The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12. Кейт Хьюит

The Royal House Of Karedes Collection Books 1-12 - Кейт Хьюит


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consisted of two vast islands, the glamorous Aristo and the desert lands of Calista. Andreas had told her so much of these islands that she felt she knew them already. They were once one kingdom, ruled by the Royal House of Karedes, but now split acrimoniously into two by a warring brother and sister.

      Andreas’s father ruled Aristo, and Andreas helped rule, as one of three royal sons. Andreas was married. She knew that much. The wedding had taken place soon after he’d returned from Australia. The story of the ceremony’s magnificence had even reached the women’s magazines in the Munwannay General Store. She’d read of it and wept. After that she’d studiously avoided any mention of him, but he was probably saddled with a tribe of royal children by now.

      Why had he hauled her here?

      Maybe he was bored in his marriage, she thought. The idea had crept into her mind as the flight wore on, a vicious stab of unwanted imagination. Andreas had been married for over nine years now. Nine years was time enough to tire of a wife, especially a wife who’d been arranged for him in the first place. Maybe he was thinking back to the wild, tumultuous passion that had sent them past the bounds of care.

      Surely he wouldn’t think…

      Why else would he want her?

      She curled her fingers so tightly into her palms that her nails cut into her skin. Surely in this day and age he wouldn’t dare. And if he thought she would…

      But… Andreas, she thought. Andreas, Andreas.

      See, there was the trouble. Andreas had moved on. He’d lived another life, whereas she’d been stuck in a time warp, trying to hold the farm together for her father’s sake. Trying to forge a career for herself, while never being able to leave one tiny grave.

      And never being able to forget Andreas.

      Andreas was down there. Prince Andreas Christos Karedes of Aristo. A royal prince, waiting for her.

      She dug her fingernails even deeper into her palms. What did he want of her?

      He could have nothing. Nothing! What was between them was over. She just had to get away from these thugs and she’d find some way to leave.

      But she’d see Andreas first.

      The plane didn’t taxi towards the airport buildings but instead stopped far out on the runway.

      Andreas drove himself out to meet it. He didn’t need Sebastian to tell him that the fewer people who saw this first reunion, the better. He’d like to get rid of Holly’s minders and the aircrew first, but that was impossible. They’d have to be paid well for their silence.

      He reached the plane and waited with ill-concealed impatience for the steps to be put in place and the doors to open.

      Georgiou emerged first. The big man stopped on the top step and looked helplessly down at Andreas. He held up his hands, as if in surrender.

      ‘You want us to carry the cargo down?’ he asked, with a wary glance at the airport workers within earshot. ‘She… we could have trouble.’

      ‘You and your men leave the plane,’ Andreas said grimly. ‘I’ll come up.’

      ‘You’ll be… safe?’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ he snapped, and climbed the steps with purpose. This was getting farcical. Even though he hated the idea that she’d been abducted, he needed to remind himself that this woman had deceived him. She was here because of that deceit. He had every reason to be angry and the sooner he had it out with her, the better.

      Or maybe there was some simple explanation. Maybe this could be a five-minute conversation and she could leave again. It could all be a mistake.

      Maybe.

      ‘She’s up the back. She’s hardly spoken to us since we left Australia, and only then in anger,’ Georgiou said, standing aside, and Andreas nodded and entered the cabin. And saw her.

      For a moment his world stood still.

      Holly.

      She was just the same. His Holly. The Holly he’d held in his heart all these years. Holly, in her tattered jeans and T-shirt, her hair wild and tumbled, always laughing, always teasing. The image he’d loved most was of her riding bareback across the paddocks, daring him to keep up with her if he could.

      Lovely Holly, with her beautiful body. Her bright, sapphire-blue eyes, her fierce intelligence, her low, throaty chuckle…

      She wasn’t chuckling now. Her face looked set and grim. Her arms were crossed firmly across her breasts as she sat where she’d clearly sat for the entire journey. She looked dishevelled and weary and very, very angry. She met his gaze and it was almost a physical jolt. A stormy tempest about to break.

      ‘Holly,’ he said, and maybe he even said it tenderly before he could help himself, but the tenderness stopped right there.

      ‘How dare you?’ she snapped and, as he took a step towards her, she rose and moved out into the aisle.

      ‘I wished to see you,’ he said and her eyes flashed fire.

      ‘You’re seeing me. Your thugs dragged me into their helicopter without a word. They brought me here with no explanation. Your thugs. That’s what they are, Andreas, and so are you for employing them. A stupid, cowardly thug to set four men on a defenceless woman.’

      ‘You’re not defenceless,’ he said, taking a further step toward her and feeling the faint tug of a smile at the corners of his eyes. ‘You bit Maris.’

      ‘So I did.’ If looks could kill he’d be stabbed to the heart. ‘I wish I’d bitten him harder, but then I’d probably catch something vile. You’re pond scum, the lot of you. Why have you dragged me here?’

      ‘There are things we need to talk about,’ he said, forcing his tone to mildness.

      ‘So use the phone.’

      ‘That wouldn’t have been wise,’ he said and took another step forward and maybe that was a mistake. For her hand came up and slapped, a solid, ringing slap that pushed his face aside and echoed around and around the confines of the cabin. He gasped, his face darkening in anger. Instinctively his hand came up and caught her wrist, dragging it down.

      ‘Don’t you touch me,’ she snapped and lashed out with her feet. Her leather boot hit his shin and it was all he could do not to yelp.

      ‘Do you know what the penalties are for assaulting royalty?’ he demanded, astounded, moving adroitly so she was held out of kicking range.

      ‘Do you know what the penalties are for international kidnap?’ she countered, still trying to kick. ‘For grabbing me and hauling me here against my will? I don’t know what you want with me, Andreas Karedes. Tell your thugs to turn the plane round and take me home.’

      She wrenched her wrists so hard he released them. She staggered back. His hands came out and caught her shoulders. She steadied and her hand came up and slapped again. Harder.

      Ouch. If he wasn’t careful he’d have a black eye to explain to the press.

      ‘I just want an explanation…’ he started, but she was too angry to let him go on.

      ‘I don’t care what you want. Let me go.’

      ‘Not until you tell me what I need to know.’

      ‘You can’t do this.’

      ‘Holly, it seems I already have,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m sorry you were abducted. I meant to persuade you to come—not to coerce you. But now you’re here, you need to accept the royal imperative. You’ll stay until we have an explanation.’

      Um… maybe that hadn’t worked. As an apology for what had happened, maybe it lacked a certain finesse. Holly certainly seemed to think so.

      She stared at him blindly, two spots of flame high on her cheeks revealing that her temper


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