Innocent Surrender: The Virgin's Proposition / The Virgin and His Majesty / Untouched Until Marriage. Robyn Donald
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her no attention at all. He was stowing gear and checking charts and going over things that Anny knew were important and knew equally well she would be in the way of if she tried to help.
So she kept out of the way and waited until he gave her directions. She was by no means a solo sailor. But she’d been on boats since she was a child. And while Mont Chamion’s royal yacht had a very competent crew, she had taken orders from her father when he and she and her mother had gone sailing. She was sure she could help Demetrios here.
That wasn’t going to be the problem.
She wasn’t a fool, Anny had been at pains to assure him. But what else could you call a woman who went from a three-year engagement to a man she didn’t love to a two-week solo boat trip with a man who would never love her?
Not, Anny assured herself, that she was in love with him.
But she wasn’t indifferent to him.
She…liked him. Had once had a crush on him. He had, as she’d told him in somewhat vague terms, been the dream of her youth.
And even now she respected him for his career. She admired him for coming back from the devastating personal tragedy that had been his wife’s death. She certainly esteemed him for his kindness to Franck over the past couple of weeks, and—let’s be honest—for his generosity to her. In and out of bed.
But she didn’t love him. Not yet.
Not ever, Anny told herself sharply.
She was, despite what her dutiful engagement to Gerard might say about her, basically a sensible woman. She didn’t dare fate or walk in front of buses.
Now she considered herself warned. It was more than a little humbling to hear him spell out his indifference in such blunt terms. As if there were no way on earth he might ever fall in love with the likes of her.
Fine. So be it.
Right now she was looking for a respite—some peace and quiet and a chance to learn the desires of her own heart.
So she would take what he offered: two weeks of solitude during which her father would never be able to find her. Two weeks to formulate plans that would allow her to make her own way in her adult life.
Yes, marriage, she was sure, would be a part of it. But not marriage to Gerard. Despite his suggestion that she take some time and reconsider, Anny knew she’d made the right decision. She only regretted that it had taken her so long to come to her senses and realize she needed more than duty and responsibility to get her to the altar.
She’d suspected it, of course. But it had taken her night with Demetrios to show her that passion, too, had to play a part.
The passion, the desire, hadn’t dissipated since that night.
How she was going to handle that for the next two weeks, she wasn’t sure. Had he meant it when he said it was up to her?
Demetrios started the engine. The boat’s motor made the deck vibrate beneath Anny’s feet.
“Hey, princess, cast off.” Demetrios was at the wheel, but he jerked his head toward the line still wrapped around the cleat at the stern.
Anny clambered off, unwound the line, and jumped back aboard.
He throttled the engine ahead. The boat began to move slowly out of the slip. Anny felt the cool morning breeze in her face, smelled the sea, felt a heady excitement that was so much better than the dread with which she’d awakened every morning for too long.
She knew how Franck had felt when he’d gone sailing—alive.
But she knew, too, that it was a risk.
Spending two weeks alone on a sailboat with Demetrios Savas could be the closest thing to heaven, or—if she fell in love with him—to hell that Anny could imagine.
MALENA SAVAS, Demetrios’s mother, was fond of crisp character assessments of her children. Theo, the eldest, was “the loner,” George, the physicist, was “the smart one.” Yiannis was “our little naturalist” because he was forever bringing home snakes and owls with broken wings. Tallie was, of course, “baby girl.”
And Demetrios, her gregarious, charming middle child?
“Impulsive,” his mother would say fondly. “Kindhearted, honorable. But, dear me, yes, Demetrios tends to leap before he looks.”
Apparently that hadn’t changed, the middle child in question thought irritably now as he edged the boat out of the slip and headed her toward the open sea. You’d have thought that by the age of thirty-two he’d have got over it. His marriage to Lissa should have cured him of impetuosity once and for all.
But no. He’d actually gone after Anny—Princess Adriana—and insisted she spend the next two weeks on a damn sailboat alone with him!
What the hell had he been thinking?
Exactly what he’d told her—that sweet and kind and innocent, she was far too trusting to be let out on her own. And that it was his fault.
Not the sweet and kind and trusting bit—that was Anny. But the “out on her own bit” he felt responsible for. Hell, she’d thanked him for making it possible!
So he’d opened his mouth—and now here she was, standing in the cockpit waiting for him to tell her what to do. She was smiling, looking absolutely glorious in the early morning light, the light breeze tangling her hair. He remembered its softness when his own fingers had tangled in it.
They’d happily tangle in it again. And more. But fool that he was, while he’d insisted she be on his boat for two weeks, he’d left the sleeping arrangements up to her!
Refusing to think about it, Demetrios concentrated on getting the boat out into open water. He tried not to look at her at all. But if he so much as turned his head, there she was.
“Maybe you should take your stuff below,” he said, “in case anyone does recognize you while we’re still in the harbor.” Barely a creature was stirring on the docks or on any of the boats. But all it took was one nosy person…“I’ll call you when I need your help with the sail.”
She smiled. “Thanks.” And picking up her suitcase, she started to carry it down the companionway steps. They were too steep. He started to offer to help, but Anny simply dropped it down the steps with a thud. Then she and her backpack disappeared after it.
Well, she was resourceful. He would give her that. And he breathed easier when she was below. It was almost possible—for a few seconds at a time—to pretend that he was still alone on the voyage.
But then as he moved beyond the harbor, he spotted the royal yacht of Val de Comesque on its mooring. And as he motored slowly past it, Demetrios could see the crew were already up and stirring.
Was Gerard up, too? Was he prowling the decks worrying about Anny?
Or did he simply think she’d gone home, gone to bed and would come to her senses in short order?
According to Anny, he’d said for her to think about it. Obviously he was confident she’d change her mind. She had sounded confident she would not.
But was that true or mere momentary bravado?
Demetrios wasn’t surprised she’d balked. But he didn’t share her confidence when it came to being sure she wouldn’t change her mind.
It was one thing to say you weren’t going to marry a powerful wealthy, admittedly kind man like Prince Gerard and another thing to hold fast to the notion.
Maybe she really did just need time to think, to be sure.
Sure, yes? Or sure, no?
Not his problem, Demetrios told himself firmly. He believed