surprise when a gruff voice behind her barked playfully, "What are you doing?" She shrieked in alarm, whirling about, and the sudden movement was too much. She had a glimpse of Nikolas's dark, laughing face before it swam sickeningly away from her, and she flung out both hands in an effort to catch herself as she pitched forward. She didn't know if she hit the ground or not.

When she woke, she was in her bedroom, lying on the bed. Nikolas was sitting on the edge of the mattress, washing her face with a cold wet cloth, his dark face set in stern lines.

"I—I'm sorry," she apologized weakly. "I can't think why I fainted."

He gave her a brooding glance. "Can't you?" he asked. "Maman has a very good idea, as do Petra and Sophia. Why haven't you told me, Jessica? Everyone else knows."

"Told you what?" She delayed, pouting sulkily, trying to put off the moment when she actually had to tell him.

His jaw tightened. "Don't play games with me," he said harshly, leaning over her with determination. "Are you having my baby?"

In spite of everything, a certain sweetness pierced her. There were only the two of them in the room, and this moment would never happen again. A slow smile, mysterious in its contentment, curved her lips as she reached for his hand. With a timeless gesture she placed his palm over her still-flat abdomen, as if he could feel his tiny child growing there. "Yes," she admitted in perfect serenity, lifting her glowing eyes to him. "We've made a baby, Nikolas."

His entire body quivered, and his black eyes softened incredibly, then he stretched out on the bed beside her and gathered her into his arms. His hand stroked her tawny mane of hair, the strong fingers trembling. "A baby," he murmured. "You impossible woman, why haven't you told me before? Didn't you know how happy you would make me? Why, Jessica?''

The heady sensation of his warm body lying against her so dazed her mind that she forgot to think of anything else. She had to gather her thoughts before she could answer. "I thought you'd gloat," she said huskily, running the tip of her tongue over her dry lips. "I knew you'd never let me go if you knew about the baby…"

His gaze went to her mouth as if drawn by a magnet. "Do you still want to go?" he muttered. "You can't, you know; you're right in thinking that I'll never let you go. Never." His tone thickened as he said, "Give me a kiss, darling. It's been so long, and I need your touch."

It had been a long time. Nikolas had been strict about not touching her, perhaps doubting his control if he allowed himself to kiss and caress her. And once Jessica had recovered from her shock, she had missed his touch and his hungry kisses. Trembling slightly at the memory, she turned to him and lifted her face.

His mouth touched hers lightly, sweetly; this was not the type of kiss she had received from Nikolas before. She melted under the petal-soft contact, nestling closer to him and lifting her hand to his neck. Automatically her lips opened and her tongue darted out to touch his lips and move within to seek the caress of his own tongue. Nikolas groaned aloud and abruptly the kiss changed; his mouth became ravenous as the pressure increased. Instantly heat rose in Jessica's middle, the same mindless desire he had roused in her before pride and anger had forced them apart. She ached for him; she felt as if she would die without his touch. Her body arched to him, seeking relief that only he could give.

With a deep moan, Nikolas lost control. Every muscle in his big body was shaking as he opened her dress and removed it. The wild light in his eyes told her that he might hurt her if she resisted, reminding her for a stricken moment of their wedding night, but then that frightening vision faded and she moved against him. Her own shaking fingers unbuttoned his shirt, her lips searching across his hairy chest and making his breath catch. By the time she reached for his belt, his hand was there to help her and impatiently he shed his pants and moved over her.

His mouth was drink to a woman dying of thirst; his hands created ecstasy wherever they touched. Jessica gave herself to him simply, sweetly, pliant to his every whim, and he rewarded her tenfold with his care of her, his hungry enjoyment of her. She loved this man, loved him with all her heart, and suddenly that was all that mattered.

When she floated back to earth, she was lying in his arms, her head pillowed on his shoulder while he lazily stroked her body as one would a cat. Smiling, Jessica lifted her head to look at him and found that he was smiling, too, a triumphant, contented smile. His black eyes were sleepy with satiation as he met her gaze. "I had no idea pregnant women were so erotic," he drawled, and a fiery blush burned her face.

"Don't you dare tease me now!" she protested, not wanting anything to spoil the golden glow that still enveloped her.

"But I'm not teasing. You were desirable before, God knows, but now that I know you have my child inside you, I don't want to turn you loose for even a moment." His deep voice went even deeper, became thick. "I don't think I can stay away from you, Jess."

Silently she played with the curls of hair on his chest. This afternoon had changed everything, not least of all her own attitude toward him. She loved him, and she was helpless before that fact. She had to put away her resentment and concentrate on that love, or she wouldn't have a life worth living, because she was bound mind and body to this man. Perhaps he didn't love her, but he was certainly not indifferent toward her. She would give him her love, wrap him about so tightly with the tender bonds of her heart that someday he would come to love her, too. And she had a powerful weapon in the child she carried; Nikolas would adore the baby.

A gnawing worry had been lifted from her mind. Since their return to the island, she had been terrified that he would make love to her, haunted by her contradictory but still bitter memories of their wedding night and the one other night she had spent with him. This afternoon, in the golden sunlight, he had proved to her that lovemaking could be sweet, too, and he had satisfied her with all the skill of an experienced lover. She knew now that with time those bitter memories would fade, lost in the newer memories of nights in his arms.

"No more empty nights," he growled, echoing her thoughts. He leaned over her, and his dark face was hard, almost brutal with a resurgence of his desire; unfortunately she was still thinking of their wedding night, and she gasped in alarm when she saw his face looking so much as he had looked then. Before she could stop herself, her hands were pushing at his shoulders, and she had cried out, "Don't touch me!"

He jerked back as if he had been slapped, his face going pale.

"Don't worry about that," he said tightly, swinging off the bed and grabbing up his pants. "I've done everything I can think of to make it up to you, and you've thrown it all back in my face. I have no more arguments, Jessica, no more persuasions. I'm tired, damn it, tired of—" He broke off and jerked his pants on, and Jessica came out of her frozen horror at what she had done.

"Nikolas, wait—it isn't—"

"I don't give a damn what it isn't!" he ripped out savagely, his jaw set like granite. "I won't bother you again." He slammed out of the bedroom without looking at her again and Jessica lay on the bed, stunned by the violence of his reaction and by the raw emotion that had been in his voice. She had hurt him, something she hadn't thought possible. Nikolas had always seemed so tough, so impervious to anything she said or did, except to be angry when she defied him. But he had his pride, too; perhaps he had finally tired of a woman who resisted him at every turn. The thought made her shrink inside, thinking of being without his absorbing interest in everything she did, his open appreciation of her body.

She left the bed, too, and pulled on her robe. Restlessly, miserably, she paced the room. How could she have done that to him? Just when she had admitted that she needed him, she had let her silly fears drive him away and she was totally lost without him. What would she do without his arrogant strength to bolster her when she was depressed or upset? From the day they had met he had supported her, protected her.

Her head had begun to throb and she rubbed her temples abstractedly. At last she gathered up her courage and pulled on her clothing with trembling hands. She had to find Nikolas and make him listen, explain why she had pushed him away.

When she entered the living room, Madame Constantinos was there and she looked up from her book as Jessica entered. "Are you all right, my dear?" she asked in her soft French, her sweet face worried.

"Yes," Jessica muttered. "I— Do you know where Nikolas is, Maman?"

"Yes, he and Andros have locked themselves in the study with strict orders not to be disturbed. Andros is flying to New York tomorrow and they are finalizing a merger."

Andros was handling that? Jessica passed a shaking hand over her eyes. Nikolas should have been handling that merger, she knew, but he was delegating the responsibility to Andros so he could take time to be with her on the yacht. How could she have been so blind?

"Is anything wrong?" Madame Constantinos asked worriedly.

"Yes—no. Yes, there is. We've had a quarrel," Jessica confessed. "I need to see him. He misunderstood something that I said."

"Mmmmm, I see," said his mother. She looked at Jessica with those clear blue eyes. "You told him of the child, then?"

Evidently her condition was well-known to all the women of the household, she reflected. She sat down and sighed wearily. "Yes. But that isn't why he's angry."

"No, of course not. Nikolas would never be angry at the thought of becoming a father," mused Madame Constantinos, smiling a little. "He is undoubtedly as proud as a peacock."

Yes," Jessica admitted huskily, remembering the look on his face when she had told him of the baby.

Madame Constantinos was looking out the glass doors of the terrace, smiling a little. "So Niko is angry and upset, is he? Let him alone for tonight, my dear. He probably wouldn't listen to you anyway, right now, so let him stew in his own misery for a little while. That is a small-enough punishment for the misery he has caused you. You've never said why you were on the beach so early in the morning, my dear, and I haven't liked to ask, but I do have a fairly accurate picture of what happened that night. Yes, let Niko worry for tonight."

Tears welled in Jessica's eyes. "It wasn't all his fault, Maman," she defended Nikolas. She felt as if she would die. She loved him, and she had driven him away.

"Don't fret," Madame Constantinos advised serenely. "You cannot think clearly now. Tomorrow everything will be better, you'll see."

Yes, thought Jessica, gulping back her tears. Tomorrow she would try to make up to Nikolas for her past coldness, and she didn't dare think what she would do if he turned away from her.