Page 18 of Impossible Heir for the King

She pulled it on, almost able to wrap it around herself three times over, and walked out onto the private deck, breathing in the view. A hammock was strung between two trees down by the beach. Beyond that she saw Niko paddling a small boat back from the fishing boat they’d anchored in the bay. She watched as the waves pushed him onto the shore. He hopped out, splashing in the shallows to pull the boat further up onto the sand. Maia’s jaw dropped as he did—not because of his display of skill and strength, but because the man was as naked as the day he’d been born.

Sheshouldlook away. But she didn’t. She couldn’t. She just stared, her mouth still ajar as he secured the small boat and then splashed back into the sea. Once deep enough he lifted his arms in a graceful arc and dived. His movements were powerful and so assured, she knew he’d swum this cove a million times. This was his home and he’d shed the regal persona and the weight of duty—coming here he was free to be himself. She saw the strength and purpose in his stroke. She also saw the joy. Something within her softened towards him and sent a pulse of desire around her body.

She shouldn’t be watching him. It was pure voyeurism but she simply couldn’t tear her attention away. Eventually she realised a low throbbing sound was growing louder. An incoming helicopter. Niko must have heard it too because he swam back to shore. He walked out of the water onto the beach. Scooping up a towel that he wrapped around his hips, he stood at the shoreline, his back to her, his face lifted to the sky, watching for the machine.

It didn’t land. Instead a large pallet was released on a line. She saw a figure in the open hatch, making some sign to Niko. She saw the wide slash of his smile as he moved to unhook the crate, the movement of his chest as he laughed and made a rude gesture with his hand. The guy in the helicopter made one back. They were friends then. Niko and the scary-looking guard who always wore those reflective sunglasses.

Niko was already unfastening the net securing the crate when Aron emerged from the house wheeling a trolley with him. As the noise from the helicopter faded she could hear their laughter as the Niko stacked the boxes from the crate to the trolley. As he then pulled the trolley towards the house, he glanced up towards her. It was too late to draw back out of sight. She made herself remain still. She wasn’t going to apologise for seeing all that she had. If he was going to flaunt himself around the place completely naked, then he was going to be seen.

Five minutes later someone knocked on her door and she was not disappointed to see Aron and not Niko standing there when she opened it.

‘Some items have arrived for you, ma’am,’ he said. ‘The king was aware you had only the clothes you were wearing and hopes you’ll find something acceptable in this selection.’

Stunned, Maia stepped back to let Aron wheel the trolley in. There were three large boxes. That was a lot of clothing.

‘Would you like assistance to unbox?’ he asked politely.

‘No, thank you, Aron,’ Maia said softly, mortified that she had to be clothed like some urchin. ‘I’m sure you’ve a lot more important things to do with your time. I can manage.’ She didn’t want to make more work for the man. ‘Where would I find the king if I wanted to thank him?’

‘I believe he’s gone back into the water.’ With a slight bow, Aron closed the door behind him.

Maia turned back to the windows. Sure enough Niko was stretching out in the water with those strong, long strokes again. Probably still not wearing anything. Well, she couldn’t lose all time again just by standing there staring at him. She faced the boxes. Part of her wanted to reject everything he offered but she hadn’t the confidence to emulate his nudist approach. Finally curiosity won and she opened the first box, and it was like every Christmas she’d never had.

As she unfolded each item she placed it in the large walk-in wardrobe. There were bikinis in bright shades, shorts, loose linen trousers and long cool dresses—some floral, some neutral, all soft and beautifully stitched and gorgeous. These were quality items that she could never afford to buy for herself. The shoes were mules and slides, perfect beach wear where it didn’t matter if the size wasn’t quite right but as it happened they fit perfectly. There was a box of toiletries with moisturiser and after-sun lotion plus a small make-up kit of sampler-sized products that she hadn’t the skill to use.

But she used the comb and coiled her hair into a high bun, hot from the effort of unpacking the embarrassment of riches that had been given to her. Worst of all she loved every item.

She stroked the yellow bikini, drawn to the bright colour. Despite having just showered, she would explore that pool and hopefully avoid him for a while yet.

The temperature of the water was just cool enough to be refreshing in the heat of the afternoon and it was luscious. She floated, feeling guilt bloom for her attempted escape this morning. It worsened because part of her was pleased to be brought to this place. She didn’tdeserveto enjoy it given she’d run away and only made things even more difficult. Wincing with embarrassment, she dived deep to escape her own thoughts.

As she surfaced she spotted Niko walking towards her. Fortunately he had a towel around his waist. Maia meant to keep her eyes on the water but she just stared—hot again even while standing chest deep in water.

‘How long do you plan to keep me here?’ She went on the defensive.

‘As long as it takes to figure out what we’re going to do.’

‘I thought you’d already decided what we’re going to do.’

‘Perhaps we need longer to talk things through.’

‘You mean you’ve discovered you need longer to get me to agree to whatever you want?’

He watched her.

‘Because you’re used to making all the rules. Everyone saying yes, all of the time.’

‘You think life is ever that simple?’

‘Mostly, for you. You’re the king.’

He stared down at her for a long moment and she had the odd feeling he was literally counting beats before answering her. ‘You haven’t actually given us a chance to talk. You assumed you’d have no voice and no choice, so you ran before even trying,’ he said calmly. ‘And I don’t entirely blame you when—’

‘You might think you do, but you don’t know anything about me,’ she interrupted hotly, uncomfortable because he was right.

‘Then why don’t you talk to me?’ he countered. ‘Why not give us a chance to get to know each other and work this outtogether?’

She waded to the opposite side of the pool and climbed out. The thought of being bracketed with him made her restless and her immediate instinct was always to run. Yet he sounded so damned reasonable. How was it that now she felt bad for skipping out when he was the one who’d kidnapped her in the first place in a display of power and might, money and control? How did she end up feeling guilty for not ‘giving him a chance’?

---