The Greek's Forbidden Princess Read online

  Amelie dived for the snow, using two hands to make a massive snowball. ‘You may be quick, Evangelos, but you’re a much bigger target.’ This time her aim was off, catching him on the elbow as he moved, but the joy of a hit urged her on. Ignoring the pelt of snow on her shoulders and chest, she took her time with the next, catching him on the neck as he twisted away.

  * * *

  The woman was utterly glorious.

  Gone was the pale, serious Princess who’d twisted his conscience and his belly in knots last night. Instead Amelie glowed. From her bright blonde hair, escaping in loose tendrils around her face, to her incandescent smile and the vivid green of her eyes. Even with snow dripping down one cheek and wetting her hair, she was more beautiful, more vibrant than anyone he’d ever seen.

  Lambis wanted to reach out and capture the essence of her.

  He wanted to turn his back and run from her.

  And keep running.

  Because no good could come from this.

  Damn. She turned him inside out! Every time he pushed her away she sneaked under his guard. And she didn’t have a clue she did it. She brimmed with a joy that was artless and contagious. He could almost feel his lips twitch in response and—

  Ice exploded on his face. Lambis brushed it off and shook his head, shaking snow crystals from his hair. That was when he noticed Sébastien, tucked up against the corner of the house, watching. His features were as blank and unsmiling as before. But Lambis saw his eyes looked different...engaged.

  Memory stirred, of that same little boy skipping along beside him in St Galla, chattering about everything and nothing, asking so many questions his head spun, laughing at some absurd rhyming game he’d made up.

  Heat stabbed. Lambis had tried in the past to avoid Sébastien but it hadn’t worked. In the end he’d almost become accustomed to having the kid as his shadow. Now, seeing that glimmer of animation in his eyes brought memories flooding. Memories he’d repressed.

  Amelie caught him staring and turned too. She stilled then swallowed hard, her gaze on her nephew. Yet she didn’t go to the boy. Instead she quickly turned back, scooping up more snow as if she hadn’t noticed the change in Sébastien. But she had. It was there in her too tight mouth and the sudden, rapid blink of her eyes.

  She was scared, he realised. Distress clawed his vitals. Scared that by going to Sébastien, by making a fuss, the child would retreat again into complete blankness.

  That was the moment, as her next missile hit him full on the chest, Lambis decided, against every instinct for self-preservation, he’d travel with them to the refuge he’d organised.

  He raised both hands in surrender. ‘Enough. We need to get dry and you two need to eat. You’ve got a long trip.’

  Immediately Amelie stilled. Though she kept her chin up and her shoulders straight, he sensed strain behind her calm façade. Because he’d already glimpsed her pain?

  Lambis discovered he preferred her defiance, even the contempt she’d shown last night, than this careful nothingness that uncannily resembled her nephew’s expression.

  ‘I hope you like flying, Sébastien.’ It was the first time he’d addressed the child directly since they’d arrived, but it was easier now than addressing his aunt. ‘I’m taking you in a helicopter and the view from up there is terrific. You can see all the villages and the winding mountain roads. It’s almost like looking at a map.’

  ‘You’re taking us?’ Amelie’s brow wrinkled.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’m a qualified pilot. It’s the fastest option, and the least public.’ He watched her digest that. ‘I’ll have someone return your hire car.’

  If he’d expected thanks he’d have been disappointed. Amelie merely nodded and took Sébastien’s hand, drawing him towards the house.

  Lambis took his time following. His plan had been to have someone else escort them to his island villa in the Ionian Sea to the west of the mainland. It was a simple arrangement and it had the beauty of removing his unwanted guests as soon as possible.

  Yet he’d changed his plans. All because of the jagged hurt when he saw Irini’s little boy bereft and Amelie so heartbreakingly stoic.

  Which was inexplicable since Lambis no longer had a heart to break.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  AMELIE HAD SEEN a lot of beautiful things. From the royal heirloom jewellery she’d inherited, to the view from the palace of St Galla across the Mediterranean. From ballrooms and exquisite finery to the joy on her sister-in-law Irini’s face the day Seb was born.

  Yet she caught her breath as Lambis brought the helicopter towards a small island ringed by azure and turquoise water. Pale cliffs cupped sheltered, secret coves and elsewhere the rocky, wooded slopes eased down to beaches so white they could have been spun from sugar.

  Winter was a lifetime away from this place, basking in bright sunlight. In the distance she spied a small village curved around a tiny natural harbour, but her attention focused on the house that stood alone on this side of the island. A rambling house that seemed to grow from the rocks and flow down the hill towards its private, pristine beach.

  ‘Your place?’ she asked through the microphone on her headset. How else could he arrange so quickly a hideaway for them, safe from the prying press?

  ‘Yes.’ He paused then added, ‘It’s only just finished.’

  Amelie swung round to watch Lambis as he brought the chopper down onto a helipad tucked behind the house. It was a tiny thing but the added information about the house being new was unnecessary. Last night, when they’d arrived at his mountain home, there had been no unnecessary words from him.

  Did this signify a softening? Like the way he’d been in the snow this morning? Or was she seeking signs of a thaw because she so desperately wanted them?

  She turned back to Seb. ‘Do you see the pretty colour of the water and the white beaches? It’s probably still warm enough to swim here.’

  ‘It is.’ Again that bass baritone filled her ears. ‘The snow in the mountains was unseasonably early. Winter won’t reach here for months.’

  Amelie smiled at Seb, helping him with his seat belt, trying to still the hope clamouring inside. Lambis had decided to help Seb recover after all. She couldn’t stop the optimistic quickening of her heart.

  ‘The staff here will look after you both. Anything you want, just ask them.’ He didn’t even look at her, instead concentrating on the control panel as the rotors slowed. ‘The place is yours for as long as you need it and there will be no press intrusion.’

  What thanks she might have offered dried and crumbled in her throat. So, they were to be left with the staff, not their host. Amelie firmed her mouth and helped Seb out of his headphones, hanging them up then taking hers off. Of course she was grateful Lambis was providing a refuge but she’d actually believed he’d changed his mind.

  Appalling how much it hurt to realise she’d been wrong. How many more times would she let this man hurt her?

  The door opened and Lambis was there already, holding it open, eager for them to go. She lifted Seb out, not trusting herself to look at Lambis. But his tall, intimidating presence made every sense prickle. Her reaction was pure disapproval, like a spitting cat’s fur standing on end. It could not be sexual awareness. That would be the ultimate self-betrayal.

  A woman on the edge of the helipad smiled and approached, introducing herself as the housekeeper, welcoming them.

  It was so civilised, so easy. Lambis would remove them from his presence with as little fuss as if he’d ordered a meal.

  Fury, hurt, grief, and all the despair she’d battled for so long rose like a column of fire, filling her till Amelie felt as if she were about to explode.

  She smiled at the housekeeper, though it hurt her frozen facial muscles, and asked her to take Seb ahead while she, Amelie, had a quick word with Lambis. The fact Seb went with the woman, without hesitation or a backward look, simply compounded her incendiary emotions.

  Once he’d have either skipped ahead, eage
r to explore, or, if tired, hung back, clutching her hand. Every day the change in him tore at her heart, and her sense of helplessness grew.

  She watched them head to the house, all the while aware of Lambis standing like an enormous, encompassing shadow behind her. She never needed to see him to know where he was. Right from the first time he’d come to St Galla for Michel and Irini’s wedding, Amelie had been able to pinpoint his location with unerring accuracy. There was a little buzz of awareness whenever he was around, a preternatural sense that never failed.

  How shaming that even after he’d rejected her she was still attuned to him!

  She swung round. He was too close. She had to lift her head to meet his eyes.

  ‘What sort of man are you?’

  His brows drew together in a frown, yet even that didn’t detract from the powerful attractiveness of those bold features. Amelie’s heart rapped hard and fast and she knew it was only partly from anger.

  * * *

  Her green eyes sparked and Lambis felt an answering flare deep in his belly. The Amelie he’d known was charming, attractive, delightful, but never confrontational. Not till she’d arrived at his Greek home. Perversely, he found her vibrancy, the raw energy of her emotions, arousing.

  ‘Have you no heart?’ Her finger jammed into his breastbone, right where his heart pumped too hard, too fast. He tried to tell himself it was because no one else would dare speak to him like this, but he knew it was from the effort of not sweeping her into his arms and kissing her into silence.

  It had been there inside him ever since she’d turned up on his doorstep—the clawing hunger that grew more voracious each time they met. That sense he could cheerfully lose himself in this woman and never surface again.

  It was outrageous and horrifying, for she could never be for him. He’d taken pains to sever his links with her.

  Yet he’d spent untold nights sleepless, wondering how Amelie’s lips tasted. How it would feel to meld his body with hers. Seeing her in the snow this morning, so outwardly cheerful, yet, he sensed, so close to the brink of emotional collapse, had punched a hole through the wall he’d built around himself. A hole he couldn’t mend, no matter how often he reminded himself he was no saviour, either for the boy or her.

  ‘Did you hear me?’ She looked outraged and delectable.

  ‘I heard, Princess.’ He captured that jabbing hand, encircling it with his, drawing it down to their side. She was warm and smooth, her flesh soft against his calluses. Even that simple touch seemed erotically charged. At least to him.

  Clearly she didn’t notice.

  ‘And you have nothing to say?’ Indignation coloured her tone. ‘You really are some piece of work.’ She shook her head. ‘To think Irini loved you. She said you were the brother she’d never had. She said she’d trust you with her life.’

  A great tremor of pain started somewhere in Lambis’s belly and rose, spreading everywhere. Irini had trusted him and he’d let her down.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Amelie’s words were machine gun fire, aimed at his heart. ‘You don’t like to be reminded that Irini would expect you to do more for Seb than fob him off?’

  ‘I’m not fobbing him off.’ The words ground from him. Hadn’t he brought them here? Wasn’t he doing his best to protect them?

  ‘You’re deserting him. Because you can’t be bothered to give up your precious time.’ The words peppered him. ‘Or...’ she tilted her head to survey him ‘...because you’re afraid.’

  Lambis stiffened, stunned. How did she know? He hadn’t even admitted it to himself. But she was right, he realised in shock. He was scared at a bone-deep level he couldn’t explain to anyone, especially this bright, brave woman who stared at him with such contempt.

  ‘I can’t imagine what your problem is, Lambis. I don’t want to know. But you’re not the man I thought. Or the man Irini believed you. I don’t know how you can live with yourself.’

  Lambis didn’t respond as the missile words slammed into him. They weren’t anything he hadn’t told himself. Yet, hearing them from Amelie, he felt himself dredge a new low.

  But it was nothing to the ragged, raw pain that seared him when he saw her eyes turn over-bright with unshed tears.

  ‘Don’t, Amelie!’ With one urgent movement he tugged her to him so hard he heard the soft huff of her breath as she landed on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, pinioning her so she couldn’t move, pressing her face into the place where his heart thudded like an out of control piston.

  His breath sawed through cramped lungs. The whole of him hurt, except where he touched Amelie. For they fitted together perfectly, her head tucked under his chin, her feminine softness balm to his rigid body. It was all he could do not to stroke her, soften his hold and explore that lithe body.

  Did she feel it too? The rising need? She didn’t struggle to pull back.

  Who was he kidding? She despised him. Whatever feelings she’d once had for him were dead and buried, and who could blame her?

  How he’d had the willpower three years ago to resist her overtures and draw back from her he didn’t know. But then he’d never held her in his arms, had he? He’d had that much honour at least, even though the temptation to hold her, to have her, had been almost impossible to resist.

  Just as the need to lift her chin now and taste her lips was a compulsion he needed all his strength to fight.

  With a mighty effort he lifted one hand, intending to let her go. Instead he watched his fingers stroke the wheaten ripeness of her hair. His breath shuddered at how soft it was, so at odds with the severely simple way she’d styled it high on her head.

  Lambis drew in a deep breath that brought with it the scent of gardenias. He bent his head, burying his face in her hair. It was like diving into silken sunshine richly perfumed with flowers. For a second longer he stood, indulging the craving he’d managed to withstand for so long.

  Then he dropped his hands and stepped back.

  Amelie’s eyes were enormous, the irises wide as if she’d just woken. Her trembling fury was gone. Instead she looked stunned, just as he felt. But of course that was his imagination working overtime. Amelie hated him. She no longer cared for him. He should be glad. He didn’t want her to care, did he? He’d gone to great lengths to ensure she didn’t.

  ‘You’re wrong, Amelie. I’m not the one Sébastien needs. I can’t help him talk again.’ He wished he could. It would be some small salve to his conscience. ‘But I’ll stay.’ For her sake. Because it scared him to see this poised, generous woman distraught.

  ‘You’ll stay?’ Her whisper skated across his senses. Even now, seeing her distressed, he had to fight his baser male instinct to haul her in and kiss her into oblivion. Or preferably into his bed.

  Lambis raked a hand through his hair. This was a mistake; he knew it with every fibre of his being. With the sixth sense he’d honed in years of protection work. But he couldn’t walk away.

  ‘I’ll stay. But don’t expect a miracle. The boy’s scared of me, if anything.’ The way Sébastien had cringed last night when Lambis had growled his displeasure haunted his conscience. ‘And I have a business to run. I’ll be in my office most of the time.’

  But Amelie was nodding, her mouth turning up into a tentative smile of hope that caught him in the chest.

  ‘Thank you, Lambis. I...’ She shook her head as if speaking was too hard and again he felt that terrible plummeting sensation. She wasn’t listening. She was building hopes that were doomed to be smashed. ‘This means so much.’

  He couldn’t bear the gratitude in her voice or the hope in her eyes. He turned towards the house. ‘Just put it down to my one act of generosity for the decade.’

  * * *

  Next morning the sun shone bright and clear, sparkling off the vast infinity pool that encircled the front of the house, and the turquoise waters of the sea beyond.

  Amelie felt the heat on her arms as she stood, enraptured. In St Galla the palace sat high on its headland, lo
oking across gardens and forest to its private cove. She’d always loved the view. But this was something else. They were right down near the shore, as if the house were part of the landscape itself.

  Had Lambis designed it? She couldn’t link the airy, welcoming spaces she’d seen, all capturing exquisite views, with the brooding, closed off man he’d become. Only the attention to detail, the insistence on quality in everything, gelled with the man she’d once believed she knew.

  She lifted her head to the sun, shutting her eyes as she inhaled the scent of sea and wild herbs. The only time she’d been to Greece before had been on an official visit to Athens with her father. There’d been banquets and photo opportunities and the usual endless meet and greets. The closest she’d come to experiencing the magic of Greece had been attending an evening outdoor play performed in an ancient theatre in the shadow of the Acropolis.

  But this place had a magic of its own. It was impossible to stop the bubble of hope and optimism welling inside.

  Which gave her the confidence she needed to beard Lambis in his den. He’d been absent last night, excusing himself on the grounds of outstanding work. She’d seen Seb to bed early then dined alone in a charming outdoor alcove overlooking the sea and the pool.

  She hadn’t missed Lambis, not one scrap! But now she found herself reluctant to face him. Stupid to feel self-conscious because she’d told him what she thought of him yesterday, calling him on his selfishness and his obligations. He’d deserved every word.

  Yet a lifetime of pouring oil on troubled waters, being gracious and diplomatic and always shutting her feelings away, had left their mark. That was why she felt...edgy at the idea of meeting him. It wasn’t attraction.

  It had been indignation she’d felt yesterday when he’d hauled her against him. Nothing more.

  Yet through the long, restless night she’d found herself remembering the rich, intriguing scent of him as she’d stood with her nostrils buried in his shirt, her palms against the moulded, hot steel of that powerful torso.