Pagan Adversary

Pagan Adversary
Sara Craven

Mills & Boon proudly presents THE SARA CRAVEN COLLECTION. Sara’s powerful and passionate romances have captivated and thrilled readers all over the world for five decades making her an international bestseller.Alex is a wild man – a true pagan!"Harriet had forgotten her dead brother-in-law's words until she stood opposite the fiercest opponent of her life – the autocratic and unyielding Alex Marcos. He had no scruples about taking her orphaned nephew, Nicky, away from her, claiming the boy was his heir.But Harriet wouldn't let Nicky go – even if it meant abandoning herself to the savage demands of Alex's lovemaking.For if the only weapon she had to fight Alex with was the effect her body had on his,

Pagan Adversary

Sara Craven

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://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 UK TV Mastermind champion. She lives near her family in Warwickshire – Shakespeare country.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

COVER (#ufa3fe5b8-afb9-5dbf-b968-70d4a4bd9f4b)

TITLE PAGE (#u2c2bb649-c7a6-57f3-a07b-365f214bbf00)

ABOUT THE AUTHOR (#ue9ebe457-4f31-5a33-b921-4d0b87a64b98)

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

ENDPAGE (#litres_trial_promo)

COPYRIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE (#ud9536143-a3ea-5e4d-99c3-ed754e340c77)

‘WHAT you’re saying is that there’s nothing I can do—that I can’t win.’ By a superhuman effort Harriet Masters kept her voice steady.

The man sitting opposite her at the wide, polished desk gave a slight shrug. ‘You are mistaken if you regard this as a battle, Thespinis Masters. But if you insist on doing so, then I must tell you it is one you will find impossible to win. My client is prepared to carry his claim for custody of his nephew to any court either in this country or internationally. It would be a costly process, but one that he could afford. Whereas you—–’ he glanced down at some papers in front of him—‘You, I see, are a secretary.’

‘Nothing so important,’ Harriet said defiantly. ‘I’m a typist. I earn a reasonable salary, but I can’t fight the Marcos millions—I admit that. But my claim to Nicky is on moral grounds.’ She took a deep breath. ‘My sister was my only living relative. When she and Kostas married—when they had Nicky, they let me become part of their family. I—I even had a room in their house, and I was actually looking after Nicky when—when….’ She paused, struggling for composure.

‘I am aware of that, thespinis,’ Mr Philippides looked at her with a trace of compassion. ‘It was a great tragedy, a grievous shock for you. But surely you wish for the best for the boy.’

Harriet returned his glance coolly. ‘Naturally. But I think we differ on how we would interpret what’s best for him.’

Mr Philippides pursed his lips. ‘Come, thespinis.’ There was a trace of impatience in his voice. ‘In his uncle’s care, he will have every possible advantage.’

‘I’d find that easier to believe if that same uncle had taken the slightest interest in him when he was born, and during the time before Kostas and Becca were—killed,’ Harriet retorted, and was glad to see Mr Philippides look uncomfortable. In a detached way, she could almost feel sorry for him. He had a wretched job to do, and, one that was probably little to his taste. But on the other hand, she thought cynically, Alex Marcos was undoubtedly paying him well to persuade her to hand little Nicky over without a struggle.

When she had arrived at the imposing suite of offices which housed the London branch of the Marcos corporation, she had been frankly terrified in case she had to face Alex Marcos himself. She had never met him, but Kostas naturally had spoken of him often, and although Harriet acknowledged that his view was coloured by the fact that there was little love lost between the brothers, there was no doubt that he sounded a formidable figure.

She had found Mr Philippides with his grizzled hair and rotund person a distinct relief, although she did not underestimate him. Anyone Alex Marcos employed would have high professional skills, and would be expected to win any encounters they undertook on his behalf.

But not this one, Harriet thought, her nails digging painfully into the palms of her hands. Not this one. I can’t let Nicky go. He’s all I have.

She stole a swift glance at herself in the huge mirror which dominated one wall of the office, and was glad to see that apart from a telltale spot of colour in each cheek, she looked relatively calm. She was thankful that Mr Philippides could not know how near collapse she had been through sheer tension as the lift had borne her swiftly upwards to the penthouse.

Alex Marcos’ arrogant claim to Nicky had come as a complete shock to her. He and Kostas had been on cool terms for several years, and relations between them had been totally severed when Kostas married Becca against his family’s wishes. From that moment on there had been no contact, either by letter or telephone, and Kostas had declared savagely that he would never go back to Greece again. Harriet could only be glad he had never known how tragically his prophecy would be fulfilled. He and Becca had been killed instantly on their way home from a friend’s house when a car driven by a drunk had careered into their own vehicle at some crossroads.

From that moment, life had become a nightmare for Harriet, but she had coped with the inquest and the funeral because there was no one else to do it. And no one else to look after Nicky. The firm she worked for had allowed her several weeks leave with pay while she made what arrangements she could. The house had to be sold. It was on a mortgage, and she could not afford the payments. It was as much as she could do to pay the rent on the large bedsitter she had found. It was an airy room, but she had to share the kitchen and bathroom, and when Nicky grew older she would have to find something larger.

But she had been prepared for that. Prepared for all the eventualities and sacrifices that would be necessary, because she loved Nicky.

She had got him a place with a registered childminder, a girl only a few years older than herself with twins of Nicky’s age, and a pleasantly untidy house and garden. Manda Lane was a serene, unruffled personality and Harriet had taken to her immediately, and, what was more important, so had Nicky, who although too young to fully comprehend the rapid change in his circumstances, was nevertheless disturbed by it, and inclined to cling.

Life wasn’t easy, and money was tight, but she was coping.

And then had come the letter from Alex Marcos’ solicitors, informing her that he was claiming custody of his brother’s child, and offering her payment in compensation.

She had been stunned by the letter’s cruelty and insensitivity, and had dashed off an impetuous refusal of his terms by return of post.

The next communication had been couched in slightly more conciliatory terms, but with no alteration in the basic demand. Nicky was to leave England and take up residence in Greece in his uncle’s charge, and she, Harriet, was to relinquish all claims to him. Her reply to this showed no lessening of her own determination. There had been a lengthy pause, and she had begun to hope, idiotically, that Alex Marcos had thought better of engaging in what the media called a ‘tug of love’ over a child who was a total stranger to him.

He didn’t need Nicky, she had persuaded herself. He had so much else—wealth, property, business interests which took him all over the world, and if the gossip columns were to be believed, more female company than was decent.

‘We were born the wrong way round,’ Kostas had said once ruefully. ‘Alex is a wild man, a rover, a true pagan. That is the role of the young brother, ne? Whereas I—I am the tame, domesticated man. Very dull.’

He had laughed and looked at Becca, and something in their eyes and intimate smiles had brought a lump to Harriet’s throat. There was nothing dull about their lives together, she’d thought.

Led by her thoughts, aloud she said, ‘Judging by what one reads in the papers, I’d have said Alex Marcos is the last man in the world to want to saddle himself with a small child. Won’t it cramp his usual style?’

Mr Philippides almost gaped at her, and she saw with satisfaction that a faint film of perspiration had broken out on his swarthy forehead.

He said repressively, ‘That is hardly a subject for discussion. You forget, thespinis, that the child Nicos is his heir.’

Harriet smiled. ‘And he forgets that Nicky is my heir too.’