Free The Good Greek Wife? by Kate Walker Page A

you, but if you’d stayed around last night then you’d have seen how I pushed him away.’
    â€˜Forgive me—’ the twist to Zarek’s mouth, the cynical emphasis to the words made them anything other than a genuine apology ‘—but I was still trying to absorb the fact that my wife wanted me declared dead.’
    â€˜Not wanted. It was the only practical thing to do.’
    â€˜And of course you have been carefully planning the most practical way of dealing with things. With Jason’s help.’
    â€˜I needed someone’s help.’
    Penny drank some of her own wine, feeling the rich red liquid burn its way down her throat. The kick of the alcohol entering her blood gave an added spark to the volatile cauldron of emotions bubbling inside her. Sick and tired of managing in the dark—in all ways—she ignored Zarek’s previous command and moved to click on the nearest lamp, flooding the room with light before swinging round to face him with a challenge.
    â€˜And as you said, you were hardly in a position to do anything.’
    She was not sure if the light was now helping or actually making matters worse. Yes, she could see Zarek’s expression, but did she really want to know just how intent his eyes were on her face? Did she want to look into their dark depths and see the burn of suspicion, the coldness of contempt? And in the light her eyes were once more drawn to the ugly scar that marked his temple, twisting and distorting the beautiful bronzed skin.
    Impulsively her free hand lifted again, needing to touch it, to touch him. She wanted to reassure herself that he truly was real, and at the same time she had a crazy, irrational need to smooth her fingers over that scar as if by doing so she could ease the long-ago pain the wound must have caused him.
    But something that flared deep in those stunning eyes had her wrenching her hand down again, clenching it into a fist at her side. She took another swift, snatching drink of wine to bolster her courage.
    â€˜What did happen to you?’ she asked brusquely, not having enough self-control to try and think of some more careful way of phrasing the question. ‘We were told you were—dead.’
    â€˜You heard about the pirates?’ Zarek asked, moving to the open patio doors where he leaned against the wall and looked out into the garden, watching Argus, who was happily investigating something that clearly smelled very appealing.
    Penny nodded.
    â€˜I found it hard to believe at first. It doesn’t sound at all twenty-first century. But since you were taken, there have been several other ships that have been boarded by pirates. We saw the reports on the television—saw the pirates get into that small boat and leave the yacht. But at the time we didn’t know that you were with them—that they’d taken you hostage.’
    â€˜No one knew.’
    Zarek sipped at his wine again, staring out into the moonlit garden, his attention, his focus, seeming to be totally elsewhere. In an absent-minded gesture he lifted his free hand and rubbed at the ugly scar on his temple, making her shiver in distress at the thought of how he had come by it. She hated to see the evidence of that hurt, was saddened by the way that it marred the male beauty of his face. But, at the same time, in some way it only added to rather than detracted from the powerful impact of his forceful features.
    â€˜The small boat they tried to get away in was covered so the troops who were going to board the ship couldn’t see inside. It was pitch black in there—foul.’
    With another swallow of his wine, Zarek frowned at the gleaming path the moonlight made along the sea.
    â€˜They were all nervous, panicking—possibly high on something…’
    Penny found that the glass she held was shaking violently as her hand trembled in reaction to the stark, matter of fact way he was reporting the story. He might