years, but palace protocol decreed they eat together so silence had been the norm.
But this was a different silence. It was a silence charged with a tension that was palpable, with anger and with… desire?
Yes, desire, Andreas thought as the meal wore on. For he couldn’t keep his eyes from her.
She ate well; not selectively as Christina had done, but as if she was determined to enjoy every mouthful of the magnificent meal Sophia had put before them. Sophia beamed her pleasure as she served them, deeply appreciative of a woman who enjoyed her food. With Christina, Sophia had been absurdly formal, a servant who knew her place. Now, when Holly cracked a lobster claw too hard and the pincher sailed across the tiles, Sophia retrieved it and chuckled and Holly chuckled with her.
‘You need to fight harder,’ Sophia said, and was it Andreas’s imagination or did she cast a warning glance across at him? Holly smiled at her, a woman to woman smile of understanding. They were friends, he thought. In the few days Holly had been here, Holly and Sophia had forged an unlikely friendship.
And there it was again, that stab of desire going deep into his gut. He loved Holly’s smile. He loved that Sophia liked her.
Sophia was her friend.
Could he be her friend? No, he thought, revolted. He wanted far more from this woman than friendship.
Marriage.
Yes, but a formal marriage. Nothing more. For Sebastian’s words had been unequivocal.
‘The people need to know you’ve done the right thing, Andreas. But the marriage won’t be long term. You marry her—give the country the fairy-tale wedding. That’ll get us over our present crisis. You’ll be seen as being honourable—as soon as you found out about the baby you did what was expected. Afterwards, we can say she’s homesick for her country. She can return home quietly with the vague impression you’ll visit in between royal duties. The thing will die a natural death. Problem solved.’
But what had seemed logical back in Sebastian’s study seemed impossible here.
Maybe it had been a mistake to come here. How was he to propose a marriage of convenience when he knew she’d respond with anger? And what he really wanted. Well, that was impossible, too. There was no way he could ravish Holly against her will. He’d have Sophia after him with the branding iron. And to have her agree… The way she was reacting to him, pigs might fly.
Finally the meal was over. Sophia filled their wine glasses—though Holly had hardly touched her wine—and left them to it.
The night was truly lovely. There were fireflies flitting low over the pool, their tiny lights reflecting magically in the water’s smooth surface. Sophia had thrown open the gates at either end of the pavilion and the soft sea breeze filtered through. The sky above them had a million stars, a vast continuation of the fireflies’ reflection in the pool.
It was the most romantic of settings. It was a night for seduction.
‘So now you’ve got me here,’ Holly said, breaking into the silence, ‘what do you intend to do with me?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘You wanted to know about Adam.’ Her voice faltered as she said her son’s name, but she forced it to steady. ‘I could have told you what you needed to know of Adam in one phone call. Instead you commit a crime which could have you thrown in jail—any international court would agree. Prince or no prince, this isn’t the Dark Ages. You’ve dragged me here against my will and you’re in uncharted territory. You let me go now and I’ll go screaming to the press.’
‘You won’t do that.’
‘Tell me why I won’t.’
‘Your reputation…’
‘My reputation?’ She raised her brow in polite incredulity. ‘What, I’ll be revealed as a single mother? Shock, horror. You think I’ve hidden Adam’s existence? Everyone at home knows I had a baby. I conceived Adam in love, Andreas, whether you knew it or not, and I’ve never been ashamed of it. If you or any of your people had approached me I would have told you about him, openly and honestly. He was the most perfect little boy and that we created him…’
She fell silent for a little, but then looked over the table at him, defiant again. ‘So you’re telling me the press could crucify me if they learned of Adam’s existence? Not me. You maybe, Andreas, but not me.’
He nodded, rueful. ‘Okay. Yes. They’d crucify my family.’
She raised her brow again in mock astonishment. ‘You have to be kidding. Royals have been having babies on the wrong side of the blanket for generations. As far as I can see, there’s even pride in it.’
‘There’s no pride in me for Adam’s existence.’
‘Then more fool you,’ she snapped. ‘You didn’t contact me. You missed out on seeing your son. You missed his life, Andreas, and it’s such a loss I can’t even begin to make you understand.’
He couldn’t think like that. It hurt, he discovered. He’d known of Adam’s existence for less than a month but the knowledge had changed something inside that was fundamental. He wasn’t sure how to deal with it. He didn’t know if he could. He just had to concentrate on the here and now while he tried.
‘Holly, I need to get to the point,’ he said, taking a long swig of his wine. Dutch courage? Maybe. ‘Adam did exist. Someone saw the gravestone. I gather you’ve had international buyers on the place?’
‘I have,’ she said, sounding wary.
‘Your land agent knew I stayed there years ago,’ he said. ‘He’s touting that as a sales pitch—buy the place that once hosted royalty.’
‘I never said…’ she began, revolted.
‘Realtors will use whatever means they can to get a sale.’ He had to get this said. He had to block out the personal. ‘So you had a party of Arabian businessmen go through the place last month. One of them saw the gravestone, saw the name and the dates, wondered about the connection to me and mentioned it to his cousin. Who’s a journalist in Calista. So we have questions being asked. And now you’re saying it can be proved the baby is mine.’
She gasped.
‘No,’ he said, quickly, as he saw indignation flood into her face again. ‘I’m not questioning you, Holly. I accept that Adam was my son.’ Hell, that hurt to say. My son. For a man to say such a thing about a child he’d never known… But he had to continue, even if it meant being brutal. ‘I mean outsiders,’ he said. ‘If Adam can be proved to the world to be mine there’s a real chance his birth could bring down our throne.’
He had her attention then. He saw the change on her face. Indignation and anger gave way to confusion. ‘How …?’
‘You were seventeen when he was conceived,’ he said wearily. ‘It makes all the difference in the world.’
‘How?’
‘The age of consent here is eighteen,’ he said. ‘The king… my father… was a known profligate. There was corruption and scandal in the last days of
