by Robyn Grady
Helene noticed a woman in the crowd—a tourist or possibly a backpacker like herself. The woman’s focus was fixed upon Darius as she angled this way and that snapping off endless shots. For an instant, Helene imagined she was that woman, just part of the crowd enjoying the moment rather than the person waiting well back and feeling way out of her depth.
From her vantage point, Helene watched a magnificent ceremonial carriage weave down from Sangros Hill. As the clop of hooves grew louder, the crowd parted, and the carriage reined in close to Darius. With another wave to the crowd, he ascended the open carriage step and made himself comfortable behind the uniformed driver.
When Darius was well on his way back up the hill and to the palace, the crowd gradually dispersed. Helene, however, stood frozen. Darius had asked her to wait. He’d said someone would fetch her. Who? When? Perhaps he’d meant Alexio, although she hadn’t spotted her friend or his family in the crowd.
Now, with everyone returning to their business, she felt strangely out of place—invisible—as if she were standing on the other, darker side of a giant gilded mirror.
The man in the tailored white suit made his way up the gangplank with Darius’s case in hand. He stopped to speak briefly with the crew before crossing over to where she stood. With a thin-lipped smile, he introduced himself.
“I’m Prince Vasily’s Chief Aide, Yanni Kostas. He asked that I escort you to the palace. We’ll leave shortly. Tradition decrees the prince’s carriage must be at the top of the hill before anyone follows.” Shifting the spectacles higher upon his long nose, he glanced around. “Do you have luggage?”
Breathing a little easier knowing that Vasily hadn’t forgotten her—well, of course he hadn’t—she gestured to the knapsack nestled between her feet. With those protected pages resting in the front compartment, more than ever she didn’t want to misplace it.
“I’m good,” she said. “Thanks.”
He gave that non-committal smile again. “A carriage is waiting.”
Following the man down the gangplank, Helene evaluated her guide. Obviously he was an intelligent person of high standing. And while Yanni Kostas was reserved, he wasn’t exactly cold. Darius trusted him and, right now, she felt as if she needed a friend.
While chestnut horses hitched to a closed carriage were brought over, she noticed some locals eyeing them. Then Mr. Kostas opened the carriage door, and they settled inside with her knapsack beside her and that case and its precious cargo beside him. As they pulled out of the city and the horses started their climb up the hill, she broke the silence.
“When I left the States,” she said, “I never dreamed my vacation would end like this.”
He nodded cordially. “Most unexpected.”
“My friends won’t believe it.”
Brown eyes behind their round glasses smiled. “You’ll need to send photos.”
As the carriage bumped along, quiet descended again. Helene gazed out the window, taking in the retreating view of the city before she asked the question burning on her lips.
“So you know about the arrangement between Darius and me?”
His head cocked. “Arrangement?”
“I wasn’t sure about protocol in a situation like this—an outsider rocking up and moving in. But Darius seemed to think…”
Her words faded as her throat closed up. Mr. Kostas’s tanned forehead had drawn into a concertina of deep wrinkles and, behind those lenses, his brown eyes flashed and then narrowed.
“What do you mean…arrangement?”
He didn’t know? “Darius invited me to stay at the palace for a couple of weeks.”
Kostas’s tense expression melted. He even chuckled, a quiet low sound as he peered out the window again. “In that case,” he said, “protocol is covered.”
She wasn’t so sure. “For a minute, I thought you were going to throw a bag over my head and toss me in the bay.”
“I misunderstood. I thought you were suggesting something else entirely.”
“Suggesting what?”
“A much longer stay.”
“How long?”
“It’s of no consequence.”
She persisted. “Then there’s no harm in saying.”
Giving in, he tipped forward as if he feared being overheard. “I thought you’d implied something more permanent.”
She only stared. Meaning what? Like marriage?
She coughed out a laugh. “It’s nothing like that.”
“Of course not. I know the prince better than that.” He looked out the window again. “Much better.”
As the carriage passed through grand garnished gates, Helene’s palm covered her belly. She’d been nervous about coming back to officially stay with Darius. Now she wondered if she simply ought to make an excuse and get out before things got any more complicated.
What had possessed him?
Darius had gone over that question in his mind the entire carriage ride from the dock. As the horses pulled up in the palace forecourt now, he admonished himself again.
He was expected to greet the crowd and travel up Sangros Hill alone. But until the last moment he’d wanted to escort Helene at least as far as the end of the gangplank. He had warred with himself over the issue the entire boat trip back, but in the end, he had to concede that such an unprecedented, unexpected move would stir a public pot or two.
At the last minute, he’d chosen the path of least resistance, although he cringed at the idea of seeing Helene’s face when she finally showed up here with Yanni. She’d been nervous during the trip back. Had been uncertain when he’d left her standing on the deck. Now she’d be confused. And hurt.
He’d bent the rules by having her stay with him in the villa. He’d yielded and released the figurine from the protection of a safe. With the possibility—no matter how slight—of her having conceived, he’d decided to bring her back until all uncertainty could be cleared. On that matter he had no choice. He couldn’t risk the possible mother of his child disappearing, only to show up again in five or ten years’ time.
But to flout an unknown woman’s presence under the people’s noses in these circumstances? That he could not do. Still…
He should have warned her.
A footman opened the carriage door and Darius swung down, the soles of his shoes hitting the ground with a slap. As the driver jumped down, too, Vasily’s mind locked upon yet another matter that needed a delicate hand.
The dark-haired twenty-one-year old, always vigilant where his horses were concerned, crouched down to inspect a lead horse’s hoof. Darius wasn’t surprised Otis had been the one to collect him from the dock. The boy was neither a coward nor a slouch. He was never disrespectful. As Darius had told Helene, he’d always liked Otis. He was a hard worker who was polite and knowledgeable. None of that meant one of his staff should take advantage of a minor.
Okay, Tahlia was eighteen, not strictly a minor, but she was still naive as only a teenage girl with a head full of romantic notions could be. Helene had said he couldn’t keep his sister from being who she wanted to be. Perhaps, but neither could he stand by and watch Tahlia set aside this crucial stage of her education to chase a boy around a stall. If she went away to England for even a couple of months, the embers smoldering between the pair would surely cool. His father would have agreed. Tahlia didn’t need the distraction and, given the follies of young love, that’s all Otis was destined to be.
Otis had set down the hoof and was feeling around the horse’s knee when a sandy-colored canine bullet shot out from the western gardens. Darius relaxed. This was always the best part of coming home.
He’d had Ajax since he was a pup, a gift from his father. A dog truly was a man’s best friend, and his Cretan Hound was as true as they came. This lightning dash would end when Ajax came to a skidding halt at his master’s feet. Only when Darius snapped his fingers would Ajax leap up and enjoy a good ruffle of his coat and ears.
At the sight of Otis, however, the dog made an unex
pected detour. Otis had finished checking the knee and was finding his feet when Ajax shot straight up and onto the groom’s chest, almost knocking him over. Otis only laughed—an easy, youthful sound. He scratched the dog’s ears, as Darius had done so many times, while Ajax’s curl of a tail wagged so hard it threatened to Frisbee off.
Too late, Otis flicked a guarded look over a shoulder. The men’s eyes locked, and the younger man urged the dog down. As Ajax continued on to Darius, Otis’s mouth opened as if to explain but then closed again. Darius knew that Ajax kept Tahlia company when he wasn’t around. Which meant nowadays Ajax would keep Otis company, too. Otis drew himself up tall, bowed, then swung up onto the bench behind the horses. With a click of his tongue and snap of the reins, he drove the ceremonial carriage away.
With a tight jaw, Darius looked down. Ajax sat, obedient at his feet. Sensing other eyes upon him, Darius glanced toward the terrace. A number of staff were waiting for him to greet them, too.
He was interrupted when a second carriage rolled through the gates and down the long, paved drive. With Ajax beside him, Darius drew himself up tall and waited. As soon as the carriage stopped, he opened the door himself. Yanni alighted first and, with a nod, departed off with the case.
Next came Helene, silky hair shaken out from beneath her cap. Her expression was unreadable, but the press of her lips indicated something other than calm. Darius took her hands.
“You’ve met my Chief Aide.”
“We had a chat,” she said. “Actually, we spoke about you.”
Darius inhaled deeply. “You’re upset,” he said.
“A little.” Her hands slipped out from his. “A lot.”
“It’s tradition that I greet the crowd and ride in an open carriage on my own up the hill.” The back of his hand brushed hers. “I should have told you.”
“That would’ve helped.”
He eyed the staff. Out of earshot, everyone still waited patiently. “I had to do what was expected,” he said. “I apologize.”
Her mouth tugged to one side, as if she were forcing herself to give it some thought. “I’ll get over it, I suppose.” After a moment, she shrugged and shifted her feet. “Guess I’m over it now.”
Smiling, he went to slide the knapsack off her shoulder, but she insisted on carrying it. He escorted her to the broad stone steps that led to the terrace. Midway up, he stopped to address the house staff.
“Everyone, meet Helene Masters. She’ll be staying with us for a couple of weeks.”
Each person nodded his or her greeting, many of them with questions—good and bad—shadowing their eyes. But someone was missing. Despite her being upset with him, he had expected Tahlia to be here. Then again, chances were that his sister was off hiding—as well as doing other things—in the stables.
Helene was looking at him strangely. “You’re scowling,” she said.
Ushering her up the rest of the steps, he made an excuse. “Thinking about the work piled up since I left.”
“Who’s this cute guy?” she asked, tilting her chin at his dog following a step behind.
“Ajax, say hello to Helene.”
The dog bounced up on his hind legs and jumped twice, yapping out a bark on each bounce. Helene laughed. “He’s smart.” Ajax sat dutifully again, peering up at his master, eager to please. “It’s obvious he adores you.”
Darius slid a palm over his dog’s ears. “We’re pretty tight.”
Regardless of the earlier incident with Otis, that would never change.
They moved through the Arabian-inspired entrance, which was guarded by two life-size marble lions and set beneath a roof of gilded onion domes that visitors said touched the sky.
“Almost a thousand years ago,” he explained, “when an earthquake leveled a sacred temple that stood on this site, an ancestor saw it as a sign. The gods had provided the perfect location to construct his palace.”
They passed through the main door with its gold embossed Vasily monogram and into the central vestibule. They were met with walls clad in marble, restored frescos, and ornamental moldings that drew the eye to the lofty, domed ceiling. Helene shrank back. Darius understood her reaction. Aside from boarding schools, he’d lived here all his life, and still there were times the grandeur astounded him.
As they headed off again, Darius caught a movement out the corner of his eye—a flash of a familiar flowing skirt. So his sister had come to greet him, after all. No doubt she’d hung back because of his current company, and now wasn’t the best time for introductions. In fact, although Tahlia and Helene would hit it off, he wanted his guest to settle in before they met.
He guided Helene through the central reception hall then up the wide marble staircase that led to a guest wing. As they navigated the wide hall, he said, “Later, I’ll give you a palace tour. For now, you should rest up in your apartments.”
He fanned open the soaring double doors. Edging inside, Helene gaped at the sumptuous private reception area that led to a music room, a dining room, a bedroom, and baths.
She sighed long and hard. “This…is…amazing.”
As he followed her in, his focus shifted to skim over a rear view of her curves. His palms shaped over the slope of her shoulders, trailing the arms that had clung to him this morning when they’d made love a final time in the villa. He soaked in her unique fresh-flower scent and murmured against her ear.
“You’re amazing.”
Laughing softly, she pressed back against him. His hands slid across and over her waist before his touch wove down toward her belly. His eyes drifted shut and he brushed his lips over her cheek.
“I wish I hang around,” he said. “But state business is calling.”
He rotated her around and, rubbing his palms up then down her back, he kissed her until they’d run out of air.
When their lips parted, her gaze was heavy and glazed. The tip of her tongue looped around his Adam’s apple.
“You taste salty,” she said. “I like salt.”
“I’m pretty sure I’m salty all over.”
“I’m pretty sure state business can wait.”
Guess that meant she’d forgiven him.
But he really needed to go. He needed to speak with Tahlia.
“I’ll be back in a couple of hours.” He dropped a final kiss on her forehead and headed for the door.
Outside the quarters, he practically collided with his quiet-as-a-cat sister.
Tahlia’s almond-shaped, sapphire-blue eyes sparkled with excitement. “I like the look of your friend, Darius. Do you think she’d mind if I went in and introduced myself?”
Darius gave her a hug and planted a kiss on her brow. Tahlia might drive him nuts sometimes but he loved her to bits.
“Why don’t you let her settle in first?” he asked, heading down the hall.
“How long is she staying? What’s her name?”
“Helene Masters. And she’s staying a couple of weeks, maybe a little longer.”
“How did you meet her?” She looked at him sideways. “You were supposed to be on that island alone. Did an albatross drop her down from the sky?”
His lips twitched. Smart aleck.
“She’s American, isn’t she?” Tahlia went on. “I heard her speak. That accent is so sexy.”
He pulled up sharp. “Tahlia.”
“Well, it is.”
Shaking his head, he started off again. “I’ll explain it later.”
“Helene Masters could explain it all to me now.” She skipped to keep up with him.
“There’s plenty of time.” He added, “Everything doesn’t have to be so urgent.”
As always, she didn’t take the advice.
“I know you’ve had lots to think about this past week,” she said, walking alongside of him. “But did you give any more thought to Otis and me?”
He tried not to groan. Here we go. “Tahlia, I want to give you everything you need and deserve,” he said. “But you’re too young to get serious.”
“Why are you so stubborn about acknowledging him? Acknowledging us?” She stopped walking. “Why is it so hard to let me be who I am rather than who you want me to be?”
Because he didn’t know what to expect next. Or maybe he did, and that made him wish all the more that their father was still alive to deal with it. Tahlia knew about the birds and the bees. Darius was dead certain Otis did, too. If he “acknowledged” Otis, he might as well give Otis the nod to more than kisses snatched in shadows.
If his gate-keeping stifled Tahlia’s individuality, too bad.
She tossed him a parting remark. “You can’t keep us apart. Just like they couldn’t keep Uncle Galen from being with the person who he loved.”
Darius sighed. He’d have to deal with it at some point, just not now.
He had a state building downtown where his ministers and staff worked, but he preferred to attend to business from “home” when he could. When he entered his office, he found Yanni standing by a credenza. Glancing up from sorting papers, the Chief Aide greeted him with a smooth smile.
“Your Highness.”
“Thanks for taking care of Helene,” Darius said, moving behind his desk and taking a seat.
“As you asked, I spoke with the ship’s crew before and after the journey.” Yanni wandered closer. “They won’t spread tales about the extra passenger.”
“And Alexio, the island caretaker?”
“Of course, he also respects this office’s privacy.” Leaning in, Yanni dropped his voice. “That case is in your quarters. The safe is prepared. I’ll store the figurine away whenever you’re ready.”
A snapshot of the goddess sitting in that alcove at the villa flashed into Darius’s mind. After much deliberation, he’d felt good about his decision to leave her out in the open. But was he wrong to consider something similar now that he was home?