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

But she didn’t miss the sight of Demetrios standing alone on the deck of the launch looking back at the yacht, either.

As soon as she could, she made her excuses and slipped away to stand in the bow of the royal yacht to catch a last glimpse of the launch as it grew smaller and smaller and finally merged with the lights of the harbor, and he was gone.

They were ships that passed in the night, she told herself. One night.

“Adriana!” Gerard’s voice called to her once more.

She swallowed, then called, “Je viens. I’m coming.”

She heard Demetrios’s words echo in her mind. Don’t regret your life, princess.

She prayed desperately that she wouldn’t.

CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_806c2b36-640c-520c-84a3-4d7d8ab98a0c)

DEMETRIOS WAS up at dawn.

He wanted an early start. He hadn’t slept well. Not true. He hadn’t slept at all. He’d gone to bed determined not to spare a thought for Her Royal Highness Princess Adriana.

And he couldn’t get her out of his mind.

Of all the irritating demanding things that he’d anticipated having to cope with during these past two weeks in Cannes, dealing with a princess—or any woman at all, for that matter—had never made the list.

After Lissa, he couldn’t imagine one breaching his defenses.

He’d allowed himself the one night with Anny because it had been clearly one night. No strings. No obligations. No relationship.

It still wasn’t, he tried to tell himself. But until last night he’d managed to convince himself that she’d known what she was doing.

Now he didn’t believe it for a minute. And he couldn’t get her out of his head!

Fine, he’d get an early start. The sooner he set sail, the sooner he’d put Cannes—and Her Royal Highness—behind him.

He flung the last of his clothes into his bag and checked out of the small hotel where he’d spent the past two weeks. Then, hefting his duffel bag, he headed for the harbor. The morning was still and quiet, almost soundless so far. Few cars moved through the streets. A lone cyclist rode past him.

When he crossed La Croisette, there was a bit of traffic, a few pedestrians walked briskly on morning constitutionals, a couple of joggers ran by and he saw a man walking a dog. Cannes getting back to normal.

Demetrios wanted to get back to normal, too. He quickened his pace, eager to board the boat and be at sea at last.

Near the Palais du Festival, work crews were beginning to gather to take down the hospitality tents. He skirted them, heading for the dock where Theo had left his sailboat.

It was a magnificent boat—a bit over forty feet, sleek and trim, with two small cabin spaces fore and aft, and a main cabin that could sleep an extra kid or two if required. It was fast and fun and yet it could still accommodate Theo’s new lifestyle as a married man with kids. He and Martha had two now—Edward, who was five, and Caroline, not quite three.

Demetrios had always figured himself for the family man, while Theo would always be the family’s nautical equivalent of the Lone Ranger. That wasn’t the way it had turned out.

“Lucky you,” Demetrios had said, feeling a small stab of envy at Theo’s life.

“Yeah.” Theo hadn’t misunderstood. “I hate taking the time to sail to Santorini with Martha and the kids there already. From here by myself it’ll take me almost two weeks.”

“Tell them to come here. Make a holiday of it.”

Theo shook his head. “Caro’s getting over croup. Martha worries. She’s got commissions to work on. And Eddie gets seasick.”

“Your son gets seasick?” Demetrios’s mind boggled.

“He’ll grow out of it. But we hate seeing him miserable. It isn’t fun. And you know how it can blow this time of year.”

They both had experienced their share of gale-force winds in the Mediterranean during frequent visits to Greece to see their mother’s parents when they were children. “It’s worse other times,” he said truthfully.

Theo shrugged. “Fine. You do it.”

Demetrios had thought he was joking.

“Never been more serious in my life. You want to sail her to Santorini after the festival, she’s all yours.”

Demetrios hadn’t hesitated. “You bet.”

The last time he’d sailed any great distance, it had been not long after his wedding. He’d chartered a sailboat so he and Lissa could sail from Los Angeles to Cabo.

“It’ll be fantastic,” he’d promised Lissa.

It had been a disaster—one of many in their short marriage.

But this trip wouldn’t be. It wouldn’t be a piece of cake to do it solo, but he had plenty of experience and, after Cannes, a real desire to be on his own. It was the carrot he’d held out for himself for the past two weeks, every time the festival threatened to drive him crazy.

Now he reached the dock and could spot Theo’s boat tied up in a slip at the far end. A couple of men from the crew of one of the nearer yachts were already making ready to sail. They gave him a wave as he passed. He waved back, but kept moving, The red-orange rays of sunrise were turning the gleaming hulls bright pink against still cerulean water. It looked like a painting.

Until someone stood up and moved away from where they had been sitting on the stern of the boat.

Demetrios stopped dead, disbelieving his eyes. He frowned, gave his head a shake, then came closer to be sure.

And she—he could tell it was a female, could even tell which female—came toward him, too. Even though she looked totally different.

Gone was the midnight blue dress that glittered like starlight when she moved. Gone were the diamond necklace and dangling diamond earrings. Gone was the sophisticated upswept hairstyle with its few escaping tendrils. There wasn’t a hint of Princess Adriana in evidence anywhere.

Nor was there a hint of the classy competent professional woman he’d met that day at the Carlton. No blazer, no linen skirt, no casual dress shoes.

This Anny was wearing jeans and running shoes, a light-colored T-shirt with a sweatshirt knotted around her hips. And her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Tendrils still escaped, but they made her look about fifteen.

Hell’s bells, he thought. All the roles she played, she could give Lissa a run for her money!

“What are you doing here?” He was equal parts suspicion and annoyance. He was tempted to just brush right past.

“I came to say thank you.”

His gaze narrowed. “For what? Sleeping with you? My pleasure.” He made sure it didn’t sound like it. “But don’t come around thinking it’s going to happen again.”

“I know that,” she said, with as much impatience in her voice as he had in his. “I didn’t come for that.”