Captured and Crowned (8 page)

“To the most perfect silk in all of Istanbul.” She clinked her glass against his and took a sip, just as a waitress bustled over with a tray laden with cheeses and stuffed vine leaves.

He selected one and lifted it to her mouth, his charming smile simply taking her breath away. No man had ever looked at her with such blatant passion. None had ever flirted with her so openly.

She didn't want his attention, for it held no meaning besides carnal pleasure for him. Yet she was powerless to refuse the offering either.

The café shrank to just the two of them, the air pulsing with hot spices and hotter desire. She opened her mouth, intending to take no more than a bite, but he expertly slipped the morsel
past her lips, his fingertips brushing the fullness of her lower one in a move that made her insides clutch.

She trembled at the power in that slight caress. Sighed as the combination of the sour cherry-filled leaves exploded in her mouth, the delicacy more enticing because of his nearness.

“I will take great pleasure in seeing you stand beside me and exchange vows,
agapi mou
.”

“Will you?” she asked, feeling suddenly breathless under the intensity of his gaze.

“Of course. Perhaps I should ask you that question.”

Her pleasure faded, for that was the last thing she wanted. The truth would surely break this magical spell. Yet she couldn't ignore him either, so she settled on a truth that spared her personal feelings.

“Without a doubt you will be the most handsome groom Angyra has ever had,” she said. “I'll be honored to stand beside you.”

And she'd be the happiest woman on earth if he would come to care for her. If he'd one day trust her.

If only she hadn't succumbed to him that day on the beach they'd be starting this journey without this sense of betrayal between them. But, as he'd said before, what was done was done. They had to learn to live with their mistakes.

“Have you heard from Gregor?” she asked, aware that mentioning his name would raise that invisible barrier between them.

And it did.

His shoulders racked tight. His gaze grew remote. His features hardened with worry and something she couldn't name.

“No. I can only assume nothing has changed.” He popped a sliced feta into his mouth and chewed, but she felt the distancing in him immediately. “Mikhael is with him and will call
if—” His brows pulled into a troubled frown and a bleakness chilled his eyes. “If he takes a turn for the worse.”

She reached across the table and rested her hand on his. To her surprise he turned his hand over and clasped hands with her.

The bond felt strong. Sure. Yet she knew it was a tenuous thing.

“This has been such a tragic time for your family,” she said. “Your father had lived his life, but Gregor is still a young man.”

He rocked back in his chair and studied her, breaking the physical connection but not the internal one that pulled at her heartstrings. “Tell me. What did you and my brother talk about when you were alone?”

“My duty as Queen. Gregor was quite honest with me. He promised that he'd treat me kindly, but said that I wasn't to expect a close relationship with him.” She gave a wry laugh. “As for his own expectations—all he asked was that I honor my vows until I'd gifted him with heirs.”

“A promise you broke before the wedding,” Kristo said, but this time the accusation lacked that caustic bite.

Still she refused to look at him, to see the censure and hate that would surely blaze in his eyes. “To my shame.”

“To mine as well,” he said, surprising her. “You showed interest in the sea turtles, in what I was doing to protect them.”

That brought her gaze up to his. “I thought it was a noble thing to do. I still do.”

A smile tugged briefly at his mouth. “Then you are in the minority. My conservation work has not always met with approval from the people. Neither have all the safety measures and regulations I have implemented at the Chrysos Mine.”

“I didn't know that you were involved in the mine,” she said.

“Few people do—which is how I want it,” he said. “My
duty to the crown was to serve as ambassador as well as guard our homeland's natural treasures. That includes the rare Rhoda gold that is only found on Angyra.”

She stared at him, stunned to see this serious side of the man that he'd kept hidden. “Who has taken over those duties now that you are King?”

A sigh rumbled from him, and a shadow of concern passed over his features. “Mikhael will serve as ambassador, as well as become overseer at the mine. But I've yet to find someone who'll take an interest in conserving the sea turtles' nesting grounds.”

“Can't you appoint a committee?”

“The thought has crossed my mind, but I'd prefer having an advocate in place.”

“I could do it,” she said. “You'd have to teach me—”

He held up a hand to silence her, looking far too regal and commanding for her peace of mind. “Out of the question.”

“Why?”

“For one, the job requires intense coordination with the sea turtle conservation network. You could be gone days, weeks at a time.” He took a drink of wine, his gaze intent on hers. “There can also be great danger involved. So even if such a position were possible for you, I'd not place you in harm's way.”

“But—”

“There will be no more debate on this, Demetria.”

They glared at each other across the table, both stubbornly refusing to bend. But Demi knew when she was fighting a losing battle, and really she didn't want to place herself in danger either.

She was in enough of that being with Kristo! So giving up this battle was easy to do.

There was enough animosity between her and Kristo already. She didn't need to go looking for more things that would
drive them further apart. Still, she capitulated with a sharp lift of her chin to show she hadn't conceded easily.

“Surely you can convince someone in Angyra of the importance of safeguarding your natural treasures?” she said.

He shrugged, but she caught the pensive shadows in his eyes again and knew that this issue deeply troubled him. “I will not give up hope that someone will take over the task with the same energy as I have exhibited all these years.”

And that was the crux of the matter. He was passionate about this, and a control freak as well. She almost pitied the person who'd take over the position, for Kristo would still find a way to oversee it.

How lucky the sea turtles were to have such a champion. What she wouldn't give if he'd devote that same attention to
her
!

An uneasy silence quivered between them. Kristo ate while she toyed with her food, her appetite waning again. As for her wine, she didn't remember drinking it all, but the slight buzz she felt told her she'd done so—and too quickly.

He refilled her glass and his own. “What of you and your half-sister? Are you close to each other?”

“We used to be when we were children,” she said, glad for the change in topic, though she felt sad when she thought of her childhood. “After her mother became ill she leaned on me more. She needed my help, and protection from Father.”

“Protection?” he repeated.

“Father has a horrid temper, and she tended to strain his patience,” she said.

Something shifted in his features—not a softening, but a sharp change nonetheless. “Who was
your
protector,
agapi mou
?”

“I—I could take care of myself.”

He bit out a curse. “You were a child.”

She couldn't argue with that, but she had learned to do for
herself when she was very young for her stepmother had been too busy with a fussy baby and a husband who demanded all of her time. In fact she had very much been her stepmother's helper until that fateful day when the King of Angyra had paid them a visit.

“I was a child when the King of Angyra chose me to be the Crown Prince's bride,” she said. The event was clear to her, for it was the catalyst that had changed everything at their house. “From then on I received special attention by way of a tutor.”

She frowned, recalling too that her sister's demeanor had taken a decidedly petulant turn soon after. At the time she'd blamed the change on her stepmother's worsening health, and her death a year later. But had there been another reason?

Jealousy? It pained her to admit that her sister had inherited that trait from their father. That she was very much like him, which was why they constantly clashed.

“What aren't you telling me?” he asked, reaching across the small table again to stroke his fingers along her jaw. “What troubles you so?”

To her surprise, a swell of emotion lodged in her throat and brought sudden tears to her eyes. “I'm fine, really.”

“No, you're not. Why the sad face,
agapi mou
? Are you pouting because I refuse to let you take over the task of conservationist?”

“Of course not,” she said.

“Then what is it? What do you want?”

She knew better than confess what was in her heart. But as she stared into his dark eyes she felt a commiserating pang shoot from him to her.

He was the second son. The one passed over. Ignored. He must understand. He must feel this connection too.

“I want a husband who loves me,” she whispered.

His sensuous mouth thinned, his hand dropping from her face. “That, I am afraid, is impossible.”

A knife to the heart wouldn't have hurt as much.

T
HE
last thing Kristo wanted to deal with when he returned to Angyra late that afternoon was unrest at the Chrysos Mine. But the death of the King followed by the abdication of the Crown Prince had tended to leave the people feeling adrift. Abandoned. Wary of how effective a King he'd be.

The last was a worry that plagued him as well. The magnitude of his burden rested uneasily on his shoulders.

“Do not expect me to join you for dinner tonight,” he told Demetria. “I have no idea when I'll return.”

“That's all right. I'm still stuffed from our lunch in Istanbul.”

He doubted that, for she'd eaten like a small bird, barely picking at her meal. But if she did grow hungry she had the palace kitchen at her disposal.

He turned to leave, but her words stopped him. “Thank you for today.”

“It was my pleasure.” And for the most part that was true. “Goodnight.”

“Be careful,” she said.

He only smiled, for nobody had ever charged him with that before. If he didn't know better he'd swear she cared about his welfare.

 

The uproar at the mine regarded the miners' concerns over who would be their new managerial overseer. All of them
believed, as he and Gregor had intended from the start, that Gregor had been watching over their interests.

A select few knew he was the man responsible for seeing to their needs, and they kept silent as he'd hoped. But even if the truth had gotten out it was too late for anyone to believe he'd held this secretive role at the mine.

So he spent the evening listening to personal complaints and general worries. He took his time listening to each man. He didn't judge any matter as trivial.

By the time midnight rolled around he had the satisfaction of knowing the miners appreciated all he'd done for them. They also seemed relieved to know that Mikhael, who was a much-loved prince, would take over in his brother's stead.

Yet the greatest surprise was their reaction to Demetria. By and large the people loved her. And why wouldn't they?

She was young. Beautiful. Her effervescent smile lit up a room.

Most importantly, it was obvious that during her annual visits to Angyra she'd mingled with the people. She'd spoken with the Angyrans on their level. She'd gained their trust.

They saw her as one of them, soon to be elevated to the exalted role of Queen. Because of her impending marriage to him, they accepted Kristo as King. For now.

All in all it was enough to boost Kristo's much lagging ego as he made the trip back to the palace. Now if
he
could come to terms with his bride-to-be as easily…

He desired her. There was no denying that. But he would never trust her.

As for the love she sought…

It was unbelievable that she thought he could ever lose his heart to her—that she'd even want his affection.

Even if he had been prone to fall victim to such tender
emotions—which he most certainly was not!—he'd never fall in love with the woman who'd betrayed his brother.

His one concession—or was it in actuality a weakening toward her?—was allowing Demetria to design her wedding gown. That could have been a mistake. Not that she wasn't more than capable of designing a gown that would be much celebrated, that would rival any designer in the world, and would surely make him proud to have her on his arm!

No, the problem rested in that he feared she would continue to ask for more. If he wasn't watchful, she'd eat away at his defenses to gain more and more freedoms. Like her eagerness to take over the task of conservationist.

The very idea of her doing that boggled his mind. He suspected she'd put the same passion into that as she did everything else.

It would be like her to turn even that into a national holiday. He would not put it past her to create T-shirts for the school-children to wear. Perhaps host a parade to celebrate the sea turtles returning to nest.

And she'd be away from the palace more than she was there.

If he were not watchful she'd likely usurp his role as King. Already she had the people's favor!

She tested his patience at every turn. Yet he wanted to make love with her so badly he physically ached.

In fact when he reached the palace it took effort to find his own apartment instead of hers. Even then, as he collapsed onto his bed in exhaustion, his last coherent thought was the pleasure he'd feel if she was lying in his arms.

 

Despite his short night, Kristo was up at six, savoring his coffee while he carefully checked the stock market online. It was a ritual he'd established long ago, when he'd been in
the process of tripling his fortune. As it stood now, he was wealthier than any of his relatives—though he suspected Mikhael would rival him in that regard soon.

His concentration was broken when Vasos marched into his apartment, and by the look on the bodyguard's face he dreaded the news. “We have a problem.”

“What now?” he asked, curious as to why Vasos had marched directly to the television and turned it on.

A leading celebrity gossip TV show out of Athens filled the screen. “Your upcoming marriage is this morning's top story.”

“We've not hidden the fact that we are to marry in a little more than a week,” Kristo said, having no interest in listening to the show's fanfare.

“Wait,” Vasos said when he made to turn it off. “There is far more to the story than that.”

Before Kristo could question his bodyguard, a picture of Demetria filled the screen. In the background was another image, one of an older man he didn't recognize.

“Our sources have discovered that there is much speculation regarding Demetria Andreou's birth,” the immaculately garbed reporter said. “Less than a year before Demetria was born, her mother had a torrid affair with a noted Italian vintner.”

Kristo stared in stunned silence as the reporter gave the highlights regarding Demetria's mother's story. Like Demetria, she'd been affianced to a wealthy Greek. And, like her daughter, she'd been unfaithful to her betrothal vows.

With a married man!

“The scandal has risen and ebbed over the years, though the last time it was briefly in the news was when Demetria Andreou was six years old,” the reporter said. “That's when she was nicknamed ‘scandal's daughter.' A cruel insult then,
but now we've learned that the daughter has followed in her mother's footsteps. Only this time with royalty!”

No! This could not be happening.

“How could they know?” Kristo bit out, infuriated to hear a sensationalized version of his tryst on the beach with Demetria, of them betraying his brother. How they'd conspired to gain the crown together. “All lies! Who is responsible for this?”

Vasos pressed his thick lips together. “I've yet to discover the source.”

“Keep at it. I want a name.”

And he hoped to hell that name was Demetria Andreou!

He burst from his apartment and stormed down the hall to her suite, pushing open the door without bothering to knock. “Turn on your—”

The barked order withered on his tongue, for the TV was already on and the same reporter he'd listened to was wrapping up her shocking story. “We are sure there will be more breaking news out of Angyra soon. Stay tuned!”

“This is a nightmare,” Demetria said, her complexion gray and her eyes wide with shock.

“It is far worse than that,” he said, dreading what the repercussions would be on Angyra. “Who the hell did you tell about us?”

She clutched her head with both hands and sank onto the sofa, her face growing ghostly pale. “My sister. When I returned to the guesthouse that day she saw me and knew I'd been with a man. I tried to put off her questions, but she thought I'd been forced. She threatened to raise the guard. So I had to tell her the partial truth or she'd have caused an uproar.”

And the truth would have come out then. In hindsight, that would have been preferable.

Kristo drove his fingers through his hair and swore. He'd
suspected someone close to Demetria had leaked this incident to the press, but he'd never guessed it would be her sister.

“Which she's done anyway, one year later.” He planted his feet wide and glared at her. “Why would she do such a thing? Doesn't she realize the trouble this will cause you?”

“I suspect she's lashing out in anger because she won't be able to spend time at the show with me,” she said, a dark flush staining her cheekbones. “Six months or more before the King died, I promised her that she could act as one of my models.”

When she'd thought she'd have time before she would have to become Queen. But his father's death had slammed the door on those plans.

“She was upset when I told her I'd asked if you'd allow me this one show, but you'd refused.”

He had. The very idea was preposterous.

“Your sister should realize that it was not your decision to make,” he said. “Why bring this humiliation and shame down on you now? What did she hope to gain?”

“I doubt she thought that through,” she said. “She's angry to have lost the chance to model and so she's sought to make me suffer as well.”

“Suffer is putting it mildly.” He paced before the cold hearth, outraged that her sister had brought this shame down on them, furious that Demetria had yet to show her own anger at her sibling. “Your sister has insulted the future Queen of Angyra. She's insulted the King!”

She flinched and turned a frightful shade of white. “As I said before, I am sure she never considered the repercussions.”

He was not so sure. This act had taken malice and forethought. The revelation came when he desperately needed his kingdom to see him and Demetria as responsible leaders. Not two oversexed young people who'd betrayed the favored Crown Prince.

He muttered a dark curse. “I can't begin to imagine the trouble this will heap on us.”

Her head bent and her slender shoulders bowed. “I'm so sorry. I vowed not to follow in my mother's footsteps,” she said. “Yet I failed.”

Seeing her looking defeated tore at his resolve to remain unmoved. He hated that she was getting to him again. But he hated it more that she was ready to shoulder this all alone.

“No! Your sister failed you.” He dropped on the sofa beside her and drew her close, cursing silently when he felt a tremor shoot through her. “The scandal surrounding your mother—I need to know the whole story.”

A weary sighed escaped her, and she collapsed a bit more against him. “Bear in mind that I only know what Father told me, for my mother died giving birth to me.”

“I didn't know that.”

Hell, he knew very little about this woman he was to marry other than her father was a greedy man. He hadn't even been aware that her sister was a half-sibling. Hadn't known that she had sought a career. Hadn't been aware she'd been her sister's protector—the mother figure that her sister had now clearly abused.

One year ago he hadn't even known what Demetria looked like now that she was an adult. He hadn't been curious about her.

Which made this particular drama today all the more vexing, for if he'd known about Demetria none of this would have happened.

But all he'd known was that she was the daughter of Sandros Andreou, a man he disliked for his shady business practices, and his first wife, a Greek nobleman's daughter who'd gotten embroiled in a scandal with a married man. Learning that she was their daughter had made it easier to think the worst of her.

Yet right now he was finding it impossible to blast her with the anger that boiled and seethed inside him. Dammit, he wanted to comfort her—for it was obvious that she was suffering over her sister's duplicity far more than he.

“Please. Go on with your story,” he said, when the silence became too much to bear.

Again a sigh. A hesitation that told him she wasn't comfortable disclosing all. “According to my father, Mother fell madly in love with a suave Italian she met one summer. They had an affair, and my mother was certain marriage would follow.”

“If the reporter was right, the man was already married with a family,” Kristo said. “And your mother was unfaithful as well, for she was affianced to another man.”

The irony of her daughter repeating history staggered him. But the fact that her sister had blabbed about his tryst with Demetria to the world infuriated him. It was an infraction he couldn't let go of.

“She was crushed when she learned the truth, and went into hiding at her father's house,” she said. “But instead of her shame and humiliation fading into history, the story turned into a scandal when her lover's wife reported the story in retaliation. My mother's fiancé called off the wedding, and my maternal grandfather quickly arranged my mother's marriage to my father.”

He imagined the old Greek had been well paid to take the scandalous daughter off his hands. Andreou would do anything for money.

“So now you have, in a manner of speaking, repeated history?”

“Yes.” She stared at her clasped hands, still seeming only sorrowful instead of angry as was her due. “I was told the story faded until my mother died, nine months after that, and it was briefly in the news again when I was six.”

“Why then?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I don't know, but it was a horrible time for me. That's when I was nicknamed ‘scandal's daughter' at school. I didn't want to go, but Father made me. He said it would make me stronger, though I certainly didn't feel strong at the time!” She flushed and looked away. “But of course you must have known all of this.”

“No, none of it.” But hearing it now touched him deeply.

It had taken courage for her to deal with the scandal at such a tender age. Her mother's jaded past was her Achilles' heel.

His as well now. She was his woman. Would be his Queen.