away and, unless he was prepared to hold her back with force, he had no option but to let her go.
She marched back to the pavilion with her head held high. Sophia met them at the main entrance as if she’d been on the lookout for them, her shrewd eyes filled with unasked questions.
‘His Highness has had too much sun,’ Holly said to her. ‘I think he needs a doctor. I’m going to take a shower and cool off.’
She marched across the tiled courtyard to the apartment Sophia had obviously allocated her. She hauled the oak doors wide, marched in and slammed the doors so hard behind her that the ceiling fans in the vast entrance hall wobbled on their bearings.
Sophia and Andreas were left staring after her. And staring at each other.
‘Do you want dinner?’ Sophia said at last, though Andreas knew there were a dozen other questions her eyes were asking.
‘In an hour.’
‘I’d imagine Holly will have it in her room,’ she said cautiously, staring at the very shut doors.
Enough. He was a prince of the blood. He was here with a mission. ‘Holly will have her dinner out by the pool with me,’ he snapped, a score or more of his exceedingly autocratic ancestors snapping to attention behind him, stiffening his spine.
‘Tell her that.’
‘You might want to tell her yourself,’ Sophia said, still cautious.
‘It’s your place to tell her.’
‘My Andreas is being a coward?’ Sophia said and she smiled.
‘Yes, he is,’ he admitted, raking his hair and giving her a rueful smile. Autocratic ancestors might come at will, but they never hung round long enough to be really useful. ‘Please, Sophia, would you tell her?’
‘I’ll tell her,’ Sophia said and smiled up at him some more, and then reached up and raked his black curls back into place as she’d done when he was six years old. ‘I’ll tell her you’re distressed and need to talk.’
‘No…’
‘You are distressed. You tell that one the truth,’ Sophia said sternly. ‘I’ve seen her long enough now to know that nothing but the truth will serve.’
He swam.
It was an hour until dinner, there was nothing to do but pace and he’d wear a hole in the magnificent tiles in his bedchamber if he paced as he felt like doing. So he abandoned himself to the pleasure of his internal lagoon. The pool was a perfect circle, with an island in the centre, set up with lounges, umbrellas, a bar with every drink a man—or woman—would want.
He wanted none of them now. He simply swam, circling the pool over and over, his long, lean body cutting through the water with the ease and grace that had come from years of hard physical training.
Swimming was to Andreas a time of something akin to meditation. A time when he could block out everything: the demands of royalty; the problems with a disastrous marriage; even the impending crisis of the missing diamond.
But he couldn’t block out Holly. Not here. Not now. She was in his thoughts every moment as he circled the pool, and no matter how fast he swam there was no escape.
He’d thought he’d forgotten her. Ten years ago he’d walked away from her because there was no choice. Now… now it seemed there was a choice again.
He had to be disinterested. He had to explain things calmly, setting the future before her in terms she must understand.
But she had a choice. He couldn’t marry her out of hand.
Could he?
No, he conceded as he swam. The days of dragging an unwilling bride to the altar were long gone, and shame could no longer be used as an incentive.
She’d been shamed before, when he’d left. The thought of what she’d faced alone…
It couldn’t matter. He had to put the gut-wrenching emotion he’d felt as she’d described her baby’s death aside. For now, for his country’s sake, he needed to be level-headed, sharp and persuasive.
But he didn’t know how to be, when the moment he looked at her he felt like a kid again; a young prince with the world at his feet. With Holly at his feet…
Holly.
He had to get his mind clear. He had to get his arguments in order.
All he could think of was how beautiful she was. And that she’d borne his son.
He’d had a son and he’d never known him. The thought was enough to shift his foundations. To make him unsure of who he was in the world.
He’d let this woman down. She had to agree to his proposal. Somehow he had to make amends, but that had to fit with Sebastian’s demands.
The demands of his king.
He’d know she could see him.
Every apartment in the pavilion looked over the pool. Andreas swam with the ease of a shark circling his prey, she thought uneasily, watching him rounding the island with lazy ease and a speed that looked deceptively easy to obtain.
Holly conceded that he looked magnificent, but then she’d thought he was magnificent once before. This time she had to use her head. This time she had to keep her emotions firmly in the background as she held Andreas at arm’s length.
Or further.
He had to marry her? The concept was ridiculous. He was a royal prince. She was broke, a single mother of a dead baby. Her home was half a world away from here. Further.
Enough. She whirled away from the window, refusing to look at him any longer. His easy good looks, his wicked smile, his domineering personality… they had the power to rip her world apart as it had been ripped apart ten years ago.
She was not the same innocent as she was then. She’d been little more than a child. She was all woman now, and she’d meet him on her terms.
At dinner?
That was what he’d ordered and what he ordered was what Andreas generally got.
Not now. She had to stand up to him.
On equal terms, she thought, feeling desperate. She was still in her bikini. She had no clothes of her own here, apart from one battered pair of jeans and a tattered shirt.
She wouldn’t see him like that.
Well, then.
She eyed the massive wardrobe with caution. Maybe Andreas had provided her with the weapons she needed.
It would take courage, but then… what did she have to lose?
Sophia provided a dinner fit for royalty—when had she not?—but this night the meal was enough to make even Andreas’s eyes widen. He’d showered and dressed in casual trousers and an open-necked
