by Robyn Grady
“That first day when we met, after the trouble I put you through, I thought I’d need to leave on the first boat out.”
“And now?”
Letting her eyes drift shut, allowing his strength and heat to burrow in, she reached back and twined one arm around his neck. “I’m thinking I should leave Tierenias on a high note.” After her time here was through.
He hummed an agreement her ear. “I thought the same.”
Remembering the way they’d made love that morning, understanding the way he held her now… Her chest tightened and her arm slid down. He was gearing up to forget her already?
But, what had she expected? A proposal of marriage? Still, she had thought he’d at least want to keep her around long enough to be sure he wasn’t going to be a dad.
Or was that it? Maybe he didn’t want to know.
Gathering herself, she put a light note in her voice. She wouldn’t let him know that he’d hurt her.
“So, it’s settled,” she said. “After this week, my extended vacation is over, and it’s back to Maine.”
“Helene, when I agreed you should leave on a high note, I meant after a stay at the palace.” He rotated her around in the water to face him. “With me.”
She gaped and then coughed out a laugh. “You’re inviting me…?” To what exactly?
“To stay longer. A couple of weeks, perhaps. Most days I’ll need to go into the office at some stage. And you’ll need to cope with Tahlia.”
Helene felt stunned. So happy.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him thoroughly.
This adventure wasn’t over yet.
The next morning, their second last on the island, Darius wandered off for another of his solitary walks.
For the first time since staying at the villa, Helene felt restless. Usually she kept busy. Now as she tidied around, her mind kept wandering back. Doubts kept creeping in.
Had Darius asked her to stay with him at the palace so he could make sure she hadn’t conceived before they said farewell for good? Of course she would let him know when they were in the clear. Two weeks ought to do it, if she didn’t go crazy thinking about it in the meantime.
Later, putting the finishing touches to lunch and still feeling restless, she wanted to do something a little different. When she’d gone through the bookshelves in the study earlier in the week, she’d admired a set of goblets in a cabinet. Since watching Darius set the figurine up in an alcove in that room yesterday, just like he’d said he would, those doors had remained closed. Although he hadn’t expressly forbidden her to go in, Helene didn’t feel she should.
But the cabinet with the goblets was clear on the other side of the room near an old desk. She didn’t need to go anywhere near the figurine. Not a snowball’s chance in hell she could damage it.
Helene opened the study doors and crossed directly to the cabinet. She’d gotten two goblets out and was walking back when her pace slowed. As her gaze drifted over to where the figurine sat in an alcove, a shiver raced up her spine. Hard to believe that she had actually held that piece of history in her own two hands. When she’d lifted the goddess out of her cave, the figurine had felt so smooth and heavy, but easy to…
A faint sound echoed into the room, the click of a lock—the front door. A hot rush swept from Helene’s feet to her crown. As she rushed to get out of the room, her grip on one of the goblets slipped. Before she could catch it, it fell and smashed on the floor.
As she stared down, she told herself to run, find a broom, disappear. But she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Through the study doorway, she saw Darius pass by. He paused and, catching sight of her, threw a dubious look her way. Then he saw the shards at her feet. His expression darkened.
Helene’s heart hammered when he edged forward.
“You’ve had an accident,” he said.
“I thought I’d use different glasses for lunch today. I’d noticed these. I, uh, fumbled one.” Taking in the mess again, she felt sick to her stomach. “I’ll pay for it. Just tell me how much.”
He looked at the figurine, set back safe and sound in her alcove, before crossing over and folding Helene’s free hand in his. “Were those glasses an excuse to come in and see the figurine? You should have just asked. I’d have shown her to you.”
Helene wanted to defend herself. She hadn’t gone anywhere near the goddess. But she felt too ashamed.
Maybe her mother was right.
Helene Masters was a big fat accident waiting to happen.
They had lunch without either one mentioning the broken goblet. In fact, they hardly spoke at all. By bedtime, however, Darius seemed to have put the episode out of his mind. Helene only wished she could.
How old were those goblets? How much were they worth?
A splinter from the break had stuck in her heel. Every little throb worked to remind her and ramp up the guilt.
When Darius came out of the bathroom, his broad chest on display above a pair of low-slung drawstring pants and his dark hair wet and tousled, she was propped against the headrest. One leg was crooked over the other knee while she tried to find that splinter.
“I must have trod on a piece of glass,” she explained, as he unfurled himself like a big muscled cat along the bottom end of the bed. Sitting straighter, she put down her foot. She had to ask. “Was that glass very expensive?”
Was it hundreds of years old?
“That set was handed down to my sister from my mother.”
Helene groaned. “Tahlia will hate me.”
“My mother broke one a couple of years ago. Last time she was here, Tahlia broke one, too. She was upset—”
“Terrific.”
“But she also said she wanted them used. They aren’t heirlooms. I’m not certain where my mother picked them up, but they were always on the table when we visited here as a family. Tahlia will understand.” His face turned wry. “Although it’d be another story if I broke one.”
He dropped a kiss on the top of her foot but as his thumb grazed the underside, he touched the splinter and she jerked.
“I’m sure your sister loves you,” she said.
“She would love having me out of her hair. She’s probably organized a string of midnight rendezvous with Otis. If Yanni weren’t around to keep an eye out, I’d be worried.”
When his fingertip crossed that tender spot beneath her heel again, she tried not to flinch. “You mentioned a boy she likes. Otis?”
“He’s one of two head grooms with our stables. He’s good with the horses. I was fond of him.”
“Was?”
He grazed the shard again and she squirmed. “It’s complicated.”
“Teenage love always is.”
He slid off the bed and returned to the room with a pair of tweezers. “From Tahlia’s bathroom,” he explained, stretching out along the foot of the bed again. “These past weeks since coming home from boarding school, my sister’s been a different person. Defiant. Moody. At least she is with me.”
“Want some advice? Cut her some slack. Then she won’t need to defend herself so much.”
“Guardians need to be firm,” he said, concentrating on her heel. “Children expect boundaries.”
He pinched the tweezers and Helene swallowed a yelp. “Maybe you should let me have a go with those.” Adjusting his grip, he focused again. “Tahlia isn’t a child,” she told him as he tilted her foot the other way to take advantage of the light. “She’s a young woman with feelings.”
“Hearts shouldn’t rule heads.”
“You’re worried she’ll make the same mistake your uncle made. That your sister might one day choose an ordinary life over anything royal.”
He held her foot more firmly and stuck his nose even closer. “If you’re trying to make a case for me to loosen the reins, won’t work.” Then he pinned her with a horrified look. “You don’t think they’d elope, do you?”
“I only know you can’t stop an eighteen-year-old from being who she wants to be
. Not in this day and age.”
“Offering her an education at one of the best universities in the world isn’t exactly proposing torture.”
“Might as well be if she’s separated from the one person she wants to be with. How long have they been seeing each other?”
“A matter of months, but they’ve known each other for years. Otis’s father worked for us before an accident laid him up. Otis was partway through an animal science degree in the UK when he came back.”
“What about a compromise? You could suggest Tahlia take a gap year. See more of the world and learn more about herself.”
“Like you?”
“Like a lot of people. Only my gap time came after finishing college, not before.”
“How did your mother feel about that?”
“I’m an adult, Darius.” As was Tahlia. “I live my own life.”
The tweezers pinched. When they let go, she eased out her breath.
“Was your mother worried you’d run off for good?”
“She was worried I’d make the same mistake she made.”
“What mistake was that?”
She hesitated. But if he wanted to know… “She got pregnant.”
The tweezers pulled back. The splinter came out at the same time Darius eyed her. After two beats, he moved off the bed then studied the tweezers in his hand. “I’ll get rid of this.”
It was an hour before he returned. When he eased carefully into his side of the bed, Helene was curled up facing the other way. She didn’t fall asleep until dawn.
Chapter 10
She watched him stir to wakefulness, stretching those big arms high before rolling over. Instinctively, he brought her near. His chest rumbled while a hot palm wove down her back, over her behind, then up again until, eyes still closed, he cupped her nape and his mouth, hinting at a smile, claimed hers.
This had been their ritual these past few mornings, but this was different. This was their last day at the villa. The last time they would lie together in this bed.
As doves cooed from the nest built outside an orchard facing window, Darius slowly broke their kiss. His drowsy gaze roamed her face before, brows knitting, he brushed hair away from her eyes.
“What’s wrong?” he asked in that husky after-dreams voice that she loved.
“Just listening to the birds,” she said. And wondering when that boat will come…how I’ll say goodbye.
He looked at her more deeply. It wouldn’t have been difficult to read her thoughts.
“This isn’t over. You’re staying with me when we get back, remember?” He brought her closer and growled. “I’m not ready to let you sail out of my life just yet.”
When the pad of his thumb slid over her lower lip, Helene leaned in and let his mouth slant over hers again.
“I have a trip to take next week,” he said after his lips had left hers. “An overnight stay in Paris. A friend’s getting married. Want to come?”
An overnight stay in Paris with Darius? It sounded like a dream. “Will there be evening gowns involved? I have a limited wardrobe.”
“Let me take care of that.”
She melted as his hand skimmed over her shoulder and halfway down her back. “You must get amazing invitations like that all the time,” she said with her eyes closed as she brushed her cheek over his.
“Not out of the blue like this one. It’s the reason I pushed my stay here forward.”
“Sounds like your friend fell very hard and very fast.”
“Seems so.”
Helene didn’t miss the note of hesitation in his voice. Was his friend the impulsive type? Did Darius disapprove of the fiancée? Perhaps he was rattled by the speed of that announcement. Had he assumed “baby on the way?”
Beyond the window, two sets of wings flapped at the same time his cell phone rang. He grabbed the phone off the side-table. Reading the message, he exhaled deeply.
“Our boat will be here in two hours,” he said.
Helene swept a gaze around the room. That soon? “I thought we’d have a little longer.” At least until after lunch.
When she tried to shift, the muscled arm draped over her waist kept her still, and his nose came close to play with hers.
“We don’t need to rush,” he murmured.
When he pressed her close, and his touch began to trail over her dips and curves, thoughts of the boat drifted from Helene’s mind.
“I love waking up with you,” he murmured against her lips. “I love how you feel, how you smell, how you taste.” His words were warm and deep against her ear. “I really don’t want to leave this place.”
Helene groaned.
Oh God, neither did she.
They were on the balcony enjoying a final cup of coffee when Darius spotted the boat heading their way. Setting the cup aside, he found his feet.
“They’ll be here soon. I’ll pack up the figurine.”
Helene hadn’t asked about the logistics of transporting the goddess to the main island. She only knew that no one other than Darius, his uncle, Yanni Kostas, and she were certain the figurine actually existed. One day she hoped Darius would move outside of tradition enough to share the figurine with the world. Until then she would keep his secret.
Returning from her quarters with a packed knapsack and the old pages she’d found, she saw movement in the study. Kneeling on the floor, Darius was opening a briefcase-type container. A moment later, he lifted the figurine down into the molded case. Before closing the lid, he gave the goddess one last look. So did Helene.
Joining her in the main room, Darius cupped and nuzzled her cheek. “All packed?” he asked.
“Do you think I could bring these along?” She showed him the sheets of paper. “I thought Tahlia might like them.”
“Sure.” He nodded toward the study and that monstrous oak desk. “Should be some folders in there. You don’t want the wind ripping those out of your hand on the sail back. I’ll meet you at the front door in five.”
Standing at the desk, she slid open the first drawer. Stationery. The second drawer held old documents. The third drawer contained a stash of personal cards secured by a perishing rubber band. The fourth and final drawer was empty except for some unused writing blocks. No folders, but if she slid the old pages into the middle of a writing block, her gift to Tahlia should be protected. When she heaped them out onto the floor, though, the base of the drawer seemed to spring back a little. She pushed down on the drawer’s base again. Ever so slightly, it bobbed back up.
From the main room, Darius called out. “You almost ready?”
“Be right there,” she called back.
After bobbing the base again, she tried to pry her nails in either side to lever the base out. No luck. Biting her lip, she made a fist and, hoping the base would dislodge, lightly gaveled her hand against the timber. She did it a second time, a third.
“Helene,” Darius called out, “we need to go.”
She leaned back on her heels. Whether she’d been onto something or not, she was out of time. But halfway up, an idea struck. With her legs spread either side of those drawers, she gripped the strip of slim panel nearest the floor and tugged.
The panel popped off and she fell onto her back.
Springing onto hands and knees, she checked the cavity. Inside laid a dozen pages of the same vintage as the first she’d found. Before Darius could call again, Helene gathered them up, slid them between the pages of the writing block and headed out.
Chapter 11
An amazing sixty-foot sailboat was docked at the pier in an adjacent bay. The crew looked like the epitome of masters of the sea. Each man acknowledged Darius with a deep bow then a bright smile. But when they clapped eyes on Helene and her grubby, pint-sized knapsack, their expressions darkened.
As she moved forward, with the writing block pressed to her chest, Helene’s skin began to crawl. Had the crew been briefed to expect another passenger? Then they’d most likely know she’d been hired to care for
domestic needs.
But Darius didn’t treat her like a maid. While he didn’t show any overt signs of affection, he made certain she stood beside him and personally helped her aboard. Holding his oversized briefcase in one hand, he escorted her to one side of the boat.
Feeling numerous pairs of eyes upon her, she tried her best to appear unaffected as the vessel slid out onto a sun-jeweled sea. While she drank in her final glimpse of paradise and slid the block into the front compartment of her knapsack, beside her Darius pointed out a pod of dolphins.
“It’s a good omen,” he told her.
She murmured, “If you say so.”
Ahead of the bow, a dolphin leapt so high and far it seemed to fly. His dark hair ruffling in the wind, Darius gave her a thoughtful look.
“Nervous?”
“A little.” A lot.
He tugged her close. “My sister will adore you.”
Too soon, the smudge on the horizon became an island and then the blue and slate roofs patterning the rocky hillsides came into focus. As the dolphins guided them into the bay, a crowd congregated on the dock also took shape.
Her face cool from the salty breeze and back warmed by the sun, Helene clutched the rail as they cruised into port while a collective cheer wafted over the teal-ribboned sea to meet them. Along the narrow cobblestone streets, people of all ages were on the move, eager to welcome their sovereign home from his important time away. And as the boat docked and Darius waved to the gathering crowd, more cheers filled the air and hats flew.
When the gangplank lowered, Darius turned to her. “Wait here. I’ll have someone come get you.”
Rather than give her a kiss, he squeezed her arm and, before she could respond, he was off and heading down that gangplank. As he stopped on the dock before the crowd, a uniformed guard advanced to cover his back. A middle-aged man—bald with wire-framed glasses and a tailored white suit—appeared. With a discreet move, he relieved Darius of the case and its precious cargo. Yanni Kostas, Helene decided— Darius’s right-hand man.
Darius spoke in Yanni’s ear and the older man flicked a covert glance her way. The two men exchanged more words. Finally Darius nodded, the man moved off, and an elderly woman came forward to hold her monarch’s hand. Next, a girl, perhaps eight and dressed in her Sunday best, offered a bouquet of wild flowers. Others came forward, too, but while excitement undulated over the crowd, no one overstepped their mark. There was no hint of a crush.
