The Greek Billionaire's Innocent Princess. Chantelle Shaw

His fingers closed around hers and even that tiny gesture was wonderfully new. She was twenty-six and she had never walked along a beach hand in hand with a lover, she thought despairingly. She didn’t know where the years had gone, but it seemed as though one minute she had been a child and suddenly she was a grown woman who had been so absorbed with her studies and her work for the museum that romance and boyfriends had bypassed her.

      She had taken on her share of royal commitments uncomplainingly because that was how she had been brought up: dutiful, obedient, always conscious of her position and grateful for the privileges that came with being a member of the royal family. But Nikos did not know she was a princess; he thought she was a waitress called Rina, and for a few hours she could be normal— just a woman who had met a man and was free to respond to the chemistry that smouldered between them.

      The cave was illuminated by a lamp that he must have brought from the garden. The pale beam of light that spilled from it highlighted the sculpted beauty of his face, and Kitty felt a fluttering sensation in her chest as her eyes focused on the sensual curve of his mouth. She hovered uncertainly while he dropped down onto the dry sand, the common sense for which she was famed telling her to go—now—before she did something she would later regret. But her feet seemed to be melded to the floor of the cave, and when he patted the sand next to him she walked slowly forwards.

      He held out a bottle of champagne. ‘Here, have some. You’re shivering again. It’s a pity it isn’t brandy, but I’m afraid you’ll have to make do with vintage Bollinger.’ He stretched out so that his lean, hard body was spread temptingly before her. His white silk shirt was open at the throat revealing the tanned column of his throat and a mass of dark body hair that she’d noticed also covered his forearms. He was so male, so overwhelmingly virile, Kitty thought shakily as she sank onto her knees beside him and took the bottle.

      ‘It doesn’t seem right to drink champagne from the bottle,’ she murmured. ‘It’s very…decadent.’

      ‘Decadent?’ Nikos’s low rumble of laughter echoed around the cave. ‘What a curious mix of contradictions you are, Rina. You sound as prim as a Victorian governess, and yet you’re happy to go skinny-dipping in the moonlight. Do I need to remind you that you are naked beneath my jacket?’

      He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen a woman blush, Nikos mused idly. The sexually confident women he dated were sophisticated game-players long past the first flush of virginal innocence. The thought caused him to frown as he watched Kitty take a sip of champagne. She seemed to be a curious mixture: shy one minute and eagerly responsive to him the next. When he had first kissed her he’d gained the impression that it was a new experience for her, but after her initial hesitation she had parted her mouth beneath his and kissed him back with such fiery passion that he had dismissed the idea.

      He didn’t need to remind himself that she was wearing nothing, he acknowledged grimly when she handed him the champagne bottle and he took a long draught. The dinner jacket was far too big for her and fastened so low that he could see the rounded contours of her breasts. He did not know what crazy impulse had made him ask her to stay, and he was already regretting it. He never made rash decisions. Even when he gambled he carefully weighed up the odds before he threw the dice. But for some reason Rina disturbed his cool, logical brain—and disturbed other areas of his body too. He wanted to kiss her again and never stop, but instead he forced himself to relax and tried to ignore the temptation of tasting champagne from her lips.

      ‘So, Rina,’ he queried lightly, ‘what made you decide to become a waitress?’

      Oh, Lord—how did she answer that? ‘I…um, I need to work,’ Kitty mumbled awkwardly, thinking that now might be a good time to bid him goodnight. ‘Like most people, I have to earn a living, and I’m not trained to do anything else.’ She thought of the years she’d spent studying for her degree, and her absorbing work at Aristo’s museum, and tried to imagine what life would be like if she hadn’t had the benefit of an excellent education, and really did have to work in some menial job. She had little idea of life outside her gilded cage, and although she supported various charities she couldn’t imagine what it must be like to be poor. The only experience she’d had of life in the real world was when she had worked as a volunteer at Aristo’s hospital, but, although she had found the work rewarding, her father had disapproved—citing concerns for her safety— and forbidden her from going.

      ‘Have you always lived on Aristo?’

      That was easier to answer, and Kitty nodded. ‘I was born here, and I never want to live anywhere else. Aristo is the most beautiful place on earth.’

      Nikos laughed. ‘Have you visited many other places, then—on a waitress’s pay?’

      ‘Well…no,’ Kitty faltered. She could hardly tell him that she had spent a year travelling around Europe and had visited Paris, Rome, cosmopolitan London, Venice and Florence, followed by six months at an exclusive finishing school in Switzerland. She had been a guest at royal palaces and country mansions, had wandered around fabulous art galleries and been taken on tours of all the famous sights, but nowhere compared to Aristo, the jewel of the Mediterranean. ‘Aristo is my home and I love it here,’ she told Nikos firmly.

      Her passion for the island intrigued him, and he wondered why she felt so strongly about it. Was it the place or people that held her heart? ‘Do you have a family here?’ he asked curiously.

      What would he say if she revealed that her family had ruled Aristo for generations? Kitty felt as though she were falling deeper and deeper into a mire. She wasn’t lying exactly, she told herself. She just wasn’t telling the whole truth. ‘I have a mother, sister, brothers…’ She faltered, thinking of the person who was missing from the list, and her heart contracted. ‘My father died a few months ago.’

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      It wasn’t a throwaway remark—Kitty heard the note of compassion in Nikos’s voice, and tears, sudden and unbidden, stung her eyes. ‘I miss him so much,’ she admitted thickly. ‘Sometimes I see his face in my mind, hear his voice, and I can’t believe he isn’t here any more.’ She brushed her hand across her wet eyes, and was startled when Nikos captured her fingers in one of his strong hands and traced his thumb pad down her cheek, following the damp trail.

      ‘I’m sorry.’ She didn’t want to cry in front of him. Her grief was a private matter that she shared with no one, not even her family. She had been especially close to the king, and he had called her his gentle dove, but she had been taught never to display her emotions. One of the golden rules of the royal family was to exert self-control at all times. Embarrassed by her weakness, she tried to draw away from Nikos but he curled his arm around her shoulders and tugged her towards him.

      ‘Don’t be sorry,’ he said quietly. ‘I know how devastating it is to lose a parent. My mother died many years ago, but I will never forget her. You won’t forget your father, Rina, but the memories will become easier, and eventually you will think of him without the sadness you feel now.’

      He smoothed her hair back from her face, and Kitty closed her eyes, soothed by the rhythmic stroking of his fingers. She felt his warm breath on her face and when she lifted her lashes she drowned in the depths of his midnight-dark gaze. He was so strong, so alive, and she wanted to absorb some of his strength because she felt weak and lost and achingly lonely inside.

      Tentatively she rested her hand on his chest and felt the steady thud of his heart beneath her fingertips. It was utterly silent in the cave, as if they were cut off from the outside world and were the only two people in the universe. She could hear the sound of Nikos breathing—no longer steady but quicker, like his heartbeat; and she lifted her eyes to his face and stared at him, mesmerised by his masculine beauty.

      Nikos knew he should move and break the spell that had been cast on him in the witching hour, but his muscles were locked. In the lamplight the tears that spiked Rina’s lashes glittered like tiny diamonds and the shadow of pain in her eyes moved him. It was more than fifteen years since his mother had died. He had been sixteen, a boy suddenly forced to be a man, but he still remembered the pain in his gut, the feeling