The Greek's Forbidden Princess

Would Lambis really sell them out to the press? She didn’t want to believe it. Once she’d thought she knew him well enough to trust him with her life. But this was Seb’s life in question.

‘Answer the question, please.’

Lambis folded his arms across that massive chest, like some disapproving god of old passing judgement. It wouldn’t surprise her if he suddenly pitched a thunderbolt at her.

‘You’ve had my answer.’

Behind her Anna asked a question and Lambis responded, his tone so brusque and dismissive Seb edged up against Amelie, his teddy squeezed to his chest. Amelie put her hand on his shoulder.

It was the reminder she needed. It didn’t matter that she’d once thought Lambis Evangelos had a softer side, or that Irini, her sister-in-law, had said he was the best man alive, apart from her dear Michel. Nor did it matter that he had a reputation for integrity.

Amelie couldn’t take risks with her nephew. Despite what she’d threatened outside, Seb needed quiet, not paparazzi camped on the doorstep.

She’d thought they’d be safe with Lambis. He was the CEO of the world’s most successful international security firm. His private premises would be more secure, she suspected, even than the St Gallan royal palace. But the consequences if she and Seb had to run the gauntlet of the press whenever they stirred weren’t to be borne.

Amelie stroked her nephew’s soft hair, bending down as she spoke. ‘I’m sorry, mon lapin. I made a mistake coming—’

‘Don’t be absurd! You’re not up to driving back down the mountain tonight.’ The words were soft but the growl in that bass baritone was unmistakable.

Seb flinched and pressed his face into Amelie’s skirt, his arms wrapping round her thighs.

She stood unmoving, shocked by his first overt show of emotion in weeks. Something broke inside her as pity and protectiveness vied with a tiny pulse of hope. Heart welling, Amelie gathered him in. ‘It’s all right, mon lapin. Truly. Everything’s going to be fine.’

‘Sébastien?’ Lambis hunkered in front of the boy but didn’t touch. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m not angry, truly. You and your aunt are welcome here.’

Liar. He was furious. But Amelie had no sympathy to spare for the man staring at the little boy with all the wariness of someone facing a man-eating beast.

If the situation weren’t so dire she’d almost laugh. As if big, bad Lambis Evangelos, the man who organised protection for the world’s most eminent VIPs in some of the most dangerous places in the world, was scared of a child.

‘Seb?’ Amelie knelt and wrapped him close, inhaling the fresh scents of clean little boy and melted snow. ‘Don’t be afraid, darling. Everything will be all right. Lambis won’t hurt us. In fact—’ she lifted her head and glared at the man who hadn’t taken his eyes off Seb ‘—he’s sworn to protect you. Did you know that?’

Of course Seb said nothing and Amelie snuggled him tighter, rubbing her hands up and down his thin back.

‘Soon we’re going to have something to eat and then I think it will be time for Monsieur Bernhard—’

‘Monsieur Bernhard?’ Lambis’s eyes locked on hers, questioning. She didn’t bother to respond. If he couldn’t work out that Bernhard was a teddy bear, tough.

‘I think he’s getting sleepy. It’s almost his bedtime. Come on, mon lapin, come with Aunt Lili.’

She lifted him in her arms and rose, ignoring Lambis when he made to take Seb.

Did he think she wasn’t capable of caring for her nephew? Who did he think had been there through the long nights and lonely days since Michel and Irini died?

Anger threaded the aching grief inside her. Grief for her darling nephew, orphaned so young, and grief for herself.

She saw Lambis move deliberately to block the front door. The obstinate set of his jaw told her it would take a bulldozer to move him.

He didn’t want them here. Now he’d decided they couldn’t go. She wished he’d make up his mind!

Amelie would walk on hot coals if it would bring back the little boy she adored from the well of shock that had swallowed him. But she was fast running out of strength. Her head was reeling and there was a throb behind her eyes as she fought to stand tall.

Then she felt a touch on her elbow. It was the housekeeper, Anna, her expression concerned. Gently she raised her hand and stroked Seb’s golden hair as he pressed his face into Amelie’s collarbone.

‘Ela. Parakalo, ela.’ Come, please come. That much Greek Amelie understood.

She wavered for barely a second. Pride held no place here. She looked at the work-hardened fingers caressing Seb so tenderly and felt the fight drain out of her.

Amelie nodded. ‘Efharisto.’ Thank you.

For good or ill they were staying, at least for tonight.

Whether they’d found the safe haven, and the help they needed, only time would tell.

CHAPTER THREE (#u4661a4f3-8bac-5adc-a446-3bf9d690a0ca)

AMELIE STARED AT the darkness of the swirling night.

She’d got through the last couple of hours like an automaton. At last Seb was tucked up in bed, asleep.

It seemed disloyal to think it—for who could want to see a child in pain?—but surely the way he’d turned to her when they’d arrived, and again when he’d clung to her as she read to him, signified a change? Some lessening of the dreadful nothingness that gripped him?

Rubbing her forehead with weary fingers, Amelie tried to order her fogged thoughts.

She should sleep. She’d eaten the delicious soup and fresh bread Anna had provided, and taken a hot shower in the luxurious bathroom, feeling chilled bones warm.

But she was wired. There was too much to sort out.

Which meant facing Lambis Evangelos.

Sighing, she turned to her suitcase. She wanted to tug on a comfy sleep shirt and pretend she didn’t have to face the big, bad wolf tonight. But sleep would elude her till she did.

Ten minutes later, in trousers and a silky shirt of deep green that matched her eyes and boosted her flagging confidence, she checked that her subtle makeup hid the shadows of fatigue. With a few deft movements she twisted her long hair into a knot. Her earrings were simple pearl studs and she added a fine gold pendant of antique pearls, the only piece of jewellery her mother had given her.

Amelie closed her hand around the pendant, remembering her mother hugging her close, against all royal decorum, and whispering that now Amelie was twelve she was old enough to wear jewellery.

It was a talisman she wore when times got tough. Like when her mother died just months after that twelfth birthday.

Her mother had had the sweetest smile. A smile Michel and his son Seb had inherited. For a moment the ancient image wavered, replaced by Michel’s face, the glint in his eyes as he showed off his new speedboat, the charming smile as he invited Irini aboard for a quick spin.

Amelie slammed a steel door on the memory. She snapped open her eyes and deliberately set about cataloguing the beautiful room she’d been given. There was a chance, a slim one, that the place might give a clue to what made Lambis tick, for this was his retreat from the world.

Turning, she saw plain white walls, for the most part bare. Except for a tiny jewel of an icon that glowed richly on the far wall. Amelie wasn’t an expert but she recognised it was an original and very, very beautiful. Despite the stiff style of the traditional painting, the serenity and love on Mary’s face as she looked down at her baby stole Amelie’s breath. Here was love and a joy that made something swell hard in Amelie’s chest.

Swiftly she turned away, feeling raw, for she responded to the painting at a visceral level. It tugged at her own secret yearning.

But the important issue was why Lambis secreted this gorgeous piece in a guest room. Why not have it in his room where he’d see it often?

Amelie prowled the space, surveying the high timber ceiling with its ancient beams, the cosiness of intricately woven local rugs on the polished floor and a particularly exquisite one on another wall.