by Cat Schield
In twenty-four hours Nic was heading home to find a wife. He would be forever lost to her. Maybe she should give up this madness today and run back to California.
Because she still hadn’t done what she’d come here to do: tell Nic she was pregnant.
And yet, on the heels of all she’d learned, did it make sense to burden him with the news that his illegitimate child would be living far from him in California? He was returning home to find a bride and start a family. His future wife wouldn’t be happy to find out Nic had already gotten another woman pregnant.
Then, too, he’d proved himself an honorable man. It would tear him apart to know he wouldn’t be a part of his child’s life? What if he demanded partial custody? Was she going to spend the next eighteen years shuffling their child across the Atlantic Ocean so that he or she could know Nic? And what about the scandal this would mean for the royal family? Maybe in America no one thought twice when celebrities had children without being married, but that wouldn’t sit well where European nobility were concerned.
Yet morally was it right to keep the information from him? It would certainly be easier on her. Nic had turned his back on Glen and their dream of getting Griffin off the ground. Brooke knew she could count on her brother to keep her secret. Her life going forward would be quiet and routine. She would teach at Berkeley or UCLA and throw herself into raising her child. No one would ever know that she’d had a brief affair with a European prince.
Both options had their positives and negatives. And it was early in her pregnancy. So many things could go wrong in the first trimester. She could take another month to decide. The discovery that she was pregnant was only a week old. Maybe if she gave the situation some more thought she could arrive at a decision that she could live with.
Knowing that avoiding a decision was not the best answer, she dressed in black shorts and a white T-shirt. Maybe she would take a hike to the windmills a little later. Although her stomach wasn’t back to normal, she had to act as if nothing was wrong.
Half an hour after her encounter with Nic, she returned to the house and found him standing in the kitchen drinking coffee. He was staring out the window as Brooke drew near and when she saw the expression on his face, all the energy drained from her body.
“Don’t.” Her throat contracted before she could finish.
He swiveled his head in her direction. His gaze was hollow. “Don’t what?”
Hearing his tight, unhappy tone, frustration replaced anxiety. Brooke stamped her foot. “Don’t regret what just happened.”
“Brooke, you don’t understand—”
“Don’t,” she interrupted, despair clutching at her chest. She didn’t need to be psychic to know what ran through Nic’s mind. “Don’t you dare spew platitudes at me. I’ve known you too long.”
“You don’t know me at all.”
And whose fault was that? She sucked in a breath. Harsh words gathered in her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, moderated her tone. “I wish we had time to change that.”
The umber eyes that turned in her direction were a stark landscape of cynicism and regret. “But we don’t.” Although he pushed her away with his words, the muscle jumping in his jaw proclaimed he wasn’t happy to do so. His agonized expression matched the pain throbbing in his voice. “My family needs me.”
I need you. Your child needs you.
But all of a sudden she knew she wasn’t going to put that burden on him. What he felt for her wasn’t casual. She was finding it hard to let go. He was going through something similar. But they each had their ways of coping and she should respect that.
Brooke retreated to the opposite side of the room and picked up her sandals. The silence in the house went unbroken for several moments while she reorganized her emotions and set aside her disappointment.
“Are these okay for a hike up to the windmills?” she asked, indicating the footwear. “I’m afraid I don’t have anything more sturdy.”
“They should be fine.” He assessed her feet. “There’s a well-defined path up to get there.”
“Great.”
His brow creased at her flat tone. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just feeling a little off all of a sudden. Nothing breakfast won’t cure.”
Brooke was glad that Elena picked that moment to enter the house with bags of groceries. It kept her and Nic from plunging back into heated waters. With Elena bustling around the kitchen they had little need to exchange more than a few words over a meal of eggs and pastries.
An hour later, they were heading to the windmill. The paved road that led from the town past Nic’s villa gave out two miles farther. Ahead was the narrow path cluttered with large rocks and tree roots that led to the three windmills she’d seen on arriving at Ithaca. Nic set a moderate pace through the irregular terrain, forcing Brooke to focus on where she stepped, and silence filled the space between them. For once she was grateful for the lack of conversation because she had too many conflicting thoughts circling her mind.
“There are a number of windmills on Ithaca,” Nic began as the brush lining the path ahead of them gave way to a flat, rocky expanse. Brooke was glad for her sunglasses as they emerged from the vegetation onto the rocky plateau.
Before them lay the three disused windmills. Twenty feet in diameter, thirty feet tall, their squat, round shapes stood sentinel over all the boats coming and going from the harbor. Their walls once would have been whitewashed, but years of wind and weather had scoured the brick, returning it to shades of gray and tan.
Nic headed toward the structures, his words drifting back to her on the strong breeze. “Corn and wheat would come from all over the islands to be ground here because of the constant winds in this area.”
In the lee of the squat towers, Nic gestured to direct her attention through a curved doorway into the windmill’s interior. “As you can see, the 1953 earthquake caused the grinding wheel and shaft to break and tumble to the bottom.”
“Fascinating.” But her attention was only half on the scene before her. A moment earlier she’d stumbled when her toe caught on a half-buried rock and he’d caught her arm to steady her. His hand had not yet fallen away. “Thank you for bringing me here. The view is amazing. I can see why you enjoy coming to the island.”
“After this we should take the boat to Vathay and have lunch.” He was obviously hoping that by keeping busy they could avoid a repeat of the morning’s events.
Brooke wasn’t sure she could spend a fun-filled afternoon with him while her heart was in the process of shattering. For the first time since her interest in him had sparked, she was bereft of hope. Even after he’d broken things off a month ago, she hadn’t really believed it was over. This morning, she’d finally faced up to reality.
Nic was going to marry someone else and build a life with that person.
“If you don’t mind,” Brooke said, “I think I’d rather just hang out on the terrace and do a little reading. But you go ahead and do whatever it is you’ve been doing before I got here.”
He frowned, obviously unsure what to make of her abrupt about-face. “If that’s what you want to do.”
“It is.” The words sounded heavy.
“Very well.”
For the next fifteen minutes, he inundated her with facts about the area, the aftereffects of the 1953 earthquake and other interesting tidbits about the island. Brooke responded with nods and polite smiles when he paused to see if she was listening. Eventually, he ran out of things to say and they headed back down the path. They had to walk single file until they reached the road. Once they got there they strode side by side without speaking. When Nic’s villa was less than a mile away, to Brooke’s surprise, it was Nic who broke the silence.
“About this morning.”
“Please don’t,” Brooke murmured, expelling her breath in a
weary sigh.
“I was wrong to kiss you,” he continued, either not hearing her protest or ignoring it. “I’m sending you mixed messages and that isn’t fair.”
“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have intruded on your sleep and thrown myself at you. Most men would have taken advantage of the situation. You showed great restraint.”
“Nevertheless.” His frown indicated he wasn’t happy she’d taken the blame. “I haven’t been fair to you. If I’d told you from the start who I really was, you’d never have developed feelings for me.”
Brooke couldn’t believe what she was hearing. She’d chased this man for five years, teased him, flattered him, poured her heart out to him and received nothing in return until six months ago when he’d kissed her. He’d kissed her. She hadn’t plunked herself onto his lap and tormented him the way she’d done the day before. In fact, she hadn’t even flirted with him that night. He’d been the one to draw her away from Glen’s party and kiss her senseless.
“I never meant to hurt you.”
“You haven’t.” She wasn’t upset with him. She was disappointed in herself. How could she have been such a fool for so long? “If I hurt right now it’s because I didn’t listen when you told me over and over that we weren’t right for each other. I created my own troubles. Your conscience should be clear.”
She walked faster, needing some space from Nic. He matched her stride for stride.
“Is this some sort of ploy—?”
She erupted in exasperation. “Get over yourself already. I’m done.” She gestured broadly with her arms as her temper flared. “You’ve convinced me that it’s stupid to keep holding on for something that can never be. So, congratulations, I’m never going to ask you for anything ever again.”
Her anger wasn’t reasonable, but at that moment it was the only way to cope with her deep sadness. She couldn’t cry, not yet, so she took refuge in ferocity. This was a side of her she’d never let Nic see. She always kept things light and fun around him. Even when she showed him her temper, it was followed by a quicksilver smile.
Right now she had no lightness inside her, only shadow.
Nic caught her arm to slow her as she surged forward. “I don’t want us to end like this.”
She was not going to say nice things so he could ease his conscience about her. “End like what? Me being upset with you? How do you think I felt a month ago when you told me that sleeping together had been the wrong thing to do?”
“I was wrong not to tell you the truth about what was really going on.” The intense light in his eyes seared through her defenses. “I’m sorry.”
Unbidden, sympathy rose in her. Brooke cast it aside. She didn’t want to accept that he was as much a victim of circumstances as she. With a vigorous shake of her head she pulled free and began walking once again.
“What happened isn’t fair to either one of us,” he called after her. “Don’t you think if I could choose you I would?”
She swung around and walked backward as she spoke. “The trouble is, you didn’t choose me. Nothing is really forcing you to go home and make this huge sacrifice for your country. This is your decision. You feel honor bound. It’s who you are. It’s why I love you. But don’t blame circumstances or your family’s expectations for the choice you are making.”
Leaving him standing in the middle of the road, Brooke ran the rest of the way back to the villa.
Six
Nic lay on his back, forearm thrown over his eyes. Moonlight streamed into his room like a searchlight, but he couldn’t be bothered to close the shutters. A soft breeze trailed across his bare chest, teasing him with the memory of Brooke’s fingers tantalizing his skin this morning.
The regret he’d been trying unsuccessfully to contain for the past twelve hours pounded him as relentlessly as the Ionian Sea against the cliff below the villa. Any sensible man would have taken Brooke to bed rather than inflict on her a long sightseeing adventure to busted-up windmills. Instead he’d rejected her not once but twice this morning, and then disregarded the pain he’d caused.
She’d eaten lunch by herself on the terrace and barely spoken to him during dinner. When she did speak, her tone had been stiff. He didn’t blame her for being upset. Any apology he might make would’ve been way too little and far too late. But he’d been relieved when she’d escaped as soon as the dishes had been piled in the sink.
He gusted out an impatient breath and sat up. Sleeping without the benefit of too much alcohol had been hard enough before Brooke arrived. Knowing she slept thirty feet away made unconsciousness completely impossible. Hell. It used to be that if he couldn’t sleep, he would work. That outlet was lost to him now. Still, he hadn’t yet looked at the forty emails restored to his inbox. Maybe a few hours of technical questions would take his mind off his problems.
Padding barefoot downstairs, he stopped short as he neared the bottom, his skin tingling in awareness that he wasn’t alone.
Beyond the open French doors, the full moon slanted a stripe of ethereal white across the harbor’s smooth surface and reached into the living room to touch the couch. Beside the shaft of moonlight, a dark shadow huddled, an ink spot on the pristine fabric.
Brooke.
His breath lodged in his throat and her name came out of him in a hoarse whisper. His body went into full alert. This was bad. Very bad. A late-night encounter with her was more temptation than he was prepared to handle.
“How come you’re not in bed?” he demanded, stepping onto the limestone tile. He took two steps toward the couch, his impulses getting the upper hand. He’d come close enough to smell vanilla and hear her unsteady breathing. He set one hand on his hip and rubbed the back of his neck with the other.
“I couldn’t sleep.” Her voice emerged from shadow, low and passionless with a slight waver. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what I said to you earlier. You’re doing the right thing where your family and country are concerned.”
“This whole thing is my fault. You came a long way not knowing who I was or what my family has been going through.”
If circumstances were different...
But it wasn’t fair to patronize her with meaningless platitudes. Circumstances were exactly what they were and he’d made his decision based on what he’d been taught to do.
“Still, I shouldn’t have hit you with a guilt trip.”
“You didn’t.” Nic took another two steps and stopped. His breath hissed through clenched teeth. What was he doing? The longing to gather her into his arms and comfort her stunned him with its power. His body ached to feel her soft body melt against him. Madness.
“I just wanted you to choose me for once.”
Her words slammed into his gut and rocked him backward. He’d been a first-class bastard where she was concerned. How many times had he rebuffed her when all she wanted was to help him work through a problem? So what if her methods sounded illogical and ineffective? She’d been right the time she’d badgered him into playing miniature golf with her when he was busy trying to solve a difficult technical problem. On the fourth hole the solution had popped into his head with no prompting. Had he bothered to thank her before rushing back to his workroom at the hangar and burying himself in the project once more?
And now, it was too late to make everything up to her.
“You should head back to bed. You have a long flight back to California tomorrow.”
Her shadow moved as she shook her head. “I’m not going home tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know yet. I have a few weeks before I have to be back at UC Santa Cruz. I thought maybe I’d head to Rome and meet up with some friends.”
“What about your Berkeley interview?”
“It’s the day after tomorrow.”
“But you
said it was in a few weeks.”
“It was rescheduled.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Annoyance flared, banishing all thoughts of comforting her.
“I thought if you knew, you’d put me on a plane right away and I wanted these two days with you.”
Two days during which they’d argued and he’d done nothing but push her away. Irritation welled.
“But why aren’t you going right home for the interview? Teaching at Berkeley is all you’ve talked about since I’ve known you.”
Her temper sparked in response to his scolding. “Plans change. It’s just not the right time for me to take the position.”
“Are you giving up something as important as Berkeley because of me?”
“Seems foolish, doesn’t it?” she countered without a trace of bitterness.
Nic clenched his fists. She was going to be so much better without him.
And he was going to be so much worse.
“You should take your own advice about going to bed,” she told him. “Sounds like your mother planned a grueling week for you. It will be better if you’re well rested.”
Nic had the distinct impression he’d just been dismissed. His lips twitched. He could always count on Brooke to do the last thing he expected. After her assault on his willpower this morning, he’d been lying awake half expecting her to launch another all-out attack tonight.
From the way he’d been with her this morning, she had to know he was having a harder and harder time resisting her. Resisting what he wanted more than anything. With each beat of his heart, the idea of taking her back upstairs and tumbling her into his bed seemed less like a huge mistake and more like the right thing to do.
Walk away.
“What are you going to do?” he asked, knowing that prolonging this conversation was the height of idiocy. It would only make going back to bed alone that much harder.
“Sit here.”
“I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re down here in the dark.”
A small smile filled her voice as she said, “You’ve never had trouble putting me out of your mind before.”