Moriana carved out the time to show Theo the most interesting pieces in the auction. She made her speech and the auction began. And by the end of the evening a great deal of money had been raised for the new children’s hospital wing and Theo had almost purchased the Vermeer for a truly staggering sum. In the end the painting had gone to a gallery and Moriana dearly hoped they needed a tax write-down soon because they clearly hadn’t done their sums. That or they really wanted to support the children’s hospital.
‘I thought you’d lost your mind,’ she said when only a handful of guests remained and he came to congratulate her on the evening’s success. ‘Not even you could justify that amount of money for a lesser Vermeer.’
‘But for you I tried.’
His smile reminded her of young boys and frog ponds and sultry, still evenings, back when Theo’s parents had still been alive. Augustus had always caught his frogs with quick efficiency and, once examined, had let them go. Theo, on the other hand, had revelled in the chase. He’d been far more interested in which way they jumped and where they might try to hide than in actually catching them. To this day, Moriana didn’t know what that said about either Theo or her brother.
‘Are you ready for that drink yet?’ he asked.
‘What drink?’
‘The one we’re going to have tonight, when you graciously reconsider my proposal.’
‘Oh, that drink. We’re not having that drink any time soon. You’re getting a form letter rejection in the post, remember?’
‘You wouldn’t.’
‘I did. You’ll receive it tomorrow, unless you’re still here. I assume Augustus has offered you palace hospitality?’
Theo inclined his head.
Of course. ‘Then perhaps you should find him. I’m about to retire for the evening.’
‘You said you’d give me five minutes of your time.’
‘I said nothing of the sort. And yet here I am. Giving you my time.’ If she’d worn a watch she’d have glanced at it.
‘I gave you a fight when you needed one earlier.’ Since when had his voice been able to lick at her like flames? ‘I didn’t want to, but I did. Here’s what I want in return. One kiss. Here or in private. Put your hands on me, just once. You have my permission. I’ll even keep mine to myself. And if you don’t like touching and kissing me I’ll withdraw my pursuit at once. Does that not sound fair and honest? Am I being unjust?’
Gone was the teasing menace of her childhood and the reckless philanderer of her youth. In their place stood a man in pursuit, confident and dangerous.
He’d been waiting for her when she’d finished her speech, approval in his eyes and a glass of champagne in hand that he handed to her. Faultlessly attentive. Silently supportive.
Tell me what you need.
A fight. A snarl. Barbed compliments. His attention. Something other than rejection to focus on.
‘One drink. One kiss,’ he murmured. ‘Do you need to collect a coat of some sort? Because I’m ready to leave.’
‘Why would I leave with you? Why would I indulge you in this?’
‘Because I have something you want. Several somethings.’
‘No, you don’t. If you had anything I wanted, I’d be giving your proposal all due consideration.’
‘Position.’ His eyes never left her face.
‘Yawn.’ She was Princess of Arun.
‘Passion. You’ve never felt it but you want it, nonetheless.’
‘Maybe.’ She was honest enough to concede his point. ‘But you’re not the only man to inspire passion in a woman. Plenty do. I can find passion without you.’
His eyes flashed silver.
‘Temper, temper,’ she said.
‘Commitment,’ he offered next.
‘We all exercise that. I’m already committed to various causes, not to mention my country and my family. Some would say I’m blindly overcommitted to many things and receive little in return, and they’re probably right. Commitment is overrated.’
His eyes never left her face. ‘Commitment to you.’
CHAPTER THREE (#u9b334bbf-6a30-5b05-b619-582f17f0d45b)
HE WAS GOOD at this. Aury had warned her. He knew exactly what to offer in order to make her heart thump with painful hope and longing.
‘Let’s talk about this somewhere without the avid audience,’ he muttered.
She glanced beyond him discreetly, only to realise he was right. Those who had yet to leave seemed to have no intention of doing so with her and Theo putting on a show right in front of their eyes. Even Augustus was staring at them, his eyes full of clear warning.
Don’t make a spectacle of yourself. Remember your place.
Don’t embarrass me.
Don’t make me regret that we’re related.
‘Five minutes,’ she said to Theo, as she nodded minutely at her brother—message received—and headed for the door.
Moriana lived in a wing of the royal palace. She’d furnished it to her taste, raided the palace’s art collection until she was satisfied with the result and had purchased whatever pieces she felt were missing. Augustus could complain about her spending—and he did—but her ledger was in the black.
In the space of five years she’d tripled the value of the royal art collection and outlaid only a fraction of that cost. She wheeled and dealed, had an eye for a bargain and the sensibilities of a curator. And, of course, she had the throne of Arun behind her.
She had dual degrees in politics and fine arts. Connections the world over. She was the ambassador for a dozen different charities and she took those roles seriously. She was educated, accomplished and blessed with favourable looks, or so she’d been told. She was in a position to make a difference.
And nervous. Dear heaven, she was nervous as Theo prowled around her sitting room, staring at her furnishings and possessions as if they held secrets he wanted to know.
‘You wanted a drink?’ she asked.
‘If you’re having one.’ He put his hands in his trouser pockets and continued to study the sculpture on a small side table. ‘It’s fake,’ he said of the copied Rodin.
‘I know. But it’s a good copy and it’s still very beautiful.’ She’d paid a pittance for it. ‘How do you know it’s a fake?’ Not many would. Not without examining it thoroughly, and he hadn’t.
‘Because my father gifted the real one to my mother on their tenth wedding anniversary.’
Oh, well. There you go. ‘I have Scotch.’
‘Perfect.’
