The Virgin's Proposition (9 page)

But she didn’t miss the sight of Demetrios standing alone on the deck of the launch looking back at the yacht, either.

As soon as she could, she made her excuses and slipped away to stand in the bow of the royal yacht to catch a last glimpse of the launch as it grew smaller and smaller and finally merged with the lights of the harbor, and he was gone.

They were ships that passed in the night, she told herself. One night.

“Adriana!” Gerard’s voice called to her once more.

She swallowed, then called,
“Je viens.
I’m coming.”

She heard Demetrios’s words echo in her mind.
Don’t regret your life, princess.

She prayed desperately that she wouldn’t.

D
EMETRIOS WAS
up at dawn.

He wanted an early start. He hadn’t slept well. Not true. He hadn’t slept at all. He’d gone to bed determined not to spare a thought for Her Royal Highness Princess Adriana.

And he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

Of all the irritating demanding things that he’d anticipated having to cope with during these past two weeks in Cannes, dealing with a princess—or any woman at all, for that matter—had never made the list.

After Lissa, he couldn’t imagine one breaching his defenses.

He’d allowed himself the one night with Anny because it had been clearly
one night.
No strings. No obligations. No relationship.

It still wasn’t, he tried to tell himself. But until last night he’d managed to convince himself that she’d known what she was doing.

Now he didn’t believe it for a minute. And he couldn’t get her out of his head!

Fine, he’d get an early start. The sooner he set sail, the sooner he’d put Cannes—and Her Royal Highness—behind him.

He flung the last of his clothes into his bag and checked out of the small hotel where he’d spent the past two weeks. Then, hefting his duffel bag, he headed for the harbor. The morning was still and quiet, almost soundless so far. Few cars moved through the streets. A lone cyclist rode past him.

When he crossed La Croisette, there was a bit of traffic, a few pedestrians walked briskly on morning constitutionals, a couple
of joggers ran by and he saw a man walking a dog. Cannes getting back to normal.

Demetrios wanted to get back to normal, too. He quickened his pace, eager to board the boat and be at sea at last.

Near the Palais du Festival, work crews were beginning to gather to take down the hospitality tents. He skirted them, heading for the dock where Theo had left his sailboat.

It was a magnificent boat—a bit over forty feet, sleek and trim, with two small cabin spaces fore and aft, and a main cabin that could sleep an extra kid or two if required. It was fast and fun and yet it could still accommodate Theo’s new lifestyle as a married man with kids. He and Martha had two now—Edward, who was five, and Caroline, not quite three.

Demetrios had always figured himself for the family man, while Theo would always be the family’s nautical equivalent of the Lone Ranger. That wasn’t the way it had turned out.

“Lucky you,” Demetrios had said, feeling a small stab of envy at Theo’s life.

“Yeah.” Theo hadn’t misunderstood. “I hate taking the time to sail to Santorini with Martha and the kids there already. From here by myself it’ll take me almost two weeks.”

“Tell them to come here. Make a holiday of it.”

Theo shook his head. “Caro’s getting over croup. Martha worries. She’s got commissions to work on. And Eddie gets seasick.”

“Your son gets seasick?” Demetrios’s mind boggled.

“He’ll grow out of it. But we hate seeing him miserable. It isn’t fun. And you know how it can blow this time of year.”

They both had experienced their share of gale-force winds in the Mediterranean during frequent visits to Greece to see their mother’s parents when they were children. “It’s worse other times,” he said truthfully.

Theo shrugged. “Fine. You do it.”

Demetrios had thought he was joking.

“Never been more serious in my life. You want to sail her to Santorini after the festival, she’s all yours.”

Demetrios hadn’t hesitated. “You bet.”

The last time he’d sailed any great distance, it had been not long after his wedding. He’d chartered a sailboat so he and Lissa could sail from Los Angeles to Cabo.

“It’ll be fantastic,” he’d promised Lissa.

It had been a disaster—one of many in their short marriage.

But this trip wouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be a piece of cake to do it solo, but he had plenty of experience and, after Cannes, a real desire to be on his own. It was the carrot he’d held out for himself for the past two weeks, every time the festival threatened to drive him crazy.

Now he reached the dock and could spot Theo’s boat tied up in a slip at the far end. A couple of men from the crew of one of the nearer yachts were already making ready to sail. They gave him a wave as he passed. He waved back, but kept moving, The red-orange rays of sunrise were turning the gleaming hulls bright pink against still cerulean water. It looked like a painting.

Until someone stood up and moved away from where they had been sitting on the stern of the boat.

Demetrios stopped dead, disbelieving his eyes. He frowned, gave his head a shake, then came closer to be sure.

And she—he could tell it was a female, could even tell
which
female—came toward him, too. Even though she looked totally different.

Gone was the midnight blue dress that glittered like starlight when she moved. Gone were the diamond necklace and dangling diamond earrings. Gone was the sophisticated upswept hairstyle with its few escaping tendrils. There wasn’t a hint of Princess Adriana in evidence anywhere.

Nor was there a hint of the classy competent professional woman he’d met that day at the Carlton. No blazer, no linen skirt, no casual dress shoes.

This Anny was wearing jeans and running shoes, a light-colored T-shirt with a sweatshirt knotted around her hips. And her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Tendrils still escaped, but they made her look about fifteen.

Hell’s bells, he thought. All the roles she played, she could give Lissa a run for her money!

“What are you doing here?” He was equal parts suspicion and annoyance. He was tempted to just brush right past.

“I came to say thank you.”

His gaze narrowed. “For what? Sleeping with you? My pleasure.” He made sure it didn’t sound like it. “But don’t come around thinking it’s going to happen again.”

“I know that,” she said, with as much impatience in her voice as he had in his. “I didn’t come for that.”

“What then?

She hesitated a split second, then looked right up into his eyes. “For courage.”

Demetrios didn’t like the sound of that. He gave her a short, hard look, grunted what he hoped was a sort of “that’s nice, now go away” sound. Then he did brush past her, tossing his duffel bag onto the deck and jumping on after it.

He heard her feet land on the deck barely a second after his. He spun around and confronted her squarely, stopping her in her tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Telling you what happened.”

He scowled at her. He supposed it was useless telling her he didn’t want to know what happened. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the rail. “So tell me.”

“I…talked to Gerard last night. After the party. I told him I couldn’t marry him.”

Demetrios stared at her, aghast. Of course he’d seen her turmoil. But that didn’t mean she needed to burn her bridges!

“Why?” he demanded harshly, suspiciously.

At his tone, her eyes widened. “You know why! Because I don’t love him. Because he doesn’t love me.”

“So? You knew that last week. Hell, you probably knew it last year! Didn’t stop you then.”

“I know, but—”

But Demetrios didn’t want to hear. He spun away, grabbing his duffel and tossing it into the cockpit. Then he straightened
and kneaded tight muscles at the back of his neck, thinking furiously. Finally he turned to nail her with a glare.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with me,” he told her as flatly and uncompromisingly as possible.

“You gave me the courage.”

Not
what he wanted to hear. He said a rude word. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You told me not to regret my life.”

“I didn’t expect you to turn it upside down!”

“Maybe I’m turning it right side up,” she suggested.

He raked fingers through his hair. He supposed he had said some damn stupid thing like that. Giving her the benefit of his own regrettable experience, no doubt. And she, foolishly, interpreted it as him having some common sense.

“So everyone left and you just walked up to him and said, ‘Oh, by the way, Gerry, I can’t marry you’?”

She looked taken aback at his tone, not understanding what the problem was. Of course she didn’t understand—because the problem was his, not hers.

“I wasn’t quite that blunt,” she said at last. “It just…happened.” She gave him a sort of sad reflective smile. “He’d said he wanted to discuss things between us—about the wedding. He wanted to set a date—a specific time. And—” she shook her head helplessly “—I couldn’t do it.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he said again, “Not because of me.”

A tiny line appeared between her brows for a moment. And then she seemed to realize what he was getting at. “You mean, did I suddenly realize I’d rather have you?” She laughed. “I’m not that presumptuous.”

“Good,” he said gruffly, embarrassed at having made the leap at the same time he was relieved it had been in error.

“Well, good for you,” he said finally, at length. What was he supposed to say? He gave her a quick approving nod, then climbed down into the cockpit, unlocked the door to the companionway and kicked his duffel down into the cabin.

“It is good,” she said, her voice brighter now. “It was the right thing to do.” Behind him Demetrios heard her take an expansive breath. “In fact, it feels wonderful.”

He grunted. He supposed it must. Like dodging a bullet. The way he’d feel if he’d never married Lissa. He glanced up at her. “Congratulations.”

She grinned. “Thank you.”

He cocked his head, considering how simple it had been. Maybe too simple? “And Gerard was okay with your breaking it off?”

“Well, not exactly,” she admitted. She shoved a tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail away from her ear. “He said all brides have jitters. That I should think things over. Take some time. Get to know my own mind.” She snorted—a ladylike snort. “I do know my own mind.”

Did she? Demetrios doubted it. She’d agreed to marry Gerard, hadn’t she? She must have thought it was a good idea at one point. And Gerard obviously expected her to come to her senses.

“And your father?” Demetrios demanded. “What did he say?” When she didn’t answer at once, he narrowed his gaze. “You did tell him?”

Anny tossed her ponytail. “I sent him an e-mail.”

Demetrios gaped. “You sent your father—
the king
—an e-mail?”

She shrugged, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “He might be everyone else’s king, but he’s my father. And I didn’t want to talk to him.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t.”

“He’ll understand. He loves me.”

No doubt he did. But he was also king of a country. A man who was used to ruling, commanding, telling everyone—especially his daughter—what to do. And he had told her to marry Gerard.

“He’ll get used to it.” But Demetrios thought Anny’s words were more to convince herself, not him. “It will just take a little time. He might be…upset…at first, but—” another shrug “—that’s why I’m leaving.”

He looked up at her. “What do you mean, leaving?”

Anny turned and hopped back down onto the deck, and for
the first time Demetrios noticed the backpack and the suitcase sitting on the far side of the dock.

As he watched, she shouldered the pack, then picked up the suitcase. “I’m going away for a while.”

He came to rest his elbows on the back of the cockpit and stare at her. “You’re leaving Cannes?”

She nodded grimly. “Papa will be on my doorstep as soon as he gets the e-mail, finds his pilot, and fuels the jet. I don’t intend to be here when he comes.” She shrugged. “He will need time to come to terms. So I’m off. I just—” she smiled at him “—didn’t want to leave without telling you, saying thank you.”

Frankly, he thought she was carrying the etiquette a bit too far. And
You’re welcome
didn’t seem much of an answer. Whatever advice he’d given her had been based on his messed-up marriage and might have nothing to do with hers. What the hell had he thought he was doing?

“Maybe you should give it some time,” he said now. “Don’t be too hasty. Think for a while, like Gerard said. Then decide.”

She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I’m not being hasty. And I
have
thought! We’ve been engaged three years. First I wanted to finish grad school. Then I wanted to finish my dissertation. ” She paused, then met his gaze squarely. “I did decide, Demetrios. I think I decided—in my gut—a long time ago, which is why I kept putting it off. You’re just the one who gave me the courage to say it.”

They stared at each other until finally, abruptly, Anny stepped back and gave him a small salute. She smiled. “‘Bye, Demetrios. Thanks for the courage.” The smile broadened. “And the memories.”

Then she squared her slender shoulders, shifted the backpack slightly, picked up the suitcase, and marched back up the dock toward La Croisette.

Demetrios stared after her, unmoving, while his brain whirled with fifty thousand sane reasons to turn around and start getting the boat ready to sail.

But not one of them was proof against the fear of what could happen to her if he did.

Damn it!

“Anny!” He vaulted out of the cockpit, then scrambled off the boat onto the dock. “Where are you going?”

A small figure halfway down the dock turned back. She shrugged. “I don’t know yet.”

She didn’t sound as if it mattered.

Demetrios knew it did. His stomach clenched. Scowling now, annoyed that she could be so blasé about something that important, he stalked down the dock after her. “What do you mean, you don’t know?”

He knew the hard edge to his voice made her eyes widen, but she didn’t shrink away from him.

She simply set the suitcase down and faced him. “Exactly what I said. I haven’t a clue. I just need to go somewhere Papa won’t expect me to be. He’ll look in all the places, the likely places,” she allowed. “So I’ll just go someplace else. It’s not like I made plans, you know.”

He knew. And he didn’t like it one bit. She was a young woman alone. Kind, trusting. Not to mention rich—and a princess, besides. She’d be prey for more unsavory characters than he wanted to think about.

“I thought I might hitchhike,” she said blithely in the face of his ominous silence.