by Pippa Roscoe
‘Tomorrow.’
‘I hate hospitals. Can you sneak me out?’
‘Lyssandros is as close as a friend, but even he’s not taking risks with you.’
And neither am I. She felt his words, without him voicing them.
‘I want to go,’ she said, the words slightly slurred.
‘I know. But you’re safe here. I’m not going anywhere.’
Sofia tried to shake her head, but that hurt, and whatever she’d been about to say disappeared as she fell into the welcoming arms of sleep.
When she next woke, Sofia was thankful that the light didn’t hurt her eyes any more, and she experimentally moved her head from side to side, relishing the fact that the jackhammer seemed to have given up.
She turned to find Theo in the chair beside her, his long legs thrust out in front of him, his head resting awkwardly on his fisted hand, elbow on the arm of the chair, and even in sleep the man looked incredible.
Long, midnight-coloured eyelashes dusted his cheeks, his dark hair tousled as if he’d spent the entire night thrusting his hands through it, and his jawline was now in serious risk of growing a half-decent beard. She kind of liked the look on him. It made him even more...just more.
When a nurse entered, Sofia thrust a finger to her lips, unwilling to wake him. The small, dark-haired woman smiled conspiratorially and came to her side to check the little monitor assessing her vitals.
‘How are you feeling?’ she whispered.
‘Like I was struck off a yacht by a boom.’
She huffed out a small laugh. ‘You should be able to go soon. I’ll have the doctor sign your discharge papers.’
‘Thank you. I can speak to the Iondorran consulate and arrange for payment if—’
‘No need. That’s all been taken care of.’
At Sofia’s frown, the nurse gestured to Theo, still asleep, and Sofia nodded and sighed. Not only had he rescued her from the sea, but also paid for her care. He was hardly getting his money’s worth out of this, was he? A thread of sadness began to wind through her. Was that all there was between them or could there ever be more? she wondered. For years she had consigned thoughts and memories of him to a locked box in her heart. But now? She wasn’t so sure any more.
It took them about an hour to get out of the hospital, partly because Sofia had wanted to thank everyone who had treated her. She made a mental note to ensure there was a donation to the hospital for their generosity and discretion. She couldn’t express how relieved she was that there were no reporters camped out on the steps, that no international incident had been accidentally created. She wasn’t naïve enough to think that it was out of respect for her, and could plainly see the adoration for Theo in the faces of most of the medical staff. He seemed to be on first-name terms with half of them, and it went beyond simple patronage, which confused her a little. Surely he had not worked up such strong bonds just in the time of her overnight stay there?
She waited on the steps to the hospital as a man brought round a large black Jeep and handed Theo the keys.
He ushered her into the passenger seat and went round to the driver’s side, and got in.
‘You’re driving yourself?’
‘Why? Did you want to?’ he said with a laugh.
It stung. She couldn’t help it. ‘I can’t.’
‘When you’re feeling better—’
‘I can’t drive,’ she said angrily. It had been a small fight with her father, certainly not one of their greatest, but it had hurt just as much. Somehow it had become a larger symbol of all the things she wasn’t allowed to do as a princess-in-waiting. But more than that, it had signified the true end to her freedom.
‘I suppose you don’t need to know how to drive,’ Theo said as he pulled out of the hospital car park.
‘No. I suppose I don’t,’ she replied bitterly, and almost growled when she saw Theo suppress a laugh. ‘It’s not funny.’
‘I’m not laughing at you, Princess. It’s just that you’re cute when...when you’re angry.’
‘I’m not cute either,’ and even she couldn’t help but let loose a small laugh at the ridiculousness of her own sulk. This. This was what she had missed most about him. The ease. The ease and friendship that had turned into distrust and resentment the moment they had met again in Paris. ‘Where are we going?’ she asked to turn the wayward direction of her thoughts.
‘Home. My home.’
* * *
Theo directed the car with the same ease with which he had directed the boat. He had always loved travel, movement, something that appeased the restlessness he’d always seemed to feel back in Greece. The freedom he felt at being in charge of his own destiny, especially having spent years at the whim of the elements and the vineyard. He couldn’t imagine not being able to control that, and wondered whether that was what had made Sofia so bitter. Not being able to choose when and where and how she wanted to go.
He frowned as he remembered the thread of a conversation from the night in Monaco.
‘I have no choice in this whatsoever.’
Casting an eye over to where Sofia slept, he felt unease stir in his chest. He hadn’t given her a choice. Not really, no matter what he had said to her. Every single moment of that night in Paris, and then Monaco, had been carefully orchestrated to ensure Sofia’s ultimate humiliation. But now? Was that still what he wanted?
He changed lanes and came off the motorway as they began to make their way through the Peloponnese countryside, travelling along the southern part almost to the border with Messinia.
Cypress and olive trees skirted the mountains in the distance, scarred with jagged lines of white stone and brown scrub, and through the open window the scent of home filled the Jeep. Large stretches of mottled green land were occasionally interrupted by red-roofed towns and he welcomed the sight of them. Arcadia might not be the typical tourist destination popular with travellers from across the world, as Athens and the islands were, but that just made it even more precious to him.
It had been hard hit in recent years, especially with so many of the younger generation leaving for America, or other parts of Europe, but its people were surviving, hard work and determination making the most of this place that could be made. He was pleased that his vineyard had grown to such an extent that he now employed almost half of the nearby town. The estate he and his mother had dreamed of building one day was now able to offer luxurious stays in the vineyard, wedding packages and tours, and the seven-course wine-tasting menu at the Michelin-starred restaurant enticed guests from all over the world.
He pulled off into the road that led towards the gated estate, slowing until the electronic security system at the side entrance recognised the car’s plate, just as Sofia stirred from her sleep.
The gates opened and he guided the car down the long drive, the smooth turns allowing him to observe Sofia’s eyes growing wide as she took in the large, sweeping vineyard to the left.
‘This is...magnificent,’ she sighed and he couldn’t help the swell of pride he felt deep in his chest.
‘This is only a quarter of the vineyard. There is more to the back of the estate.’
‘Where is...?’ She trailed off as they rounded the last bend and the building before them rose up to greet them. ‘Oh.’
He took in the sight of it as if with her eyes—eyes that had never before seen the estate. The large central building was almost monastic in design, built from reclaimed grey stone, and had sweeping archways that his mother had loved from the first sight of it. It provided the entrance as well as the large dining restaurant and access to the front half of the wine cellars below, the area that was available for guest tours.
The more modern annex off to the left provided views both front and back from large windows on three floors for each of the guest suites, all of the twenty rooms lavishly designed with en suite bathroom
s big enough to house the first home he and his mother had shared on the land. One that was still tucked away at the back of the large property.
‘Theo, this is incredible,’ Sofia said as he pulled up to the staff car park to the side of the building. He could tell from the number of vehicles in the guest parking area that they were at low capacity. He cast his mind over the appointments and remembered that the estate was winding down before a wedding booking in just two days’ time.
She was out of the car before he was.
He watched her spin in a slow circle, taking in the view of the estate. ‘Do you want to freshen up? There’s—’
‘No!’ She turned, laughing. ‘I want to see. I’ve been in bed for twelve hours or more, sleeping in the car for the last three, and now I want to move. Please? Show me?’
And he wondered when he’d ever really been able to deny her anything.
‘I would love nothing more. But I intend to do it in something other than a pair of scrubs,’ he said, pulling at the scratchy material of the blue top. ‘It will still be there after a shower and a change of clothes. I promise.’
* * *
Sofia had been surprised by the sheer magnificence of Theo’s vineyard. Oh, she’d known that he had made money from his business, clearly enough to gain entry to the society of the masquerade ball in Paris. As she cast her mind back she remembered his taunt about his billionaire status and couldn’t help but marvel at what he’d achieved.
The marble flooring in the entrance to the main building was beautiful and shot with veins of dark green and black. She had watched, fascinated, as Theo had nodded to his employees on Reception, paused to ask after the father of one of the young girls manning the desk. It gave Sofia time to explore the room. She marvelled at the wooden bench that stretched the entire length of the room. On top were squares of slate, wedging wine bottles in between, with handwritten names and descriptions in italicised chalk. Beneath were large oak barrels that added a touch of authenticity as well as artistic integrity to the main hall.
When she turned she found Theo watching her, as if waiting for some kind of censure or disapproval. She sent him a reassuring smile, and he whisked her away to the private wing.
He had deposited her and her bag retrieved from the boat in a room most definitely fit for a princess. The large canopied bed had been an indulgence she had never personally given into, but loved the moment she set her eyes on it. Rustic luxury. She was surrounded by it.
The bathroom was something completely other. One entire wall was lined in antique mirrors, in front of which was a free-standing cast-iron bath. To the left was a large window that looked out on to a stretch of vineyard behind the property. She hung back slightly, wondering if she would be seen, but realised that from this height and distance only the birds would be able to spy her.
In the corner was a glass-fronted shower, large enough for two people...in her mind, two people that looked very much like her and Theo. A blush rose to her cheeks as her wayward imagination ran wild...a heady mixture of memory and fantasy, desire and need aching within her. When they had come together after the engagement party, anger and resentment had dominated despite her aching desperation to feel him. She wondered if that would be so now? If perhaps to make love to Theo would be different...
She turned the shower on and stripped off the clothes that clung to her aching body. She had said that she wanted to see the vineyard but knew that Theo had been right. She allowed the hot jets of water to ease the aches from the last few hours, gently washing her hair, careful of reawakening the dull ache from the fall into the sea. Scrubbing away the remnants of the salt water, she felt fresh, new and oddly happy.
Happy. She considered it. When had she last felt it? A small part of her was so sad that she couldn’t remember when it had been. She padded into the bedroom wrapped in a towel and searched through the bag of clothes that had been packed for her by her assistant back in Iondorra.
Her fingers brushed something lacy, and with something like horror and fascination she produced a silk negligee fit for a honeymoon. Doubting very much that Theo had requested such a thing, she realised that her assistant had only packed what Sofia might have wanted for a last-minute getaway with her fiancé.
Because he was her fiancé. No matter how or why it had happened, it was the case. And she would be marrying him. But what would that marriage look like now? The start of their engagement had been all anger and vengeance, but somehow over the last few days that had changed, and it had morphed into something that she hardly dared to hope for.
Placing the negligee on the bed, she dug into the bag and produced a pair of tan high-waisted linen palazzo pants and a cream silk vest. With her hair still wet, she wound it into a knot and secured it high on her head.
She buckled a pair of brown leather low-wedge sandals at her ankles and, snagging the sunglasses on her way out, left her room and returned to the reception area, safe in the knowledge that Theo would find her there when he was ready.
When Theo found her, Sofia was leaning against the large domed archway, her slender hips shown to perfection by the trousers encasing her narrow waist, one ankle crossed over the leg bearing her weight, and the wind blowing the loosely tucked-in silk top. It was such a sight it gave him pause. Pause for what he was about to do, because he knew that he couldn’t continue on his path of revenge without first finding out what had happened to cause the fracture of her arm and damage done to her ribs. Without finally getting to the truth of her. The fierce streak of protectiveness that leapt to life in his chest at the mere thought of it shocked him with its intensity.
As if she sensed his presence, she turned, her face cast in a shaft of soft sunlight peering through the shadows of the cool reception, and her smile caught him low in his chest. He stalked towards her, fighting with his desire to haul her into his arms and kiss her. Kiss her in a way he hadn’t since he was seventeen. Kiss her in the way he should have that night in Iondorra.
Shame filled him as he thought of how they had come together that night. As if they were combatants on a battlefield, rather than lovers on a bed of silk sheets and roses. As he reached her, she turned her face towards him as if waiting for that same kiss. But instead of doing what he so desperately wanted to do, of taking what he so desperately needed, he offered his arm and escorted her away from the reception and away from his wayward thoughts.
Theo was thankful that she made easy small talk as they walked towards the rows of vines that made up the vineyard. Questions of what types of grape, how long they took to grow, when he had first known that he wanted to develop wine... All things he had answered a million times and knew by heart. And, if she noticed that he was distracted, she was restrained enough not to mention it.
Finally, as they drew to the furthest point from the estate, he turned to her.
‘What is it?’ Sofia asked. ‘You’ve had something on your mind for a while. Ask.’
As if it were that simple. As if she would not deny him anything.
‘At the hospital, I asked Lyssandros to run every possible test he could think of. The thought...the possibility that you were hurt—’
‘I’m fine, Theo. Truly. Look,’ she said, shaking her head from side to side in a way that made him wince, even without the possibility of concussion. She laughed. The sound should have soothed him, but it didn’t.
‘Lyssandros is a very professional man, but he also has a huge heart. He was concerned by... He saw there were fractures, from a previous injury. Did someone hurt you?’ he asked, his voice drawn and gravelly to his own ears. Watching her closely, he saw the way she paled, the way her cheeks lost their rosy glow, her eyes filled with shadows and she made to turn away. Before she could, his hand snuck out and gently grasped her chin, guiding it back to him, snaring her gaze with his.
‘Please. Don’t hide from me in this. I need to know.’
She pulled a
breath into her lungs, but it seemed to get caught there, the slight stutter in her breathing enough to tell him that he really did need to know. As if unable to bear the weight of his gaze, she cut her eyes to the ground.
‘Sofia, whatever it is...whoever it was... If it was your husband—’
‘No!’ she cried, cutting him off mid-sentence. ‘No,’ she said again, more gently, more softly. ‘Antoine never raised a hand to me. Ever.’ He watched her pause and take another deep breath. ‘My father isn’t well.’
It was not what he’d expected her to say, but he silenced his inner thoughts and allowed her to continue.
‘He hasn’t been for...some time. I...we, the palace, have been sworn to secrecy, for fear of it destabilising the future of Iondorra.’
‘What is wrong with him?’
‘He was diagnosed with early onset dementia.’
She started to move away from him then and in the space between them his suspicions began to grow, like roots from somewhere deep within him, reaching towards the light, towards the truth.
‘When?’
‘When what?’
‘Don’t play games with me, Sofia—when was he diagnosed?’
‘Just before I was taken out of boarding school.’
A curse fell from his lips as he stared to rearrange the past to fit with what she was now telling him.
‘The night that I was supposed to meet you, he and my mother came. At first, I thought they’d found out somehow. About you, about the pranks... But it was worse than that. They explained what the diagnosis meant, that in time he would begin to lose more and more of his memory, of himself. I couldn’t see it. This man, this powerful, loving, larger-than-life ruler of an entire country...it wasn’t possible. Or at least that is what I thought at the time.
‘He was only fifty. There should have been years before I needed to assume the royal responsibilities I was so ready to reject. But there was no one else. I was going to have to wear the crown, I was going to have to learn to be the ruler of Iondorra, and I couldn’t do that to you.’