‘Courtship doesn’t come into this,’ Holly said, trying not to sound cross. She was wearing one of the most demure outfits from Andreas’s outrageous wardrobe—a silk kimono. It covered her but not enough. Still, if he’d really gone… She peered around the courtyard as if she thought Sophia might be telling lies. As though Andreas might be yet to pounce.
‘He’s really gone,’ Sophia said, smiling.
‘Where?’
‘Who knows? The royal princes… they are here, there, everywhere. The fuss about the old king’s death is such that there are a million things to do. His mother may want him home.’ Her face softened. ‘She’s had a hard time of it, the queen, no matter how brave a face she puts to the world.’
‘I wouldn’t know.’
‘That’s right. You’ve never met her. There’s so much in front of you,’ Sophia said and beamed.
Oh, goody. There was a reassurance.
‘But you need feeding,’ Sophia said, watching her face and deciding, obviously, that Holly needed distracting. ‘You want to talk to me as I cook?’
‘I can cook my own toast.’
‘You’re to be a princess,’ Sophia said seriously. ‘You need to get accustomed. You make your own toast—you offend a whole hierarchy of kitchen staff.’
‘Really?’
‘Really,’ she said. ‘Me, I don’t mind for you are not yet a princess. But when you are…’ She was still watching Holly’s face, but it was as if this was too important not to be said, just because she was risking upsetting the girl in front of her. ‘When you are, you’ll be taking on a whole role. You represent our country. You are royalty.’
‘I’m not royalty.’
‘What I see in Prince Andreas’s eyes… you will be.’
She wasn’t royalty.
She ate breakfast—as much toast as she could get down without choking—and then she escaped to the beach. Sophia packed her lunch so she could stay as long as she wished. ‘I’ll send word if His Highness returns,’ she told Holly and Holly thought it sounded like a warning.
But there was no escape. She was on Andreas’s island. She was bound to Andreas’s rules. She was bound to wait for Andreas, and think and think and think.
He didn’t come. She’d know if he came for if he’d left by plane he’d return by plane, but as the sun sank low in the sky she’d seen no sign of him.
Was it safe to go back to the house? It had to be. She was weary of lying on the sand trying to sort out her thoughts; floating in the surf trying to block out memories of last night’s kiss; trying to read and seeing only Andreas instead of the print on the page.
Nothing was clear except her fear for the future and her longing for the past.
She walked slowly back to the pavilion. Sophia and Nikos were in the kitchen—she could hear them arguing as they commonly did when they were alone. Loud, voluble arguments, highly passionate over who knew what. They’d been married for forty years, Sophia had told her. Forty years and five children. What did they have to be passionate about?
Why was she feeling like this? So lonely she could weep. She’d been solitary all her life. For the last few years it had just been herself and her father and her job, and her students were dislocated voices on the end of the radio. Now she was with people, yet her sense of alienation was so strong it was threatening to overwhelm her.
Maybe it was seeing Sophia and Nikos and what a long-term marriage could be.
Maybe it was seeing Andreas again and seeing what could have been if they’d been different people, in different worlds.
Maybe she could marry him. Maybe it wouldn’t be worse than living alone for the rest of her life. Maybe…
Maybe nothing. A plane was coming in fast from the east, a black blur against the sky. Andreas. She looked up and practically whimpered—and bolted for the safety of her bedroom.
‘Dinner is served.’
The knock on the door wasn’t Sophia’s stern rap, or Andreas’s autocratic thump. The voice was that of Nikos. They’d sent a stooge, Holly thought. Nikos was timid around her. She couldn’t yell at him.
Nor would she.
Dignity. There was the thing. She’d spent the last hour trying to summon it. She’d decided to wear the same dress as last night—the way Andreas’s eyes had devoured her then, she wasn’t giving him the satisfaction of having something new to look at.
Boring, boring, boring, she thought. He was a prince. He might well be accustomed to a new woman a night. If he was going to get bored with her, it was better that she knew it now.
Or whatever. Nothing she was thinking was making sense. This whole situation didn’t make sense.
So go out and get it over with.
She opened the door. Nikos was waiting, smiling anxiously. He beckoned toward the dining table set once again under the stars.
Andreas was already seated, but he rose the minute he saw her. He was dressed to kill. Full evening attire. A dinner suit of deep, rich black, his white shirt brilliant against his dark skin. His eyes were black as night. He smiled at her and his smile flipped something inside her that stayed decidedly flipped.
He was sex on legs, she decided. It wasn’t fair for a guy to have so much… so much… Andreas.
‘You look beautiful,’ he murmured, crossing to meet her, and she tried to glower.
‘I look exactly the same as last night.’
‘Not so. Your nose has started to peel. Just a little.’
‘Leave my nose out of it.’
‘But it’s such a beautiful nose…
‘Andreas…’ Her voice broke and he stepped back. He’d been about to lightly touch her nose. Now he looked down at her in concern.
‘You haven’t had a good day?’
‘What do you think?’ she snapped. ‘You give me these appalling options and then you walk away and leave me with nothing to do but think and think and think.’
‘So what have you thought?’ he asked gravely and she tried to make her mind focus.
What had she thought?
‘That you’re a nutcase,’ she muttered. ‘That what you’re demanding is unbelievable. Totally unjustified.’
To her astonishment he smiled and kissed her lightly on the forehead, then led her over to the table.
‘I agree. I thought so last night. I left you and thought what we were asking was a one-sided agreement where we win. You get to play a princess but I, of all people, should accept that this is no great bargain.’
She felt as if all the wind had been sucked out of her. Andreas held back the chair and waited ‘til she sat. She plumped down and stared at him.
‘Well, then?’ she managed.
‘Well, then,’ he agreed gravely, and rounded the table to sit opposite.
‘So I can go home?’
‘You see, you can’t,’ he said apologetically. ‘The fate of too many people would be changed irrevocably for the worse if you refuse to marry me.’
‘Then nothing’s changed.’
‘Only my attitude,’ he said softly. ‘And the rules. I’ve spent