‘And this one has lost a baby. I know this. I talked to her about my sons and I saw her pain. And now you stand back with honour. So what will you do?’
He stared down at her, his old nurse, a lady in her sixties, bossy, matriarchal. His servant.
His brothers might raise their brows in supercilious disdain and walk away. He could not.
‘I don’t know,’ he admitted.
‘You want her.’
‘I’d forgotten how much.’
‘Then you need to woo her,’ Sophia said wisely. ‘You have to be gentle. Give her time.’
‘There is no time. I have to get this sorted.’
‘You rush this and you’ll end up with nothing.’
‘She must—’
‘There is no must about it. She’s a smart lady and she will not take kindly to musts.’ Her wise eyes creased into a smile. ‘She will make you a woman in a million. You and Christina… no and no and no. But you and this Holly…’
‘Sophia, leave it.’
‘I leave it,’ she said, and to his astonishment she reached up and kissed him, something she hadn’t done for twenty years. ‘I leave it to you. To your good sense. To your brains, hey, and not to your balls. That’s what got you into this mess. You and your brothers and your father, messes all round. Now your brains have to get you out.’
She thumped him on the chest and chuckled, then carried her tray serenely out to the pool to clear the table.
Holly heard the gentle murmur of their voices. She couldn’t hear individual words—just that Andreas was talking. It must be to Sophia.
She was leaning heavily against her closed and locked bedroom door. It seemed too thin. It was no protection.
Sophia would protect her.
Not against herself.
This was Andreas she was talking about. She’d dreamed about Andreas for years. He was here. He wanted her. All she had to do was fall into his arms and be his princess.
See, there was the rub. It scared her so much that it overrode even the way her body reacted to his. She’d heard him tell of his family: his brutal father, his aristocratic mother and sisters, his brothers—sexy, powerful men who took what they wanted and held.
She knew nothing of their world. To give in to Andreas’s blackmailing—for that was what it was—was to abandon herself to his lifestyle; to give up all she’d ever known.
It was to abandon hope of going home. To Munwannay.
There was nothing there for her.
Her son’s grave was there. It was home.
Her home could be here.
As Andreas’s accessory? For that was what she’d be. She was fighting to get her breath back; fighting to make herself see sense. He’d made no declaration of love. He’d simply said he needed to marry her to get himself and his family out of a political mess. In return he’d pay for her father’s debts. Great. That left her… where?
They should have talked tonight. It should have been a business discussion, she thought, pressing the back of her hand against lips that felt swollen, bruised, still hot from his touch. Maybe they could work something out.
But how could they work out anything when the way she felt about him got in the way? There he was, outside talking calmly to Sophia, and she was in here like a trembling virgin.
And likely to stay here. For there was no way she was opening the door, when the minute she saw him sense gave way to…
Lust.
It was as simple as that.
Or was it?
The voices faded. There was a clink of glasses—that’d be Sophia clearing the table. Andreas would have gone. Where? To bed? To calmly think of what other ways he could coerce her to marry him?
Marriage to Andreas…
The thought was like watching the sky open—there was no way she could see through to the other side and the thought of what lay beyond was so unimaginable that she couldn’t do it. To hurl herself into the unknown… It seemed unthinkable.
But she had to think about it. She had to go to bed now and calmly consider whether such a marriage was possible. Andreas had said his country depended on their marriage. That was very well, but he was looking out for his country. He had his whole kingdom looking out for him—and she was alone.
She left the door and sidled to the drapes of the windows overlooking the pool. She slipped one back just a little so she could see.
Yes, Sophia was there, calmly gathering glasses. She looked up as the chink of light behind the curtains revealed she was being watched.
She straightened and met Holly’s look full on. And then she smiled. And winked. And put down her tray of glasses, put both hands in the air and crossed her fingers.
Then she calmly went on gathering glasses.
Holly smiled.
No, she wasn’t completely alone. She had one ally. Maybe… just maybe…
Just maybe one ally wasn’t enough. She had to figure this out. She wasn’t about to step into a royal goldfish bowl without knowing the facts.
They had to keep their hands off each other and they had to talk.
Talking was never going to work. How the hell could he talk her into something when he couldn’t make sense to himself? He couldn’t think past the fact that she was Holly and he wanted her so badly he was practically on fire.
He’d been raised to think marriage was a duty. Royal marriages were political gamesmanship. Passion was something you had on the side. His parents’ marriage had been loveless. Even when he’d been with Holly all those years before, when they’d talked wildly about running away, the duty that had been instilled in him since birth took precedence.
But now… suddenly he was in a situation where he was being ordered to marry a woman who set him on fire.
Take it easy. Act with care. This was too precious to mess with.
But he couldn’t take time. The hounds were baying. Sebastian would be here himself any minute to marry them by force if he didn’t get this right, and he knew enough of his brother to believe that force was an option. Sebastian cared about his country in a way their father never had. He’d make a good king, and if all that stood between him and that kingdom was a slip of a girl…
Hell.
He walked out of the pavilion, down to the beach. He had so little time. Holly said she needed thinking space—she did. But he
