Chapter Twelve
THE PRINCESS WAS RIGHT. It was Theo’s fault.
He’d known people had been on his tail ever since he’d taken over the case, it had only ever been a matter of time before they would discover the identity swap the Princess had made in Sydney that he’d discovered himself.
It followed that it would only be a matter of time before they’d follow him here, to Lord Howe Island.
Theo had led them straight to her.
Thank god he’d found the Princess first, but now that the storm had prevented them leaving the island, they were sitting ducks.
No wonder she was angry. The only silver lining now was that she might actually believe him, that others were actively searching for her.
But he wasn’t about to throw that in her face.
This wasn’t a point scoring exercise. This was serious.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he told her on their way back to the apartment. ‘I’m so sorry I’ve brought this down on you.’
‘You should be,’ she said, her teeth troubling her bottom lip. Her options for escape were shrinking. Hope evaporating with it.
Escaping Theo was one thing, having plans to change his mind or elude him, was one thing, but knowing there were others also after her complicated any hopes of escape.
The ride back to the apartment was no way a repeat of their ride to the restaurant. Now the slow ride was painful. A painful reminder of all the things that remained unresolved between them. Now their drive seemed never-ending as her brain tried to work a solution.
How was she supposed to seduce him when anger fired her blood and filled her veins?
What point would there be even trying if he was so determined to bring her back to her former life and a loveless future, whatever she tried?
And if she couldn’t, how was she ever going to succeed at making a scene at the airport and getting away.
The airport had only a handful of flights in or out.
It was the first place the agents would have staked out.
What the hell was she going to do?
At long last they arrived at their accommodation and Isabella sprang out of the car the moment he pulled up. ‘I hate this,’ she said, storming down the hallway. ‘You have stolen my freedom from me. You’ve entrapped me and given me no choice. Are you happy about that?’
‘What?’ he said, tossing car keys down on a hall table.
‘What do you think? Now that there are people somewhere on the island after me, I have no choice but to return to Rubanestein with you.’
‘You were always going to be returned to your home, Princess. Either that or be caught by rogue actors. You just didn’t accept it. Thank your lucky stars it was me who found you first.’
She tossed her head. ‘Thank you? For putting me in this situation? For insisting on dragging me back to Rubanestein when it is the last place I want to go? I don’t think so.’
‘So what of your other choices?’
She kicked up her chin. ‘I had plans.’
He snorted. ‘Well, good luck with those, Princess.’
‘I was doing fine until you showed up. Maybe you should just leave me here, to deal with whoever else it is looking for me. Surely my fate couldn’t be any worse than being returned to Rubanestein.’
He shook his head. ‘Please, Princess, your brother is trying to save you from danger.’
‘And what about the danger to me being sent home? My brother doesn’t give a damn about me. He believes I’m his chattel—nothing more than a bargaining chip he can auction off to the highest bidder.’
‘Stop it. I don’t want to hear it. You’re a princess. How did you expect your life to unfold?’
‘I expected to marry for love!’ She furiously paced the length of the living room and then back again.
‘Didn’t I tell you? Weren’t you listening?
My father knew that I would never accede to the throne.
He knew that. I knew that. So, he promised me that even though I wouldn’t take the crown, I would be able to marry for love.
I wanted to marry for love and that was his solemn promise to me.
What is so wrong with the concept of marrying for love?
‘What is wrong with saving myself for the man of my dreams. So how do you think I felt, once I discovered that I was going to be deprived of any of that, that I was going to be married off to some revolting crony of my brother’s in order to pay off his gambling debts, and that I didn’t have a say in any of it—why are you surprised that I ran?
Why are you so surprised that I don’t want to go back? Don’t you think I had good reason?’
He pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. ‘And wanting to marry for love is the reason why you threw yourself at every surfer and barista going during your little adventure? Because you wanted to save yourself for your one true love?’
Her jaw jutted. The golden lights in her eyes glowed hot. ‘What else was there to save myself for? What was the alternative? My choice, or my brother’s, someone determined to decide for me?’
He ran a hand through his hair. ‘This is getting old, Princess. You have to take this seriously. You need to pack. There’s no point us trying to find somewhere else to stay tonight.
The last place we want to be is on the roads when the top speed limit is twenty-five kilometres an hour when there are people actively searching for you.
We’ll hunker down here. I promise I won’t sleep. Nobody will get to you.’
‘But you’re here. And you’re just as bad as them.’
‘Princess—’
‘Don’t “princess” me! I’m clearly worth nothing in your eyes.
No more than one more so-called success story to attach to your CV.
Yet another notch on your gun. You disregard everything I say while you drink up every word my silver-tongued brother feeds you as if it’s the gospel truth.
Do you hate me that much that you could deliver me back into the living hell my brother has in store for me?
Do you just plan to hand me back, take your thirty pieces of silver and then wash your hands of me, job done? ’
She made a sound of desperation. Half gasp, half sob.
Her lips pressed tightly together and she put her fingers over her mouth.
But it was too late to hide her raw emotions.
He could see the tears springing from her eyes even as she squeezed her eyes shut, her shoulders juddering as she gave in to her feelings.
And Theo was torn between his duty and her distress.
Torn between admiration that a naive princess had eluded discovery for so long, and frustration that she refused to accept what her discovery meant.
Torn between respect for the fight in this pint-sized princess, and desire.
Desire that had been building from the moment Theo had captured her in his arms and felt the heat triggered between them and smelled her citrusy scent.
Because she was wrong about one thing. She wasn’t worth nothing in his eyes. She was worth so much more than that. But she was still a princess. He had no right to have feelings for her. He wasn’t entitled to feel anything for her. She was a case. She was a rescue.
But she was also a woman. A woman in pain. And her coming undone broke something inside him.
‘Princess,’ he beseeched, taking a step closer. ‘Please?’
Her eyelids scrunched even tighter. Her mouth screwed and twisted under her fingers. There was the briefest shake of her head before she turned away on another sob and fled towards the stairs.
‘Princess,’ he called, chasing after her. ‘Isabella.’
He caught up with her before the stairs, catching her by one arm, the momentum swinging her around. She crashed into him, and immediately raised her fists, pummelling his chest. ‘I hate you,’ she said, ‘I hate you.’
He got that. He understood why. He understood why she needed to take her frustrations out on him.
For a moment he let her beat his chest with her fists. She was so impassioned. So fiery and fierce. ‘It’s okay, Princess,’ he said, holding her by both shoulders now as her fists continued to rain down on him with no sign of relenting. ‘Let it out. Let it all out.’
The Princess didn’t need encouragement. She continued to take out her rage against him, but her fists were beating slower now, her sobs less frequent, until her head lobbed down against his chest, soaking his shirt with her warm tears as her shoulders continued to shudder under his hands.
Now her fingers were curled, clutching the fabric of his shirt, clinging to him.
She wasn’t acting. She was broken, deflated, her spirit shattered. The spirit he’d admired, even grudgingly, ever since he’d taken on this case and found the Princess to be more than just a naive twenty-five-year-old royal.
‘You’re right, Princess. I deserved that.
I’m sorry.’ He dipped his head down to hers.
It was a mere impulse that his lips brushed her hair, kissing her softly on the head.
Nothing more. An act of consolation, that was all it was intended to be.
Sympathy. Empathy. The tiniest of kisses as he drank in her so familiar citrus scent.
And it occurred to him that he would miss that when he’d returned her home.
Damn. He would miss more than that. He would miss this woman, with all the frustrations that came with her. More than that, with all the temptations that came with her.
Her shoulders stilled as slowly she raised her head, lifting her tear-streaked face to his.
Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy from her tears, her cheeks hot where they’d rested against his chest, her lips still pressed tightly together.
But in spite of that, she was still one of the two most beautiful women he’d ever met.
And this woman was here.
Now.
It wasn’t a conscious decision. It wasn’t any kind of decision at all. It was more an imperative. ‘Princess,’ he said, as his head dipped lower. ‘Isabella.’