The Innocent's Shameful Secret Read online

  Claimed by his touch...

  Alexis Constantinou haunts Selena Blake’s every memory. Before his expert touch awakened her, she was nothing more than a naive schoolteacher. Now she dreams every night of his idyllic Mediterranean island, and the scorching affair that stole her innocence...

  Left carrying his child!

  But their brief time together left Selena with a shameful secret. And when family duty calls her back to Greece, she must face the man whose caress branded her as his! Seeing Alexis once more, Selena cannot ignore their still-sizzling passion, but dare she reveal the truth she’s hidden from the world—the secret Constantinou heir!

  There was a violent flash of eerie green light and then, almost at once and right above their heads, an ominous rumble, building slowly and inexorably to a roaring, deafening crash as if the cave was collapsing on top of them.

  Selena cried out, her voice lost in the uproar, and stumbled forward, her hands reaching out to Alexis, who caught her and held her until the last terrifying echoes of the thunder died away and all she could hear was the tumultuous thud of her own heartbeat.

  And beneath her cheek his—like the relentless rhythm of a drum.

  His hand moved down, impelling her silently to look up at him. To read his intention in the sudden flare of his gaze as he bent and his mouth found hers, gently, sensuously, coaxing her lips to part for him.

  She leaned into the heat and strength of his body, welcoming his kiss, responding with bewildered ardour as it deepened and a shiver of pleasure feathered enticingly across her skin.

  When, at last, he took his lips slowly from hers she made a small, lost sound in her throat that never became an actual word—even if she’d been able to think of one.

  She registered that the crackle of the lightning had become less frequent and the answering thunder had become a sullen mumble in the distance.

  ‘The storm is over.’

  There was an odd silence, then he said quietly, ‘On the contrary, Selena mou, I think it is just beginning.’

  Secret Heirs of Billionaires

  There are some things money can’t buy...

  Living life at lightning pace, these magnates are no strangers to stakes at their highest. It seems they’ve got it all… That is until they find out that there’s an unplanned item to add to their list of accomplishments…!

  Achieved:

  1. Successful business empire

  2. Beautiful women in their bed

  3. An heir to bear their name?

  Though every billionaire needs to leave his legacy in safe hands, discovering a secret heir shakes up his carefully orchestrated plan in more ways than one!

  Uncover their secrets in:

  Unwrapping the Castelli Secret by Caitlin Crews

  Brunetti’s Secret Son by Maya Blake

  The Secret to Marrying Marchesi by Amanda Cinelli

  Demetriou Demands His Child by Kate Hewitt

  The Desert King’s Secret Heir by Annie West

  The Sheikh’s Secret Son by Maggie Cox

  Look out for more stories in the Secret Heirs of Billionaires series, coming soon!

  The Innocent’s Shameful Secret

  Sara Craven

  www.millsandboon.co.uk

  Former journalist SARA CRAVEN published her first novel, Garden of Dreams, for Mills & Boon in 1975. Apart from her writing—naturally!—her passions include reading, bridge, Italian cities, Greek islands, the French language and countryside, and her rescue Jack Russell cross Button. She has appeared on several TV quiz shows, and in 1997 became the champion of UK TV show Mastermind. She lives near her family in Warwickshire—Shakespeare country.

  Books by Sara Craven

  Mills & Boon Modern Romance

  Inherited by Her Enemy

  Seduction Never Lies

  Count Valieri’s Prisoner

  The Price of Retribution

  The End of Her Innocence

  Wife in the Shadows

  His Untamed Innocent

  The Innocent’s Surrender

  Ruthless Awakening

  The Santangeli Marriage

  One Night with His Virgin Mistress

  The Virgin’s Wedding Night

  Innocent on Her Wedding Night

  The Forced Bride

  Bride of Desire

  Seven Sexy Sins

  The Innocent’s Sinful Craving

  Men Without Mercy

  The Highest Stakes of All

  Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk for more titles.

  Contents

  Cover

  Back Cover Text

  Introduction

  Secret Heirs of Billionaires

  Title Page

  About the Author

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  EPILOGUE

  Extract

  Copyright

  CHAPTER ONE

  SELENA SAW THE letter as soon as she opened the front door, the blue airmail envelope unmissable against the brown matting.

  She halted abruptly, recognising the Greek stamp, her stomach lurching as a sudden image blazed into her mind of tall bleached columns rearing into an azure sky, with a pool of grass hidden among the fallen stones at their feet. And the soft murmur of a man’s voice in the sunlight, and the brush of hands, lips and warm, naked skin against her own.

  She gasped, the plastic carrier bag she was holding slipping from her numb fingers, sending the lemons it contained bouncing and rolling down the narrow hall to the foot of the stairs.

  Before she realised almost in the same instant that the untidy scrawl on the envelope could only be Millie’s. No one else’s. And alarm was replaced by growing anger.

  Nearly a year of silence, she thought, her throat muscles tightening. And now—what? Another diatribe of recrimination and accusation with the pen scoring the paper just as her sister’s furious voice had scraped across her flinching senses in that last disastrous telephone conversation?

  ‘It’s all your fault,’ Millie had accused tearfully. ‘You were supposed to help—to put things right. Instead you’ve behaved like a brainless idiot and ruined everything for both of us. I’ll never forgive you, never, and I don’t want to see you or speak to you again.’

  And the phone had gone down with a crash that sounded as if it was in the next room rather than hundreds of miles away in a taverna on a remote Greek island.

  Leaving her with the knowledge that there was little she could have said in her own defence even if Millie had been prepared to listen. That she had indeed behaved like a fool and worse than a fool.

  But she’d suffered for what she’d done in ways that Millie could not even imagine, or was determined to ignore.

  Because since that phone call, there’d been nothing. Until now...

  She was sorely tempted to leave the letter lying there. To step over it and walk into her living room and begin the new life that had filled her thoughts on the bus journey home.

  Except it wouldn’t just go away. It wouldn’t disintegrate or vanish on a breeze. And, in spite of everything, curiosity would be bound to get the better of her in the end.

  She bent stiffly and picked up the envelope, walking through the living room, and tossing it on to the worktop in her small galley kitchen, before filling the kettle and setting it to boil.

  She’d originally planned to make a jug of fresh lemonade, clinking with
ice, and enjoy it in the warmth of her tiny courtyard. A quiet celebration of this unexpected fresh start.

  Now what she needed instead was a caffeine rush, she thought bleakly, taking the jar of coffee and a beaker from the cupboard.

  While the kettle was coming to the boil, she went back to the hall, collected the lemons, and put them in the fruit basket.

  Idiotic, she told herself, to panic like that. Needless, too. Had she really thought, even for a moment...?

  No, she told herself harshly, her hands clenching into fists. You do not—not—go there. Not again. Not ever.

  She made her coffee strong and carried it outside, settling herself on the elderly wooden bench in the shadiest corner, making herself recap the previous events of the morning and try to recapture something of its optimism.

  She had been alone in the classroom, taking down the wall display for Mrs Forbes and putting it in a folder while she considered rather anxiously how she should occupy the unpaid six week summer break ahead of her, when her reverie was interrupted by the arrival of Mrs Smithson, the head teacher.

  She said briskly, without preamble, ‘Lena, we heard last week that Megan Greig has decided not to return after her maternity leave. Her job as teaching assistant has therefore become a permanent instead of a temporary post, and the staff and governors agree with me that it should be offered to you.’ She gave Selena a brief, friendly smile. ‘You’ve worked very hard and become a real member of the team at Barstock Grange. We all want this to continue, especially Mrs Forbes, and hope you do, too.’

  ‘Well—yes.’ Selena was aware she must sound dazed, having expected to be once more jobless and probably homeless by Christmas. ‘That—that’s terrific.’

  This time, Mrs Smithson’s smile was broader and tinged with relief. ‘Then we’re all pleased. You’ll be sent official confirmation in the next week or so. And—see you next term.’

  Selena’s state of euphoria had lasted throughout her journey home and the short walk to her tiny terrace property. Until, that was, she’d opened the door...

  She didn’t need to be subjected to another rant, she thought wearily, or, indeed, to the other possibility—a request to borrow money.

  If so, she’s going to be disappointed, she told herself, because I’m skint.

  Besides, I need to concentrate on my own priorities, like looking for somewhere else to live where children and animals are allowed.

  She and Millie had always wanted a pet, she remembered, but Aunt Nora would never agree, clearly believing that two orphaned nieces were sufficient responsibility.

  And, considering what had happened, perhaps she’d been right.

  Over the years, it had become clear to Selena that Miss Conway had offered her late sister’s children a home more from a sense of duty than any warmer feeling, family visits having been few and far between. But, as she got older, she’d realised that her aunt’s decision owed an equal amount to self-interest.

  Her valued role as a pillar of local society in Haylesford might have taken a serious knock if word had got out that she’d allowed her nieces to be put into care. A lot of people might have felt that charity should begin at home.

  Having experienced it, Selena wasn’t so sure. Eleven years old, shocked and wretched with the loss of her parents, killed in a collision with a hit and run driver, it hadn’t seemed to matter where she and Millie went, or what happened to them, as long as they were together.

  Although they were as different as chalk and cheese, physically as well as temperamentally.

  Millie, two years her junior, was a golden girl, small, curvaceous and pretty, her hair a deep, rich blonde which curled slightly. Selena was tall and on the skinny side of slender. Her eyes were grey to Millie’s blue, and her skin much paler than her sister’s peaches and cream complexion.

  But the big difference was her hair, almost at the silver end of the spectrum, and totally straight, spilling halfway down her back, even when confined to the thick braid insisted upon by Aunt Nora.

  Hair like moonlight...

  Oh, God, she thought, as memory stabbed at her suddenly, viciously. Not dead as she’d believed and hoped, but brutally alive.

  She sat rigidly, her nails digging into the palms of her hands as she tried to force that particular memory back into the oblivion it deserved.

  No one would ever say it to her again. She’d made sure of that long ago, leaving the long silky strands on the floor at the hairdressing salon in Haylesford in exchange for a gamine crop with feathery tendrils framing her face and giving emphasis to her high cheekbones.

  Yet another difference between us, she thought, as she made herself think about Millie again.

  She looks like Mum, and I take after Dad’s side of the family, she reflected, swallowing past the lump in her throat. He always claimed he had Viking ancestry and that’s where our colouring came from. On the other hand, he tended to wing his way through life like Millie, while my mother was the steady, sober member of the partnership. As I believed I was.

  But whatever the reason for Aunt Nora’s reluctance to take them on, it couldn’t be a dislike of children because she ran a private junior school for girls and a very successful one, catering for those needing extra help to pass the examinations for their very expensive senior schools, or, as it was known, a crammer.

  Not that she and Millie were ever enrolled at Meade House School, even though they were both under thirteen. Instead, they were both placed very firmly in the state system.

  Her long-term plans for them, however, she’d kept to herself, Selena thought drily.

  She drank some more coffee, wondering why she was re-treading these well-worn paths all over again. Especially when she’d told herself the best way to survive was to shut the door on the past. Think only of the future.

  Or was this simply deliberate prevarication? Delaying the moment when she’d have to deal with Millie’s letter, still in the kitchen, silently demanding her unwilling attention.

  Time to get it over with, she decided as she finished her coffee and went indoors.

  The single piece of paper inside the envelope looked as if it had been ripped from a small notebook.

  ‘Lena’ Millie had written. ‘We have to talk. It’s an emergency, so please, please call me.’ She’d added the telephone number, including the code, and signed off ‘M’.

  Short, but not too sweet, thought Selena. And it’s almost certainly about money because Rhymnos is bound to be having its share of economic problems.

  Or has her life on a small Greek island already palled and could this cry for help involve a one-way ticket back to Britain?

  But to do what—and to live where? Well, hardly here, that was for sure, sharing a cramped bedroom with a three-quarter-sized bed, not to mention a shower room not much bigger than a cupboard.

  And apart from some undistinguished GCSEs, Millie had no qualifications for any career except bar work or waitressing. And she’d probably had her fill of both by now.

  Surely she can’t imagine there’s a remote possibility that Aunt Nora’s been in touch and all is forgiven?

  If so, dream on, Millie, she thought. She’s out of our lives for good and all.

  And why didn’t you ring me if it’s all so urgent? Especially as I sent you my number along with the address.

  She realised she’d crumpled the letter in her hand, and smoothed it out again on the work surface.

  The phone number Millie had given clearly demonstrated that she was still living with Kostas at his taverna, named Amelia in her honour. But maybe that was only temporary.

  And although it was tempting to take the coward’s way out and pretend the letter had never come, Millie was, in spite of everything, her sister and wanted her help.

  She said aloud, ‘I can’t let her down.’

  Steeling herself, she picked up the phone. It was answered on the second ring. A man’s voice.

  She kept her voice cool and steady. ‘Kostas? It’s Selena.’
>
  ‘Ah, sister, you have called.’ Across the miles, she could hear the relief in his tone. ‘How good to hear you. But I knew it would be so. I told my Amelia that she must not disturb herself with worry.’

  ‘Things have obviously been—difficult for you all,’ she said. And that’s putting it mildly.

  ‘Po, po, po. Now we look for better times.’

  ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Of course.’ She paused. ‘Is Millie around? Can I speak to her?’

  ‘At this moment, no, sister. The doctor has ordered she must rest, and she is sleeping.’

  ‘The doctor,’ Selena repeated, frowning. ‘You mean she’s ill? What’s wrong with her? Is it serious?’

  ‘I cannot say. It is a woman’s thing, and she feels scared and very much alone.’ He hesitated. ‘My mother is here, of course, but—it is not easy, you understand.’

  I bet, thought Selena, remembering Anna Papoulis in her unrelieved widow’s mourning, her headscarf framing her sharp face with its narrow-lipped, bitter mouth set in resentment of her son’s foreign bride.

  However, it seemed as if the marriage was surviving, which was some relief.

  ‘It is you that she wants. Again and again she says it, and she weeps.’ His tone became eager. ‘If you would come here—be with her for a while—she would soon be better. I know it. And there is a room for you here with us. I prepared it in hope.’

  She was shocked into silence. And disbelief.

  Rhymnos, she thought. He actually thinks I can go back to Rhymnos? After everything that happened? He must be crazy.

  ‘No,’ she said at last, her voice harsh. ‘That’s impossible. You know it is. I—I’m needed here.’

  ‘But things are different now,’ he persisted. ‘You have nothing to fear, sister. People have gone,’ he added, his voice heavy with meaning. ‘The island has changed. You will be safe here. Safe with us.’

  I thought I was safe before. Believed Millie was the one in danger. Yet I was the one to be betrayed and I still have the scars.

  He went on quickly, ‘And my Amelia wants so badly to see you—to be with you. I cannot bear for her to be disappointed.’