Page 28 of Impossible Heir for the King

‘Sit around what?’ he prompted.

Staring at him all day. Sheneededdistraction. Desperately.

He suddenly smiled. ‘You should take the time for yourself, Maia.’

For herself? She wanted him to distract her. ‘You don’t need to feel sorry for me, Niko,’ she flared. ‘I don’t want your pity. You don’t need to spoil me.’

‘Why not?’ he countered. ‘Why shouldn’t I feel sorry for you? Why shouldn’t I want to spoil you?’

‘I’m pregnant. Not useless.’

‘I’m not talking about resting just because of the baby,’ he muttered. ‘Why is it so hard for you to accept a little pampering in your life?’

‘I don’t need it.’

‘Don’t you? Doesn’t everyone? I sure as hell do.’

Her eyes widened.

‘I make no apology for taking breaks. For doing the things I enjoy.’

‘Women.’

‘Being in the water,’ he corrected and then shook his head with a rueful smile. ‘You really have a one-track mind, Maia Flynn.’

She felt that heat and suddenly nodded. ‘It’s a recent thing,’ she admitted apologetically. ‘Do you think it’s the hormones?’

‘Maybe.’ He leaned against the counter and laughed. ‘I’m talking about taking time for myself. Yes, to come here and swim naked all damned day if I want. I like it. Why shouldn’t you do whatever brings you joy too? You’ve worked your whole life. You should be able to have a few moments of peace for yourself.’

‘Why can’t you believe that I actually was?’ She pulled her knife from her pocket. ‘I do have a few things like that.’

He was instantly alert. ‘Show me?’

For once it was an actual request, not a demand.

‘It’s just little.’ Embarrassed, she pulled the block from her pocket. ‘I raided the woodpile, sorry.’

‘You can take anything you want.’ He studied the partial figurine she’d been whittling. ‘You’re an artist.’

‘Hardly,’ she scoffed. ‘I’m a hobbyist. It’s just something to fill in time.’

‘It’s more than that.’ He held the half-carved miniature sea turtle in the palm of his hand. ‘Did someone teach you?’

She nodded. ‘Our chef, Stefan. He taught me how to make pastry and he also taught me to whittle. Sometimes there weren’t any offcuts or driftwood or anything so we’d just use vegetables. Or coconut shells. Whatever was at hand.’

‘You were friends?’

Stefan had been more of a father figure to her than her own father. He’d certainly been more kind. ‘His marriage had broken down and he’d lost contact with his own children. I think perhaps with me he had a chance to...’ She shrugged. ‘He was a good man who’d made some mistakes in the past. He had regrets, you know? He taught me lots of useful stuff—placing orders in each port, haggling in the market, where to find good books in the hostels, diving for shellfish. He helped me with my correspondence school work. I was a distraction for him I guess.’

‘I’m sure you were more to him than just a distraction.’ Niko glanced into the distance. ‘Where is he now?’

Maia plucked the little carving from Niko’s palm and put it back in the apron pocket. ‘My father can be difficult. He drinks, he’s controlling, he’s constantly trying to make money, but he’s not usually violent. When I was a kid Stefan kept me busy in the galley—out of the way and safe—and he introduced me to something I grew passionate about and that I became good at.’ She looked at Niko. ‘And that was the problem. I got too good.’ She smiled sadly. ‘I actually thought Dad might say well done, you know? But all he did was terminate Stefan’s contract because I could make croissants just as well as him—which wasn’t actually true, by the way. But I’d made him redundant and I had to take over the galley full-time.’

Niko’s smile had gone—he was all cheekbones of perfection. ‘How old were you?’

‘Sixteen.’

‘How long had Stefan been with you?’

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