Chapter Six
‘YOU CAN DRIVE, you know the place.’
Caius was indicating for Poppy to take the wheel of the runaround buggy. She was annoyed with herself for automatically assuming he would want to drive. Her father had always told her she was too independent and that men didn’t like it.
She got in behind the wheel. She’d dressed down in cut-off shorts that still fitted her if she left the top button open, and a loose linen shirt. Slip-on sneakers, because some of the terrain could be rocky.
She tried not to be too aware of Caius’s muscular thigh close to hers. He was casual too, wearing long shorts and a polo shirt in light blue that she didn’t have to look to know would enhance his eyes. Thankfully he was wearing shades, like her.
They set off on the main road and Poppy pointed out various sights. The small church.
Caius asked, ‘Was anyone ever married there?’
Poppy shook her head. ‘Not in recent history. It was the first dwelling on the island though, so we think maybe it was used in medieval times. It dates back that far. Want to have a look?’
‘Sure.’
Poppy stopped the buggy and they got out. The doors to the small church weren’t locked and she pushed them open, revealing the small, hushed interior. Musky and dusty. It was simple inside. Plain. About four rows of pews on either side and an altar.
Caius seemed to easily dominate the space with his broad shoulders and height. He wandered in, looking around, and up at the vaulted ceiling.
In a bid to stop herself staring at him, Poppy said, ‘This must be quite the change from your usual haunts.’
He’d pushed his glasses on top of his head, like her, and he looked at her. She groaned inwardly. Yes, she could confirm that his eyes were even more ridiculously blue wearing that shirt.
‘I actually like churches.’
Poppy nearly tripped over her own feet. ‘Sorry, what?’
He gave a half-rueful smile. ‘I had, well, that is, Cassie and I had an Irish nanny for a while. Cassie was only a baby. I was about five. Her name was Mary, and she was very religious and she used to go into churches to light candles all the time. I found the churches…peaceful. Probably because my parents were always arguing, so they felt somewhat comforting.’
Intrigued by this snippet, she said, ‘Your, um, parents didn’t get on?’ There’d been rumours about the king and queen of Sadat Sur Mer and their acrimonious relationship, but when Poppy had been younger she’d tuned out gossip among the palace staff. She wished she’d listened more now.
Caius shook his head, his expression visibly closing a little. ‘They despised each other but for the main the public perception was that they were blissfully in love. Everyone wants to believe in a fairy tale.’ The bitterness in Caius’s voice was evident.
He continued, ‘It was only palace insiders and staff and some other royal circles who knew the truth. From as far back as I can remember, they argued, over every little thing. It didn’t help that my mother flaunted her affairs under my father’s nose. And then he would return the favour.’
Poppy’s heart constricted. ‘That wasn’t very nice.’
‘No, they weren’t very nice people.’
It was almost refreshing to hear someone describe their parents like that. Poppy found herself saying, ‘My father didn’t have affairs but he kept marrying to try and have the son he wanted. Needless to say that didn’t make for good relationships.’
‘Why didn’t he have any more children?’
Poppy shrugged. ‘I remember a fight he had with my mother shortly before they split up where she was telling him her tests had come back fine so the problem must be his. I didn’t understand it at the time but I figure my father obviously became infertile for some reason.’
Poppy realised that she’d never told anyone else that and suddenly became aware of how intimate the space was in the small building. Caius had told her to trust him and here she was spilling her guts ten minutes later. She was pathetic. ‘Shall we keep going?’
‘Lead the way,’ Caius said, putting out a hand indicating for her to precede him out of the church.
Like that first night they’d met, it struck her that he was courteous, polite.
Not traits associated with selfish playboys.
What he’d said came back to her: About twenty per cent of what they reported was true.
Still, considering the life he’d led, twenty per cent of bedding beautiful women and frequenting the world’s most glittering nightclubs and bars and parties was still more than the average human would ever experience.
But that knowledge pricked under her skin like a little burr as they got back into the buggy and went on with their tour around the island. She had to acknowledge that there was more to him than—
‘You’re thinking so hard I can hear you.’
Poppy almost veered off the road but Caius put a hand to the wheel, steadying it. ‘OK?’
Poppy nodded. She was mortified that Caius had witnessed her overthinking him, literally as he was beside her. She decided to articulate her thoughts. ‘Why finance? When presumably you didn’t have to work at all?’
She glanced at him and back to the road.
Eventually he answered, ‘I was never comfortable with the thought of doing nothing—aside from my duties as a crown prince. I was always good at numbers, they made sense to me. I interned in the City of London after university and started building my own investment business.’
Poppy frowned, taking a corner carefully, as the road started to climb. ‘I don’t recall reading about the internship in your bio.’
Caius shifted beside her and stretched out his arm behind her along the seat. Poppy’s skin tingled and she had to concentrate hard on driving.
He said, ‘I kept it low-key, didn’t broadcast my title. A few people knew but they soon lost interest. They only cared if I could manage clients’ portfolios. It lasted at least until the media got wind of what I was doing and that…was the end of that. I had to leave.’
Poppy heard a thread of weariness in his voice. She guessed his days of being crowned as Europe’s most eligible royal bachelor must have started around then.
‘What did you do in university?’ he asked.
‘International relations and political science.’ She felt staid even as she said that. She made a face. ‘Not exactly inspired.’
‘Was it what you wanted to do?’
‘Not especially, but my father put pressure on me. There was an English Literature and Theatre Studies class I would have loved to do.’
‘You wanted to be an actress?’
No doubt he thought her far too boring. ‘Is that so hard to believe?’
She saw him shake his head in her peripheral vision. ‘No, not at all. The woman I saw in the photo…maybe, but not you.’
A bloom of heat filled her solar plexus. Poppy had often thought of herself as employing acting skills to avoid showing her father how much he hurt her. And maybe she’d called on it too the night she’d met Caius in Paris, convincing herself she could step out of her comfort zone.
But here she was now, and no acting in the world could hide the vulnerability Caius seemed to make her feel.
She admitted, ‘My father commissioned that photo before he died. I hated it. It wasn’t me.’
They emerged now through the trees at the top of a hill. Poppy brought the buggy to a halt and got out. Caius stepped out too and looked at her. ‘Why did you let him dim your light?’
Poppy squirmed a little. How could she explain, without seeming weak, that a part of her had still craved her father’s approval in spite of the constant rejection?
And then, as if he was able to read her mind, he said, ‘Actually…when it comes to parents and behaving in ways to either gain or provoke attention, I can’t exactly talk.
I made a career out of courting the media partly in order to get my parents’ attention. Not that it worked.’
Poppy felt a burst of affinity and gratitude for his understanding. Gratefully she changed the subject. ‘This gives you an overview of the whole island, and Valdere.’
Caius stood beside her, looking around him. ‘It’s beautiful. I don’t think I’ve been somewhere so peaceful in a long time.’
Before she could stop herself she was saying, ‘Don’t you mean boring? I’m sure you’re dying to get back to the city and a hectic social life.’
The thought of that world felt very far away and Caius realised he had no desire for it. He shook his head, ‘Actually…not so much.’ What he did desire was much closer. He looked at Poppy and a breeze flattened her shirt against her belly. ‘Your bump looks bigger today.’
Poppy put a hand on it and huffed a little laugh. ‘I think the baby is having a growth spurt after the constriction of the dress yesterday.’
‘Can you feel anything yet?’
‘Little flutters, like butterflies inside. It feels strange.’
‘You look…good.’ She looked amazing. Sexy.
Poppy looked up at Caius a little suspiciously. ‘I…thank you, I feel good. No sickness, thankfully.’ She took a step back. ‘We should probably get back. I can show you the vineyard on the way.’
But Caius caught her arm before she could turn away and she looked up at him.
‘I mean, you look really good, Poppy. I saw you last night on your balcony. I didn’t mean to…’
She frowned. ‘What are you saying, Caius?’
He faced her directly now, his hand still on her arm but in such a gentle hold she could have pulled away. She didn’t.
‘I still want you, Poppy. I haven’t been with anyone else since that night in Paris. You left an impression.’
Her green eyes widened and her cheeks went pink. But then, like watching storm clouds race across a clear sky, her expression darkened and her eyes narrowed. She pulled back. ‘You are unbelievable.’
He frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘We’re on an island…you said it yourself, and you’re so highly sexed that you figure you’ll sleep with the only convenient female around to get through the boredom, is that it?’
Caius was indignant. ‘No! That is not it. I’m not that desperate for sex, believe me.’
‘So I’m supposed to be flattered?’