The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит
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he conceded as he swam. The days of dragging an unwilling bride to the altar were long gone, and shame could no longer be used as an incentive.
She’d been shamed before, when he’d left. The thought of what she’d faced alone…
It couldn’t matter. He had to put the gut-wrenching emotion he’d felt as she’d described her baby’s death aside. For now, for his country’s sake, he needed to be level-headed, sharp and persuasive.
But he didn’t know how to be, when the moment he looked at her he felt like a kid again; a young prince with the world at his feet. With Holly at his feet…
Holly.
He had to get his mind clear. He had to get his arguments in order.
All he could think of was how beautiful she was. And that she’d borne his son.
He’d had a son and he’d never known him. The thought was enough to shift his foundations. To make him unsure of who he was in the world.
He’d let this woman down. She had to agree to his proposal. Somehow he had to make amends, but that had to fit with Sebastian’s demands.
The demands of his king.
He’d know she could see him.
Every apartment in the pavilion looked over the pool. Andreas swam with the ease of a shark circling his prey, she thought uneasily, watching him rounding the island with lazy ease and a speed that looked deceptively easy to obtain.
Holly conceded that he looked magnificent, but then she’d thought he was magnificent once before. This time she had to use her head. This time she had to keep her emotions firmly in the background as she held Andreas at arm’s length.
Or further.
He had to marry her? The concept was ridiculous. He was a royal prince. She was broke, a single mother of a dead baby. Her home was half a world away from here. Further.
Enough. She whirled away from the window, refusing to look at him any longer. His easy good looks, his wicked smile, his domineering personality… they had the power to rip her world apart as it had been ripped apart ten years ago.
She was not the same innocent as she was then. She’d been little more than a child. She was all woman now, and she’d meet him on her terms.
At dinner?
That was what he’d ordered and what he ordered was what Andreas generally got.
Not now. She had to stand up to him.
On equal terms, she thought, feeling desperate. She was still in her bikini. She had no clothes of her own here, apart from one battered pair of jeans and a tattered shirt.
She wouldn’t see him like that.
Well, then.
She eyed the massive wardrobe with caution. Maybe Andreas had provided her with the weapons she needed.
It would take courage, but then… what did she have to lose?
Sophia provided a dinner fit for royalty—when had she not?—but this night the meal was enough to make even Andreas’s eyes widen. He’d showered and dressed in casual trousers and an open-necked linen shirt, and then he’d thought better of it and donned a tie and jacket. It behoved him to step carefully, he thought. There were major decisions to be made tonight.
Sebastian’s words were still ringing harsh in his ears. ‘You’ll have to marry her. There’s no choice. If the child really was yours then a Cinderella wedding is the best we can ask for—a fairy tale to distract from reality. That’s what the PR people are telling us. It’ll take the sordid mess of your divorce away from people’s minds. You’ll be forgiven if you do the honourable thing, and there’s very little honour in our family right now.’
So he emerged formally attired, he glanced at the amazing table setting—glimmering crystal and silverware, a table groaning with seafood, set up under a netted canopy under the stars—and all that was missing was Holly.
All that was missing was his bride.
‘I’ve let her know dinner’s served,’ Sophia said, watching him cautiously from the shadows. ‘But she says she’s eating in her room. She’s strong willed.’
‘So am I,’ Andreas growled, and strode along the courtyard to knock at her door.
No answer.
‘Holly?’
‘Go away.’
‘Sophia will not serve you in your apartment.’
‘Then I’ll go hungry because I’m not eating with you.’
‘That’s childish.’
‘So I’m childish. You, on the other hand, are overbearing, arrogant and crazy. Go away, Andreas.’
‘I order you to—’
‘Order away, you big oaf. I’m staying here.’
His face darkened. He stared at the door in gathering anger. Then he put his shoulder against the wood and pushed.
Nothing.
Damn, this was how they did it in the movies. He tried again, shoving with all his strength.
Nothing.
He’d get Nikos. But one last shove… He gathered himself, bunching his muscles in sheer frustration and shoved for all he was worth.
The door swung inward, unlatched, free, and he sprawled full length onto the bedroom carpet.
He lay, winded. Above him Holly stood looking down, seemingly solicitous.
‘Oh, dear,’ she said, her lips twitching. ‘Did the prince fall over?’
He stared up at her and amazingly the corners of her mouth were curved into the delicious smile he’d fallen in love with ten years back. ‘Do you need a hand up?’
He put out a hand without thinking. She tugged, he came up too fast and all of a sudden they were way too close. She staggered backwards, his hands came out to steady her and they were closer still.
She felt… fabulous. She felt like the Holly he’d remembered for all these years. The smell of her was reminiscent of citrus lemon; very faint. He’d always assumed it was her perfume but she’d hardly been given time to pack perfume.
And what was she wearing?
This was no cringing kidnap victim. Nor was it a woman dressed to calmly eat in her bedroom. She was wearing a dress that was beautiful enough to make his eyes water. It was a simple jade cocktail dress, sleek, closely fitting, its tiny shoestring straps holding it just barely above the lovely curve of her breasts. The soft silk clung to every gorgeous curve. A slit in the side revealed a flash of thigh so tantalizing that he felt his body respond in primeval need.
His hands tightened on hers involuntarily in a gesture of pure possession. He’d wanted this woman the first time he’d seen her, and he wanted her now.
But she didn’t want him. Her hands came up, they wedged against his chest and she shoved so hard that he let her go. Why had he done that? It felt like tearing part of himself away.
She looked… She looked…
‘You’re staring,’ she said, almost kindly. ‘Don’t.’
‘Why are you wearing that?’
‘What does it look like on me?’ she asked, seemingly determined to be casual, even though he could see she was fighting the mounting colour on her cheeks. She deliberately twirled so he could see it from all angles—or maybe so she had some breathing space where she wasn’t forced to meet his gaze head on. ‘Compared to every other woman who’s worn it?’ she demanded, cutting across his thoughts. The amusement had gone from her voice and anger had returned. ‘Dresses in every size, Andreas. Negligees,