‘I’ll tell her,’ Sophia said and smiled up at him some more, and then reached up and raked his black curls back into place as she’d done when he was six years old. ‘I’ll tell her you’re distressed and need to talk.’
‘No…’
‘You are distressed. You tell that one the truth,’ Sophia said sternly. ‘I’ve seen her long enough now to know that nothing but the truth will serve.’
He swam.
It was an hour until dinner, there was nothing to do but pace and he’d wear a hole in the magnificent tiles in his bedchamber if he paced as he felt like doing. So he abandoned himself to the pleasure of his internal lagoon. The pool was a perfect circle, with an island in the centre, set up with lounges, umbrellas, a bar with every drink a man-or woman-would want.
He wanted none of them now. He simply swam, circling the pool over and over, his long, lean body cutting through the water with the ease and grace that had come from years of hard physical training.
Swimming was to Andreas a time of something akin to meditation. A time when he could block out everything: the demands of royalty; the problems with a disastrous marriage; even the impending crisis of the missing diamond.
But he couldn’t block out Holly. Not here. Not now. She was in his thoughts every moment as he circled the pool, and no matter how fast he swam there was no escape.
He’d thought he’d forgotten her. Ten years ago he’d walked away from her because there was no choice. Now…now it seemed there was a choice again.
He had to be disinterested. He had to explain things calmly, setting the future before her in terms she must understand.
But she had a choice. He couldn’t marry her out of hand. Could he?
No, he conceded as he swam. The days of dragging an unwilling bride to the altar were long gone, and shame could no longer be used as an incentive.
She’d been shamed before, when he’d left. The thought of what she’d faced alone…
It couldn’t matter. He had to put the gut-wrenching emotion he’d felt as she’d described her baby’s death aside. For now, for his country’s sake, he needed to be level-headed, sharp and persuasive.
But he didn’t know how to be, when the moment he looked at her he felt like a kid again; a young prince with the world at his feet. With Holly at his feet…
Holly.
He had to get his mind clear. He had to get his arguments in order.
All he could think of was how beautiful she was. And that she’d borne his son.
He’d had a son and he’d never known him. The thought was enough to shift his foundations. To make him unsure of who he was in the world.
He’d let this woman down. She had to agree to his proposal. Somehow he had to make amends, but that had to fit with Sebastian’s demands.
The demands of his king.
He’d know she could see him.
Every apartment in the pavilion looked over the pool. Andreas swam with the ease of a shark circling his prey, she thought uneasily, watching him rounding the island with lazy ease and a speed that looked deceptively easy to obtain.
Holly conceded that he looked magnificent, but then she’d thought he was magnificent once before. This time she had to use her head. This time she had to keep her emotions firmly in the background as she held Andreas at arm’s length.
Or further.
He had to marry her? The concept was ridiculous. He was a royal prince. She was broke, a single mother of a dead baby. Her home was half a world away from here. Further.
Enough. She whirled away from the window, refusing to look at him any longer. His easy good looks, his wicked smile, his domineering personality…they had the power to rip her world apart as it had been ripped apart ten years ago.
She was not the same innocent as she was then. She’d been little more than a child. She was all woman now, and she’d meet him on her terms.
At dinner?
That was what he’d ordered and what he ordered was what Andreas generally got.
Not now. She had to stand up to him.
On equal terms, she thought, feeling desperate. She was still in her bikini. She had no clothes of her own here, apart from one battered pair of jeans and a tattered shirt.
She wouldn’t see him like that.
Well, then.
She eyed the massive wardrobe with caution. Maybe Andreas had provided her with the weapons she needed.
It would take courage, but then…what did she have to lose?
Sophia provided a dinner fit for royalty-when had she not?-but this night the meal was enough to make even Andreas’s eyes widen. He’d showered and dressed in casual trousers and an open-necked linen shirt, and then he’d thought better of it and donned a tie and jacket. It behoved him to step carefully, he thought. There were major decisions to be made tonight.
Sebastian’s words were still ringing harsh in his ears. ‘You’ll have to marry her. There’s no choice. If the child really was yours then a Cinderella wedding is the best we can ask for-a fairy tale to distract from reality. That’s what the PR people are telling us. It’ll take the sordid mess of your divorce away from people’s minds. You’ll be forgiven if you do the honourable thing, and there’s very little honour in our family right now.’
So he emerged formally attired, he glanced at the amazing table setting-glimmering crystal and silverware, a table groaning with seafood, set up under a netted canopy under the stars-and all that was missing was Holly.
All that was missing was his bride.
‘I’ve let her know dinner’s served,’ Sophia said, watching him cautiously from the shadows. ‘But she says she’s eating in her room. She’s strong willed.’
‘So am I,’ Andreas growled, and strode along the courtyard to knock at her door.
No answer.
‘Holly?’
‘Go away.’
‘Sophia will not serve you in your apartment.’
‘Then I’ll go hungry because I’m not eating with you.’
‘That’s childish.’
‘So I’m childish. You, on the other hand, are overbearing, arrogant and crazy. Go away, Andreas.’
‘I order you to-’
‘Order away, you big oaf. I’m staying here.’
His face darkened. He stared at the door in gathering anger. Then he put his shoulder against the wood and pushed.
Nothing.
Damn, this was how they did it in the movies. He tried again, shoving with all his strength.
Nothing.
He’d get Nikos. But one last shove…He gathered himself, bunching his muscles in sheer frustration and shoved for all he was worth.
The door swung inward, unlatched, free, and he sprawled full length onto the bedroom carpet.
He lay, winded. Above him Holly stood looking down, seemingly solicitous.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said, her lips twitching. ‘Did the prince fall over?’
He stared up at her and amazingly the corners of her mouth were curved into the delicious smile he’d fallen in love with ten years back. ‘Do you need a hand up?’
He put out a hand without thinking. She tugged, he came up too fast and all of a sudden they were way too close. She staggered backwards, his hands came out to steady her and they were closer still.
She felt…fabulous. She felt like the Holly he’d remembered for all these years. The smell of her was reminiscent of citrus lemon; very faint. He’d always assumed it was her perfume but she’d hardly been given time to pack perfume.
And what was she wearing?
This was no cringing kidnap victim. Nor was it a woman dressed to calmly eat in her bedroom. She was wearing a dress that was beautiful enough to make his eyes water. It was a simple jade cocktail dress, sleek, closely fitting, its tiny shoestring straps holding it just barely above the lovely curve of her breasts. The soft silk clung to every gorgeous curve. A slit in the side revealed a flash of thigh so tantalizing that he felt his body respond in primeval need.