Her Every Pleasure (37 page)

Commander Blake seemed impressed by her sensible question. “They’ll not have much room to maneuver, Your Highness, but there is a deep, narrow channel they can sail through without running aground. With all my heart, ma’am, I hope you were not harmed in your ordeal.”

“Colonel Knight executed a magnificent rescue,” she murmured with a pensive smile.

“The princess is too modest. She handled herself with superb self-possession,” Gabriel countered, returning the compliment. “Her Highness has been well trained from childhood to protect herself. Marksmanship, knife combat. Trust me,” he added with a proud half smile, “they’ll not get the best of this one.”

Commander Blake raised a brow and glanced discreetly from one to the other. “I see.”

Something in his tone made Gabriel drop his gaze and suddenly wonder if he had said too much.

Sophia cleared her throat in a delicate fashion and quickly changed the subject. “What is the disposition of my people at this time, sir?”

Blake hesitated politely. “I daresay that all are very eager to see you.”

“Hm,” she replied, folding her arms across her chest with a wry smile. “Please, Commander, feel free to speak as plainly to me as you would to a man. Have they been very unruly for you?”

“Well, Your Highness—”

“A simple ma’am will do, Commander.”

He nodded. “To tell you the truth, ma’am, lately, they’ve been at each other’s throats. Setting fire to each other’s farms, blowing up each other’s fishing boats, insulting each other’s ancestors, and generally causing a riot, here, there, and everywhere. As soon as I send off my men to go and calm things down in one quarter, some wild disruption breaks out on the opposite end of the island. And then, as often as not, when my lads arrive, they are greeted with thrown rocks and curses.”

“Oh dear, oh dear,” Sophia said with a sigh. “It seems I have my work cut out for me.”

“Indeed.”

“This can’t all be coming from them,” Gabriel said with a frown. “No, I fear our friends are doing their best to stir things up. Divide and conquer. It couldn’t be more plain. It’s what I’d do if I were them.”

“Well, it isn’t going to work,” Sophia said in a hard tone. She rose from her chair. “Their dirty tricks will never intimidate me. Nor will I let them intimidate my people. I’ll want a tour of my realm at the first opportunity. I want to see my countrymen face to face. I am sure they still doubt me, being that I am…not one of my brothers. But when they look in my eyes, they will know that I will fight for them as hard as Giorgios or Kristos would have done. Or even Father himself.”

“A tour?” While Gabriel admired her spirit, he did not like the sound of that one bit. “There are people trying to kill you.”

“We all have our burdens to bear. You will do your job and I will do mine, oui?”

He flinched as though she had slapped him and turned away from her cool stare.

“I, er, can understand the colonel’s position, ma’am,” Blake said gingerly. “Taking you out to meet your people at a time like this does seem as though it would pose a great risk to your security.”

“Especially since we don’t yet know where the Order of the Scorpion is lurking,” Gabriel added through gritted teeth.

“No matter,” she answered in a polite tone of ice. “I have full confidence that you clever English gentlemen will know how to protect me. My people need me, and this is my will.”

She walked out and left her two “clever Englishmen” standing there, exchanging a glance of chagrin.

“Just so I know—is she always like this?” Blake asked barely audibly.

“Just be glad she didn’t take out her knife,” he muttered.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Sophia had just been reunited with His Beatitude, Father Nectarios, the Archbishop of Kavros. As Gabriel and Commander Blake joined the pair, they found the old man teary-eyed before her, lowering himself down onto one stiff knee to kiss her ring.

That was the first moment that it all became truly real to Gabriel. She really was a princess, soon to be a queen. And he was still a commoner. How could he have ever thought…?

He lowered his head in pain, but it was not his solar plexus that hurt anymore. The ache was a little higher now, right around the region of his heart.

While Sophia reminisced with her family’s spiritual adviser, giving
him
the cold shoulder, Blake dispatched a few fast boats to find and bear messages to three of the formidable first-rates, summoning them back to Kavros with orders to travel through the straits.

Then, since her Greek bodyguards were scattered on their diverse missions, Blake assembled a company of Marines to escort Her Highness up to the hilltop villa that had once been home to the royal family.

Father Nectarios got into the carriage to lend her a little moral support for the abandoned, empty home she had to face. Gabriel reminded Blake to keep a weather eye out for any of her Greek bodyguards returning, especially Timo and Niko, who would be coming soon, God willing, with information on the whereabouts of Sheik Suleiman and his throng of followers. If their location was in Albania, then there was a chance they would never see their two brave scouts alive again. The Terrible Turk did terrible things to spies who were caught in his country.

God keep them,
Gabriel thought.

Then they left the naval base for the drive up to the palace, and everywhere they passed, people stopped and looked and pointed in amazement. Word of her arrival traveled like wildfire over the dry Greek hills.

At length, they arrived at the palace, which had been locked up tight for many years. Gabriel ached for Sophia as he watched her glancing around at the lonely rooms with their rounded arches, broken windows, and empty marble floors. He longed to go to her and take her into his arms, but then again, every Marine watching over her probably felt the same. He scowled in their direction, but damn it, this instinctual possessiveness had no point. How could she ever really be his?

As Sophia walked ahead into the once grand, now empty throne room, Gabriel could hear a growing, chanting clamor coming from somewhere outside.

Father Nectarios followed her as she grasped the pair of double doors at the end of the room and slowly opened them. She paused. Staring, Gabriel drifted after her. Then Sophia stepped out cautiously through the doors onto an ornate balcony overlooking some open space below, a square or something. Gabriel could not see it too well, for he hung back at the doorway, remembering his place—a few steps behind her at best.

“I think that’s where King Constantine used to address the people,” Blake whispered.

As she walked out ahead toward the railing with its chipped gilding, Gabriel saw her hesitate, glancing down at her clothes with a flicker of worry that her beige French traveling gown was quite ordinary. No royal robes or jewels adorned her yet. But then, in profile, he saw her lovely face harden, and his heart clenched as she seemed to remind herself that it was not the outer trappings that had ever made a queen.

No, it was something in the eyes, something in the way she moved. And Sophia had it. By God, she did.

He held his breath as she advanced out to the balcony and claimed it for her own, resting her hands on the dusty railing and surveying the crowd with a look of determination. It veiled whatever fear she might have felt.

He felt tears of sheer love for her fill his eyes. He blinked them away before anyone saw. After all, he was just the bodyguard. But watching her from a few steps behind, his heart in his throat, he had no idea what she was going to say. He doubted she knew.

Only one thing was clear: The moment of her destiny had come, and now he, right along with the disorderly crowd that had gathered to see her, waited on tenterhooks to hear her very first address.

“People of Kavros!” she yelled more fiercely than even she seemed to have expected. “I am Sophia, daughter of Constantine!”

They fell silent at her introduction, waiting to hear what she had to say.

“Many years ago, we were parted. You have suffered—I know the pains that have been visited upon you. I suffered with you from a distance as a child. You know the losses I have endured, as I know yours.

“Our enemies cut down my father, your king. They cut down his firstborn, Prince Giorgios. And when my brother, Prince Kristos, would have taken their place, they killed him, too.” Her somber words carried out over the crowd as she swept them with her gaze. “When I prevailed upon our British friends to give the throne to me so that I could serve you, our enemies also tried to destroy me. But they have
failed
!” she roared.

The throng surged, screaming back at her, cheering her ferocity.

Gabriel felt chills run down his spine.

The people stared up at her, quieting when she held up her hand. They seemed awed by some indefinable note in her voice as she continued.

“They are trying to tear us apart,” she explained in a strong tone, pushing her blowing hair out of her face. “To tear
you
apart. My people, don’t let them. We are one nation. I beg you—” she started, then stopped. “No,” she said as if to herself, “I
command
you as your rightful queen to keep the peace, obey the law, and stop attacking each other. Justice will be done.”

Skeptical murmurs now buzzed through the crowd.

“You must be patient,” she continued. “Have a little faith. Now that we are together once again, our country can begin to heal. Help is coming. Many new resources are on their way from those who have pledged their help. All I ask is the chance to prove to you that you can trust me to keep my word. And with your prayers, after all you have endured, we shall prevail!” she promised in a stern shout.

When she came back inside amid a cloud of cheers rising from the balcony beyond, she was trembling and pale.

Gabriel stared at her in wonder.

Father Nectarios had the presence of mind to pull a chair over for her to sit on. Clearly shaken, she mumbled her thanks.

“Magnificent, my dear. Simply splendid,” the old man murmured. “Neither of your brothers could have done better.”

She rested her left elbow on the chair’s arm and bowed her head, her forehead leaning on her fingertips. She dismissed them all with an agitated wave of her hand. “Leave me.”

They did, reverently obeying. A whole entourage had somehow accrued between their exit from the base to their arrival at the palace. Gabriel barely knew, himself, where all these people had come from. Priests, soldiers, advisers, and courtiers all retreated from the grand saloon, but for his part, he hesitated, certain that she was suffering in her heart.

“Even me?” he asked softly, so proud of her that he could burst and eager to lend her his comfort and strength.

But she looked at him coldly. “Especially you.”

A country could not die. It could be maimed, partitioned, sold off, invaded, but few countries ever truly perished, Sophia thought. That was why she had once decided to give her heart only to Kavros. That neat safety had once been her whole philosophy of love.

Now she had met her new “lover.” She had addressed her people today. She hoped she had made a good first impression. Tomorrow, she would have her tour.

Unfortunately, she now knew that this love would never be enough to satisfy her. Only Gabriel Knight knew how to do that. As she lay awake that night in her royal chamber, listening to the muffled roar of the distant surf hitting the rocks, everything in her yearned to go to him.

Wanted to go to him.

Refused to go to him.

Going anywhere near him would only make the pain worse when he deserted her to carry out his destiny.

Alas, as big a fool as Cleopatra for her handsome soldier, in the end, Sophia could not stop herself.

Not when any day with him could be her last.

Gabriel was in bed when she appeared in the doorway dressed in a white chemise. She came to him in silence with her dark hair spilling all around her shoulders.

He moved over a few inches to make room for her and pulled back the covers for her to join him. But instead of sliding in beside him, she climbed on top of him and without so much as a greeting, claimed his mouth in a deep, aggressive kiss.

This was no ordinary seduction. She was as angry as hell at him, and still they could not stay away from each other. He felt they should probably talk, but it was clear that was not why she had come. He tried to stop her, grasping her arm gently, even as his blood caught fire with her smell, her softness. She ignored his subtle signal, driving her open mouth against his.

She was trembling. Whether from passion or fury, he could not say, but his body responded to her nearness with helpless want, even as his heart sensed her churning, conflicted emotions. He shared them. He, too, had been lying awake with nothing but her on his mind. All he knew as he ran his hands down the cool, silky skin of her arms was that he was hers for the taking.

And take she did.

She grasped his already rigid cock like she knew that it belonged to her and simply claimed him, guiding him inside of her, straddling him as she had that night in the hotel. Gabriel’s chest heaved as she had her way with him. He could not tear his lust-soaked stare off her. When he was deep inside her, she tipped her head back, staring up toward the ceiling, and gradually, as she savored him, all the anger seemed to leave her. He heard her sob.

Sorrow flooded him in answer.

He pulled her down into his embrace and held her in his arms.

“I can’t—” she wrenched out.

“Shh,” he whispered. He sought her mouth again and gave her the most exquisite kiss that he was capable of, a kiss he hoped could in some small part communicate all of his love for her, all of his yearning and devotion, for when it came to words, he did not possess the silver tongue to tell it all.

Sophia wrapped her arms around his neck and let him roll her gently onto her back. Then he made love to her slowly, sweetly, taking all the tender care with her that he should have on that savage night when she had given him her virginity.

She wept in his arms, tears spilling from her eyes as she reached her climax, arching under him. Gabriel kissed her throat again and again, his own eyes not entirely dry.