Because she knew now that she was not going to get away. Her own body was ranged against her—to say nothing of her heart.
He kissed her until she was mindless. He did it with a slow, orchestrated artistry that was such a contrast to her own, almost unbearable excitement. Somewhere in the process he got rid of their clothes. But when she reached for him, writhing and nearly desperate, he held her at arm’s length.
‘Careful.’ Luc was laughing but he was breathless too. ‘We’re supposed to be responsible adults, for God’s sake. Time to think about safe sex.’
‘What’s safe about this?’ Christina gasped. It came from the heart.
‘Not very much, maybe, but all the more reason to take care of you...’
And he did. In every way there was. Clinging to Luc, Christina found herself climbing, soaring to heights she had never even imagined. It felt like the most dangerous thing she had ever done. And at the same time she had never felt so taken care of. She sobbed his name. Later, held warmly against him, she said it again, quietly, almost to herself, dazed with delight.
In the morning, of course, it was cold again and she was alone. Luc must have covered her up with the discarded bedclothes before he’d left, but her now naked skin shuddered in the cool morning breeze that came in from the open window. Christina hauled the covers up to her chin as she curled tightly into a ball and tried to pretend that she could get warm if she concentrated.
It was hopeless and she knew it. Luc had not even left her a note. He had gone, just as she had known he would. She would probably never feel warm again.
Eventually Christina got up and went downstairs, heavy-eyed. The kitchen was busy, but the Princess and her family were still asleep after the excitement of the day before, while the Prince had already gone out, one of the kitchen staff told her. The girl added that Sir Goraev was at work, however, and had asked if Christina would take in his morning tisane when she was ready.
This was said with a certain reservation but Christina did not notice in her new-found loneliness. She shrugged and took the tray that was offered.
He was sitting in Luc’s study at the desk. He had a file open in front of him and he was frowning. As she crossed the room, Christina saw that the file contained press cuttings.
Sir Goraev looked up and gave her a polite smile. But his eyes looked worried, she saw.
‘Your tisane,’ she said.
‘Thank you,’ he said almost absently. He stood up and took it from her. ‘Sit down, will you, Miss Howard?’
She did.
‘What is it?’ she asked quietly.
He bowed his head and picked up a paper-knife in the shape of a dagger. He studied it absorbedly. He did not raise his eyes when he spoke.
‘My dear, I do not like to talk about your—private feelings,’ he said at last.
Christina sat very still.
He seemed to wait for a response. When it did not come, he sighed faintly. ‘If it were possible, I would not do so now. We hardly know each other. You will think it an impertinence. I do not like the necessity. But...’
He did look up then. And something in his face turned Christina’s blood to ice.
‘What is it?’ she said in a croak. ‘Luc—?’
An expression of pain flickered over his face and was gone. ‘His Highness is perfectly well,’ Sir Goraev said quickly. ‘My poor child, do not look like that. I spoke to him only an hour ago at breakfast.’
He watched her sag in relief.
‘I think perhaps I have been wrong,’ he said slowly. ‘I think perhaps you are in love with him.’
Christina winced and turned her head away, not answering. He sighed in quick impatience.
‘Would it make it easier if I tell you that I know you spent the night with him?’ he asked drily.
She flinched. Uncontrollable colour flooded her cheeks. A great wave of outrage washed over her. Was she allowed no privacy among these people?
‘Is it part of your job to keep a log of the women he takes to bed, then?’ Christina asked bitterly.
His lips compressed but he clearly decided not to take offence. ‘I know it must feel an intrusion,’ Sir Goraev said stiffly.
‘It does,’ she muttered.
His tone was a reproach. ‘But—don’t you see?—that only goes to show how unfit you are to be a companion to His Highness.’
‘Companion! Why don’t you call things by their real names, Sir Goraev,’ she said with self-lacerating mockery. ‘Don’t you mean lover?’
He did not flinch. He looked at her gravely.
‘I hope not.’
Her eyes were hard. ‘Why not?’
‘My dear—’
‘And stop calling me that,’ she said on a flash of temper. ‘Why not?’
‘You are young. You will get over this. I know you are very fond of His Highness now. But he is older than you. He lives in an entirely different world. You know this.’ He drew a deep breath and said with regretful precision, ‘One night with an attractive man does not make a love affair, you know. Especially when you come from such different worlds.’
Christina winced as if at a blow. She felt as if he had taken the little silver dagger he was still playing with and stabbed it into her heart. It made it all the worse that he was only echoing her own thoughts of this morning.
She shook her head slowly. She knew that she was mortally hurt but she could feel no wound yet. She drew a ragged breath and said harshly, ‘I suppose Luc told you.’
He looked really shocked.
‘My—’ He stopped himself. ‘Of course not. His Highness would not discuss such a matter with another.’
But she was so hurt that she did not believe him. She didn’t say it. She didn’t have to. Her continued suspicion offended him, she could see.
He said stiffly, ‘Your personal dealings with His Highness are not within my remit. Such things are private, even for public men.’
Christina raised an eyebrow. ‘Then what is this conversation about?’
He sighed impatiently. ‘My dear Miss Howard, you are not a fool. His Highness keeps his feelings to himself.’
‘Aren’t we talking about his feelings?’
‘No,’ he said positively.
He gave her a steely look. Under the veneer of courtesy he had a job to do and he was determined to do it, Christina saw. It chilled what little warmth was left round her heart.
‘Then—’
‘We are talking about his duty, his commitments. And your feelings in so far as they pose a threat to those commitments,’ he explained.
It was quite kindly said. It was very gentle. And utterly brutal.
‘Commitments?’ Christina said. It was not much more than a whisper.
‘His Highness will, of course, need to marry.’ Sir Goraev looked down at his little paper-knife. ‘Hitherto it has not been a priority; he has had other responsibilities. Oh, he has had other relationships—discreetly—of course. Like that actress. But that is all over now.’ An eloquent gesture of his well-kept hands consigned Juliette Legrain to insignificance. ‘It did not concern his father. He knew that when the time came His Highness would do his duty.’
She did not doubt it either. Christina found that she was beginning to hate the word.
‘After his father died, His Highness had much to do. It was a big change from orchestrating peace treaties for the UN. He has made the necessary adjustment. Now it is time to think of marriage.’
Christina felt numb. Shame flicked across her nerves like a whip. Her eyelids quivered. She looked down, unable to sustain the old man’s regretful gaze.
‘Who is he going to marry?’ she muttered.
Sir Goraev moved sharply as if she had startled him. ‘Do not trouble yourself with such things,’ he said quickly. ‘It does no good. You will only hurt yourself more.’
‘But—’
‘His Highness is an honourable man. He would not marry and ask you to accept a less secure role in his life,’ he sai
d, choosing his words with care. ‘It would not be fair. You would not care for it. So there is no alternative. This little game between you has to come to an end.’
Christina said in a strangled voice, ‘Did he tell you to tell me so?’
He shook his head, more in sorrow than indignation. ‘How can you, who know him, ask me this? His Highness has not mentioned the matter to me. But—for your own sake, my child, as well as his—I advise you most earnestly to be gone when he returns. Partings are painful, even when one is not in love. And you, I think, are.’
Christina folded her lips together. She said nothing. There was nothing to say.
He sighed. ‘This is all very different from when I was young,’ he said.
He sounded angry. Christina saw suddenly that he was really upset by their conversation.
‘In those days no decent woman made love with a man to whom she was not married. Or went off racketing round the world without someone to protect her, taking jobs here and there. It was all so much easier then. Why did everything have to change?’
He flung the knife down onto the desk as if it infuriated him.
‘From your behaviour, one would say you were sophisticated. What is that word they use these days? Streetwise? Yes, that is it. Streetwise. That you know what you are doing and are willing to take the consequences. But it is all a pretence. You could not endure an irregular relationship with His Highness. And that is all he could offer you. It would break your heart.’
He did not say it would break Luc’s heart, Christina noticed. She winced.
He went on in the same angry tone, ‘If you were like that actress of his, he would give you a diamond or two and the two of you would have a pleasurable reunion every so often. It would be nothing to do with his marriage. Rather, a delightful little adventure for both of you, from time to time. Neither of you would be hurt for a moment. But you are not the type to handle a civilised affair like that. You think you are so independent and capable but in the dealings between a man and a woman you are a child.’
Christina moistened dry lips. ‘If that were true,’ she said quietly, ‘we would not be having this conversation.’
The old man almost jumped. He looked at her, his eyes narrowed. ‘Did you think he would marry you?’ he said scornfully.
She got up swiftly, and made for the door. It disconcerted the old courtier. His voice sharpened to razor effect.
‘Where are you going? I haven’t finished.’
But his cutting tone had no effect on her. Christina could not bear it any longer. In spite of the old man’s denial, she could see it all. When Luc had left her in bed this morning he must have gone down to breakfast and told his Lord Chamberlain all about it. Probably they had even discussed the possibility of her accepting—what had Goraev called it?—an irregular relationship. She could almost hear them, the two men of the world, discussing what was to be done about her unwanted, unsophisticated devotion to the Prince.
It was betrayal of the most profound kind. Nothing could hurt her worse than this. Christina found that she was shaking.
‘I have,’ she said.
She turned and faced him, taking hold of the doorknob between clammy fingers behind her back. The door was blessedly solid. She steadied herself against it. She was very white but her head was high.
‘I did not realise I was making love with the entire royal household,’ she said quietly. ‘You’re quite right, Sir Goraev. That’s not my scene at all. I like rather more respect for personal feelings than the Prince’s commitments seem to allow him.’
She could not say Luc’s name. She wondered if she ever would again.
She added with gentle dignity, ‘But I am glad I know where I stand. I suppose I should thank you.’
Sir Goraev did not look reassured.
‘Miss Howard,’ he began urgently.
‘Goodbye,’ she said.
CHAPTER TEN
CHRISTINA went back to Athens to Sue.
Her friend took one look at the blank expression in her eyes and put her to bed with a hot drink. Christina sat up against the pillows with her hands clutched round the mug. She could not stop shivering.
‘You’re ill,’ said Sue.
But Christina shook her head. ‘I’m in love.’
It was the first time she had said it out loud. It sounded like a death sentence. From Sue’s expression she was thinking along the same lines.
‘I promised I’d tell you when it happened,’ Christina said with a bleak smile. ‘Well, it has. And I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘But—Right,’ said Sue, the best of friends. ‘It’s that guy at Costa’s, right? Is he going to follow you again? Do you want me to fend him off?’
‘You won’t have to,’ said Christina.
She leaned back among Sue’s pretty, sprigged pillows, eyes closed. Silent tears poured down her cheeks. Sue looked at her in helpless sympathy. Christina opened her eyes.
‘I’m all right,’ she said. ‘I just need this one cry and then I’ll get on with things.’
Christina was as good as her word. After that first collapse she pulled herself together very creditably. Until her next job was due to start she found work as a waitress, and was determinedly cheerful every evening when Sue came back to the flat.
Every day Christina went to collect her post. Every day there was nothing from Luc and she felt the desolation hit her again. I shall get over him, Christina vowed every morning on her way to the little café from the poste restante building. I shall.
By the end of the week she had lost five pounds, in spite of the café’s excellent cooking, and collected double her wages in tips.
‘Put it in the bank,’ Sue had said, refusing to take any more than half the food bills. ‘Friends don’t pay rent. You’ll need that money in the winter.’
So Friday morning saw her once more at the cashier’s desk in the bank. The clerk blenched when he saw her and ducked down behind the counter. In spite of her general despondent conviction that her life was over, Christina could not help being amused.
‘It’s all right,’ she told him. ‘This time I’m paying money in. No more scenes.’
But in that she was wrong, even though she made no complaint about the inordinate time he seemed to take processing her simple transaction. As she reached the swing door, a hand fell on her shoulder. It was the security guard.
‘Miss Howard?’
‘Yes,’ she agreed, bewildered.
‘Will you come with me, please?’
She looked round at the interested eyes of the other customers and felt a quiver of alarm. What had she done? The security guard was not forthcoming. Instead he took her to a large, empty room with a large oval table in the middle of it and left her there. No explanation, no company, just walls full of photographs of directors and that great official table. Christina prowled round it, alarm giving way to anger.
When the door opened she swung round in a fury.
‘What the hell is—?’
She was struck dumb. It was Luc.
‘Thank you, Vassili,’ he said to the bowing bank manager.
Christina closed her eyes. To think she had once thought that knowing a bank manager would solve all her troubles, she mused savagely. When she opened them, the bank manager had gone and Luc was standing in front of her. He was in his immaculate suit again and looking supremely handsome and unapproachable.
‘Shall we go?’
‘I won’t go anywhere with you,’ said Christina, refusing to be intimidated.
He sent her an unsmiling look.
‘I’m afraid you’ll have to,’ he said coolly. ‘I have no intention of making love to you on the boardroom floor. Or even this handsome table.’
Christina’s jaw dropped. ‘Make—? How dare you?’ she said faintly.
He did smile then but it did not reach his eyes. ‘When a man is desperate he will dare anything, Christina. You didn’t leave me much alternative.’
Christina stared.
Desperate?
‘After all, you wouldn’t have got in touch with me, would you? I left my private telephone number with that café owner, but you never picked it up.’
Clever, lying Luc desperate?
She cleared her throat. ‘How do you know I didn’t pick it up?’ It came out as a croak.
‘It was the first thing on my agent’s agenda. Hotly followed by your address in Italy. Like I told you, he drew a blank on that too.’
She could not believe it.
He took a hasty step towards her. ‘Do you know how many rules I broke for you, Christina? Have you any idea?’
She shook her head dumbly.
He shook his head too, his expression infinitely tired. ‘No, you haven’t, have you?’ He paused, seeming to debate with himself. Then, making up his mind, he said deliberately, ‘All my staff have been sending me memos about it for two months. The officials, the protocol people, the negotiators, the bodyguards.’ He sent her a quick look. ‘Did you realise we had company that first day we had coffee?’
She cast her mind back to the café.
‘The man at the next table?’ she asked slowly. ‘The one who was pretending to read a newspaper? I knew he was looking at us. I thought it must be because you were famous. Was he secret service or something?’
‘Something,’ Luc said drily. ‘And he wasn’t supposed to be that obvious. You rather shocked him out of his professional cool, I’m afraid. Especially when you flung my money all over him.’
For the first time in days Christina grinned. It was a good memory. ‘Did he go around the café picking it up?’
Luc was wry. ‘He didn’t know what to do. He was supposed to be undercover, so he ought not to have had any contact with me. On the other hand he was also supposed to make sure I wasn’t robbed or insulted or otherwise done a violence to.’ His eyes glinted. ‘And you’d managed the hat trick. So you presented him with an unsolvable dilemma. It seems to be your speciality.’
Avoiding Mr Right Page 16
