The Greek's Forbidden Princess Page 16
‘Seb’s talking, which is a start. It will be enough for the upcoming ceremony, so his future will be secure. That’s what matters.’ Her gaze left his and he found himself bereft. Adrift like an unmoored boat.
Had he expected her to say they mattered? That together they’d created a bond that couldn’t be ignored?
He was the one who’d warned her he couldn’t commit.
He sensed he was already losing her. Her thoughts were in St Galla.
For an insane moment Lambis wanted to grab her chin and pull her face round to his, make her look him in the eye and admit they were—
Nothing. They were nothing. She wasn’t for him.
Yet the prospect of her leaving hurt more than he’d thought possible.
‘Why do you need to go? What’s happened?’
She shrugged. ‘It’s a long story.’
Lambis folded his arms. ‘I have time.’
That made her look up. Green eyes met his and he leaned closer, inevitably drawn by the unguarded confusion he read there.
‘Amelie—’
‘It’s all a mess.’ She spoke quickly. ‘Monsieur Barthe was supposed to cancel an official visit by King Alex of Bengaria. I told him to reschedule it but he hasn’t. The King is there now and...’ She shook her head. ‘It’s complicated.’
‘Alex of Bengaria?’ Lambis’s firm had done work in Bengaria. He remembered the King—decisive, approachable and, according to Lambis’s female staff, utterly irresistible.
Lambis’s gaze narrowed on the woman before him, looking so ill at ease. ‘He’s the royal they want you to marry?’
She started at his harsh tone, then nodded. ‘Yes. But it’s unlikely now.’
Lambis barely heard her over the rush of blood filling his head. ‘That’s what’s so important? You’re rushing back to be with him?’ He grimaced at the bitter taste in his mouth.
‘There’s no need to look like that. There are complications I need to sort out.’ Amelie got to her feet, staring at him as if she’d never seen him. Or perhaps comparing him to the polished, pretty-boy Prince waiting for her in St Galla.
Something dark and feral stirred in Lambis’s soul. Something he didn’t recognise. It was angry, wanting to lash out, but hurting too. Of course Amelie would choose to be with another blue-blood, instead of a reclusive man with working class roots. He had no right to feel indignant. He’d told her time and again she couldn’t rely on him long-term. Alex, on the other hand, was apparently ready for marriage.
He owed it to Amelie to shut up and let her walk away.
‘You’d really give yourself to him?’ The thought of Amelie in another man’s arms, in his bed, all but broke him. He felt as if his ribs were caught in a vice that screwed tighter and tighter.
Amelie frowned and Lambis wanted to kiss her brow smooth, stroke her cheeks, tease her lips till she opened for him.
‘I told you, it’s unlikely.’ Her chin tilted with a hauteur designed to freeze him on the spot, but which instead made the fire in his belly burn even brighter.
‘You deserve better than someone who doesn’t even care for you. You tried that with Jules, and you got hurt.’ She’d tried to hide that but she wasn’t as adept at concealing emotion as she thought. Besides, Lambis knew her now. He understood that however strong she was, Amelie was a woman with heart. She loved and deserved love in return.
‘You need someone who’ll fight for you. Not someone who views you as a convenient spouse.’ His words spilled out, harsh and overloud.
Lambis could never be the man she wanted. Yet he couldn’t stand by while she threw herself away on a man who’d ultimately destroy her. However good his intentions, Alex’s indifference would eventually kill a woman who was clearly designed for love.
‘Well.’ Her eyes glittered gem-bright, her nostrils flaring as she dragged in air. ‘If ever you find such a man, be sure to tell me. I’ve yet to find one.’ Her eyes flashed like daggers. He felt the sharp prick of that look at his heart. Guilt drove into him like a sharpened spike through soft flesh. For, of course, it wasn’t just Jules who’d let her down. It was Lambis too.
He couldn’t reconcile his no-emotional-entanglements attitude with this urgent need to keep her here and convince her Alex wasn’t the man for her.
He couldn’t offer what she wanted, yet he didn’t want anyone else getting close to her.
‘Now, is it possible to use your helicopter? I want to return to St Galla tomorrow. I’ll pay, naturally, and—’
‘Don’t!’ What she heard in his voice, Lambis didn’t know. He only knew he was closer to doing something utterly reckless than he’d been in all the years since he’d lost Delia and Dimitri. He hefted in a draught of oxygen. ‘I’ll take you. Leave everything to me.’
* * *
Hours later, with every detail of the trip sorted and his schedule cleared, Lambis slowly walked back from the beach. He hadn’t seen Amelie since dinner, where their conversation had been stilted, like a couple of chance met strangers, picking their way through neutral topics.
He hated the distance between them. The invisible but real barriers Amelie had erected. Was that how it had felt for her when he’d pushed her away years before?
He shook his head, swearing under his breath. Everything felt wrong. Out of control. Nothing was as it should be. He didn’t want Amelie and Sébastien to leave.
He didn’t want to be alone.
Lambis slammed to a halt, heart pounding. Since when had solitude been anything but a balm?
Since Amelie and Sébastien had made him feel again.
He grimaced. It sounded so simple. If this were a movie he’d magically forget all the reasons he was a bad risk. Forget how he’d failed those he cared for. But he couldn’t do that to Amelie. She deserved far better.
His throat and lungs ached as he drew in another, laboured breath.
He wanted her but couldn’t, mustn’t, have her. What he had to do was let her go.
He stood, swaying, forcing himself to face that unbearable fact.
Finally, his heart, his whole body aching, he followed the path up to the house and the French windows giving directly onto his room.
He’d deliver her to St Galla and he’d make it clear to this Alex that he’d have Lambis to deal with if he let Amelie down. He stepped into the dark room, mind fixed on that interview, when he realised he wasn’t alone.
Amelie was in his bed.
His heart stalled as she sat up. The sheet fell away to reveal the sweet, proud jut of her breasts. Her hair cascaded around her shoulders like pale silk. Her eyes were unreadable in the shadows, but there was a vulnerability about the set of her shoulders and the too-high angle of her chin, almost as if she expected him to reject her.
It was all he could do not to sink to his knees in thankfulness.
That ache in his chest honed to a fixed point of sharp pain, a counterpoint to the razor-edge of desire slicing his belly.
Lambis wanted her so badly he could barely contain himself. He wanted her tenderness as well as her body. Her smiles, her...
He shoved aside thought, unable to cope with all he was about to lose when she returned to St Galla. Instead he paced to the bed, eating her up with his eyes.
Steadily she stared back as he tore at his clothes, flinging them aside. There was no doubt in her as she proudly faced him, only a certainty that humbled him.
Lambis pulled the sheet aside. Then he began worshipping her with his body, his heart and soul. He would give them both memories that would last long after she’d gone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
THEY ARRIVED THE next afternoon at a private airfield. Lambis had flown them via helicopter to the Greek mainland and organised the private jet and the anonymous car with heavily tinted windows that took them to the St Gallan palace.
He glanced at Amelie, on the other side of the limo’s wide back seat. She was tense despite the bright smile she gave her nephew. ‘Here we are, mon lapin, home again. Tonig
ht you’ll sleep in your own bed and before that you can play with all your toys.’
Sébastien nodded and cuddled his teddy bear close. He’d been quiet since they touched down.
‘Perhaps you can show me the best place to swim here,’ Lambis found himself saying. ‘I haven’t swum for so long!’
The boy giggled. ‘But we swam yesterday.’ Lambis saw Amelie’s high shoulders relax a little at that giggle. Clearly she’d been worried too how her nephew would cope, returning to the palace with its memories.
‘So I did. How silly of me to forget. Will you swim with me?’ He kept the boy talking, giving Amelie time to harness her emotions. For despite her almost iron control he could read her now. Her tension had increased steadily all day. Or perhaps it was anger.
Finally, in the early hours, as they lay sated yet wide awake in each other’s arms, she’d told him about the Prime Minister’s audacious masquerade scheme. About the half-sister she’d yet to meet, and the increasing pressure being brought to bear on Amelie to marry.
At least that was one thing Lambis had been able to do for Amelie, tell her a little about Cat. For it had been Lambis who’d met her years before and recommended her to the St Gallan authorities in case a body double was ever needed for Amelie. He hadn’t known they were half-sisters, just that they looked remarkably similar. And Cat had impressed him as honest, talented and likeable. If he’d known the Prime Minister would use his recommendation to deceive everyone in this way... Fury coursed through him.
But it was nothing to the other emotions haunting him.
Holding her in his arms, Lambis had felt a regret so poignant it unnerved him. For he had nothing to give that would keep her with him.
They’d both been conscious it was their last night together. It had been there in each caress and their quiet desperation as they shared themselves. As if neither wanted to face the dawn.
Now, knowing the enormity of what Amelie confronted, Lambis was determined to do whatever he could to help. For the moment that meant keeping Sébastien occupied and happy.
Lambis looked up as the limo turned into a wide gateway and drove sedately towards the fanciful belle époque palace. Its soft pink stone was decorated with white marble windows and doors that from a distance looked as delicate as frosting on a cake. Yet there was no mistaking it for anything but a seat of power, set in its own extensive gardens that occupied the whole southern tip of the island.
Minutes later they stood at the palace entrance, the scent of flowers mingling with the rich perfume of pines and the sea. Enide, the elderly relative Lambis knew from previous visits, was whispering to Amelie. The old woman’s well-bred, slightly horsey face was creased with anxiety. As she spoke Lambis watched the last vestige of Amelie’s animation flicker and die. She didn’t frown but the smooth, expressionless mask of calm she adopted was worse.
The warm, sensual woman he knew was being buried beneath her royal burdens.
Lambis’s hand tightened on Sébastien’s as he fought the impulse to go to her. The urge to wrap his arms around both Amelie and Sébastien grew. He was accustomed to being there for them.
Someone else—a secretary?—joined the small, serious group and Amelie nodded, answering a question about an urgent meeting. Her voice was crisp and businesslike.
He wasn’t surprised. Amelie was far more than a pretty face or a devoted aunt. She was capable and efficient.
She’d be fine.
Yet Lambis couldn’t dispel the memory of her in his arms before dawn. How she’d trembled with indignation at the devious schemes of her Prime Minister. How her voice had been strained and her touch needy.
How she’d sighed her pleasure and given herself to Lambis utterly, no holding back. He’d felt for that too-brief interlude as if they’d both found peace. As if he’d found the missing part that completed him.
Lambis hunkered down beside Sébastien, asking him about the view from the palace. But as the little kid replied, more than half Lambis’s attention was on Amelie. She was in control, no doubt of that, and more than capable. Yet he couldn’t quench the emotions that wrenched at him, seeing her so alone, the weight of the kingdom, her nephew’s wellbeing and now this fiasco with the Prime Minister on her shoulders.
‘Seb? Shall we go in?’ Her smile for the boy was the same as always. Only the shadows in her eyes were different. And the way she avoided looking at Lambis. His heart thudded dully in his chest cavity.
Then they were moving into the palace. Staff clustered and welcomed. Enide shook his hand, thanking him for all he’d done, which only made Lambis recall how reluctantly he’d helped. Only after Amelie had forced his hand.
Lambis looked around the grand foyer, built to impress and intimidate. A huge chandelier dripped from the ceiling and the walls were hung with a collection of art that had left more than one connoisseur breathless. The place even smelled different. Rich, luxurious, refined.
This was Amelie’s world, her home.
Yet he knew in his deepest self that she’d never been more alone than now. A vast ache pulsed within him.
‘Wait!’ His voice echoed around the vast space, too strident and peremptory. Faces turned.
Lambis turned to Sébastien. ‘How about you go with your Aunt Enide? I’m sure Monsieur Bernhard wants to check out his old bed. Then I’ll join you and we can swim together.’
Sébastien regarded him for a moment then looked at Bernhard, his bear. ‘Okay. But don’t be long.’
More than one person gasped, surprised the little Prince was speaking. But Lambis’s attention wasn’t on the attendants, it was on Amelie. ‘We need to talk.’
‘Later. I have to meet—’
‘I know.’ His eyes locked with hers over Sébastien’s head. Lambis ignored the shocked glances that he’d dared interrupt the Princess. ‘But first there’s something you need to hear.’ His heart beat a sharp, accelerating tattoo and his jaw clenched so hard pain radiated down his neck.
Finally she nodded and, with a hug for Sébastien and a couple of murmured words to the others, led the way down a wide hall into a salon.
Lambis closed the door behind them, watching Amelie pace to the window. The afternoon light limned her in gold, accentuating that aura of untouchability she’d donned along with her regal composure. She wore a skirt and jacket he hadn’t seen before today, slim-fitting, in a soft green that matched the peridot earrings that swayed as she turned. Her only other jewellery was the familiar pearl and gold pendant but she couldn’t be more breathtaking if she wore a whole treasury of royal finery.
His heart clenched then tripped to a quickening rhythm as he crossed the room. He pulled up as she raised her hand.
Gone was this morning’s lover. Where before there’d been tenderness, now he read...nothing.
Even knowing this was a necessary tactic for Amelie to concentrate on the onerous tasks before her, Lambis silently railed at this change. He didn’t want distance. He didn’t want them to be strangers again.
‘Marry me.’ The words surged out, rough and urgent.
Her eyes widened and he thought she swayed on her delicate heels.
‘Marry me, Amelie.’ His voice was pure gravel. He swallowed hard, trying to clear the restriction in his throat. ‘Let me help you.’
He moved closer though he kept his arms by his sides. If he touched her he wouldn’t be able to keep the lid on the bubbling brew of emotions. The strain of keeping his distance reverberated through him, a discordant note.
‘Help me?’ Her face was pale, her nostrils flared as if she couldn’t get enough air. One hand lifted to her pearl pendant then dropped away.
‘Yes.’ Another step closer, breathing in her entrancing scent, warm flesh and gardenias. His gaze dropped to her mouth with its delicate pink tint then to the little pulse at the base of her throat, tripping so fast. ‘There’s no need to marry a total stranger, like Alex of Bengaria.’
There’s no need to sell yourself for your nephew’s sake.
The thought of Amelie in a stranger’s bed was bad enough. The idea of her with someone who’d married her only for her status and ability to breed an heir left Lambis sick to the stomach.
He couldn’t let that happen.
He took a deep breath and felt a sense of absolute rightness creep over him. ‘You don’t have to do this alone.’ His voice was smoother now, the words coming more easily. ‘Marry me. I can...’ The word protect hovered on his tongue but he couldn’t lie. ‘I can help. Marry me and you’ll be made Regent. Sébastien’s future will be secure. You deserve to have someone who’ll fight for you. Someone who knows and respects you.’
* * *
Amelie stared into those hooded grey eyes. She’d seen them dark as storm clouds as Lambis had thundered at her, trying to push her away. She’d seen them bright as summer lightning, their heat searing her as they made love and he lost himself inside her. She’d thought then that nothing could be more intense than that pinnacle of exquisite oneness, that oneness she’d known only with Lambis.
She’d been wrong. Looking into his serious eyes, reading the dreadful tension in his big frame, Amelie felt a pain so sharp it was as if someone had stabbed her through the heart.
Her poor, stupid, still hopeful heart that for one thrilling, heady moment had waited for Lambis to talk of love.
Amelie swallowed. Lambis had given his heart to his wife, Delia, and that was the end of it. It was Amelie’s luck to fall head over heels for a one-woman man. A man who was strong, honest, loyal and caring, who was wonderful with Seb and made Amelie feel...
She blinked and shook her head. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.
How she wanted to say yes. She actually had to bite her tongue to stop the words leaping out. Especially when she saw what this cost Lambis. His hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists and there was a repressed energy about him that she guessed came from the effort to stand there and make the offer he thought she wanted.