“Lady? I have been demoted from princess and highness, I see.” She sniffed loudly as she pushed herself onto the seat and pulled the door closed behind her. Sniffing loudly to show her annoyance was not a custom she adopted, but it worked for her grandmother, the dowager queen of Kephelai.
“I already told you, if you were royalty, then you wouldn’t be here.”
Tia leaned forward in the seat, the smell of earth and hay wafting up her nose, as she tried to make out his muffled words. A burst of air whipped across her face as he opened his door then slammed it shut after him, and making the car shake.
The car juddered to life beneath her, and her heart lightened at the motion of it. Her gaze dropped to his hands and the gentle patch of white on his wrist that looked suspiciously like the tan lines of a watch. He was a timekeeper. That was interesting. He seemed more like the kind of guy who would check his phone for the time.
Any thoughts about what kind of a guy he was jumped from her brain as she grabbed at the side of her car door. Her body rose into the air only to fall back to the seat with a thump.
He released one tanned hand from the wheel and rubbed it along the back of his neck, his lips pressed tightly together. “Sorry. There seem to be more of these, thanks to the recent storms.”
Forcing her hands to stay on her lap and not rub her ribs and the bruises she could feel there, Tia dropped her head into a quick nod. “It is not your fault. The storms have been causing all kinds of chaos all over the island. Or so I’m told,” she added quickly. The last thing she wanted him to know was that she had visited the worst parts of the devastation with her father as preparation for her role as future queen. And she had then proceeded to argue with her father about putting her plan of modernisation into place. “In fact, I have a theory about how those problems can be solved,” she mused loudly, pursing her lips the way she imagined Socrates would when beginning a philosophical discussion.
The question was, would he take the bait?
• • •
Turquoise? No. Her eyes had been brown. He would bet 100 euros on it. They were brown yesterday, and now, they had changed.
First the name, and now the eye colour. Okay, so he didn’t have any proof that her name wasn’t Tia Liakos, but the eyes—geez. Clearly, he had underestimated the lengths King Phillipe of Montcroix would go to. It was a good idea he had decided to drive to Arios himself. At least this way, he could keep an eye on her.
“Mr. Anastos? Damon?”
Her voice permeated his dark cloud. It was a soft voice, he decided, with the potential to go huskier if given the right circumstances. Not that he would be the one giving the right circumstances. That would cross the whole grey scale of stupid and fall over the sides into plain black and white.
“Mr. Anastos? Since when are we doing formalities Miss . . . Liakos?” The name tasted unusual. It didn’t suit her. Not from the tilt of her head and her straight back. It seemed too . . . ordinary.
“Okay, Damon it is. Don’t you think it’s a shame that we are having so many problems with landslides?”
Huh? “That’s one word for it.” Where was she going with this?
“Would it not be a better idea if we, I mean, Kephelai were modernised?”
“How so?” Modernised. It was a big word he had heard bounced around like a tennis ball by politicians recently. Were they even sure what it meant?
Her seat crunched as she wriggled in it, and small darts of electricity ran up his arm as her elbow knocked against his. He glanced across quickly before looking back at the road. Had she noticed, or was it just him behaving like a moronic, mooning teenager? From the way her eyes were locked on to the long road ahead of them, he guessed it was just him.
“Well, instead of the factories purely for farm equipment, we can build offices and factories that manufacture for more modern equipment, such as computers and computer software and things like that instead of importing it. Does that make sense? And it would keep Kephelai’s inventors and innovators from getting bored and moving abroad with their ideas.” Her voice was bright, overly so, and yet . . . He flicked his gaze to her face. Her pale brown eyebrows were drawn together, and her nose had wrinkled up.
He inhaled slowly. Modernise he could get on board with, but at what expense? “Despite it taking three hours to get to Arios, Kephelai isn’t the biggest of islands. Where would this land for the factories come from?”
“That is a good question, and I am glad you asked. I think that by closing some of the farms and converting the land, we would kill two birds with one stone. One, the land has solid foundations and hence fewer landslides as the land will no longer just be earth and grass, and two, the factories are made. And that also means that more people will move into the areas and create more jobs,” she finished, waving her hands in the air like a policeman giving traffic directions.
If it wasn’t so laughable, he’d swear. Wait, that was the wrong way around. If he didn’t want to swear so much, he’d laugh. Except it wasn’t funny. “You’re telling me that to make jobs, you would put people out of jobs. Not just people but whole families? Taking away the one thing that has been in their families for generations?”
She sniffed loudly. It was the kind of sound that he had heard from the parents of his fellow students when he was growing up. The kind of sound you might make if you found gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. The kind of sound that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
“When you put it like that, then yes, it does sound awful. But you called your stables a farm. And in some parts, at least the bit I saw from the barn windows, it did look like a farm, which makes me think you changed it. You modernised it for your requirements, improved it even. What is the difference between what you did and what I want to . . . I mean, suggest doing?” Her sniff had gone only to be replaced by a grim, determined tone.
“It is not the same. That was, is, my land. I can do whatever the hell I want with it. You are talking about other people’s land. People who depend on the crops from it and on the image of Kephelai as an arable nation. Hell, the orange blossom honey brings in most of this country’s GDP alone. And you think it is a good idea to risk that? The land the bees like to pollinate from?” he ground out, pulling his hand off the steering wheel to rub across his jaw. Damn, he could do with a strong drink, and it was only eleven in the morning!
“I know that! I know all about the GDP, and I have stud—”
He whipped his head around only to find her lips pressed together, any words she may have said now not seeing the light of day. “What? What were you going to say?”
“Nothing.” Her head shook with her denial, and he tapped his fingers against the wheel. At this point, one and one were not equalling two.
“Good, because now I have a question. How would you even get the ball rolling on this idea, or is this purely theoretical?”
Phillipe was in Montcroix. He had no control over how Kephelai was run despite Damon reading somewhere that King Constantine of Kephelai and Phillipe had attended the same university or something. Even if Tia was a spy, there would be no way for her to sabotage Kephelai on such a scale.
“One, there is no ball rolling anywhere, Damon, and two, the idea is a completely practical thought I had myself, alone, to improve—and I stress the word improve—Kephelai’s chances of playing a bigger part in the world we now live in as opposed to the ones inhabited by our ancestors during the time of the British Industrial Revolution!” she shot back.
“In that case, Tia, one, I have no interest in British history, and two, Kephelai already plays a big part thanks to the machinations of our politicians making headline news and our royal family and their horses!”
He whipped his head around at her sharp intake of breath, and his heart rate slowed at the unusual pale tone of her face. God, he hadn’t expected her to be so engrossed in this. “Tia, I—”
“No, it is fine. You are not the first person to disagree with me, and I highly doubt you wil
l be the last.”
The door had closed between them. He hadn’t even been aware there was a door, but whatever it was had now closed. His knuckles went white around the steering wheel, and he wound down the jeep’s window. After the sale of Athena and her strong bloodlines, he could afford a newer, better jeep. One with air conditioning for the balmy springs of Kephelai.
“Speaking of turning things around, what did your family think of the change of direction from farm to stable?” she asked, carrying on as if the last few minutes hadn’t happened.
Bitterness and regret marched around his system like an all-conquering army as the image of his mother’s funeral floated through his mind.
“It was my grandparents’ farm, and after they passed away, it was just my mother and me. I wasn’t in contact with my father.” Like she didn’t know that. He was the one who sent her, wasn’t he? “Besides, despite helping on the farm, my knowledge of horses far exceeds my knowledge of cattle.”
“So what did your mother think? If it was her family farm, I mean.”
What would his mother have thought? He would never know. He had suspected part of the reason she told him about his father when she did was because she thought he might ask the old man for his help.
He exhaled slowly. The thought still made his heart ache. “My mother never lived to see me complete the change.”
“Oh, Damon, I am so very sorry. I understand, truly . . . ” She paused, puffing out a small breath, “When did she pass?”
He was determined to keep his voice even and cool and ignore the tidal wave of pain washing through him even after all this time, but God, she was good. She even had him believing she never knew about his mother. Well he would play along, if just to see how far she would go. “A year ago.”
He jumped at the unexpected warmth on his arm and looked down quickly to see her fingers hovering gently over it.
Tears stung at his eyes, and he swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the others that were blocking his throat and threatening to fall.
Damn! He hadn’t allowed himself to remember like this in a long time. Hadn’t allowed his emotions to rule him like this. It did not fit into his life. He had to be strong. He was alone. He had no choice.
Her touch burned through him, and he shrugged off her hand, turning back to the road. The last thing he needed was sympathy from his father’s minion—no matter how physically attractive he found her.
The warm air of the day stung his nostrils, and he forced the loosened chains over his heart to tighten once again, ignoring the sounds of her soft breaths next to him. It was a large jeep, so why did it feel suddenly so confining?
• • •
Geo’s face swam before her eyes. He was the man every man wanted to be and every woman wanted to date. He was the big brother who had looked out for her more than once and now had gone and left her with a legacy she could never match up to and shoes she could never fill. It was a good plan. It was a solid plan. And it was one that, sure, would have its teething problems, but it was one even Geo would never have dreamed of thanks to his “inside the box” thinking.
“I really am sorry. I do know what it feels like to lose someone you are close to.” The tips of her ears burned, and she reached her hand to her throat, her eyes widening. Why had she just said that? She was supposed to be going incognito, not discussing her life, let alone her family, with this man who was a virtual stranger.
“Thank you.” His voice was gruff, and she sneaked a glance across to him. The dimple she had seen in his cheek only earlier that morning had been replaced by a set, hard look to his jaw. She curled her fingers into her palm to stop herself reaching out and stroking them down the stubble. Heat burned along her face, and she shifted her body towards the door and wound down the window, pushing her face outside.
“So, you never did tell me why you don’t ride.” His voice was cool and emotionless, and she turned her head stiffly towards him.
“No, I did not.” And she was not going to, either.
“But yet you have all this knowledge of horses. Interesting.” His fingers tapped lightly, nonchalantly against the fabric of the steering wheel under them. If he thought this laissez-faire behaviour was working, he needed to think again. She was not fooled one bit.
“Is it? How so?” Wow, she was getting good at these alternatives to “No comment.”
“You don’t often find the two completely separate from each other.”
“Really? I would not know. I do not think like that. Having an interest in something does not mean you have to jump straight in and do it, in my opinion.”
“You mean practical versus theoretical?” His fingers had stopped drumming, and her scalp prickled with awareness as his eyes found hers.
“Yes, I guess so.” She squirmed in her seat, winding the window down farther. When had it gotten so hot in here?
“And you prefer the theory of things.” Why did he have to stare like that? It was more than what she was used to—it was just rude.
“If by that you mean a well-studied and thought out theory, then yes I do. And you, I suppose, are practical all the way?”
“Both feet first.”
He did not even sound sorry. Ridiculous!
An image of a laughing girl with long golden hair danced through her brain, and she shut it down quickly. She was not that little girl anymore, the one who thought the world revolved around her. No, she had never been the wilder twin, but she had never been as serious as Geo. Till the accident.
“And by that time, the deed is done and there is no going back from the consequences.” Consequences. The word left a bitter taste in her mouth, and she scraped her teeth over her tongue to get rid of it. She was living with nothing but consequences.
His harsh intake of breath filled the car, and she focused her gaze on the passing trees and foliage. She had upset him. Good. Maybe he would think about his actions next time instead of blindly jumping in both feet first.
“Thinking first, eh? Is this the same forward thinking that allowed you to break down without a mobile phone?”
She wasn’t fooled by the low tone of his voice, not when he sat with his back as straight as one of her father’s generals on parade.
“That was . . . an accident.” The lie stuck in her throat, and she forced it out.
“Some of life’s biggest regrets happen because of accidents.” He pulled one hand from the steering wheel and flicked his fingers into the air around the word “accidents.” They were strong hands, capable hands, and she sucked in her stomach, trying to quell the butterfly movement as she remembered how those hands felt around her waist.
Accidents equal regrets. Boy, did she know it! She rubbed her hand over her breastbone and the aching behind it. It had been a five-minute jest that had spiralled into the biggest regret of her teenage life. She should have calmed the high jinx between her brothers, but she had not. “Accidents happen, but it is always better to study all the potential results first and then act instead of just jumping in.”
“An accident is not only because of jumping in. Sometimes it can happen even after knowing about the risks and chancing it anyway. Otherwise known as not caring, in my book. That is the difference, princess.” He exhaled loudly and dragged his hand over his head.
Not caring. No, he was wrong. She had cared. She had cared very much. She had done more than cared—she had loved and she had lost.
She wrapped her arms around her waist, holding tightly and turning her head around to the land outside. She was done with this conversation. She could not continue unless she wanted to cry, and she did not.
It was because she had loved and lost that she was now determined to approach each new situation with the most thorough care and only determine results after the most thorough studies into all the alternatives.
And she had done that. She knew her plan of modernisation was the best one. It was one that Geo, if he had lived, would have approved of and one that would mark her reign as the
greatest in Kephelai’s history.
After, of course, she found out what people already thought of her family—people who were not Damon Anastos.
Chapter 5
“We are going to have to stop for petrol.”
His voice sounded troubled. And she made herself swing back around to him despite all her sanity wanting her to keep looking out of the window and not at him.
He rubbed his hand along his jaw, and his eyes kept flicking to the dashboard and the light on it that kept blinking on and off. “Damn. I told Rafe that I would fill it today, but then I hadn’t counted on taking a three-hour journey.”
Tia bristled, sitting up straighter at his comment. “This was your idea. I had intended to have the tow truck take me, if you remember.”
His lips twisted upwards despite the hardness in his eyes. “Trust me. I didn’t forget.”
“The light keeps blinking on and off so maybe it’s just a blip?” Not that she didn’t mind stopping at a petrol station. Okay, so she would have preferred to stop when she had her contacts in, but hey ho, she would be fine. She had her wig after all and—she dropped her chin to catch a glimpse of herself in the side wing mirror—she did not look wholly like Princess Christiana. People may look twice, but she had seen enough of the impersonators of the royals to know she could laugh it off as that. If she needed to.
“No, princess, it is no blip. Annoyingly.” He puffed out a breath.
Well this was no picnic for her, either.
“But on the bright side, there is just one up here.” He continued, unaware-slash- ignoring her lapse into silence.
The new-looking petrol station advertised various brands of coffee, and its shiny new metal work made it shimmer in the sun like a mirage. Not that that particular image would be far from the truth. This felt like she had been walking in the desert and had still to reach her oasis of happiness.
Motorbikes and other cars had positioned themselves at the various pumps, and the loud voices from other motor owners permeated the jeep’s windows.
The Runaway Queen Page 5