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

“What then?

She hesitated a split second, then looked right up into his eyes. “For courage.”

Demetrios didn’t like the sound of that. He gave her a short, hard look, grunted what he hoped was a sort of “that’s nice, now go away” sound. Then he did brush past her, tossing his duffel bag onto the deck and jumping on after it.

He heard her feet land on the deck barely a second after his. He spun around and confronted her squarely, stopping her in her tracks. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Telling you what happened.”

He scowled at her. He supposed it was useless telling her he didn’t want to know what happened. He folded his arms across his chest and leaned back against the rail. “So tell me.”

“I…talked to Gerard last night. After the party. I told him I couldn’t marry him.”

Demetrios stared at her, aghast. Of course he’d seen her turmoil. But that didn’t mean she needed to burn her bridges!

“Why?” he demanded harshly, suspiciously.

At his tone, her eyes widened. “You know why! Because I don’t love him. Because he doesn’t love me.”

“So? You knew that last week. Hell, you probably knew it last year! Didn’t stop you then.”

“I know, but—”

But Demetrios didn’t want to hear. He spun away, grabbing his duffel and tossing it into the cockpit. Then he straightened and kneaded tight muscles at the back of his neck, thinking furiously. Finally he turned to nail her with a glare.

“This doesn’t have anything to do with me,” he told her as flatly and uncompromisingly as possible.

“You gave me the courage.”

Not what he wanted to hear. He said a rude word. “Don’t be stupid.”

“You told me not to regret my life.”

“I didn’t expect you to turn it upside down!”

“Maybe I’m turning it right side up,” she suggested.

He raked fingers through his hair. He supposed he had said some damn stupid thing like that. Giving her the benefit of his own regrettable experience, no doubt. And she, foolishly, interpreted it as him having some common sense.

“So everyone left and you just walked up to him and said, ‘Oh, by the way, Gerry, I can’t marry you’?”

She looked taken aback at his tone, not understanding what the problem was. Of course she didn’t understand—because the problem was his, not hers.

“I wasn’t quite that blunt,” she said at last. “It just…happened.” She gave him a sort of sad reflective smile. “He’d said he wanted to discuss things between us—about the wedding. He wanted to set a date—a specific time. And—” she shook her head helplessly “—I couldn’t do it.”

He stared at her for a long moment. Then he said again, “Not because of me.”

A tiny line appeared between her brows for a moment. And then she seemed to realize what he was getting at. “You mean, did I suddenly realize I’d rather have you?” She laughed. “I’m not that presumptuous.”

“Good,” he said gruffly, embarrassed at having made the leap at the same time he was relieved it had been in error.

“Well, good for you,” he said finally, at length. What was he supposed to say? He gave her a quick approving nod, then climbed down into the cockpit, unlocked the door to the companionway and kicked his duffel down into the cabin.

“It is good,” she said, her voice brighter now. “It was the right thing to do.” Behind him Demetrios heard her take an expansive breath. “In fact, it feels wonderful.”

He grunted. He supposed it must. Like dodging a bullet. The way he’d feel if he’d never married Lissa. He glanced up at her. “Congratulations.”

She grinned. “Thank you.”

He cocked his head, considering how simple it had been. Maybe too simple? “And Gerard was okay with your breaking it off?”

“Well, not exactly,” she admitted. She shoved a tendril of hair that had escaped her ponytail away from her ear. “He said all brides have jitters. That I should think things over. Take some time. Get to know my own mind.” She snorted—a ladylike snort. “I do know my own mind.”

Did she? Demetrios doubted it. She’d agreed to marry Gerard, hadn’t she? She must have thought it was a good idea at one point. And Gerard obviously expected her to come to her senses.

“And your father?” Demetrios demanded. “What did he say?” When she didn’t answer at once, he narrowed his gaze. “You did tell him?”

Anny tossed her ponytail. “I sent him an e-mail.”

Demetrios gaped. “You sent your father—the king—an e-mail?”

She shrugged, then squared her shoulders and lifted her chin defiantly. “He might be everyone else’s king, but he’s my father. And I didn’t want to talk to him.”

“I’ll bet you didn’t.”

“He’ll understand. He loves me.”

No doubt he did. But he was also king of a country. A man who was used to ruling, commanding, telling everyone—especially his daughter—what to do. And he had told her to marry Gerard.

“He’ll get used to it.” But Demetrios thought Anny’s words were more to convince herself, not him. “It will just take a little time. He might be…upset…at first, but—” another shrug “—that’s why I’m leaving.”

He looked up at her. “What do you mean, leaving?”

Anny turned and hopped back down onto the deck, and for the first time Demetrios noticed the backpack and the suitcase sitting on the far side of the dock.

As he watched, she shouldered the pack, then picked up the suitcase. “I’m going away for a while.”

He came to rest his elbows on the back of the cockpit and stare at her. “You’re leaving Cannes?”

She nodded grimly. “Papa will be on my doorstep as soon as he gets the e-mail, finds his pilot, and fuels the jet. I don’t intend to be here when he comes.” She shrugged. “He will need time to come to terms. So I’m off. I just—” she smiled at him “—didn’t want to leave without telling you, saying thank you.”

Frankly, he thought she was carrying the etiquette a bit too far. And You’re welcome didn’t seem much of an answer. Whatever advice he’d given her had been based on his messed-up marriage and might have nothing to do with hers. What the hell had he thought he was doing?

“Maybe you should give it some time,” he said now. “Don’t be too hasty. Think for a while, like Gerard said. Then decide.”

She stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “I’m not being hasty. And I have thought! We’ve been engaged three years. First I wanted to finish grad school. Then I wanted to finish my dissertation. ” She paused, then met his gaze squarely. “I did decide, Demetrios. I think I decided—in my gut—a long time ago, which is why I kept putting it off. You’re just the one who gave me the courage to say it.”

They stared at each other until finally, abruptly, Anny stepped back and gave him a small salute. She smiled. “‘Bye, Demetrios. Thanks for the courage.” The smile broadened. “And the memories.”