by Annie West
He cared for her, wanted to protect her, had enjoyed sex with her, but he didn’t love her. And if he didn’t now the chances were he never would.
The sea glimmered below them, indigo shot with the bright colours of the dying sun. Their view down the coast was unparalleled and the restaurant balcony was deserted but for them. Fragrant wisteria spilled down nearby columns, its perfume mingling with sea spice and Paul’s warm, outdoorsy scent to create something intoxicating.
Or maybe that was the effect of Paul’s dark gaze.
Instead of electric lighting, a myriad of candles in glass holders created an intimate atmosphere.
As for Paul, he looked... No. No more superlatives. She was in deep enough as it was.
‘We’ve never done this before,’ she blurted.
His mouth hooked up in a slow smile. If she hadn’t known this date was for show, it would have made her wayward heart hammer even faster than it already did.
‘No. That was a definite oversight.’
But totally understandable. Because until now their engagement had been driven by duty and court protocol. Now it was something different. Personal because they’d made it so, yet not a real romance.
The thought dimmed some of the evening’s radiance but she countered it with a bright smile.
‘So, an unexpected benefit, eh?’
‘I hope you’ll enjoy it.’ His smile reached out to her, as if he really had nothing on his mind but her.
Eva turned to look past him, but realised they were sheltered from view of the diners inside. And, if paparazzi wanted to try to photograph them, they’d have to take a boat off the coast. But then it only took one talkative waiter to spread news of their mood over dinner.
As if conjured by her thoughts, a waiter arrived bearing a platter of appetisers.
When he’d gone, Eva leaned forward, voice low. ‘Great choice of venue. We really look like a courting couple out for a romantic interlude.’ Hopefully saying it out loud would remind her this was a pretence.
Paul’s expression changed. She couldn’t define how, just a sense of stillness, almost of wariness.
‘You think so?’ He reached out and lifted her hand, putting it to his lips, sending a little quake of longing through her. ‘I aim to please.’
Yet now she’d swear she read something like annoyance in his features. It didn’t make sense.
‘There’s no need to kiss my hand,’ she murmured. Yet she didn’t withdraw. Heaven help her, despite her resolve, breaking physical contact was too tough.
‘But you never know,’ he said against her knuckles, ‘when another staff member might appear. We need to put on a good show.’
Grimly Eva realised there was no need at all for her to act. Being alone with Paul in this beautiful setting, having him focus all his attention on her, elicited the responses she’d tried to hide from him for years. The breathless excitement, hammering heart and dazzled stare.
Eva looked different. Or maybe he just saw things he hadn’t noticed in the past. The soft flush of colour high across her cheeks. The invitation of her slightly parted lips. Those tantalising eyes now silver, now misty blue, enticing him.
He closed his hand around hers and placed it on the linen table cloth.
‘I’m glad you approve. I’ve never been here before.’ His secretary had said it was the most romantic restaurant in St Ancilla, and Paul had deemed that perfect, because he wanted to reinforce to any interested watchers that they were genuinely romantically involved.
Except now, sitting here with Eva—so alluring—inhaling the gentle drift of hyacinth scent from her warm skin... A tremor raced through him straight to his groin because these days he only had to look at her to want her. His chest felt over-full as he felt her hand shake in his.
Her vulnerability evoked protective instincts. And possessive ones. That had to be the reason he had trouble focusing on anything but her.
‘I have a request.’ His voice came out with a curiously raspy edge.
She tilted her head in question, her long hair falling over one shoulder. Paul remembered how it had felt against his bare skin. Soft as silk yet a hundred times more erotic.
He cleared his throat. ‘Don’t wear your hair down in public.’
‘Sorry?’ She sat straighter, indignation in that speaking stare.
He felt his mouth curve in an appreciative smile. This was something new. To be attracted to a woman even when she looked annoyed...
Paul leaned in, forcing himself not to lift his other hand to caress her. ‘Your hair is incredibly sexy. When I see it down, I have this recurring fantasy about dragging your clothes off and doing things with you that I haven’t been able to for a whole day. It’s too tempting. Too distracting.’ He paused, watching her eyes grow wide. ‘Besides, it’s unfair on all those other men who will never get the chance to—’
‘I get the idea!’
Eva didn’t exactly blush but she looked adorably ruffled and Paul wished he hadn’t had the brainwave of bringing her here for dinner. An intimate meal in his private apartments would have been so much more comfortable.
And convenient.
But his first consideration was Eva and the need to scotch the speculation about her supposedly wild private life. He’d seen how hurt she’d been by that. He intended to have her by his side as much as possible, giving no one cause to think he had any doubts about her loyalty or her character.
‘Paul, we need to talk.’ Her gaze flicked past him to the wine waiter returning with drinks.
A few minutes later when they were alone, she said in answer to his question, ‘No, not here. It’s not private. I’ll tell you later.’ Then she changed the subject, leaving him curious.
Reluctantly, sensing the subject she deferred was important, he told her about his upcoming schedule and some of the events he thought she might get involved in. His intention was to draw her more into the royal commitments in St Ancilla. It would help rehabilitate her in the eyes of any doubters and, frankly, he’d be grateful for her assistance.
It was fascinating watching her sift through the information he gave her, quickly assessing areas where she could contribute. She was intelligent and had a good appreciation of the work involved even in those events which sounded, to the uninitiated, like mere ceremonial occasions.
Another plus for the dynastic marriage that had been arranged between them. The marriage he’d planned to avoid.
Interesting how that didn’t seem such a good idea now.
Eva was born and bred to this work, as was he.
Luckily it seemed her father wasn’t the ogre his had been. Failing to live up to King Hugo’s expectations had, more often than not, ended with a severe thrashing as well as more devious penalties designed to instil obedience. Was it any wonder Paul had encouraged his younger brothers to go to school out of the country, well away from their father’s reach?
The evening passed quickly. He was surprised to discover how late it was when finally he signalled for the bill. From discussing the royal schedule, they’d moved onto his social reform agenda and were soon debating the pros and cons of a number of initiatives.
Paul enjoyed the way Eva was ready to listen to a contrary view and to argue her case. In fact, he intended to refer a couple of initiatives she mentioned to the appropriate staff for further investigation.
All in all, it had been a productive evening. Their dinner out would be reported on and read about by those hungry for signs of a royal split. Eva herself looked so much more relaxed than she had this morning after the press conference.
And now...
He smiled as he helped her into the car then walked around to the driver’s seat. Now they had the rest of the night to themselves.
It was only that thought, the promise of Eva’s sweet body in his bed later, that had got him through the hours of sit
ting with her unable to do more than touch her hand.
It had been a revelation, watching her face change as she’d spoken enthusiastically about a project, queried some detail or, occasionally, complimented him on an achievement. Paul hadn’t thought himself a vain man but Eva’s praise, and the light of approval in her wide eyes, had done crazy things to his ego and his self-control.
He got into the car, strapped on his belt and started the ignition.
‘Now, tell me. What was it you couldn’t say at the restaurant?’ He let out the clutch and the car purred down the long driveway.
Paul looked forward to hearing Eva purr exactly like that, arching under his touch and rubbing herself needily against him. Tonight there’d only be time to do a few of the things he’d been imagining ever since they’d left the seclusion of the hunting lodge. But that would be a start.
Heat stoked deep in his belly and his smile widened. Soon...
‘This charade,’ she began, then stopped. ‘Our engagement.’
‘Yes?’ Paul’s neck prickled. Something in her voice warned him he wasn’t going to like this.
‘We’re going to review the situation in six weeks and decide on the best time to announce we’re splitting, right?’
Paul felt an instant protest rise on his tongue and frowned. Six weeks was far too soon to be sure Eva’s reputation wasn’t damaged. And to put an end to the passionate encounters they’d only just begun.
‘Right,’ he said slowly.
It was what they’d agreed. No need to say that he was already sure six weeks wouldn’t be enough. It had been a tough couple of days for Eva and there was no point getting into an argument about it now. He’d prove to her in the coming month and a half that their engagement should last longer. In fact, all things considered, he was tempted to suggest...
‘So I’m only in St Ancilla for a short time before I move on with my life.’
Paul’s frown deepened. He didn’t like the finality of the picture she was painting. He opened his mouth to respond but she was already speaking.
‘In the circumstances, it’s better if we don’t repeat what happened the other night.’ Paul’s hands tightened on the wheel and the car veered towards the centre line before he dragged it back. ‘We need to keep this as simple and straightforward as possible. I don’t want sex with you, Paul. Not tonight. Not ever again.’
CHAPTER TEN
OF COURSE HE tried to change her mind. But once more Eva showed that obstinate streak he’d discovered just a couple of days before.
Nothing he said made a difference. And, as she refused to continue their discussion somewhere private when they returned to the palace, Paul wasn’t able to persuade her using more direct methods.
His hands tingled as he considered those direct methods. As he remembered their combustible passion in the few short hours they’d had together. How could she turn her back on what they’d shared? On him?
He spent the night alone in his vast bed, restless and frustrated.
It was amazing how a single night with Eva had shattered his calm, ordered world. True, that night had marked the end of a four-year sexual drought. But surely if he’d mastered anything it was abstinence?
Yet this morning, despite his lack of sleep, he couldn’t sit still, as if his body refused to obey the dictates of his mind and focus on work and unrelenting duty. For the first time ever he found it difficult to fix his thoughts on the range of problems and decisions facing him. He spent most of the time pacing his office, alternately hoping Eva had had as little sleep as he, then remembering the weary smudges beneath her eyes as they’d said goodnight and hoping she’d got some rest.
She needed rest. And looking after. And...him.
Silently cursing his circular thoughts, Paul scraped the back of his neck with his palm and turned away from the window.
‘The media summary is in, sir.’ His secretary appeared in the doorway. Usually the summary of relevant media reports was in by the time Paul reached his office. This morning he’d arrived so early, he’d had to wait.
‘And? How bad is it?’ Early stories following the press conference had been generally positive, but you never knew for sure.
‘Pretty good, considering.’
‘Ah.’ Considering the inevitable outliers who’d prefer a sensational story to the truth. Paul nodded and returned to his computer, opening the report.
Most of the stories were sympathetic to Eva. There was an editorial about curbing violence against women. Another story used statistics on the number of assault cases in the country in the last year, lower than for many places, but more than anyone wanted.
Then came two, both originating outside St Ancilla, that ran with the ‘profligate party girl’ theme, trying to paint the picture of a self-absorbed woman whose public face hid a scandalous wild side. Paul wondered how long they’d be able to continue such reporting when they couldn’t dredge up any more incidents to support it.
She’d been a virgin till two nights ago.
The knowledge slammed into him like a fist thudding into his temple.
Which was yet another reason why he needed to tread softly now she’d stipulated no sex. Especially after that assault behind the night club.
Both those factors could explain why he felt not only culpable for this furore, but protective.
No, it was more. He felt possessive.
Once again Paul rubbed the back of his neck, trying to relieve taut muscles.
He’d never felt this way about any woman.
It must be taking her virginity that explained it.
And the fact that they’d been tied together for four years, even if only via a formal arrangement.
And the fact that he liked her. Admired her.
Was desperate to have her again.
Was that what this was? Thwarted lust?
No, he’d felt proprietorial about Eva when she’d been in his bed.
He gritted his teeth, pain shooting up from his jaw.
‘Can I get you anything, sir? A headache tablet?’
Paul shook his head. ‘I’m okay, thanks.’ Or he would be when he worked out how to deal with his fiancée. ‘Give me ten more minutes then bring in the week’s schedule, and the Princess’s new assistant.’
‘My assistant?’ Eva stared at the woman before her. Paul had been busy. It was only yesterday they’d given their press conference.
‘Yes, ma’am. I thought we might begin by mapping out a schedule for you.’
Eva looked at the young woman, only a few years older than herself, her demeanour serious yet eager. She wanted to warn her that this was only a temporary arrangement. She wouldn’t be staying in St Ancilla permanently, so the position of assistant wouldn’t be long-term. But, reading her new assistant’s enthusiasm, she didn’t have the heart. Besides, she and Paul had agreed no one else would know their arrangement was temporary.
She drew a fortifying breath, remembering the scurrilous headlines and the tension in her mother’s voice when she’d rung to explain the situation. No, this was the best way forward. It was silly to have second thoughts now.
‘Thank you, Helena. That’s an excellent idea.’
Helena nodded, passing over a surprisingly large printout.
‘I’ve colour-coded a range of events. Those in gold are ones King Paul thought you could assist him with.’
Obediently Eva scanned the first page. There was at least one gold-shaded event each day, sometimes more. She stifled a sigh. Impossible to expect to avoid him.
She was torn between wanting to be with him and knowing it was best to keep her distance. Being close to him, like on their dinner date last night, made it too easy to forget their relationship had no future.
‘As for the others, they’re suggestions only, based on my reading of your work in Tarentia and knowing your interes
t in art and education.’
Eva looked up, surprised.
Helena shrugged. ‘I researched you. I know you studied both at university and about your volunteer work in disadvantaged schools.’
‘You are thorough.’ Back in Tarentia, she got press attention when attending royal or high-profile charity events, but her few hours a week volunteering generally went under the radar.
‘It’s my job. You’ll see I’ve marked those in green.’
‘And the blue?’
‘Designed to build positively on yesterday’s press conference.’
Eva scanned the list.
Visits to a range of groups—including one that provided positive male role models to local kids, a women’s shelter and a program designed to help troubled or violent teenagers through sport and learning.
Eva paused then pointed to an hour blocked out this afternoon. ‘This isn’t colour-coded. Is it a mistake?’
Helena leaned forward. ‘No mistake. The King and the press office had a long list of suggestions for your schedule, but I added a few of my own. They’re perhaps not so worthy but I think them important.’
She paused. ‘His Majesty mentioned you needed to go shopping. I thought you might like to revisit the designer who created the dress you wore last night.’
The dress Paul had so approved of, and which had appeared in various press articles today. Paul had been right. There might not have been paparazzi photographing them while they ate, for which she was thankful, but they’d managed to get quite a few shots of Paul and Eva arriving at and leaving the restaurant.
Eva nodded. A couple more outfits would be good. She’d packed for a week’s visit, not for a month and a half, if not more. It wasn’t as if she was on a private holiday, not with this schedule. For some of the time, she’d be acting as Paul’s proxy. She had to look the part.
Eva nodded. ‘I like her designs, plus it would be good to support a local enterprise.’
‘Exactly!’ Her new assistant gave her a brilliant smile. ‘Good press for you and for the designer. It will certainly boost her business, dressing our Queen-to-be.’
