Modern Romance December 2015 Books 5-8. Kate Walker

She would have loved a sibling of her own. Any kind of playmate would have been wonderful. Anything would have been better than a childhood spent travelling the world with her parents on their various tours, educational tutors in tow, the only child in a world full of adults.

      ‘Even so, aren’t princes supposed to travel with a retinue of protectors at all times? And have lots of flunkeys?’ In Paris he’d arrived at her home alone both times. And the only staff he’d brought to the Théâtre de la Musique had been clerical.

      ‘It would take a very brave person to take me on—don’t you think, little songbird?’

      She felt her cheeks turn scarlet. She wished he would stop addressing her as little songbird—hated the rush of warmth that flushed through her whenever he called her it. Instinct told her that to acknowledge it would be like waving a red flag to a bull.

      ‘Helios always travels with protection—Theseus less so.’ Something sparked in his eyes, as if he were asking a question of himself. ‘If you would like to see me behave in a more regal fashion you can accompany me to the ball at the palace next weekend.’

      ‘What ball?’

      ‘It’s something Helios is hosting—a private pre-gala celebration. There will be royal flunkeys and footmen everywhere, princes and princesses from around the world—and I, little songbird, will be in my most princely attire.’

      ‘And you want me to go with you?’ Was he asking her to go as his date?

      ‘It will give me a chance to show you how princely I really am,’ he teased.

      ‘If it’s such a formal affair, why haven’t you already got someone to take with you?’

      ‘If I took anyone else she would take it as a sign that I was serious about her and expect me to drop to one knee.’

      ‘Do I take it that means you’re not enamoured of the thought of marriage?’

      Disgust crossed his face, as if she’d suggested he dunk his head into a vat of slime.

      ‘You’re a prince. Aren’t you supposed to marry and produce heirs?’

      ‘Helios will produce all the heirs Agon needs. Theseus will marry and produce some more as backup. Leaving me free to continue my bachelor lifestyle for eternity.’

      ‘The eternal playboy?’

      ‘I dislike that term,’ he said, his eyes narrowing. ‘It implies a certain disrespect towards women.’

      She had to laugh. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a feminist?’

      ‘My grandmother was the strongest person I’ve ever known. If I was to disrespect any woman or make judgements on the basis of her gender I am certain my grandmother would hunt me down in my dreams to give me a dressing-down.’

      ‘She sounds like a formidable woman.’

      Talos nodded. Without his grandmother’s loving but steely influence—especially when he’d hit his teenage years and gone completely off the rails—he knew he wouldn’t be half the man he was today.

      ‘She was a pillar of strength,’ he said, raising his glass of retsina. ‘And I think she would approve of you playing her final composition.’

      She made a snorting sound. ‘Why would you think that?’

      ‘Because you have the same steel core she had.’

      Amalie’s eyes widened, and then she frowned, a V forming in the centre of her brow. ‘I can’t perform in front of people. My core is made of blancmange.’

      ‘But, little songbird, you are the only person other than my family who dares stand up to me.’

      Even now she was disagreeing with him.

      For the first time he understood why Theseus had taken a two-year sabbatical after he’d completed his time at Sandhurst. The travelling part he’d always understood, but Theseus’s insistence on travelling under an assumed name had been something he’d never got. Talos was proud to be a Kalliakis—proud of their family reputation as fighters, proud of his nation’s people and culture. He saw himself as a protector of their proud island and had seen Theseus’s insistence at disguising his identity as a snub to the Kalliakis name.

      Now he understood how it must have felt for his brother to be treated as someone...normal. Theseus had shared many of his tales about the personal freedom he’d found in his time away, but only now did Talos understand why it had been such a special time for him.

      Amalie was the first person since childhood to treat him like a normal person. She had no qualms about disagreeing with him on any subject. As he thought back over the past few days he realised that she simply didn’t pander to him. He could be anyone.

      Which meant that when she smiled at him—which, admittedly, was rarely—it was because she meant it. When those stunning green eyes became stark, their pupils enlarged, showing her desire for him—little tells she would hate to know he recognised—it was for him.

      He’d never bedded a woman and been one hundred per cent certain whether she was in his arms out of desire for him or the aphrodisiac quality of his title. It had never bothered him—indeed, the idea that he could bed any woman he chose held an aphrodisiac quality of its own—but the mistrust had always been there, unacknowledged yet simmering away in the depths of his consciousness.

      If he were to make love to Amalie there was no question that her responses would be authentic. If she made love to him it would be for him.

      The temptation to lean over the table, cup that beautiful heart-shaped chin in his hand and taste those delectable lips was so strong he dug his toes into his boots to keep his feet grounded to the floor.

      Theos, it was a temptation that grew harder to resist the more time he spent with her. His will power and control were legendary, and yet he was having to remind himself of all the reasons he had to hone them to greater strengths when with this woman.

      Making love to Amalie could be disastrous. He was supposed to be getting her fit to play at his grandfather’s gala, not plotting to get those lithe limbs wrapped around his waist...

      He looked at his watch and got sharply to his feet. ‘I need to head back. I’m flying to New York in the morning but I’ll be back Thursday evening. I’ll get Kostas to take you to Natalia’s—she’ll make a ball dress for you.’

      ‘I haven’t agreed to come,’ she protested.

      ‘I am a prince of the land, little songbird,’ he answered with a grin. ‘If you defy my wishes I will have you locked in the palace dungeons.’

      ‘You’ve already said the dungeons are only a tourist attraction.’

      He winked at her. ‘It will take me two minutes to appropriate the keys for them.’

      He laughed at the scowl she bestowed upon him.

      ‘I’ll see myself out. Kali̱nýchta, little songbird.’

      He might not have any intention of acting on the absurdly strong chemistry growing between them, but he could damn well enjoy her company for one evening of entertainment.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

      A LOUD RAP on the front door broke Amalie out of the spell she was under.

      She froze, violin under her chin, bow bouncing lightly on the E string. There was only one person she knew who so vividly announced his presence with just a knock on the door.

      The five days of peace without Talos had come to an end. He’d returned to Agon the previous evening but she’d had a lucky escape in that he hadn’t bothered with her. That hadn’t stopped her spending the entire evening at his gym, looking over her shoulder,