Читать книгу Innocent Surrender - Шантель Шоу, Robyn Donald - Страница 11

DEMETRIOS 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.

“Hitchhike!” He spat the word, furious.

She burst out laughing. “I’m not going to hitchhike, Demetrios,” she assured him. “I was joking. You looked so intense. I’ll be fine. Don’t get so worked up.”

“I’m not worked up!” He was very calmly going to strangle her.

She was still smiling. “Right. Okay. You’re not worked up.” She gave him a sideways assessing look. Then she tried more reassurance. “You don’t need to worry. You are worrying,” she pointed out in case he hadn’t noticed.

“Because you’re acting like an idiot! You don’t just pack up and head out at the drop of a hat. You need plans. A place to go. Bodyguards!”

She blinked. “Bodyguards?”

“You’re a princess!”

“I haven’t had a bodyguard since I left university. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.” She smiled again. It was a regal smile. It made Demetrios’s teeth ache they were grinding together so hard.

“But thank you for your concern,” she added, in that proper bloody well-brought-up royal tone of voice she could put on when she wanted to. Then, as if he were some mere peasant she’d just dismissed, she picked up the suitcase and started away again.

Demetrios muttered something unprintable under his breath, then stalked after her and grabbed her by the arm, hauling her to a stop. “Then you’re coming with me.”

Her head whipped around. She stared at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. “With you? To Greece?”

“Why not?” he demanded. “You don’t have a plan of your own. You can’t just wander around Europe. It’s not safe.”

“I’m not a fool, Demetrios. I went to Oxford by myself. I went to Berkeley!”

“With watchdogs,” he reminded her.

“I was young then. Almost a child. I’m not a child now.”

“No. You’re a raving beauty and any man with hormones can see that!”

“I meant I’m not going to be anyone’s prey.”

“Right. You’re big and strong and tough. That’s why I practically kidnapped you right in the middle of a hotel lobby!”

“You did not!”

“I walked off with you!”

“Because I let you. I knew who you were. I could have screamed,” she told him haughtily.

He snorted. “Everyone would have thought you were an overexcited fan.”

“I can take care of myself. I don’t get into cars with strangers. I don’t make foolish decisions.”

“Really?” He gave her a sardonic look. “You were going to marry Gerard. You propositioned me. You went to bed with me.”

She glared at him. “Up until now, I didn’t consider that a foolish decision.”

“Think again.” He dragged a hand through his hair. “Look. You’re a damned appealing woman, princess. You swept me off my feet, didn’t you?” he said.

She made a face at him. “I promise you, you were the one and only. Besides, I’ve got my memories now.”

He didn’t let himself think about that. “What if someone else wants a few of his own? If anything happens to you out in the big bad world, it will be my fault!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have an outrageous sense of your own importance. What I do is my responsibility, not yours.”

“But you owe it to me,” he reminded her. “You said you did. That’s what you came down here for—to thank me!”

Anny folded her arms across her breasts and glowered at him. “Obviously a mistake. So much for etiquette.”

“Next time don’t be so damn polite.” He picked up her suitcase, then hung on determinedly as she tried to grab it out of his hand. “This is going to look great on all the paparazzi shots,” he reminded her silkily.

Abruptly, she let go and glanced around, looking hunted, then annoyed. “There are no photographers!”

He shrugged, unrepentant. “There could be. You want them following you all over Europe? Bet Papa can ask them where you’re hiding.” He gave her a mocking look over his shoulder and kept walking.

For a long moment he was afraid she’d just let him go off with her suitcase while she went in the other direction. But finally he heard her footsteps coming after him.

“This is insane,” she told him. “You don’t want me with you.”

“More than I want you dead in the gutter.” He heard the explosion of breath that meant she was gearing up for another round, so he turned and forestalled her. “Look, blame it on my mother. It wouldn’t matter if it was really my fault or not, I’d think it was. She’d think it was.”

“You’d tell her?”

“I wouldn’t have to. She’d know.”

Malena Savas had eyes in the back of her head and she knew what all of her children were thinking before they ever thought it. Demetrios knew his mother had a far greater understanding of what he’d been through these past three years than he’d ever told her. Or ever would tell her. She understood at least a part of what he’d gone through—and she didn’t blame him, which he considered a miracle.

But if he left Anny alone now, she’d have his head.

“She doesn’t know about me,” Anny protested.

“Not yet.”

Anny muttered under her breath. He just kept walking. Every step took them closer to the boat.

“I suppose it will be safer for you if I come along,” she said at last.

“Safer?”

“The boat will be easier to sail if there are two of us. Although I’m sure you could do it on your own.”

“I could. But, you’re right,” he added. If that convinced her, who was he to argue?

“Still, you said you wanted solitude,” she reminded him.

“Maybe you won’t talk all the time,” he retorted in exasperation.

She smirked. “And maybe I will.”

“Then I’ll put you off on Elba.”

“Like Napoleon?” Her lips twitched.

“Exactly.” Their gazes met. Locked. Dueled.

“Napoleon escaped,” Anny said loftily.

“You won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“When I leave you, I’ll tell your father where you are.”

They were joking. But they weren’t joking at the same time. He meant it—and he could tell from the look on her face that Anny knew it. Stalemate.

At long last she let out a sigh. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You’re going to stand here and argue with me for as long as it takes.”

“Not that long. I might just throw you over my shoulder and dump you in the boat.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Want to try me?” He gave her his best Luke St. Angier hardass hero look.

She narrowed her gaze at him, then she said finally, “If I come, you won’t think it’s because I want to go to bed with you again?”

“What?” He stared at her.

“Because I don’t want you thinking I’m stalking you.”

“Wouldn’t matter if you did,” he told her flatly. “I’m immune.”

“Yes, I could tell,” she said drily.

He scowled. “I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy sex with a beautiful woman. I said, I don’t want anything more than that.”

That made her blink. “Ever?”

“Never.” No compromise there.

Anny cocked her head and studied him carefully, as if her scrutiny might detect cracks in his armor. He could have told her there were no cracks. Not after Lissa.

He didn’t. But he stood firm and unyielding under her gaze.

“You shouldn’t say ‘never’ like that,” she told him, her tone gentle, as if she intended to comfort him. “Never is a long time and you might meet someone you love as much. Differently,” she added quickly. “But as much.”

Demetrios stared, jolted. But he didn’t correct her misunderstanding. She only knew what the press had printed, after all. She’d got the story of their marriage that Lissa had wanted read. And after Lissa’s death, he’d had nothing to gain from airing their private problems.

Saying something wouldn’t change things now, either. So he just waited, let her think what she liked.

“What about sex?” she said abruptly

His mouth fell open. He couldn’t help it. “What?”

“I’m not asking you for sex,” she assured him quickly. “I just want to know what’s expected.”

So do I, Demetrios felt like saying because God’s own truth was, if he lived to be a hundred, he doubted he would be able to predict the next words out of Princess Adriana’s mouth.

“It’s up to you, princess,” he told her gruffly. “I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it. I can’t say I’m not willing. But I’m not falling in love with you. So don’t get your hopes up.”

Color flared in her cheeks. “As if!”

He grinned, then shrugged. “Just saying. You brought it up. Fine. If this is going to work, we need some plain speaking. I’m telling you right now I’m not getting involved. I’m bringing you along to keep you safe. Period.”

“Whether I like it or not,” she said in a mocking tone of her own.

“Whether you like it or not,” he agreed. “As for sex—” he shrugged “—I have no expectations. Whatever happens on board, princess, is entirely up to you.”

She blinked. Then she seemed to consider that. Her brow actually furrowed and she thought about it for long enough that Demetrios had time to wonder what the hell she could possibly be thinking.

But then she smiled, nodded and stuck out her hand. “Deal.”

Out of the frying pan.

Into the fire.

Her life was turning into one big cliché.

Anny knew she should have said no. She should have turned and walked away and kept right on walking.

More to the point, she should never have come down to the harbor to find Demetrios in the first place.

She had because…because, she forced herself to admit, he was the only one she knew who would understand. He was, as she’d told him, the one who had given her the courage to do it.

He and Franck.

But she could hardly talk to Franck about this. She was supposed to be his support, not the other way around. She hadn’t been expecting support, per se, from Demetrios, either. Well, nothing beyond a “good for you,” which in fact he’d given her.

That was all she was hoping for. All! She had definitely not expected Demetrios to insist that she come with him.

She ventured a glance at him now as he prepared to leave the harbor. He was paying her no attention at all. He was stowing gear and checking charts and going over things that Anny knew were important and knew equally well she would be in the way of if she tried to help.

So she kept out of the way and waited until he gave her directions. She was by no means a solo sailor. But she’d been on boats since she was a child. And while Mont Chamion’s royal yacht had a very competent crew, she had taken orders from her father when he and she and her mother had gone sailing. She was sure she could help Demetrios here.

That wasn’t going to be the problem.

She wasn’t a fool, Anny had been at pains to assure him. But what else could you call a woman who went from a three-year engagement to a man she didn’t love to a two-week solo boat trip with a man who would never love her?

Not, Anny assured herself, that she was in love with him.

But she wasn’t indifferent to him.

She…liked him. Had once had a crush on him. He had, as she’d told him in somewhat vague terms, been the dream of her youth.

And even now she respected him for his career. She admired him for coming back from the devastating personal tragedy that had been his wife’s death. She certainly esteemed him for his kindness to Franck over the past couple of weeks, and—let’s be honest—for his generosity to her. In and out of bed.

But she didn’t love him. Not yet.

Not ever, Anny told herself sharply.

She was, despite what her dutiful engagement to Gerard might say about her, basically a sensible woman. She didn’t dare fate or walk in front of buses.

Now she considered herself warned. It was more than a little humbling to hear him spell out his indifference in such blunt terms. As if there were no way on earth he might ever fall in love with the likes of her.

Fine. So be it.

Right now she was looking for a respite—some peace and quiet and a chance to learn the desires of her own heart.

So she would take what he offered: two weeks of solitude during which her father would never be able to find her. Two weeks to formulate plans that would allow her to make her own way in her adult life.

Yes, marriage, she was sure, would be a part of it. But not marriage to Gerard. Despite his suggestion that she take some time and reconsider, Anny knew she’d made the right decision. She only regretted that it had taken her so long to come to her senses and realize she needed more than duty and responsibility to get her to the altar.

She’d suspected it, of course. But it had taken her night with Demetrios to show her that passion, too, had to play a part.

The passion, the desire, hadn’t dissipated since that night.

How she was going to handle that for the next two weeks, she wasn’t sure. Had he meant it when he said it was up to her?

Demetrios started the engine. The boat’s motor made the deck vibrate beneath Anny’s feet.

“Hey, princess, cast off.” Demetrios was at the wheel, but he jerked his head toward the line still wrapped around the cleat at the stern.

Anny clambered off, unwound the line, and jumped back aboard.

He throttled the engine ahead. The boat began to move slowly out of the slip. Anny felt the cool morning breeze in her face, smelled the sea, felt a heady excitement that was so much better than the dread with which she’d awakened every morning for too long.

She knew how Franck had felt when he’d gone sailing—alive.

But she knew, too, that it was a risk.

Spending two weeks alone on a sailboat with Demetrios Savas could be the closest thing to heaven, or—if she fell in love with him—to hell that Anny could imagine.