Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter
‘You think that’s the only kind of fun I know how to have?’
Her chin lifted at the challenge in his voice and her eyes gleamed. ‘Okay, then—show me Prince Eduardo–style fun.’
‘As my Princess wishes...’ He inclined his head, mocking her formal address.
‘I’m not a princess,’ she muttered.
‘To me you are.’ He leaned forward and kissed her, delighting in the shiver that shook her.
‘You’re a silver-tongued pirate,’ she breathed, but she kissed him back.
He broke away before his plans went awry. ‘There was me, thinking you liked what I do with my tongue.’
‘Still so arrogant.’ Her eyes gleamed like stunning, sleepy sapphires.
‘And you like it.’ But he wasn’t letting her derail him with her wiles. Not this time.
Half an hour later he led her down a small boat ramp and handed her a life jacket from the pile of gear his aides had left for them.
Stella had already spotted the yacht.
‘What kind of boat is that?’ She looked at the small, sleek beauty, roped to the moorings.
‘She’s a Tempest. She’s vintage. Even starred in a few regattas a while back. Her name is Miranda.’ He laughed at his own silly pride.
‘Of course it is.’ Stella leaned out and peered onto the deck. ‘But we’re not going to get shipwrecked, right?’
‘Not unless you steer us onto the rocks.’ He fastened his jacket, amused that she’d got the Shakespeare reference.
‘You usually sail it alone?’
‘Yes, but it’s a two-crew vessel. You up for it?’ He didn’t know why he’d bothered asking—she’d already stepped on board. ‘You’ve sailed before?’
She shook her head. ‘Kayaked, rowed, but never sailed.’
‘Then let’s do it.’
She was a natural athlete and a quick learner, and it wasn’t long before she was anticipating his instructions and they were working as a team. Her physicality matched his, and he pushed her more than he’d planned to. The yacht skimmed over the water. Time flew, as it always did for him when he was sailing.
‘You love it, don’t you?’ She turned to look at him, breaking the silence.
‘Yes.’ He couldn’t tear his gaze from her. She was radiant. Soft when it counted, strong when she needed to be. And so into it.
‘I feel like this when I’m running.’ She glanced up at the sails.
‘Like what?’
‘Free. Powerful.’
And she didn’t feel like that the rest of the time? She should. She was amazingly powerful.
‘And at the mercy of the elements,’ she added with a laugh as a spray of water got her.
‘You’ve not had enough?’ he asked. ‘Not feeling seasick at all?’
‘No,’ she answered swiftly.
‘And no morning sickness?’
‘No.’ Something flashed on her face as she shut down the pregnancy talk.
‘You must do something other than running for fun?’ he asked, trying to remain relaxed. But her self-containment was irritating the hell out of him.
‘I do lots,’ she said. ‘Anything outdoors—walking, cycling—’
‘Sex on the beach...’ he interpolated.
‘That too, yes.’ She owned it with a glint in her eye.
‘So why me? Why not some guy in your battalion?’ His body thrummed. ‘Why did you wait so long and then say yes so quickly?’
‘This was your ploy? To take me miles out into the ocean and launch twenty questions at me?’
He let silence do its thing.
She gripped a rope more tightly. ‘Why should I tell you all my secrets when you won’t tell me yours?’
Did she think this was some game of chicken? Couldn’t she understand he was trying to help her?
‘What do you want to know?’ he demanded. ‘Ask me anything.’
‘What is it that you don’t want to tell me?’
She didn’t shout. She just asked softly—all wide eyes and petite strength. And she got to him in a way no one else ever had.
‘You really know how to torture a man.’
And she really knew how to challenge him.
She frowned. ‘Tell me the worst thing you’ve ever done, aside from getting me pregnant.’
‘That’s not the worst thing I’ve ever done,’ he snapped. ‘We’re growing a baby. That’s amazing.’
Her cheeks lost colour. ‘Well, what can you tell me that would make me like you less?’
‘So you like me?’
‘That would make me want you less.’
At that admission something broke within him. He wanted to know her thoughts. Because what she thought suddenly mattered.
‘I let my brother down,’ he said bluntly. ‘Many times. Too impulsive...too unreliable. Too hot-headed—’
‘You’re not that bad,’ she interrupted. ‘You’re just under greater scrutiny than most. Everyone screws up.’
‘Not the way I have.’ Soft words tumbled from him. The culmination of hurt and guilt and desperation to stop his mistakes spiralling into a mess meant he couldn’t hold back. ‘I was studying in England when our parents were killed.’
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything at his change in tone.
Eduardo couldn’t look at her any more, so he looked across the blinding blue water instead.
‘Antonio needed to concentrate on his coronation. I wanted to return home to help, but he refused. He said it would be better for me to stay studying abroad while he handled it. He didn’t want to have to worry about me.’
He glanced at her when she made a small sound and shook his head at the pity he read in her eyes.
‘Matteo was with me. I wasn’t alone. Not the way Antonio was. His girlfriend, Alessia, was already studying at Cambridge when I got there. They’d been secretly engaged since school. He wouldn’t let her come home either. He delayed announcing their engagement. He didn’t think it right to celebrate so soon after our parents’ death.’
‘I know about Alessia,’ Stella said softly.
Everyone knew about Alessia now. And that was Eduardo’s fault.
‘What is it that you know,’ he asked bitterly. ‘That she got sick? That Antonio buried his heart with her when she died?’ The old guilt and helplessness surged inside him. ‘Do you know why you know all that?’
Stella waited silently. And, stupidly, that made him madder.
‘Alessia hadn’t told Antonio how bad it was because she didn’t want to bother him at such a difficult time. She swore me to secrecy and I promised her I wouldn’t tell him.’
‘You cared about her?’
‘She was the big sister I’d never had.’ He nodded. ‘The one person who made Antonio smile. He was always serious, always burdened, but she brought him joy. And he pushed her away. I