Innocent Surrender: The Virgin's Proposition / The Virgin and His Majesty / Untouched Until Marriage

“I’m focusing,” he insisted.

But only, it seemed, on Anny. He couldn’t seem to make sense of anything beyond her soft voice somewhere behind him, followed by the melodious sound of her laughter. Then he heard Gerard, too, chiming in, speaking rapidly in French to whoever they were talking to, and then Anny switched to French as well. Their conversation went too quickly for him to have any idea what they were saying.

She sounded happy, though. Was she happy? What about her loveless marriage?

“But if I drowned, I couldn’t be in your film then, could I?” Mona was saying.

He stared at her blankly.

She laughed, again. “Never mind, dear.” She gave him air kisses and began to move away. “Another time. I think I’ll find another drink.”

“I’ll get you a drink,” he said hastily.

“No, dear boy. I’m fine. You stay here and entertain royalty.” And giving his cheek one more pat, she swept away.

He turned to protest again—and came face-to-face with Anny.

Her wide eyes were searching his face. Her smile, so polished earlier, looked slightly more strained now. “Demetrios.”

He drew himself up straight. “Your Highness,” he said stiffly.

“Anny,” she corrected, her voice soft, the way it had been in bed.

He ground his teeth. “I don’t think so.” His voice was, he hoped, pure steel. He braced his back and elbows against the railing, and glared down at her.

“Anny,” she insisted. “It’s who I am.”

“Certainly not all of who you are,” he reminded her sharply. “You could have told me.” He looked around for Gerard, expecting him to appear at her side. But her prince had moved away and on the other side of the deck, deep in conversation with Rollo and another studio executive Demetrios knew.

“I could have,” she admitted. “I didn’t want to. Why should I?” Her tone was indifferent, as if it could make her idiocy appear perfectly reasonable.

“Because I might have liked to know?” he snapped.

No one was close to them. The sextet had begun to play. A clarinet was warbling. Thank God, because this wasn’t a conversation anyone should be overhearing.

“I asked you to tell me what I should know about you,” he reminded her.

“You didn’t need to know that.”

“You asked me to sleep with you!”

Color flared in her cheeks. She glanced around quickly as if fearing people would hear.

A corner of his mouth twisted. “Something else you don’t want anyone to know? Afraid your elderly widower will learn what you were up to?”

“My what?” She looked confused.

“Your fiancé,” he bit out. “The man who is oh-so old and decrepit and who doesn’t love you.”

“I never said he was elderly or decrepit. Gerard is twenty-one years older than I am,” she said through her teeth. “Which may not seem like much to you, but it is a different generation.”

He grunted, acknowledging that. But it didn’t explain the rest. “So why are you marrying him? Daddy forcing you? Are you making a governmental alliance?” He spat the words.

“Something like that.”

He snorted. “Give me a break. This is the twenty-first century!”

“It can still happen,” she maintained.

“You’re saying your old man sold you off to the highest bidder?”

“Of course not! It was simply…arranged. It’s good for both countries.”

“Countries? That’s what matters? Not people?”

She lifted her chin. “Gerard is a fine man.”

“Whom you betrayed by sleeping with me,” he pointed out sardonically.

She opened her mouth as if she would deny it, but then she closed it again, her lips pressing into a thin line. The color was high in her cheeks. She looked indignant, furious, and incredibly beautiful.

“Obviously I made a mistake,” she said tightly, hugging her arms across her chest. “I was out of line. I never should have suggested anything of the sort. It was…” She stopped, her voice not so much trailing off as dropping abruptly.

“What was it?” Demetrios asked her, trying to fathom what was going on in that beautiful head of hers.

She shook it. “Nothing. Never mind. Forget it.”

“Will you?” he asked her.

“Yes.” The word came out quickly. Then her gaze dropped. So did her voice. “No.”

At her soft yet stark admission, his own eyes jerked up to search her face, to try to understand her. Once he’d caught on to Lissa’s duplicitous behavior, he began to have an inkling what she was up to, though God knew he’d had no idea how far she would go.

But Anny didn’t sound like she was lying now. Not this time.

“Did it solve anything?” he pressed her.

She didn’t answer. Finally, when he thought she wasn’t going to reply at all, she shrugged. “I don’t know.” She wasn’t looking at him now. She’d come to stand next to the railing, too, and now stared across the water toward the lights of Cannes. Her shoulders were slumped.

Demetrios was still angry, though whether he was more annoyed at her or at himself, he couldn’t have said. After Lissa, he damned well should have known better. And what the hell was Anny doing, letting herself be a pawn?

It was none of his business, he reminded himself. He should turn and walk away. But his feet didn’t take the hint. They stayed right where they were. Behind them the sextet had segued into something lilting and jazzy.

Anny didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze never wavered from the shore.

“Fascinating, is it?” he demanded when she still didn’t look at him.

“It’s beautiful,” she replied simply.