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And he was the cause of it. The thought sent a thrill through him. Whatever punishment she had hoped to inflict on him by disappearing for a few days, it had backfired on her.
He would never let her know of the overwhelming fury that had rent him when he’d seen the box she’d left by his door.
Which reminded him...
He slid the thick padded envelope he’d placed on the table towards her. Smashing the box when his anger had got the better of him had caused the perfume bottles to spill and ruin the books, but the jewellery had been left undamaged.
Her eyes narrowed with caution, she extended an elegant hand to it and opened it gingerly. Her mouth tightened when she saw what was inside.
She dropped the envelope back on the table and got quickly to her feet. ‘I don’t want them.’
‘They’re yours. You insult me by returning them.’
She didn’t blink. ‘And you insult me by giving them back when you’re about to put an engagement ring on another woman’s finger.’
He got out of his chair and stalked over to her. With the chair behind her she had nowhere to retreat. He pulled her to him, enfolding her in his arms so that her head was pressed to his chest. He was too strong and she was too slender for her to wriggle out of his hold, and in any case he knew her attempts didn’t mean anything.
He could feel her heat. She wanted to be in his arms.
Her head was tilted back, her breaths quickening. He watched as the pupils of her eyes darkened and pulsed, as the grey turned to brown, with a passionate fury there that set his veins alight.
‘There is no need to be jealous,’ he murmured, pressing himself closer. ‘My marriage doesn’t change my feelings for you.’
Her left eye twitched, an affliction he’d never seen before. Her top teeth razed across her full bottom lip.
‘But it changes my feelings for you.’
‘Liar. You can’t deny you still want me.’ He brushed his cheek against hers and whispered into her ear, ‘Only a few days ago you screamed out my name. I still have your scratches on my back.’
She reared back. ‘That was before I knew you were looking for an immediate wife. I will not be your mistress.’
‘There is no shame in it. Generations of Agon monarchs have taken lovers after marriage.’ His grandfather had been the exception to the rule, but only because he’d been fortunate enough to fall in love with his wife.
Of the thirty-one monarchs who’d ruled Agon since 1203, only a handful had found love and fidelity with their spouses. His own father, although he’d died before he could take the throne, had had dozens of lovers and mistresses. He’d revelled in waving his indiscretions right under his loving wife’s nose.
‘And generations ago your ancestors chopped your enemies’ limbs off but you’ve managed to wean yourself off that.’
He laughed at her retort, running a finger over her chin. Even with her oval face free of make-up Amy was beautiful. ‘We don’t marry for love or companionship, as other people do. We marry for the good of our island. Think of it as a business arrangement. You are my lover. You are the woman I want to be with.’
His mother had been unfortunate in that she’d already loved his father when they had married, and it was that love which had ultimately destroyed her, long before the car crash that had taken both his parents’ lives.
He would never inflict the kind of pain his father had caused, not on anyone. He had to marry, but he was upfront about what he wanted: a royal wife to produce the next generation of Kalliakis heirs. No emotions. No expectations of fidelity. A union founded on duty and nothing more.
Amy stared at him without speaking for the longest time, searching for something. He didn’t know what she hoped to find.
He brought his face down to meet her lips, which had parted, but she pulled back so only the faintest of touches passed between them.
‘I mean it, Helios. We’re finished. I will never be your mistress.’ Her words were but a whisper.
‘You think?’
‘Yes.’
‘Then why are you still standing here? Why is your breath still warm on my face?’
Brushing his lips across the softness of her cheek, he gripped her bottom and ground her against him, letting her feel his desire for her. The tiniest of moans escaped her throat.
‘See?’ He trailed kisses over her delicate ear. ‘You do want me. But you’re punishing me.’
‘No, I...’
‘Shh...’ He placed a finger on her mouth. ‘We both know I could take you right now and you would welcome it.’
Heat flared from her eyes but her chin jutted up mutinously.
‘I am going to give you exactly five seconds of freedom. Five seconds to leave this room. If after those five seconds you are still here...’ he spoke very quietly into her ear ‘...I will lift up your skirt and make love to you right here and now on this table.’
She quivered, a small tell but one so familiar he knew the expression that would be in her eyes when he looked into them.
He was right. The taupe had further darkened; the pupils were even more dilated. The tip of her pink tongue glistened between her parted lips. He knew that if he placed his hands over her small but beautifully formed breasts he would feel her nipples strain towards him.
He released his hold on her and folded his arms across his chest.
‘One.’
She put a hand to her mouth and dragged it down over her chin.
‘Two.’
She swallowed. Her eyes never left his face. He could practically smell her longing.
‘Three... Four...’
She turned on her heel and fled to the door.
‘One week,’ he called to her retreating back. She was halfway out of the room and made no show of listening to him, but he knew she heard every word. ‘One week and you, matakia mou, will be back in my bed. I guarantee it.’
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_769eed67-2d32-5083-b2fe-c555959b6934)
AMY GAZED AT the marble statues that had arrived on Agon by ship that morning and now sat in the grand entrance hall of the museum on their plinths. Three marble statues. Three kings at the height of their glory. All named Astraeus. The fourth, specially commissioned for the exhibition, would be transported from the sculptor’s studio in a week’s time. It would depict the current monarch, the fourth King Astraeus, as a young man in his prime.
Helios had personally commissioned it. She didn’t want to think of Helios. But she couldn’t stop.
He was everywhere. In every painting, every sculpture, every fragment of framed scripture, every piece of pottery. Everything was a reminder that this was all his. His people. His ancestors. Him.
Her attention kept flickering back to the statue of the second King Astraeus, a marble titan dating from 1403. Trident in hand and unashamedly naked, he had the same arrogant look with an underlying hint of ferociousness that Helios carried so well. If she had known nothing of the Agon royal dynasty, she would have known instinctively that her lover was a descendent of this man. Agon had been at peace for decades but their warrior roots dated back millennia, were ingrained in their DNA.
Helios had warrior roots in spades.
She had to stop thinking about him.
God, this was supposed to be easy. An affair with no promises and no need for compromise.
She’d been so tempted to stay in the boardroom with him. She’d ached to stay. Her body had been weighted down with need for him. But in the back of her mind had been an image of him exchanging his vows with a faceless woman who would become his wife.
Amy couldn’t be the other woman. Whatever kind of marriage Helios had in mind for himself, it would still be real. He needed an heir. He would make love to his wife.
She could never allow herself to be the cause of pain and humiliation in another. She’d seen first-hand the damage an affair could cause. After all, she was the result of an affair herself. She’d spent seventeen years knowing she was the result of something sordid.
She was nothing but a dirty secret.
* * *
Helios’s driver brought the car to a stop at the back of the palace, beside his private entrance. Dozens and dozens of schoolchildren of all shapes and sizes were picnicking on the lawn closest to the museum entrance: some playing football, some doing cartwheels and handstands. In the far distance a group were filing out of the Agon palace’s maze, which was famed as one of the biggest and tallest mazes in the world.
Helios checked the time. He was always too busy to spend as much time with the palace visitors as he would like.
He had a small window before he was due at a business meeting he’d arranged with his brothers. His brothers ran the day-to-day side of their investment business, but he was still heavily involved. Then there were his royal duties, which had increased exponentially since the onset of his grandfather’s illness. He was in all but name Prince Regent, the highest ranking ambassador for his beloved island. It was his duty to do everything he could to bring investment and tourists to his island, to spread his country’s influence on the world’s stage and keep his islanders safe and prosperous.
As he neared the children, with his courtiers keeping a discreet distance, their small faces turned to him with curiosity. As often happened, it took only one to recognise him before his identity spread like wildfire and they all came running up. It was one of the things he so liked about children: their lack of inhibition. In a world of politeness and protocol he found it refreshing.
One thing he and Catalina were in agreement about was the wish for a minimum of two children. They agreed on many things. Most things. Which was a good omen for their forthcoming marriage. On paper, everything about their union appeared perfect. But...
Every time he tried to picture the children they would create together his mind came up blank. The picture just would not form.
Despite her ravishing beauty, his blood had yet to thicken for her. But this was only a minor issue, and one he was certain would resolve itself the more time he spent with her. Tomorrow he would fly to Monte Cleure so he could formally ask her father for Catalina’s hand in marriage. It was only a formality, but one that couldn’t be overlooked.
At least times had moved on from such issues as a dowry having to be found and trade alliances and so on being written into the contract of any royal betrothal. Now all he had to worry about was his bride having blue blood.
He’d always found blue so cold.
He turned his attention on the English children and answered a host of questions from them, including, ‘Is it true your toilet is made of gold?’
His personal favourite was ‘Is it true you carry a sub-machine gun wherever you go?’
In answer to this he pulled from his pocket the penknife his grandfather had given him on his graduation from Sandhurst; an upgraded version of the one he’d been given on his tenth birthday. ‘No, but I always carry this.’
As expected, the children were agog to see it. It was termed a penknife only in the loosest sense; on sight anyone would recognise it for the deadly fighting instrument it truly was. Children loved it when he showed it to them. Their basic human nature had not yet been knocked out of them by the insane political correctness infecting the rest of the Western world.
‘Most Agonites carry knives with them,’ he said to the enthralled children. ‘If anyone wants to invade our island they know we will fight back with force.’
Their teacher, who had looked at the knife as if it had come personally from Eurynomos himself, looked most relieved as she glanced at her watch. Immediately she clapped her hands together. ‘Everyone into their pairs—it’s time for our tour.’
Today was Thursday... Amy was taking on some of the tours...
The hairs on the back of his neck lifted. He looked over at the museum entrance. A slender figure stood at the top of the steps. Even though she was too far away for him to see clearly, the increasing beat of his heart told him it was her.
He straightened, a smile playing on his lips. Only two days had passed since she’d called his bluff and walked out of the boardroom, leaving him with an ache in his groin he’d only just recovered from. He would bet anything she had suffered in the same manner. He would bet she’d spent the past two days jumping every time her phone rang, waiting for his call.
Her pride had been wounded when she’d learned he was taking a wife, but she would get over it. She couldn’t punish him for ever, not when she suffered as greatly as he did. Soon she would come crawling back.
After a moment’s thought, he beckoned for one of his courtiers and instructed him to pass his apologies to his brothers. They could handle the meeting without him.
The time was ripe to assist Amy in crawling back to him.
* * *
The Agon palace dungeons never failed to thrill, whatever the visitor’s age. Set deep underground, and reached by steep winding staircases at each end of the gloom, only those over the age of eight were permitted to enter. Inside, dim light was provided by tiny electrical candles that flickered as if they were the real thing, casting shadows wherever one stood. Unsurprisingly, the children today were huddled closely together.
‘These dungeons were originally a pit in which to throw the Venetian invaders,’ Amy said, speaking clearly so all twenty-three children on the tour could hear. ‘The Venetians were the only people to successfully invade Agon, and when Ares the Conqueror, cousin of the King at the time, led the uprising in AD 1205, the first thing he ordered his men to do was build these pits. King Timios, who was the reigning King and whom the Agonites blamed for letting the Venetians in, was thrown into the cell to my left.’
The children took it in turns to gawp through the iron railings at the tiny square stone pit.
‘The manacle on the right-hand wall is the original manacle used to chain him,’ she added.
‘Did he die in here?’ a young boy asked.
‘No,’ said a deep male voice that reverberated off the narrow walls before she could answer, making them all jump.
A long shadow cast over them and Helios appeared. In the flickering light of the damp passageway in which they stood his large frame appeared magnified, as if Orion, the famously handsome giant, had come to life.
What was he doing here?
She’d seen him only an hour ago, standing in the gardens talking to the school parties, as at ease with the children as he was in every other situation. That had been the moment she had forgotten how to breathe.
It will get better, she kept assuring herself. It’s still early days and still raw. Soon you’ll feel better.
‘King Timios was held in these cells for six months before Ares Patakis expelled him and, with the consent of the people, took the crown for himself,’ Helios said to the captivated children. ‘The palace was built over these dungeons so King Ares could have personal control over the prisoners.’
‘Did he kill anyone?’ asked the same bloodthirsty boy.
‘He killed many people,’ Helios answered solemnly. ‘But only in battle. Prisoners of war were released and sent back to Venice.’ He paused and offered a smile. ‘But only after having their hands chopped off. King Ares wanted to send a warning to other armies wishing to invade—Step on our shores and you will never wield a weapon again. That’s if they were lucky enough to live.’
The deeper they went into the dungeons, which were large enough to hold up to three hundred prisoners, the more questions were thrown at him as the children did their best to spook each other in the candlelit dimness.
It was with relief that Helios handled everything asked of him—his presence had made her tongue tie itself into a knot.
‘Have you ever killed anyone?’ an undersized girl asked with a nervous laugh.
He shook his head slowly. ‘But since I could walk and talk I’ve been trained to use knives, shoot arrows and throw a spear. My brothers and I are all military trained. Trust me, should any other nation try to invade us, Agonites are ready. We fight. We are not afraid to spill blood—whether it’s an enemy’s or our own—to protect what’s ours. We will defend our island to the death.’
Utter silence followed this impassioned speech. Twenty-three sets of wide eyes gazed up at Helios with a mixture of awe and terror. The teacher looked shell-shocked.
It had had the opposite effect on Amy.
His words had pushed through her skin to heat her veins. It had never so much been his looks, as gorgeous as he was, that had attracted her. It had been his passion. The Kalliakis family was a dynasty whose blood ran red, not blue. And no one’s blood ran redder than Helios’s. On the outside he was a true prince. Beneath his skin lay a warrior.
‘And that, children, proves that it’s not only Ares the Conqueror’s blood Prince Helios has inherited from his ancestor but his devotion to his homeland.’ Amy spoke quickly, to break the hush and to distract herself from the ache spreading inside her. ‘Now, who here would like to be adopted by the Prince? Any takers? No? Hmm... You surprise me. Come on, then, who wants to visit the museum gift shop?’
