didn’t want children.’
‘Did you want children?’
‘More than anything in the world,’ he said simply and she knew he was speaking a fundamental truth. ‘But you needn’t worry. Not with you. Not this night.’
‘So you’ve brought the odd condom.’
‘Or six,’ he said and the gravity went from his eyes. ‘Or more if we need.’
‘You’re acting on a huge presumption.’
‘Which is?’
‘That I’ll go to bed with you.’
‘You put your ring on my finger.’
‘So that means…’
‘You want me as much as I want you.’
‘Andreas, you and I…’
‘I understand,’ he said softly. ‘No, Holly, I’m not asking you to join the royal entourage. I will keep my word and let you go. But for tonight… I’m hoping tonight can just be for us. A night out of frame. So I’ve brought you here.’
‘And I’ve come,’ she whispered. ‘But, Andreas, if I were to get pregnant…’
‘I’d take care of it this time,’ he said, strongly. ‘I’d take care of you.’
‘You’d take care of… it?’ The joy had gone out of the night. Reality, cold, hard, appalling, had raised its ugly head. This wasn’t a fairy tale. This was real.
He’d take care of… it? What, abortion?
‘I’ll do nothing you don’t want,’ he said.
‘Like I believe that. Bringing me all this way…’
‘I’ll take no unwilling bride to bed,’ he said, sounding suddenly stern. Royal even, and the thought almost made her smile. He might be her Andreas, the Andreas she loved with all her heart, but try as he might, he was still a prince. Her prince.
‘It’s not that I’m unwilling, Andreas,’ she whispered, trying to make him see. ‘God help me, I’ve wanted you for years.’
‘That’s wonderful,’ he said, and he smiled that gut-wrenching smile she loved so much.
‘But there are consequences,’ she managed.
‘There are,’ he said gravely. They were strapped into separate seats, separated by three feet of open space. He reached across and touched her hand, fleetingly, a feather touch of something that was obviously supposed to be reassurance. And stupidly, insensibly she was reassured.
But not enough. Not enough.
‘It’d be crazy to go to bed,’ she said miserably. ‘When this marriage is only for a few weeks.’
‘The marriage is for as long as we want it to be,’ he said.
‘Right. You need a commoner for a bride like you need the plague, and I need to go home.’
‘Do you really need to go home?’
‘Yes,’ she whispered, thinking back to that tiny grave.
I’ll take care of it. The words had brought Adam’s loss flooding back. Her mother, visiting her fleetingly, saying ‘Never mind, dear. He was never going to marry you. Losing it is for the best. Now you can get on with your life.’
She’d never got on with her life. She’d worked hard, she’d tried to live her life to the full, but a part of her had been buried the night she’d buried Adam. To get it back…
‘This is wrong,’ she whispered, miserably, and Andreas reached out again and took her hand strongly in his.
‘It isn’t wrong,’ he said. ‘Not now. But we’ll take this as it comes. Don’t look like that, my love. I will not force myself on you.’
‘But you’ve brought six condoms.’
‘Just in case,’ he said and he quizzed her gently with his teasing smile. ‘Just on the chance you decide I’m not so bad after all. I am your husband, Holly.’
‘You’re saying you have rights?’
‘No rights,’ he said. ‘Let’s just play this night as it comes.’
Okay. She wasn’t going to sleep with him. That was the sensible course, and she knew enough of her… her husband… to know he wouldn’t take her against her will.
So it was only her will that was the problem, she thought, and her will had to be cast-iron. She’d walk into the pavilion from the helicopter, she’d bid Andreas a civil goodnight—maybe she’d even apologize because just possibly she’d given him the wrong idea—and then she’d go to bed. In her bedroom. With the door locked.
Sophia would be here. That steadied her. She could do this.
But there was the first hiccup in her plans. The pavilion was deserted. There was no Sophia and Nikos to meet them. Georgiou escorted them to the entrance from the helicopter pad and then faded into the darkness. Wherever the staff were tonight they weren’t here. It was Andreas himself who flung open the huge doors—and when she saw what was inside Holly gasped in shock.
Candles. Candles as far as the eye could see.
The huge central courtyard with its magnificent pool was a glittering mass of flickering candlelight. There were even tiny tealights floating on the water of the pool, their flames reflecting over and over in the depths of the still water.
The fireflies were at work as well, seemingly encouraged by such a mass of flickering light. Last time she’d been here she’d seen and loved them, but there surely hadn’t been as many as there were this night. Their tiny moving glows brought the whole place alive with light, alive with the warmth of the flames.
‘So many fireflies,’ she whispered.
‘I paid ‘em to come,’ Andreas said and looked smug.
What else had he paid to have done?
The big table had been removed. There was one small table right by the water, set for two. A path of candles led to it.
Right by the door—in a pool of light created by a sweep of graded candles—was a pile of pillows. Huge. Soft.
In the middle of the central pillow was a bone. One vast marrowbone, with a central section carefully carved out so a small dog could reach the marrow. If he tried hard enough. If he didn’t succumb to the pure luxury of the down-filled cushions beforehand.
‘You’re even trying to seduce my dog,’ she whispered, awed, as Andreas took the sleepy Deefer from her arms and plopped him on the pillows. Deefer looked adoringly up at Andreas as if to say if this was seduction then thank you very much, he’d take it every time. He put his small mouth round his very
