by Margaret Way
Too busy to see the King’s cousin, were they? When they’d been fawning over her until now? Did Lysander have the entire diplomatic staff on his side, as well as her family?
Everyone wanted her to stay in Hellenia. Her parents weren’t going home, and neither was Stavros. Her dad, having toured Hellenia for three weeks as a resident expert in green solutions, had gone to Persolis five days ago at Lysander’s invitation, giving unorthodox solutions to the age-old problem of garbage storage.
“What? You think the entire country turned out their garbage in an effort to keep you here?” her father had asked indignantly, when she’d tried to blame Lysander for her dad’s sudden elevation in status to First Assistant to the Minister for the Environment.
And Stavros was finishing his medical studies at the University of Orakidis.
“How can you call it nepotism?” he’d protested, when she’d questioned his sudden scholarship for his final years. “They need more doctors here, Mariela. There’s been war here for decades. I can speak the language, I have family connections, and I came in the top ten percent in all my exams at Sydney Uni. For the first time I can study full-time, instead of working my way through.”
When she’d kept trying to make him see what was really going on, Stavros had mocked her. “Oh? So Sander arranged my good marks over the past five years to keep you here? When did you become so self-important, little sister?”
“Go to him, Mariela,” was her mother’s unvarying advice. “Go to Persolis and judge for yourself whether or not you can make a difference.”
Her parents and Stavros had gone deaf without warning, refusing to interfere or even listen to her reasons for not marrying Lysander. Jazmine was full of stories about the Duke, making him appear a cross between a saint and the loneliest man in the world. And Charlie’s schedule this past week had been too full for him to help on the matter of her passport issues.
“Is the Duke of Persolis here?” she asked the woman, wondering if he was listening in somewhere, waiting for her to ask for him.
“Yes, madam, he is here currently—attending an important meeting. Would you like to see him?” The woman’s searching look was answer enough: Lysander wasn’t at any meeting. He was waiting for her to ask for him, even if all she wanted was to tear him limb from limb.
Steam almost pouring from her ears, she snapped, “Yes, please.”
Moments later she was ushered into a functional office. The door closed behind her—and Lysander stood up behind the desk he sat at and smiled at her. “I’ve missed you so much,” he said simply, his arms held out to her.
Oh, how unfair was it that he’d said that, making her melt when she was so furious? “Don’t distract me, Lysander. Play fair!”
Yet, confused, filled with turbulent hunger, she took a step closer…
“I can’t afford to.” He moved towards her, slow and cautious, with that fascinating smile. “You’d only run away if I did. You wouldn’t give us a chance.”
Her cheeks heated in unspoken acknowledgement of his words. “I can’t stay,” she cried, feeling wretched. “Don’t you see it will never work?”
“All I can see is you. I’m dying to touch you,” he said huskily. Those eyes…that smile…
And she was in his arms. “Lysander.”
The kiss was everything she’d been dreaming of during the long, lonely month without him. She forgot all the good reasons to leave. She forgot she was mad with him—or maybe the negative passion fuelled the other, more primitive need.
“Tell me you’ve missed me,” he mumbled through hot kisses down her throat.
She didn’t have to, because it was so pathetically obvious—but she gasped, “You know I have. Lysander…” She tossed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, spread greedy hands across his chest.
He shuddered and groaned. “I have to be back at that meeting in ten minutes. I’m going to totally humiliate myself.”
She stilled. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come to see you, but I was so angry.” Her hands still caressing his body, she forced her gaze to his. “I need my passport back.”
His eyes met hers, unflinching. “And I need you to give us a chance—at least see what it is you’re turning down before you play the coward.”
Like the swinging of a pendulum, her ardour became anger again. “I lost my job. My parents are selling the house and staying here. My brother’s studying here. You’ve made sure I have no life to return to. You’re not giving me a chance to make a fair decision.”
“You can’t make a fair decision without coming to Persolis!” he snarled.
“I can’t think when I’m near you!” she cried. “How can I make a fair decision if all I feel for you is this?” She dropped her hands. “And anger that you’ve put me in a cage? It’s dysfunctional, Lysander. Nothing can be right between us if I resent you!”
He stilled, and slowly nodded. “You’re right—again. But I can’t let you go, Mari. My life’s been grey the past month. I can’t stand thinking you’re half a world away from me!”
Yearning and something dangerously tender filled her, body and heart. “Wouldn’t you rather I went and came back to you of my own free will, knowing how I feel?”
He wheeled away, breathing hard. “I think you already know how you feel about me, Mari. What you need to know is how you feel about my life. You need to come to Persolis before you go to Sydney.” When she didn’t answer, he added harshly, “I won’t be there, if that makes it easier for you. Go and meet my mother and my people as Charlie’s cousin—you’ve done that before, visiting Toby and Lia in their duchy, Malascos. We don’t have to go public if I’m not there. Your passport will be waiting when you return.”
It wasn’t a request, and Mari knew two things: he wasn’t going to give way on this, and he was right—she was being a coward. Slowly, she said, “All right.” She moved away when he turned back with a blazing smile. “I’ll play fair if you will.”
That wasn’t a request either.
Two weeks later
At the steps of the ducal residence, Mari stood waiting for the limousine, her hands in the Duchess’s. “Thank you for making my time here so wonderful, Kat.”
The dragon of her nightmares had become a purring kitten, if an elegant one. The Duchess—Call me Kat, she’d said the first day—lovely and well-spoken, was as warm and open-hearted as Lysander, with the same dancing in her eyes. She’d encouraged Mari to look on her as another aunt from the start, and by now Mari had almost forgotten her title. It was just like being with Charlie, Lia or Toby. She was so…ordinary. So real.
Kat squeezed the hands she held. “Thank you for giving me the chance to know you, darling girl. I’ve always wanted a daughter. Now I feel I have one…almost.”
The last word was added hastily, with a comical look of guilt. The silent agreement that neither of them would speak of Lysander, apart from about his childhood, hadn’t been broken.
Mari giggled, and kissed the Duchess’s cheek. “Now I know where he got his audacity from.”
Kat nodded, her dimples flashing. “The car’s here.”
Mari hugged her, and turned to pick up her bag.
“Mari, if I might give you one piece of advice?” Kat said softly.
Feeling fatalistic, Mari turned back to face her.
“The title is just a word, you know. I think you’ve seen that with me, with your cousins, but you’re blinding yourself against my son. Beneath the job, and the robes for state occasions, he’s just a man in love.”
Mari pushed her lips together hard, to stop the foolish rush of tears. “I need space to see that, Kat—especially when he’s been using his power against me. I have to go.”
Sadness and acceptance filled the older woman’s eyes. “I’ll talk to him.”
Another hug, fierce and loving, and she snatched up her bag and ran down the stairs.
Ten months later
From the middle of the long receiving line where the royal family greeted thei
r guests, those especially invited to watch the new Earl of Haridis and his Countess receive their formal titles, Sander watched the new Lady Mari Mitsialos, daughter of the Earl, with subdued hunger. It had been so long since he’d even seen her—longer since they’d been alone.
She was dressed for the occasion in a deep claret silk ballgown, her hair pulled up in a smooth chignon; she wore rubies and diamonds about her ears and throat; an IWC watch worth ten thousand euros adorned her wrist. She looked perfect—but she didn’t look like his Mari any more, and he wondered if he’d created a monster in his efforts to win her.
Taki, Maria and Stavros had taken to their new lives like ducks to water. And though Sander had been the one to first propose the title, Taki had become an earl based purely on his brilliance in science and his dedication to his new country. The Minister for the Environment, a bored viscount, had gratefully relinquished the position when Taki had invented a toxic waste blanket that increased decomposition, making a cleaner country and improving the health of the villagers and townspeople living near toxic rubbish dumps. Taki had won the admiration of the press and the people without any help from Sander.
Stavros led his year at the university, and had everyone’s respect.
Mari was the only member of the family who didn’t come regularly to Persolis, or accept her place in Hellenia without reservation.
Her passport “problem” had cleared the day she’d returned to Orakidis City, and she’d left immediately for Australia, staying there six agonising weeks. Charlie had sent him a terse e-mail the day she went.
Mari needs space. Give her time or she’ll never come back.
Much as he’d hated the dictum, he’d known Charlie was right. He hadn’t contacted her in all that time—apart from one red rose delivered to her friend’s apartment every week, with a card simply saying: I’m waiting.
He hadn’t even known she’d returned to Hellenia until his mother had mentioned Mari’s “latest call”. So Mari was calling his mother…so she’d returned…so she’d visited Malascos, met the people there, as well as in in Orakidis City… She’d visited Malascos, but she only visited Persolis when ambassadorial business took him from home. She wanted space, but he was suffocating without her.
He’d won his people’s approval. He now performed all his duties, knowing Mari had been right—this was real life, and running from that basic truth hadn’t made him a better man. So he’d turned down the post with the United Nations, taking the post of Second Assistant to the Ambassador on the condition that Persolis came first. Sometimes he felt stretched to his limits, barely finding time to sleep…if only she was here, sharing his load…
For the past six months she’d only left the palace in Jazmine or Charlie’s company, or to make her visits to Lia and Toby in Malascos. Jazmine’s and Lia’s pregnancies had given Mari an opportunity to help Charlie with affairs of state, and she’d shone. From formal affairs to visiting villages and towns in need of royal help, anything Charlie asked her to do she did—and she was winning the admiration of his people on her own merits.
Her father had been elevated to Hereditary Lord without dissent. Stavros was hailed as the new Viscount, heir to the new Earl, with enthusiasm, especially after a stint in Orakidis Hospital, when he’d saved a child’s life. But Mari refused to see she deserved anything. “I’m only doing what anyone would do,” she’d said the last time they’d met, at an official function a month ago. A night when she’d refused to see him privately, had barely glanced at him.
As he reached the royal family now, he bowed deeply before Mari. “My lady.” He lingered a moment too long over her hand. He couldn’t make his lips leave her gloved skin.
“Your Grace,” she murmured, and tugged her hand.
He couldn’t let go—not yet. “Mari mou,” he whispered into her knuckles.
“Your Grace,” she murmured again, her voice filled with meaning. He glanced up. She looked composed, even with a light blush staining her lovely honey-cream skin. She tilted her head at the long line of people waiting to greet her.
“Your pardon, my lady,” he said softly, his fingers trailing over hers as he let go. “It’s been too long since I saw you.” Since I touched you. “My hands won’t obey my mind.”
“Stop it, Lysander,” she whispered, her eyes reflecting her longing and her exasperation. “I’m not ready.”
The next person in line was listening avidly to their conversation, under cover of meeting Stavros—but Sander no longer cared who knew how he felt for Mari. Right now he’d take any chance to talk to her he got. “When will you be, eros mou? It’s been a year. I still love you and you still won’t believe it.”
Her chest lifted and fell with the quiet dragging in of her breath. She leaned into him, whispered in his ear. “The antechamber…after the ceremony.”
His heart soared and his rebel body, anticipating the reunion, went into overdrive. He adjusted his ducal cape so his excitement wouldn’t become public knowledge. “I’ll count the minutes, eros mou,” he whispered in her ear, touching the pearly skin with his mouth.
She shivered, made a tiny sound—and he moved on at last, satisfied, to greet Toby, waiting for him with twinkling eyes.
“Sander, my almost cousin,” the gentle giant murmured with wicked humour. “Making assignations with your lady in the palace? Ah, those were the days. It makes me feel nostalgic.”
Sander grinned and shook hands with the commoner turned Grand Duke and Prince after his marriage to Lia. Everyone knew of Lia and Toby’s unorthodox courtship in the secret passageways of the Malascos palace, right under the nose of the autocratic old King, who’d wanted Lia to marry Max, the Grand Duke of Falcandis. Old King Angelis, confined to his room now, had totally forgotten his former dislike of the Australian firefighter turned Grand Duke. He adored Toby, loved the baby son born two months before, and firmly believed he’d manipulated events to make the marriage possible.
The minutes moved like snails as the ceremony droned on and on. An hour became two, while Taki, Maria and Stavros revelled in their new positions and Mari smiled like the Sphinx, gracious, mysterious—accepting what she couldn’t change, but not seeming to share her family’s shining happiness.
Not for the first time Sander felt doubt creep into his heart. He’d believed she loved him, hoped she truly wanted life with him. What if he’d been wrong? What if she still missed her free, anonymous life in Australia? Her family title now made that life almost impossible for her—and he’d been the first to suggest Taki’s elevation. In making her worthy of him, he’d ripped her life, her choice, from her.
He barely made it through the four hours of the reception without his hungry gaze following her around the room. He couldn’t remember what he’d eaten or drunk, what he’d said to his dinner partners. He could barely remember if they’d been old or young, male or female. All he’d known were the moments she’d stopped at his table, talked to him: precious seconds that had ticked by too fast.
Now the time had come. Watching, he saw her turn her gaze to him; her head tipped and she vanished into the crowd.
Moments later he made his way to the door at the other side of the room, walked down the deserted hall and back into the reception room and slipped inside the door of the private antechamber.
He closed the door behind him, ignoring the rich appointments in the gold-and-white room, the Persian rug and Chippendale desk. He drank in the sight of her, shoes kicked off and swinging in her hand. Ah, that was his girl, his Mari, and he was alone with her at last…
Her head, lowered at first, lifted and turned to him. “Don’t,” she said softly, before he could smile or whisper her name with the hunger he couldn’t restrain. “We need to talk, and I can’t think when we touch.”
Her honesty robbed him of breath or thought. He nodded, and waited.
“You said you’d give me space, but your manipulation went on—the roses, the title for Dad,” she said quietly, looking him in the eyes. “You still
haven’t given me free choice.”
Pain and guilt pierced him. “I know.” Hoarse words, honest admission. “I thought I was helping to make your decision easier.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Make it easier for me to choose you, you mean,” she replied, with weary anger. “I lost my life. I lost my job. Mum and Dad sold the house. And—I’ve changed. I’m not who I was a year ago. You’ve left me nothing to go home to.”
“Is it so bad here?” he asked, his throat ripping as if broken glass had lodged there.
Her sad glance tore through his heart. “You don’t know how big the choice is for me. You’re not only the Duke now—you’d be Ambassador to the United Nations but for me, wouldn’t you?”
Taken aback, he stared at her. “Only in the sense that you made me see that ignoring my duty was as wrong for me as it was for my people. I turned the position down because I had enough to do.”
“How can I believe that?” she cried.
“I might have manipulated events around you, withheld the truth from you at the start, but I’ve never lied to you. I didn’t want the position,” he said quietly.
She dropped the shoes and snapped, “How would I know? All I know is since I came into your life you’ve given up an exalted position. How can I not think that it’s because of me—that I’m holding you back?”
“I did it for the right reasons, Mari,” he said, through a tight jaw. “I’m tied to my land, my people—but I don’t think that’s your deepest problem. Your problem is with yourself.”
“I’m a commoner,” she said slowly, her nostrils flared.
“Not any more.”
“You can’t change what I am.” Her face hardened. “Lady is a word, Lysander. All I am is a commoner, with a word tacked on in front of my name.”
“As am I—and Lia and Charlie. It’s all any of us are. I’d have thought Charlie, Lia and Toby’s experience would have taught you that.”