the mantle of royalty.
Her words to him were those of a Crown Princess, a woman who knew her place in the world and assumed the respect of her birthright.
He’d be proud of her if he wasn’t so bewildered.
If he wasn’t so angry.
For there was still anger, simmering underneath. There was still Nicky’s birth to sort. But now wasn’t the time. Not when she was holding out her hand.
There was nothing to do but to take it.
‘I’d be honoured, Your Highness,’ he told her, and her control ended. It was he who led her back onto the dance floor. It was he who took her into his arms and led her into a waltz.
They could do this.
One wet winter when school was out and Athena was a constant presence, Annia had declared enough with the television and the card games.
‘One day, if the gods look favourably on us, you may eventually rule this island,’ she’d told Athena. ‘And Nikos may well help you. So you need to learn to act as royals.’
So his mother had taught them their royal history, taught them their ancient rights, taught them protocol-and she’d also taught them to dance.
He stepped onto the dance floor, he took Athena into his arms and the years disappeared. They might as well be back in his mother’s sitting room, with her complaining on the sidelines…‘Smooth, Nikos, smooth, hold her as if she’s precious, not a sack of potatoes…’
How could he help but do that? She was exquisite. Her skirts were swirling around him as she melted into his arms, and he let the dance take them where they willed.
The smell of her…The feel of her…
It felt as if it was yesterday that they’d walked hand in hand over every inch of this island, swearing eternal love, swearing they could never look at another.
She was the most beautiful woman…the most beautiful princess…
The waltz ended but another began, as if the orchestra knew this was no time for interruption.
He had his Thena in his arms again. It felt as natural as life itself.
‘It should be you taking the Crown,’ she whispered. ‘You deserve it.’
The moment-the magic-was broken. He felt it slip away with infinite regret.
‘I deserve nothing, Princess.’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘It’s what you are.’
‘For four weeks.’
He almost misstepped. He’d have no excuse because dancing with Thena was like breathing.
‘You can’t leave,’ he said. ‘You know that.’
‘I make up my own mind.’
‘As you did last time. Walking away…’
‘I believe I ran,’ she said. She was smiling, a gentle smile that would have everyone thinking she was enjoying a light conversation with him.
‘There was nothing to run from,’ he said angrily.
‘Oh, but there was,’ she said, her smile not slipping. ‘And I didn’t know the half of it. I should have run much sooner.’
‘You’re not making sense.’
‘Then aren’t we a match?’ she said.
They danced on. Other couples were joining them on the floor. He had to think of something to say. Anything.
‘Where did you get your gown?’ he tried.
‘You like it?’ She sounded strained to breaking point. ‘It’s worth over ten thousand dollars, which is a fraction of what these diamonds are worth.’
‘What the hell…’ His brow snapped down in confusion. ‘You’ve managed to get your hands on the royal exchequer?’
Her eyes flashed fire. Somehow her feet kept moving, her smile stayed in place, but daggers could be less lethal than the look she gave him.
‘I must have,’ she said, and he could see that the effort it cost to keep her smile in place was almost superhuman. ‘After all, I only have weeks to strip the place bare.’
‘Thena…’
‘Nikos,’ she snapped. ‘You know me better than this.’
‘I don’t know you.’
She didn’t respond. They circled the dance floor, twice, three times more, and the music came to an end.
‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly and let her hands drop from his. He was aware of a sharp stab of loss. Quickly suppressed. Let’s not let emotions get in the way here, he told himself.
But they already had.
‘It was my pleasure,’ he said, just as formally.
But she wasn’t finished with him. ‘I’m a fashion editor,’ she said coldly, formally. ‘I know the value of product placement. So I let it be known that the new Princess Athena of Argyros would be presented to the public for the first time tonight. The fashion houses’ marketing teams know me. They know I can carry clothes-see, there are advantages in not eating crepes and souffles. So they moved fast, flying clothes and jewellery from Athens this afternoon. I get to send them all back, but not before I’m photographed by the world’s press-which, if you look to the balcony, also seem to be present. So I’ve organised my clothes, Nikos, and I’ve organised them myself. I’d never touch the island coffers. I never will.’
And then she added a more hesitant trailer.
‘And Nikos, my feelings for you are messing with my ability to do this job. If this is to work then I need to separate them.’
‘You want me to leave you alone?’
‘That’s it.’
‘When you have my son?’
‘He’s not your son unless you earn the right to call him that.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘I don’t have a clue,’ she said and sighed, and then repinned her smile and turned around to a middle-aged lady who’d clearly been aching to talk to her.
Audience over.
It was so hot in here. She felt as if she was suffocating.
This dress was fabulous but it required a serious waist. She had lacing not only on the dress but also on the less than glamorous undergarment underneath. Move over, Scarlett O’Hara, she thought grimly as the night wore on. What women put up with in the name of vanity!
But the dress, the diamonds, the effort she’d gone to, were working. There were cameras everywhere. She knew the world’s press. The glossy magazines liked nothing better than royalty on their front covers. So be it. She’d done the glamorous bit as a clear signal that she was a real princess.
It was a signal to Demos to lay off. It was a signal to Nikos that she was up to the task.
She was dancing with one islander after another. They were treating her with awe. What a difference a frock makes, she thought ruefully. When she was a child these men and women had obeyed the King’s ruling and had nothing to do with her.
Only Nikos and his mother had defied the King.
Nikos…He was dancing too, with one beautiful woman after another. Mr Popularity.
That was unfair, she conceded. She’d been here less than a day, but already she was being told how much
