Avoiding Mr Right Page 13

  ‘I’m glad he can help someone,’ muttered Christina, but she was impressed in spite of herself. Aloud she said, ‘OK, I’ll see what I can do. Be in touch.’

  Karl gave her waist a grateful squeeze. ‘Thanks.’

  He watched her onto the boat, then waved and turned back the way he had come. Pausing by the rail, Christina smiled ruefully at his retreating back.

  Then her smile died. For all his interest in the Prince, Karl had not noticed how she’d tensed every time his name had been mentioned. But it was only a matter of time before somebody did, she thought. You couldn’t go around feeling as if you were being launched into mid-air every time someone said a certain name without it showing on your face.

  ‘Damn him,’ she muttered. She was not talking about Karl.

  She hesitated, looking round warily. There were lights on the other side of the boat and a couple of the staterooms were still illuminated but there was no one on this side of the deck. More particularly, no Luc.

  ‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ she said to herself. ‘Are you a woman or a mop for him to wipe the floor with?’

  That was better. Forget the way he made her heart faint with desire. Remember she was an independent woman. Remember she had sworn that she would never, like her poor mother, put her life on hold while she waited for the man of her dreams. Remember he had lied and lied even while he’d urged her to go to bed with him. Unfortunately, along with those salutary recollections came the less welcome one. that she had very nearly gone with him.

  ‘Damn,’ said Christina.

  Someone came round the corner. Christina’s heart lurched up to her throat and fluttered there like a trapped moth. She stopped and drew herself up to her full height.

  But it was not the Prince. As soon as she caught the smell of stale brandy on the air, she knew who it was. Christina stiffened, but she did not let her apprehension show.

  ‘Good evening,’ she said pleasantly.

  ‘Good evening, Captain,’ Demetrius corrected her. He sounded truculent, which was normal. He was also slurring his words, which was not.

  Her apprehension grew.

  ‘Good evening, Captain,’ she replied in a level voice.

  ‘You’re back at last, then.’ He added something slurred and insulting which Christina decided not to understand. In his turn, he decided to be more explicit. ‘Got a man in the hotel, then?’

  She tried to take it lightly. ‘Several of them. And they’re still dancing.’

  He did not think that was funny. ‘What’s wrong with you? Don’t you like men?’

  He leaned forward, peering at her in the semi-dark. The brandy fumes were almost palpable. He did not frighten her but the smell was unpleasant. She took a couple of steps away from him.

  ‘Some of my best friends are men,’ she said neutrally.

  ‘Friends! Pah!’ He made a lurching grab for her which, between the brandy and the distorting effect of the shadows, came nowhere near her. ‘You married?’

  For some reason that made her wince. She did not understand it. Lots of people had asked her that over the last six years. It had never made her wince before.

  But she answered steadily. ‘No.’

  ‘I am.’

  Ah, so that was where he was heading. Here it comes, thought Christina resignedly. My wife doesn’t understand me; I need someone to think I am wonderful. She braced herself.

  But Captain Demetrius was more direct than she gave him credit for.

  ‘I am. Married, I mean. Makes no difference. At sea, weeks apart. I do what I want. Know what I mean?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Christina grimly.

  ‘I told you at start—’

  ‘And I told you when I came on board that I was here to cook. Nothing else.’

  He did not appear to have heard her. He made another grab. She evaded him easily but this time his hand touched her bare arm. She could not repress an exclamation—or her little shiver of distaste. He decided to misinterpret both.

  ‘You be nice to me. We can make a good thing out of this trip.’

  ‘This is as nice as I get,’ Christina said.

  He made his third grab. Christina had been on her own for six years. She knew how to look after herself. Captain Demetrius was strong but he was off balance and fuddled by the drink with which he had been drowning his embarrassing failures. She sidestepped him neatly; twisted out of the reach of his flailing arm and pushed him back hard against the bulkhead.

  ‘Touch me again and I’ll throw you,’ she said evenly. ‘I can you know. I’m on my third judo course.’

  She could hear him breathing hard in the darkness, feel his eyes on her. Malice was as heavy in the air as the brandy fumes. He said nothing. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t feeling anything.

  Christina bit her lip. It had not been a good trip for Captain Demetrius—accident upon accident, then one, public humiliation in front of the employer’s sister and now another, private rejection at the hands of the lowest member of the crew. To a man of his temperament, that would probably be even more shaming. She would have to watch her step with him even more than she had done up to now.

  She was making a resolve to do just that when she found it was too late. He grabbed her in a clumsy but powerful embrace. To her chagrin Christina, the accomplished brown belt, found it impossible to remove herself. He was breathing hard, fumbling with her short, full skirt. Christina felt his bruising grip on her upper thigh and abandoned the principles of a lifetime.

  She put back her head and yelled for help.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHRISTINA’S assailant swore virulently and clamped a hand over her mouth. She bit him. He jumped and his hold loosened involuntarily. She hooked a foot round his ankle and nearly overbalanced him. But for all Demetrius’s brandy-induced swaying he had a perverse ability to stay on his feet. She fought strenuously, her hair flying.

  And then abruptly he let her go. Christina was not expecting it and she half fell to the deck, ending on one knee. Her chest rose and fell agonisingly with the effort to steady her breathing. She did not know what had happened.

  She shook her head to clear it. She looked up.

  Captain Demetrius was backed up against the iron stairway. The expression of dismay on his face was almost comical. His opponent was tall, but slim as a whip. It was not his size which set the burly captain cowering, a shaken Christina thought, but the stark rage which came off him in waves.

  ‘Y-your Highness...I can explain...’ he began thickly.

  Luc cut him off with an abrupt gesture, like a razor slicing through the air. Demetrius flinched.

  ‘Enough.’

  Christina hauled herself to her feet. The captain’s eyes slid round his opponent to her.

  ‘This little tramp was back late,’ he said virtuously. ‘She is no good. No good. It is her fault we collide with the other boat. And when we do she laughs. Laughs.’

  ‘I heard,’ said Luc.

  Christina thought that if she had been the captain the ice in that soft voice would have frozen her to the spot. Demetrius, however, did not notice.

  ‘It is my responsibility to discipline the crew. I am Captain.’

  Saying it seemed to give him confidence. His shoulders straightened. Luc surveyed him with an expression that made Christina quail.

  ‘Not on any boat of mine,’ he said softly.

  The captain stared as if he did not understand.

  ‘I have had enough, by God I have,’ Luc said with sudden harshness. ‘The boat is damaged. The cruise is a shambles. The harbour-master would have prosecuted if Christina hadn’t talked him out of it.’

  He glanced briefly, coldly at Christina. Her presence clearly reminded him of yet another cause of displeasure.

  ‘That galley is lethal. As captain you are, as you have pointed out, responsible. And I do not care for your methods of disciplining female crew members. You will leave tomorrow.’

  Captain Demetrius was clearly trying to overcome the e
ffect of the brandy fumes. He shook his head. ‘I have a contract...’ he challenged.

  ‘You will be paid.’ Luc said. ‘Come to my office at eight. You shall have all the money your contract specifies. And then I want you off this boat by nine tomorrow morning. Is that clear?’

  ‘You can’t do that...’ the captain began to bluster.

  Luc was implacable. ‘I assure you I can.’

  ‘Because of one little tramp?’ He was incredulous.

  Luc hit him.

  The blow finally knocked the captain off his precarious balance. He slid down the wall behind him, an expression of the blankest astonishment on his face. He put the back of his hand to his mouth. His lip was bleeding.

  ‘I’ll sue,’ he said triumphantly.

  Luc was not even breathing heavily. He reached out a long arm, gathered together a fistful of the man’s T-shirt and hauled him onto his feet.

  ‘Understand me, Captain Demetrius. You collect your money and leave tomorrow, or you will be removed.’

  ‘You wouldn’t call the police.’

  ‘Who said anything about the police?’

  Luc’s teeth gleamed white. He was smiling like a jaguar sighting its prey, thought Christina with a shudder.

  ‘So far I haven’t had much of a holiday, Captain Demetrius,’ he said conversationally. ‘Removing you personally from my vicinity might just change that.’

  The captain peered at Luc. Whatever he saw in his face clearly convinced him that the prudent course was to accede.

  ‘I get all my pay?’

  ‘You have my word.’

  The captain shrugged. ‘OK. Your loss.’

  Luc released his shirt. Demetrius shook himself, smoothed his grubby T-shirt and left with as much dignity as he could manage in the circumstances. Luc watched him go.

  ‘Did he hurt you?’ he flung over his shoulder at Christina at last. He did not look at her.

  She was shaken by the ugly little scene.

  ‘No. He—startled me, that’s all.’

  Luc did look at her then. ‘Say terrified and you’d be nearer the mark. I heard you scream. He frightened you, didn’t he?’

  Her dignity was outraged. ‘No. I can take care of myself.’

  Luc reached out and flicked at the torn strap of her dress.

  ‘So I see,’ he said ironically.

  She blushed and grabbed a hand to it. The strap had slipped disastrously, exposing far too much of a creamy breast. Luc watched, his eyes hooded. She glared at him in defiance. Abruptly he turned away.

  ‘It cannot go on. But this is not the time to discuss it.’

  Christina gave a hard laugh. ‘Does that mean you want me to see you in your office tomorrow as well?’

  He stiffened. ‘That is an idea, certainly,’ he said evenly.

  She prowled round and stood in front of him, her chin thrust forward challengingly.

  ‘Are you going to sack me too, Your Highness?’ she mocked. Her heart twisted with pain but she ignored it.

  At his side his hand clenched slowly. Christina saw it and was perversely triumphant. At least it meant that his demeanour of princely cool was costing him something in self-restraint. A desire to blast him out of it took hold of her.

  Afterwards she could hardly believe what she did next. It had to have been the shock of the fight.

  She smiled, and quite deliberately let the torn strap of her dress fall. She held his eyes.

  For a moment Luc stood as if turned to stone. Then Christina saw that the tell-tale muscle was working uncontrollably below his cheekbone. Success, she thought without compunction.

  But he gave no other sign of reaction. And when he spoke his voice was so cool that it was almost bored. ‘Sacking you certainly has its attractions. But this is really not the time. I will see you in the morning.’

  He walked quickly away before she could say any more. Christina stared after him in disbelief. He couldn’t just walk away from her like that. He couldn’t.

  Oh, she hated Luc Henri, Prince of Kholkhastan, as she had never hated anyone in her cool and self-possessed life. She hated him.

  It was not a good night. She was up early, making waffles to give her something to take her mind off the forthcoming interview. The children were delighted but the Princess looked very much as Christina felt.

  ‘I didn’t think it could, but Kay’s mood has got worse,’ she said gloomily. ‘It could be the accident with the boat, I suppose. He made us all tell him about it last night after you’d gone. It was like some policeman taking statements. He was furious. Now he says we can’t stay on the boat!’

  So when Christina went to the room that Luc had made his study she expected to be paid off, just like the captain.

  She knocked and went in when bidden. Luc was looking at a leather-bound folder, marking something. She caught the flash of gold as he recapped his pen. He looked up as soon as she came in and closed the folder.

  He was wearing his suit again, which was lightweight and beautifully cut, offset by a marvellous silk tie. How could I ever have thought he was a gossip columnist? Christina thought. He looked every inch the international negotiator—and as remote as the moon.

  ‘Good morning, Christina,’ he said with grave courtesy. ‘I hope you slept well.’

  She was instantly on the defensive. ‘Why shouldn’t I?’

  ‘You were up exceptionally early,’ he pointed out wryly. ‘As I was myself,’ he added deliberately.

  Christina’s eyes narrowed. Was he trying to tell her something? Surely not that his dreams were as disturbingly full of her as hers were of him? It would have been some comfort, perhaps, but it was hardly likely. She dismissed the suspicion as soon as it occurred to her.

  Instead she looked away, shrugging. She thought he sighed faintly. But when he spoke his voice was brisk.

  ‘I have decided that we will continue our holiday ashore. The crew is incompetent and I really have not the time to engage another one. Besides, the boat needs a good deal of work done. I shall be arranging it today. My sister will have her party tonight. After that we will all go to a villa I own further along the coast.’

  ‘I see.’

  It was what she had expected but it still hurt, especially as he had not excluded her from the crew he called incompetent. But she was not going to let him see it.

  She lifted her chin. ‘I take it I get my wages and my passage back to Athens.’

  He frowned. ‘I would prefer you to come with us.’

  Christina stared. ‘Hasn’t this villa got a cook?’ she said incredulously.

  ‘It has a full complement of domestic staff but I want you to take care of the children. They will need someone to oversee their amusements.’

  ‘I’m not a nanny.’

  ‘Are you refusing?’

  She met his eyes. She could not read anything in the expression on the handsome face.

  He said coolly, ‘I see from the contract you signed that we have the use of your services for another ten days. It does not actually specify your tasks. I would prefer you to work the rest of your employment at the Villa San Bernardino. That is all.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Christina, when does your next job start?’ he said patiently.

  She was so disconcerted that she answered him literally. ‘Two days after I get back. Oh!’

  ‘Precisely. If you run out on us you will have to go and sleep on the floor of your long-suffering friend,’ he said with a ghost of a smile. ‘Is that fair—twice in as many months?’

  She had to admit that there was something in what he said, even though it went against the grain.

  ‘The children won’t be a nuisance,’ he said. ‘I know Simon has not been easy. It is not altogether his fault.’ He hesitated before adding in a dry tone, ‘I am sure you will have realised that all is not well between his parents. I have now told my brother-in-law that his marriage and his family are his problems and he has to sort them out. He will be with us tonight or tomorro
w. So Simon’s behaviour should improve dramatically.’ He paused. ‘Well?’

  Christina bit her lip. All she wanted to do was get away from Luc Henri in this alienating royal guise, she assured herself. So why was she trying to find reasonsno, not reasons, excuses—for staying in his employment?

  He said softly, ‘Be sensible, Christina. Even if you hate the very idea, it’s hardly for ever. What is ten days out of your life, after all?’

  But she didn’t hate the very idea. That was the trouble.

  Christina decided that there was no point in pretending. Squaring her shoulders, she looked him in the eyes and said, ‘And what about you and me?’

  She had surprised Luc, she saw. For a moment the cool mask twitched in shock. Then he clamped down on whatever he was feeling. He was cool and expressionless again.

  He said carefully, ‘That is a separate issue.’

  Christina was incredulous. ‘You mean you’re going to pretend none of it happened?’

  ‘Nothing very much has happened,’ he pointed out. ‘A couple of kisses. A lot of misunderstanding. That’s it.’

  A couple of kisses. That was all they were to him? Yet they had turned her world upside down. Christina could have hit him.

  ‘You needn’t worry that I shall pursue the matter against your will,’ he went on.

  From his tone he could have been talking about some boring but not very important subject on the international agenda. Or a business deal, Christina thought grimly.

  ‘Good,’ she agreed.

  ‘Then that’s settled.’

  Christina realised that she had been manipulated by a master. Without actually agreeing to do what he wanted, she had tacitly accepted that she would. If only it wasn’t, in her heart of hearts, what she wanted too—to be with him, she thought, she would stamp out and hitch a ride back to Athens now.

  Luc turned away, clearly dismissing her now that he had won his point.

  ‘Please be packed and ready by midday tomorrow. I am glad you will be joining us at the villa. I hope you will enjoy it,’ be said formally.

  Christina’s manners were not as good as his. Or maybe it was because she had not had years of training in disguising her emotions. She glared. Then she turned on her heel and went out of the cabin without a word. She even banged the door behind her.