The Virgin's Proposition

by Anne McAllister

“Did it solve anything?” he pressed her.

  She didn’t answer. Finally, when he thought she wasn’t going to reply at all, she shrugged. “I don’t know.” She wasn’t looking at him now. She’d come to stand next to the railing, too, and now stared across the water toward the lights of Cannes. Her shoulders were slumped.

  Demetrios was still angry, though whether he was more annoyed at her or at himself, he couldn’t have said. After Lissa, he damned well should have known better. And what the hell was Anny doing, letting herself be a pawn?

  It was none of his business, he reminded himself. He should turn and walk away. But his feet didn’t take the hint. They stayed right where they were. Behind them the sextet had segued into something lilting and jazzy.

  Anny didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze never wavered from the shore.

  “Fascinating, is it?” he demanded when she still didn’t look at him.

  “It’s beautiful,” she replied simply.

  He grunted. “All lit up like a fairy tale,” he said mockingly, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

  “Some would say that,” she agreed quietly.

  “Not you?” He pressed her. The breeze lifted her hair. It smelled of citrus and the sea. He wanted to touch it, to brush it away from her face, hook it behind her ear, touch her cheek. Touch her.

  He knotted his fingers together instead.

  “I’m not a big believer in fairy tales,” she said in a soft monotone.

  “Except for one night,” he reminded her harshly.

  “I’m sorry. You could have said no,” she pointed out.

  His jaw tightened. “Should have said no,” he corrected.

  The breeze caught her hair again and tossed tendrils of it against his cheek. More citrus scent assailed his nostrils. Demetrios turned his head away, but just as quickly turned back to breathe in the scent again, to feel the softness touch his face.

  She took a careful breath. “I want to thank you for going back to see Franck.”

  “No thanks necessary. I didn’t do it for you,” he said flatly.

  “I know that. But even so, it means a great deal. To him,” she added. “And taking him sailing.” She turned her head to smile at him. “Brilliant. I can’t believe you got him to do it. But he loved every minute.”

  Demetrios didn’t want her thanks. He didn’t want her smiles. He shrugged irritably. “I was glad to do it. He’s a good kid. Smart. He’s got a lot of potential.”

  “Yes.” Anny smiled slightly. “I agree. I’m afraid he doesn’t.”

  “He’s angry. Given what happened to him, why shouldn’t he be?” Demetrios remembered all the times in the past three years when his own anger had stopped him cold, threatening to derail his dreams. There were too many to count. Now he took a slow careful breath. “He’ll find his way,” he said. They continued to stare at the seafront in silence for a long moment, then he added, “He’ll get there with some support from friends like you.”

  “And you,” Anny added.

  Demetrios shook his head. “I’m leaving. Bright and early tomorrow morning. I’m taking my brother’s boat to Santorini.”

  “But you won’t forget Franck.” She sounded certain.

  How could she know him well enough to be sure of that when he felt like she didn’t know him at all? Demetrios didn’t know. But he had to admit she was right in this case. “No, I won’t forget him. I’ll stay in touch.”

  She smiled, satisfied. “He’ll like that.” She stared down at the water, unspeaking for a long moment, but she didn’t walk away.

  Neither did he. He didn’t feel as angry now. He couldn’t have said why, except that this Anny, princess or not, was the one he remembered.

  She brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I thought you’d be gone by now. You got what you came for—excellent distribution, a highly acclaimed film.”

  “Rollo’s taking it on, yes. And the critics have been kind.”

  “I’m sure it’s not just kindness.”

  “You didn’t see it?” Surely princesses could see whatever they wanted. Royal prerogative or some such thing.

  “No. I—I wanted to. But I didn’t want you to think—” She stopped.

  “Think what?” he demanded.

  She shrugged awkwardly. “That I was…chasing you. I meant what I said, one night. I told you the truth, Demetrios. I just…didn’t tell you all of it.” She had turned and was looking at him intently now, as if she were begging him to believe her.

  Did he? Or was she as good an actress as Lissa?

  It didn’t matter, he reminded himself. Princess or not, she wasn’t part of his life. Not after tonight.

  But he couldn’t stop himself saying, “Look, Anny. You can’t do this if you’re not sure. Gerard might be a great guy. But marriage is—” He let out a harsh breath, knowing he was the last person on earth who should be offering advice on marriage. But then, who knew better the mistakes you could make even when you thought you were marrying for love?

  “Marriage is what?” she asked when he didn’t go on.

  “Marriage is too damned hard to risk on flimsy hopes!” He blurted the words angrily, not at her, but at Lissa.

  Of course Anny didn’t know that. She stared at him, eyes wide at his outburst.

  Demetrios stared back. It was none of his business. None of his business. The words echoed over and over in his head.

  “Adriana!” Gerard’s voice behind them made them both start.

  “I have to go,” Anny said quickly.

  Demetrios straightened up at once, and gave her a polite distant nod. “Of course.”

  But still she didn’t move away. She faced him and looked into his eyes for a long moment, a slight smile on her face. “Thank you.”

  He raised a brow. “For the memories?” he said sardonically.

  She nodded. Their gazes locked.

  “Adriana!” Gerard’s voice came again, more insistent this time. Anny turned to go. Demetrios caught her hand and held her until she looked back at him. “Don’t regret your life, princess.”

  Demetrios kept away from her the rest of the evening.

  Of course he did. Why wouldn’t he? He thought she’d used him and lied by omission. It hadn’t felt like a lie. It had felt like being able—for once—to share herself, the woman, not the princess, that she really was.

  But she didn’t suppose Demetrios saw it that way. He was probably avoiding her. Or maybe he had forgotten her already. She was the one who had vowed to remember. And dear God, she was. Every single second Anny knew exactly where he was. She saw who he talked to, who talked to him.

  As Gerard’s unofficial hostess she was required to focus on other things, on all his guests. And no one could have faulted her attention to her role. She chatted with his guests, gave them what she hoped appeared to be her undivided attention—even when it was being shared with the tall, lean man with wind-blown hair talking to this producer or that actress.

  Gerard kept her close, smiling at her and nodding his approval. “Your papa is right. You are marvelous,” he told her.

  Yes, Papa would be proud. But Anny’s heart wasn’t in it. Her soul wasn’t in it. Only later that evening when, shortly before midnight, she saw Demetrios board the launch back to the harbor, did her heart and soul let her know where they were. A hollow desperate ache opened up inside her.

  He wasn’t for her. She knew that.

  She repeated it over and over in her head even as she continued smiling brightly at the couple telling her about their South Pacific cruise. She nodded, commented, laughed at a witty remark and didn’t miss a beat.

  But she didn’t miss the sight of Demetrios standing alone on the deck of the launch looking back at the yacht, either.

  As soon as she could, she made her excuses and slipped away to stand in the bow of the royal yacht to catch a last glimpse of the launch as it grew smaller and smaller and finally merged with the lights of the harbor, and he was gone.

  They we
re ships that passed in the night, she told herself. One night.

  “Adriana!” Gerard’s voice called to her once more.

  She swallowed, then called, “Je viens. I’m coming.”

  She heard Demetrios’s words echo in her mind. Don’t regret your life, princess.

  She prayed desperately that she wouldn’t.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  DEMETRIOS WAS up at dawn.

  He wanted an early start. He hadn’t slept well. Not true. He hadn’t slept at all. He’d gone to bed determined not to spare a thought for Her Royal Highness Princess Adriana.

  And he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  Of all the irritating demanding things that he’d anticipated having to cope with during these past two weeks in Cannes, dealing with a princess—or any woman at all, for that matter—had never made the list.

  After Lissa, he couldn’t imagine one breaching his defenses.

  He’d allowed himself the one night with Anny because it had been clearly one night. No strings. No obligations. No relationship.

  It still wasn’t, he tried to tell himself. But until last night he’d managed to convince himself that she’d known what she was doing.

  Now he didn’t believe it for a minute. And he couldn’t get her out of his head!

  Fine, he’d get an early start. The sooner he set sail, the sooner he’d put Cannes—and Her Royal Highness—behind him.

  He flung the last of his clothes into his bag and checked out of the small hotel where he’d spent the past two weeks. Then, hefting his duffel bag, he headed for the harbor. The morning was still and quiet, almost soundless so far. Few cars moved through the streets. A lone cyclist rode past him.

  When he crossed La Croisette, there was a bit of traffic, a few pedestrians walked briskly on morning constitutionals, a couple of joggers ran by and he saw a man walking a dog. Cannes getting back to normal.

  Demetrios wanted to get back to normal, too. He quickened his pace, eager to board the boat and be at sea at last.

  Near the Palais du Festival, work crews were beginning to gather to take down the hospitality tents. He skirted them, heading for the dock where Theo had left his sailboat.

  It was a magnificent boat—a bit over forty feet, sleek and trim, with two small cabin spaces fore and aft, and a main cabin that could sleep an extra kid or two if required. It was fast and fun and yet it could still accommodate Theo’s new lifestyle as a married man with kids. He and Martha had two now—Edward, who was five, and Caroline, not quite three.

  Demetrios had always figured himself for the family man, while Theo would always be the family’s nautical equivalent of the Lone Ranger. That wasn’t the way it had turned out.

  “Lucky you,” Demetrios had said, feeling a small stab of envy at Theo’s life.

  “Yeah.” Theo hadn’t misunderstood. “I hate taking the time to sail to Santorini with Martha and the kids there already. From here by myself it’ll take me almost two weeks.”

  “Tell them to come here. Make a holiday of it.”

  Theo shook his head. “Caro’s getting over croup. Martha worries. She’s got commissions to work on. And Eddie gets seasick.”

  “Your son gets seasick?” Demetrios’s mind boggled.

  “He’ll grow out of it. But we hate seeing him miserable. It isn’t fun. And you know how it can blow this time of year.”

  They both had experienced their share of gale-force winds in the Mediterranean during frequent visits to Greece to see their mother’s parents when they were children. “It’s worse other times,” he said truthfully.

  Theo shrugged. “Fine. You do it.”

  Demetrios had thought he was joking.

  “Never been more serious in my life. You want to sail her to Santorini after the festival, she’s all yours.”

  Demetrios hadn’t hesitated. “You bet.”

  The last time he’d sailed any great distance, it had been not long after his wedding. He’d chartered a sailboat so he and Lissa could sail from Los Angeles to Cabo.

  “It’ll be fantastic,” he’d promised Lissa.

  It had been a disaster—one of many in their short marriage.

  But this trip wouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be a piece of cake to do it solo, but he had plenty of experience and, after Cannes, a real desire to be on his own. It was the carrot he’d held out for himself for the past two weeks, every time the festival threatened to drive him crazy.

  Now he reached the dock and could spot Theo’s boat tied up in a slip at the far end. A couple of men from the crew of one of the nearer yachts were already making ready to sail. They gave him a wave as he passed. He waved back, but kept moving, The red-orange rays of sunrise were turning the gleaming hulls bright pink against still cerulean water. It looked like a painting.

  Until someone stood up and moved away from where they had been sitting on the stern of the boat.

  Demetrios stopped dead, disbelieving his eyes. He frowned, gave his head a shake, then came closer to be sure.

  And she—he could tell it was a female, could even tell which female—came toward him, too. Even though she looked totally different.

  Gone was the midnight blue dress that glittered like starlight when she moved. Gone were the diamond necklace and dangling diamond earrings. Gone was the sophisticated upswept hairstyle with its few escaping tendrils. There wasn’t a hint of Princess Adriana in evidence anywhere.

  Nor was there a hint of the classy competent professional woman he’d met that day at the Carlton. No blazer, no linen skirt, no casual dress shoes.

  This Anny was wearing jeans and running shoes, a light-colored T-shirt with a sweatshirt knotted around her hips. And her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Tendrils still escaped, but they made her look about fifteen.

  Hell’s bells, he thought. All the roles she played, she could give Lissa a run for her money!

  “What are you doing here?” He was equal parts suspicion and annoyance. He was tempted to just brush right past.

  “I came to say thank you.”

  His gaze narrowed. “For what? Sleeping with you? My pleasure.” He made sure it didn’t sound like it. “But don’t come around thinking it’s going to happen again.”

  “I know that,” she said, with as much impatience in her voice as he had in his. “I didn’t come for that.”

  “What then?

  She hesitated a split second, then looked right up into his eyes. “For courage.”

  Demetrios didn’t like the sound of that. He gave her a short, hard look, grunted what he hoped was a sort of “that’s nice, now go away” sound. Then he did brush past her, tossing his duffel bag onto the deck and jumping on after it.

  He heard her feet land on the deck barely a second after his. He spun around and confronted her squarely, stopping her in her tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  “Telling you what happened.”

  He scowled at her. He supposed it was useless telling her he didn’t want to know what happened. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the rail. “So tell me.”

  “I…talked to Gerard last night. After the party. I told him I couldn’t marry him.”

  Demetrios stared at her, aghast. Of course he’d seen her turmoil. But that didn’t mean she needed to burn her bridges!

  “Why?” he demanded harshly, suspiciously.

  At his tone, her eyes widened. “You know why! Because I don’t love him. Because he doesn’t love me.”

  “So? You knew that last week. Hell, you probably knew it last year! Didn’t stop you then.”

  “I know, but—”

  But Demetrios didn’t want to hear. He spun away, grabbing his duffel and tossing it into the cockpit. Then he straightened and kneaded tight muscles at the back of his neck, thinking furiously. Finally he turned to nail her with a glare.

  “This doesn’t have anything to do with me,” he told her as flatly and uncompromisingly as possible.

  “You gave me the co
urage.”

  Not what he wanted to hear. He said a rude word. “Don’t be stupid.”

  “You told me not to regret my life.”

  “I didn’t expect you to turn it upside down!”

  “Maybe I’m turning it right side up,” she suggested.

  He raked fingers through his hair. He supposed he had said some damn stupid thing like that. Giving her the benefit of his own regrettable experience, no doubt. And she, foolishly, interpreted it as him having some common sense.

  “So everyone left and you just walked up to him and said, ‘Oh, by the way, Gerry, I can’t marry you’?”

  She looked taken aback at his tone, not understanding what the problem was. Of course she didn’t understand—because the problem was his, not hers.

  “I wasn’t quite that blunt,” she said at last. “It just…happened.” She gave him a sort of sad reflective smile. “He’d said he wanted to discuss things between us—about the wedding. He wanted to set a date—a specific time. And—” she shook her head helplessly “—I couldn’t do it.”

  He stared at her for a long moment. Then he said again, “Not because of me.”

  A tiny line appeared between her brows for a moment. And then she seemed to realize what he was getting at. “You mean, did I suddenly realize I’d rather have you?” She laughed. “I’m not that presumptuous.”

  “Good,” he said gruffly, embarrassed at having made the leap at the same time he was relieved it had been in error.

  “Well, good for you,” he said finally, at length. What was he supposed to say? He gave her a quick approving nod, then climbed down into the cockpit, unlocked the door to the companionway and kicked his duffel down into the cabin.

  “It is good,” she said, her voice brighter now. “It was the right thing to do.” Behind him Demetrios heard her take an expansive breath. “In fact, it feels wonderful.”

  He grunted. He supposed it must. Like dodging a bullet. The way he’d feel if he’d never married Lissa. He glanced up at her. “Congratulations.”

  She grinned. “Thank you.”

  He cocked his head, considering how simple it had been. Maybe too simple? “And Gerard was okay with your breaking it off?”