The Virgin's Proposition (18 page)

Demetrios never contradicted it. He said how delighted he was, how Anny’s love made him the happiest man on earth. He never alluded to the past except when asked, and then as always, he was honorable. He was kind.

Because that’s the sort of man he was, Anny knew. Only she knew the truth. She knew the man. She loved him more than life itself.

And as she walked down the aisle now, she could see him waiting, and in a row beside him, his brothers: Yiannis on the end, bemused and tapping his foot nervously, George, next to him, lean and watchful and seriously intent. Then Theo, tall and dark and smiling broadly.

And between Theo and Demetrios was the best man.

Anny stared, not quite able to believe her eyes, at a younger man, not as tall as the Savas brothers, dark-haired and very thin, grinning widely and standing tall, though he still leaned on two metal hand canes.

“Franck.” Her step faltered. The tears began to fall.

Her father gave her a kiss and gave her hand to Demetrios. “Love her,” he exhorted.

“I do,” Demetrios vowed. “I always will.”

And then, although it certainly wasn’t protocol, he tipped the veil aside to peer in at her. “I thought you’d be crying.” His expression was tender, his eyes were smiling as he shared her joy at Franck’s presence, at his progress. At his dream come true.

“I can’t believe he’s here.”

“He is. It was his goal as soon as I asked him,” Demetrios told her. “But we’d better get this show on the road. He doesn’t stand up for long.”

The priest cleared his throat. “If you please.”

Demetrios grinned and dropped her veil. He straightened and attempted to look serious. Anny squeezed his hand. He squeezed back.

“Dearly beloved,” the priest intoned.

And Anny, looking around, knew how true that was. Everyone here—all their family, all their friends gathered to celebrate their wedding with them—was dear and beloved. All of them gave joy and meaning to her life.

But no one was more dear or beloved, no one gave her more joy or meaning than Demetrios.

Theo lent them the sailboat for their honeymoon.

They had to wait six weeks to take it because Demetrios had filming to finish. But Anny was philosophical.

“I’ll get to watch you work,” she said happily. “And,” she added, “you can’t work all the time.”

No, he hadn’t worked all the time. But he was looking forward to some time alone with Anny. Just the two of them. Back on the boat. Together.

“Don’t wreck it while you’re busy doing other things,” Theo added gruffly.

“What other things?” Demetrios said with all the innocence he could muster.

Theo cuffed his shoulder and rolled his eyes, then he fixed Anny with a hard look. “He’s got my boat to sail. Keep him in line,” he said to Anny.

Anny laughed. “Not likely.” And Demetrios grinned, too. She knew him all too well.

“Go away,” he said to his brother now. “We’ll be fine. Your boat will be fine. Stop bothering us.”

Theo grinned. He made a few more adjustments. He made a few more comments. Mostly to annoy because that’s what brothers did. But finally he left.

And so at last did they, Demetrios raising the sail as Anny steered her out away from Santorini’s small harbor. They were sailing her to Cannes.

“The same, but different,” Anny had said when he’d suggested it. Because they wouldn’t be fighting their desire this time. They’d be spending their days sailing and their nights in each other’s arms.

“Better,” Demetrios vowed.

“Maybe,” he said as he carried her over the threshold of their cabin that night, after a beautiful day of light winds and easy sailing, “we can get to work on those kids whose names we argue about.”

He dropped her lightly on the bunk and dropped down to lie beside her, to undress her, to kiss her, to love her, to cherish her.

“I don’t think so.” Anny shook her head.

He stopped, stared at her.

She grinned and slid her arms around him, pulling him on top of her, wrapping him in her embrace. “We already have.”

He stared, felt his heart kick over. “Anny?” He pulled back to look at her, to see if she was joking.

She smiled and gave a little wiggle beneath him. “It’s true, Demetrios. In about seven and a half months Zorathustra will be here.”

Demetrios stared. And then he grinned and kissed her. “You mean, Melchisedeck,” he corrected.

Anny laughed. “Zorathustra.”

“Melchisedeck.”

Anny kissed him, laughing against his mouth. “Maybe I’ll have twins.”

Demetrios laughed, too, and rolled her in his arms. “Fine with me, princess.” Everything was fine with him. Life was beautiful. Anny was beautiful. And, dear God, he loved her. “Maybe you will.”

All the characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author, and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all the incidents are pure invention.

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First published in Great Britain 2010
Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited,
Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey TW9 1SR

© Barbara Schenck 2010

ISBN: 978-1-408-91901-9