Christo took some soap, slicking it over her back and down her arms. He turned her around, checking for any sign she’d been hurt. She leaned forward, splaying her hands on the wall for support as he kept up his slow exploration.
It could almost have been worship as he knelt at her feet, looking up as the water sluiced down her spine through ribbons of dark hair. The light above shone like a halo over her head. He worked slowly. Massaged the taut, bunched muscles of her calves till they relaxed. Stroked the smooth skin of her thighs until she moaned, soft and long.
The sound punched his gut. Whatever haunted her, he’d wash her clean of it. Then he stood. His trousers were tight, the fine wool shrunken. Moving to her hair, he washed it, his nails scraping her scalp. Her head tipped back, her eyes closed, and mascara running down her cheeks in black streaks. He wiped away the last traces with a flannel.
When he was sure he’d washed off as much of the taint of the day as he could, he cast his ruined clothes aside. Turned off the scalding water and lashed a thick towel around his waist.
Then he grabbed a bathrobe from the back of the door and dressed her in it with care. In the oversized garment she looked tiny, vulnerable. He towelled her hair, swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed. The bed he’d sworn never to take her to again. But she needed him now.
He settled with her on the covers, cradling her as she nestled into him, female perfection in his arms. Her damp hair lay cool against his chest. He held her tight. She had to know she was safe. Here, with him.
And he asked the question again. ‘Why did you go to your father’s?’
There was nothing for a heartbeat, and then her slender shoulders rose and fell in a heavy sigh.
‘I went there for you.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
NO. NO. SHE shouldn’t have placed herself at risk. Not for him. He’d never have asked, knowing what he did now about her father and brother. To think she’d thrust herself in harm’s way—and for what? There was nothing worth the price she might have paid.
‘Thea. I’d never have asked you.’
‘I know. But my father... Demetri. They won’t let you go. They said they’d destroy you. I had to do something.’
He tightened his arms around her. In that moment he would have given her anything. Anything she wanted. ‘I told you—Raul and I have enough.’
‘I knew I could access the house. I thought maybe on the computers... I wanted to give you more.’
Christo tensed. He had strong circumstantial evidence. Enough for the authorities. But irrefutable proof... Surely it wasn’t that easy?
‘I tried, but couldn’t figure out the password. He’d changed it.’
Christo relaxed. Of course. Nothing was ever easy for him. It didn’t matter anyway—all he cared about was what had caused the fear he’d had to cleanse from her skin. Because if anyone had hurt her he’d chase them to the gates of Hades and cast them into its pits for eternity.
‘What happened?’
‘No one was supposed to be there. Then Demetri arrived. I couldn’t avoid him.’ Her voice cracked. ‘I pretended I was looking for my mother’s necklace. I’d taken it there. It was in my handbag. I showed it to him.’
He cradled her close. ‘Did he believe you?’
‘He said that my mother never changed her will. That my father inherited everything so the necklace was his. Demetri snatched it away and kept it.’ She shuddered.
That she’d risked herself for him, tore Christo’s heart in two.
‘I’ll get it back. I promise you.’
She didn’t seem to hear him, her voice broken and strained. ‘It was worth nothing. A St Christopher medal. My mother gave it to me...said we would be travelling...it would keep us safe. She arranged to take me away one day. I waited in the kitchens by the door. Waited and waited and she didn’t come. She was run down by a car in the street near the house. She was coming for me and she died.’
A tight curl of rage twisted in his chest. Demetri would not keep that heirloom from Thea. He had no right to it other than out of a belief driven by his own bitterness and hatred.
Christo began to move, but she held him tight.
‘Don’t leave me.’
He settled back into the covers. ‘I won’t.’
Right now, he’d give her whatever she asked. He kissed the top of her head. Her hair was now drying in a tangled mass. He ran his fingers through it to straighten it, easing out the knots. He still had information for her—some measure of happiness he could offer as part of his penance. The news from Raul.
‘We’ve found Alexis.’
Thea stiffened in his arms. Then the sobbing began—heaving gulps with no control. Crying till his chest was soaked with her tears.
‘He’s been living rough, but Raul has him safe. It’s better that you don’t know where he is for now.’
‘Thank you.’
The sobs subsided to a quiet weeping. He continued combing his fingers through the silken strands of her hair, smoothing them into a coffee-coloured river on his chest. Trying to soothe the pain their marriage had caused her yet again.
‘Raul can take a message to him. No other communication’s wise until we deal with these false charges.’
Thea nodded, then spoke, her breath warm against his chest. ‘I took pictures.’ Her words scraped out, barely a whisper.
‘Of what?’
Thea grew heavy against him, her limbs soft and supple. He ached to ease her onto her back. To caress her body till she wept from pleasure, not heartache. But he wouldn’t take any more from her. He’d taken enough.
‘The old things he loves better than me. The antiquities...’
And as Christo wrapped his arms around her he realised that she might have saved him after all.
A dull ache throbbed at Thea’s temples. She’d handed her phone
