The Virgin's Proposition
Page 10
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.
CHAPTER SIX
MALENA SAVAS, Demetrios’s mother, was fond of crisp character assessments of her children. Theo, the eldest, was “the loner,” George, the physicist, was “the smart one.” Yiannis was “our little naturalist” because he was forever bringing home snakes and owls with broken wings. Tallie was, of course, “baby girl.”
And Demetrios, her gregarious, charming middle child?
“Impulsive,” his mother would say fondly. “Kindhearted, honorable. But, dear me, yes, Demetrios tends to leap before he looks.”
Apparently that hadn’t changed, the middle child in question thought irritably now as he edged the boat out of the slip and headed her toward the open sea. You’d have thought that by the age of thirty-two he’d have got over it. His marriage to Lissa should have cured him of impetuosity once and for all.
But no. He’d actually gone after Anny—Princess Adriana—and insisted she spend the next two weeks on a damn sailboat alone with him!
What the hell had he been thinking?
Exactly what he’d told her—that sweet and kind and innocent, she was far too trusting to be let out on her own. And that it was his fault.
Not the sweet and kind and trusting bit—that was Anny. But the “out on her own bit” he felt responsible for. Hell, she’d thanked him for making it possible!
So he’d opened his mouth—and now here she was, standing in the cockpit waiting for him to tell her what to do. She was smiling, looking absolutely glorious in the early morning light, the light breeze tangling her hair. He remembered its softness when his own fingers had tangled in it.
They’d happily tangle in it again. And more. But fool that he was, while he’d insisted she be on his boat for two weeks, he’d left the sleeping arrangements up to her!
Refusing to think about it, Demetrios concentrated on getting the boat out into open water. He tried not to look at her at all. But if he so much as turned his head, there she was.
“Maybe you should take your stuff below,” he said, “in case anyone does recognize you while we’re still in the harbor.” Barely a creature was stirring on the docks or on any of the boats. But all it took was one nosy person…“I’ll call you when I need your help with the sail.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” And picking up her suitcase, she started to carry it down the companionway steps. They were too steep. He started to offer to help, but Anny simply dropped it down the steps with a thud. Then she and her backpack disappeared after it.
Well, she was resourceful. He would give her that. And he breathed easier when she was below. It was almost possible—for a few seconds at a time—to pretend that he was still alone on the voyage.
But then as he moved beyond the harbor, he spotted the royal yacht of Val de Comesque on its mooring. And as he motored slowly past it, Demetrios could see the crew were already up and stirring.
Was Gerard up, too? Was he prowling the decks worrying about Anny?
Or did he simply think she’d gone home, gone to bed and would come to her senses in short order?
According to Anny, he’d said for her to think about it. Obviously he was confident she’d change her mind. She had sounded confident she would not.
But was that true or mere momentary bravado?
Demetrios wasn’t surprised she’d balked. But he didn’t share her confidence when it came to being sure she wouldn’t change her mind.
It was one thing to say you weren’t going to marry a powerful wealthy, admittedly kind man like Prince Gerard and another thing to hold fast to the notion.
Maybe she really did just need time to think, to be sure.
Sure, yes? Or sure, no?
Not his problem, Demetrios told himself firmly. He believed she was right to take the time and consider her options. God knew he should have taken a couple of weeks to think about what he was doing when he’d married Lissa!
He might have come to his senses. Something else he wasn’t going to think about. Too late now.
He drew a deep breath of fresh sea air and shut Lissa out of his mind. She was the past. He had a future ahead of him.
He had a new screenplay to work on. And two weeks of sea time to ponder it.
And, heaven help him, Anny.
“Anny!” He shouted her name now that they were well past the royal yacht.
Instantly she appeared in the companionway, looking at him expectantly.
“Still want to help?”
“Of course.” She scrambled up into the cockpit.
He nodded at the wheel. “Steer this course while I hoist the sail.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Steer?” She looked surprised, then delighted, stepping up to put her hands on the wheel. Her face was wreathed with a smile.
“You do know what you’re doing?” he said a little warily.
“I think so,” she said. “But usually no one wants me to do it. ‘Can’t let the princess get her hands dirty.’ That sort of thing.”
“For the next couple of weeks, you’ll have dirty hands,” he told her.
“Fine with me. I’m happy to help. Delighted,” she said with emphasis. “I was just…surprised.” She shot him a grin. “But thrilled.”
Her grin was heart-stopping. Eager. Apparently genuine. It spoke of the sort of enthusiasm that he’d once dreamed Lissa would show toward their sailing trip to Mexico.
“Show me,” she demanded.
So he showed her the course he was sailing and how to read it on the GPS. She asked questions, didn’t yawn in his face and file her fingernails, and nodded when he was finished. “I can do that,” she said confidently.
He hoped so. “Just keep an eye on the GPS,” he told her, “and do what you need to do with the wheel. I can straighten it out if you have a problem.”
“I won’t,” she swore.
He went forward to hoist the sail, pausing to shoot her a few quick apprehensive glances, hoping she really did know what she was doing.
She seemed to have no qualms about the task, keeping her eye on the GPS and her hand on the wheel. She had pulled on a visor of Theo’s that hid most of her face from him, but as he watched, she tipped her head back and lifted her face so that the sun touched it. His breath caught at the sight.
Demetrios was accustomed to beautiful women. He’d worked with them, he’d directed them. He’d been married to one.
Flawless skin, good bones, perfect teeth all mattered. But facial features were only a part of real beauty. The superficial part. And Anny had them.
But more than that, she had a look of pure honest joy that lit her face from within. It was an uncommon beauty. She was an uncommon beauty.
She was also a princess who had just made a serious, life-changing decision if she decided it was the right one to make. She didn’t know her own mind.
Demetrios knew his. However beautiful, sexy and appealing she was, he wasn’t getting involved with her.
But he was already beginning to realize that unless Anny decided to share his bed it was going to be a very long two weeks.
Anny was exultant, loving every minute, beaming as the sun touched her face and the breeze whipped through her hair.
She felt free—blessedly unburdened by duty and responsibility for the moment at least. She had also forgotten how much she loved to get out on the water and really sail.
Her most recent experiences on boats had al
l been parties like the one on Gerard’s yacht last night. They were so elegant and controlled that they might as well have been in hotel dining rooms. If she hadn’t had to take the launch to get to the yacht and back, she would have forgotten she was even on a boat.
It certainly hadn’t been going anywhere.
Now she was moving. The boat, once Demetrios had the mainsail and jib raised, was cutting through the water at a rate of knots, and Anny gripped the wheel, exhilarated. It was glorious.
When he dropped into the cockpit beside her she relinquished the wheel, but couldn’t act as if it was no big deal.
“I feel alive!” she said over the wind in her ears. “Reborn!” And she arched her back, opened her arms wide and spun around and around, drinking in the experience. “Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
He gave her a sceptical, wary look—one that reminded her of the way he’d looked at her the night she’d asked him to make love to her, that said he was seriously concerned that she’d lost her mind.
“Don’t worry about me!” she said, beaming. “Truly!”
Demetrios still looked sceptical, but he didn’t reply, just moved his gaze from the GPS to the horizon, then made adjustments as required.
Anny stood watching, drinking in the sight of him as eagerly as she did the whole experience. She’d seen him in a number of roles in films over the years. He’d done slick and sophisticated, hard-edged and dangerous, sexy and imbued with deadly charm. She’d seen him in a lot of places—big cities, high deserts, dense jungles, and bedrooms galore—but she’d never seen him at sea before.
It was a perfect fit. He looked competent in whatever role he played. But he wasn’t playing a role now, and he seemed perfectly suited to the task.
“I didn’t realize you were such a sailor,” she said.
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the horizon “Grew up sailing. We always have. It’s bred in the bone, I guess.” There was a slight defensive edge to his tone that surprised her.
She smiled. “I can see that,” she said. “Lucky you.”
Now he slanted a glance her way, his brows raised as if her comment surprised him. “It doesn’t appeal to everyone. Some people find it boring.”
It was her turn to be surprised at that. “I can’t imagine,” she said sincerely. “It seems liberating to me. Maybe it’s because, being…who I am—” she could never bring herself to say “being a princess” “—when I was home as a child, I always felt hemmed in. But when my parents and I went sailing—even on one of the lakes—it was like we suddenly could be ourselves.”
“Getting away from it all.” He nodded.
“Yes. Exactly.”
“I didn’t think of it that way until I’d been ‘famous’—” his mouth twisted on that word the way hers would have if she’d said “princess” “—for a while. But I know what you mean. I thought getting out and sailing was a way of getting back to who I was…” His voice rose slightly at the end of the statement as if he were going to say more. But he didn’t. He just lifted his shoulders and looked away again.
“Did you have time to sail much?”
He shook his head. “Not often. Once.” Something closed up in his expression. His jaw tightened. Then he fixed her with his green gaze. “Did you get everything sorted out below? Unpacked? Settled in? It’s not a palace.”
The change of subject was abrupt, as was the sudden rough edge to his tone. Anny wondered what caused it, and knew better than to ask.
“It’s better than a palace,” she told him sincerely. “I love it.”
He grunted, not looking completely convinced.
“I took the back cabin—the aft cabin,” she corrected herself. “It’s a bit bigger, though, so if you want it, I’ll be happy to switch. I just thought the forward cabin seemed more like it should be the captain’s. Is that okay?”
“Fine. Whichever.” He gave her a look that Anny couldn’t interpret at all. Then he stared back at the horizon again, seeming lost in thoughts that had nothing to do with the situation at hand. Was he regretting having insisted she come along?
“I’ll just go below for a while,” she said. “If you need me again, shout.”
Demetrios gave her a quick vague smile, but his mind still seemed far away. So she headed back down the companionway steps.
She had put her suitcase and laptop backpack in the aft cabin, but she hadn’t unpacked them yet. Now she did, taking her time, settling in, discovering all the nooks and crannies that made living on board a boat so intriguing.
It was a gorgeous boat. Nothing like as opulent and huge as either the royal yacht of her country or of Gerard’s, but it had a clean, compact elegance that made it appealing—and manageable. A good boat for a couple—or a young family like that of Demetrios’s brother, Theo.
She felt a pang of envy not just for Theo’s boat, but for his family. Some of her fondest early childhood memories were the afternoons spent sailing on the alpine lakes of Mont Chamion with her parents.
Now she found herself hoping that someday she and her own husband and children would do the same. Her mind, perversely but not unexpectedly, immediately cast Demetrios in the husband role. And there was wishful thinking for you, she thought.
She tried to ignore it, but her imagination was vivid and determined and would not be denied. So finally, she let it play on while she put things away.
Since she’d packed hastily in the middle of the night and had planned to escape Cannes by rail, she hadn’t brought any of the right clothes. She’d assumed she would be losing herself in a big city like Paris or Barcelona or Madrid. So most of the things she’d brought were casual but sophisticated and dressy—linen and silk trousers, shell tops, jackets and skirts. Not your average everyday sailing attire.
The jeans and T-shirt she was wearing had been chosen so she could leave town looking like a student and not draw attention to herself. Unfortunately they were the only halfway suitable things she’d brought along, and in the heat of the Mediterranean summer she was nearly sweltering in them. She would need to go shopping soon.
She just hoped no one would recognize her when she did.
In the meantime she would cope. But somehow, for a woman who had spent her life learning what to do in every conceivable social situation, she had no very clear idea how to go on in this one.
Madame Lavoisier, one of her Swiss finishing school instructors, tapping her toe impatiently and repeating what she always called “Madame’s rules of engagement.”
“You are a guest,” Madame would say. “So you must be all that is charming and polite. You may be helpful, but not intrusive. You must know how to put yourself forward when it is time to entertain, but step back—fade into the woodwork, if you will—when your hosts have other obligations. And you must never presume.”
Those were the basics, anyway. You applied them to whatever situation presented itself.
And Anny could see the wisdom of it. But still it felt lacking now—because she didn’t want to be a guest. She wanted to belong.
And how foolish was that?
Demetrios had told her clearly and emphatically that he wasn’t interested in a relationship. He could not have made it plainer.
If she let herself get involved with him now, it would not be some fairy-tale night with a silver-screen hero. Nor would it be the adolescent fantasy of an idealistic teenager. It wouldn’t have anything to do with duty and responsibility.
It would be a lifetime commitment of love to a real live flesh-and-blood man—a man who didn’t want anything of the sort.
“So just have a nice two-week holiday and get on with your life,” she told herself firmly.
She vowed she would. All she had to do was convince her heart.
About noon Anny brought him a sandwich and a beer.
“I figured you’d be getting hungry.” She set the plate on the bench seat near where Demetrios stood, then went back down to return moments later with a sandwich of her own.
He stared at her.
She finished chewing a bite of sandwich, then noticed the way he was looking at her, and said, “What? Did I overstep my bounds?”
He shook his head. “I’m just…surprised.”
Anny didn’t see why. “Maybe it was presumptuous,” she went on after she’d swallowed, “but I’m a better cook than a sailor. And if I’m going to be here two weeks, I need to do my share. So I thought I’d do the meals.”
“You cook?” That seemed to surprise him, too.
She flashed him a grin. “Cordon Bleu,” she told him, causing his brows to hike clear into the fringe of hair that had fallen across his forehead. “All part of my royal education. But don’t expect that standard under these circumstances,” she warned him.
He shook his head. “No fear. I’m happy with sandwiches. I wasn’t planning on cooking.”
“I noticed,” she said drily. Besides bread, cheese and fruit, there was little in the pantry besides granola bars and protein bars and beer.
“I wasn’t expecting company.” His tone was gruff. The wind was ruffling his hair, making him look dangerous and piratical and very very appealing.
“I realize that. And I’m grateful. I—” she hesitated “—appreciate your offer to bring me along. Your insistence, actually,” she corrected. “It is a better alternative than wandering around Europe trying to stay a step ahead of Papa.”
He nodded, then looked at her expectantly because the note on which she ended made it clear she had something else to say.
Which she did. She just couldn’t seem to find the right way to say it. Finally she simply blurted it out. “But even so, I don’t think we should make love together again.”
Yet another look of surprise crossed his face, this one more obvious than the earlier two. His green eyes met hers. “You don’t?”
Anny gave a quick shake of her head. “No.”
Demetrios tilted his head to regard her curiously. “You didn’t like it?”
Anny felt her cheeks begin to burn. “You know that’s not true,” she protested. “You know I liked it. Very much.”