Chapter Eleven
THEO WAS CONFLICTED as he prepared for dinner.
Isabella had requested for their last night on the island, that they book a table at the restaurant where she had worked.
Still acting, or so she could say goodbye to the crew she’d worked with, the crew that had given her a chance and made her welcome.
He wasn’t crazy about the idea. He didn’t want the Princess exposed to the public eye any more than she already had been, but he wasn’t a monster. And after today’s excursions, he had to admit his attitude towards the Princess was changing.
She was much more of a surprise package than he’d been led to believe. Sure, she was young and naive, she was a twenty-five-year-old innocent Princess, and yet she’d proved herself so much more than that. She shown she had street smarts by evading recovery for so long—nobody had expected that.
She was no poseur; she had a natural way about her that belied her royal heritage.
And if she hungered for the throne, there was a complete absence of evidence for that.
Could she hide a yearning for the throne that well?
No. Surely if she was planning some kind of coup against her brother, to take the throne in his place, she’d want to be working inside the institution that was the palace of Rubanestein, and not in some far-flung island half a world away—where internet was thready at best and totally absent at worst.
Hardly the place to plot a coup.
Perhaps most surprisingly, she was fun to be with. Sure, she could be annoying and problematic and too much in his face, like today when she’d sidled too close to him for his liking at the museum, but today had been fun. He’d forgotten about fun. He’d left fun by the wayside when Sophia had gone.
He’d had no place for fun.
But today the Princess had reminded him of the simple pleasure of fun. The simple pleasure of laughter. And that was no small deal.
No. The more Theo reflected on the case, the more he learned about the Princess, the less sense the Prince’s reason for wanting Isabella back in Rubanestein made.
Was Rafael more worried about her safety out in the big world without security and so over-egged the pudding?
That was possible, especially if he were the bullying kind of character the Princess had claimed.
A runaway royal lacking security was always going to be fodder for every nefarious group out there.
The Prince hadn’t needed to add to the story by claiming it was an act of rebellion by the Princess for not acceding to the throne herself.
All he’d had to say was that he was worried for her safety, exposed and alone in the big bad world.
Theo would have believed that. Anybody would have believed that.
Because the Princess was in danger. She might have been lucky or clever until now, but sooner or later her luck would run out and the other people interested in finding her would.
But none of that explained why she had run.
Her story that her brother had sold his own sister in exchange for the funds to pay his gambling debts was so far-fetched.
He knew people were capable of evil deeds, he’d be out of a job if they weren’t, but this was a prince, the ruler of his principality—and to sell his own sister, to marry her off to one of his cronies as if she were no more than a piece of his property, was so heinous—was it any wonder he had trouble accepting her claims?
Then again—why had she run? If it wasn’t for that, what was it?
He ran his hand through his hair. The Princess—this entire case—and the extended time spent together because of this damned cyclone—were messing with his head. And today’s fish feeding excursion was not helping.
It had broken too many barriers. He’d let his game down. He didn’t do fun. He didn’t want to do fun. Not with anyone. Least of all with her. Of course she would want to sway him. But she was a job. A rescue.
He just had to keep reminding himself of that.
Isabella showered and changed into a sundress for dinner at the café, knowing that time was short and that she was running out of options.
Theo had advised her that the airport would reopen tomorrow, and that they would be on the first flight to Sydney.
So that left her with just one night to convince Theo that he shouldn’t drag her back to Rubanestein.
She took a deep breath. They’d had a good day today visiting the museum and Ned’s Beach. They’d had a fun day. Even Theo couldn’t deny that. She was hoping that Theo’s attitude towards her might be softening, and that he might see her as less problem rescue and more as a woman.
He was starting to feel something for her, she could tell from the way that she caught him looking at her, but as yet there was no indication that he was not intending to carry through his mission.
It was frustrating and there was so little time left.
She sensed that he was starting to see her not as a mere rescue, but as a person.
A woman. He was softening to her. So, yes, her clumsy attempt that first night when she’d sneaked into his room had ultimately failed.
But then, last night he’d been the one to kiss her.
What a kiss.
And today, he’d enjoyed their time at Ned’s Beach. Theo couldn’t fake that. She’d got the impression that Theo faked nothing. What you saw was what you got.
Isabella checked her reflection as she looked in the mirror. She’d twisted her hair into a messy bun with tendrils coiling around her face, and tonight she’d even added a touch of make-up, circling her eyes with a smoky kohl, adding a hint of blush and a smear of gloss to her lips.
She took another deep fortifying breath.
There was one chance left. Tonight.
One night to put Plan A into practice.
Seducing Theo. Getting him to admit that she meant more to him than any other rescue. Getting him to admit that he cared about her enough to not want to simply hand her over to her brother. Surely, if he made love to her, he would rethink his plans?
And if he didn’t—well, if he didn’t, and he still insisted on delivering her back to her ever-loving brother—she still would have a memory to look back on in the long, loveless years ahead.
One way or another, she needed Plan A to work. Otherwise she’d have to resort to Plan B. She hadn’t got this far without having a backup plan.
Plan B was way less fun but could prove just as effective.
Make a scene at the airport on their departure.
Find security and plead for help. Accuse Theo of kidnapping and trafficking her and maybe worse.
Making sure that he was the object of the authorities’ attention.
Her own ID borrowing would no doubt be an issue when that came out, but if it delayed the legal process, that was good. That worked for her.
But she didn’t want to have to resort to Plan B. She didn’t want to throw Theo to the wolves. She knew how the media worked. They would tear him apart based on a false accusation.
Ordinarily she hated women who made false accusations. It brought all women down, minimising genuine grievances. But right now, when she was desperate, what other choice did she have?
So, Plan A was it. She just had to pray that it worked.
‘It’s time,’ she heard Theo call from downstairs.
She bounded down the stairs and met Theo at the front door.
He looked her up and down and for a moment he appeared dumbstruck.
And then he said, ‘You look amazing.’ Had his voice gone down an octave?
Whatever, the sound seemed to vibrate into her bones.
‘Thank you,’ she said, her eyes drinking him in. He was wearing suit pants and a crisp white shirt that clung to his torso in the best possible way. Even better, the shirt was unbuttoned at the neck exposing a triangle of olive skin dusted with black hairs. ‘So do you.’
They remained there for moments, seconds, before he seemed to remember that they were supposed to be leaving. He cleared his throat. ‘We should go,’ he said.
The minutes it took them to drive the slow route to the restaurant no longer felt like a penalty. Instead, it felt delicious. Isabella’s senses were on high alert. Today they’d broken the barrier between hunter and hunted. Today they’d found common ground.
Happy ground.
And now, her senses buzzed at his proximity, at his clean masculine scent.
She would be happy if this ride never ended.
Except there was the anticipation of the after, and the prospect of that was even more delicious.
And after today, after witnessing his joy at one of the island’s simple pleasures, after witnessing Theo unwinding, there was a chance it might even work.
She sucked in a breath, heavily laden with the heat and scent of Theo. Was he wearing after-shave or was it his own signature scent that wove its way into and beguiled her senses?
And curiosity powered her conversation. ‘What’s the name of the after-shave you’re wearing?’ Because if she never met him again, she wanted to be able to buy it and be reminded of his scent and this time in her life.
‘I’m not wearing after-shave.’
Damn. So much for buying a bottle. But she found a smile. ‘I like it.’
‘I said I’m not wearing any.’
‘I heard.’
She sensed his head swivel towards her. She just kept smiling and turned her head out her window.
Around them, the palm trees swayed, while the waves crashed into the coral reefs surrounding the lagoon, the background music of the island restored to normal settings now the cyclone was moving away.
Isabella had fallen asleep to the island’s music night after night.
She knew she would never forget this sound.
She turned back to him. ‘You’re so lucky the cyclone closed the airport.’
‘Am I?’
‘Of course. How else would you have seen anything of the island. But now, at least you’ve seen some of the sights.’
He grunted as he pulled into the restaurant’s car park. ‘I consider myself blessed in that case.’