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Luckily for Angel, his subjects didn’t expect moral perfection from their monarch. The island of Themos in the Mediterranean Sea was a liberal and independent nation. Although it was a small country, Themos was also incredibly rich because it was a tax haven, beloved of the wealthy and famous for many affluent generations. The royal family of Diamandis was of Greek origin and had ruled Themos since the fifteenth century. Throughout history Angel’s wily family had retained the throne through judicious alliances with more powerful nations and, while their army might be small, their formidable financial holdings ensured that Themos would always box above its weight.
Angel studied what he could see of the nanny, the gleam of that fiery hair displayed in a simple long braid visible beneath the woven sun hat she wore. In the sunlight that braid glittered like polished copper, summoning up further uninvited echoes from the past. Squaring his wide shoulders as he separated from his brother, Angel turned away and returned to the suite that had been put at his disposal, a glossy concealment of the truth that he was under virtual house arrest until he flew out of Alharia again because his brother didn’t want him to be seen and recognised.
Regrettably, Angel hadn’t realised thatthatwould be a problem. He had assumed that the wedding ceremony would be a hugely crowded public event, not a strictly private affair with only the Emir and the bride’s parents in attendance. He had arrived for the wedding with the comforting belief that there would be so many people present that he would easily escape detection. The discovery that he could not attend either ceremony or reception had exasperated him. As an adult, Angel had little experience of disappointment and certainly not the boredom of hiding out alone in Victorian surroundings, far removed from the comforts he took for granted. He wasn’t a ‘kick back and watch television’ kind of person, he reasoned irritably, but itwasonly for a few hours. He reached for his phone as it vibrated.
It was the pilot of his private jet. A fault had been discovered in the landing-gear hydraulics. Angel winced even as he was assured that the mechanics team that had already flown in would be working on the problem through the night in an effort to get him airborne and back home again as soon as possible. He swore under his breath and paced the Persian carpet below his feet, wondering what he could possibly do to pass the time...
Gabriella flicked through the television channels again in search of entertainment, but it was no use. Even though she spoke the language, nothing she had so far seen could capture her attention.
In an effort to dispel her bleak mood, she stood up, stretching in the light white cotton sundress she had donned once the sun went down, and her official workday was over. Not that she had had the opportunity to do anyrealwork during her brief stay in Alharia, she reflected wryly. Having registered her services with an international nanny agency the month before, Gaby was only accepting short-term placements. A couple of bad experiences in more permanent positions had made her wary and she intended to be far more cautious when choosing her next live-in employer. Providing childcare cover for wedding guests in the Alharian royal palace had sounded like a ridiculously exciting, glamorous andsafejob. Only in actuality the experience, while certainly safe, had proved to be anything but exciting and glamorous. Tired of sitting around doing nothing, she was counting the hours until her flight home the following day.
Aside from an hour in the afternoon spent supervising two six-year-olds, she hadn’thadany children to look after because most of the guests had either left their kids at home or had brought their own staff with them. Someone had overlooked that likelihood when hiring her and she had been surplus to requirements. So, what else is new? she asked herself with faint bitterness. Being an unwanted extra was a painfully familiar sensation for Gabriella.
Her parents and her little brother had died in a motorway pile-up when she was fourteen years old and recalling the sudden savagery of that shattering loss could still make her skin turn cold and clammy. Grief had shot her straight from awkward adolescence into scary adulthood long before she was ready for the challenge. Her mother’s kid sister, Janine, had become Gaby’s reluctant guardian and virtually all the money that her parents had left had been used to pay for the fancy boarding school that had kept her out of Janine’s hair. She had received a terrific education at the cost of the love, security and healing that she had needed so much more. Barely a year after losing her parents and brother she had decided that she would concentrate on becoming a top-flight nanny, after graduating from university. In her innocence, she had assumed that living in a family situation would ease her heartache for the family she had lost.
Only, Gaby reflected with deep sadness, she had been far too young and ignorant of the world when she had made that decision. Unhappily, the job hadn’t worked out the way she had hoped and now she was wondering whether she should be looking at a different career option. Thankfully, she did have the qualifications required to seek an alternative. Gifted from birth, Gaby spoke six languages fluently and had a working knowledge of several more along with a first-class degree in Modern Languages from Cambridge University. The prospect of looking for a starter job in another field held little appeal for her, however, when she was able to earn an excellent salary in the job she was in. Sadly, though, her recent experiences as a nanny had sapped her confidence and left her feeling more alone than ever. Should she fight through that feeling? she asked herself as she lifted her soft drink and wandered out to the courtyard outside her room.
Colourful glass lanterns burned below the loggia that ringed all four sides. Tall fluffy palm trees cast giant shadows across the terracotta floor tiles and the fountain gently spraying water down into a circular pond. The warm still air was infused with the fragrance of exotic flowers, and the sound of the falling water was soothing. There was nothing glamorous about the old-fashioned nursery she had spent her day in, the few people she had met or her small unadorned bedroom, but the courtyard was a truly beautiful place.
She sat down on a stone bench, determined to appreciate her surroundings because tomorrow she would be returning to London and searching for somewhere to live again. She didn’t want to overstay in her aunt’s spare room. She and Janine had never been close. A fresh live-in position would make practical sense, but she could only grimace at the prospect and as she lifted her head and straightened her tense shoulders in denial of that awful surge of anxiety her long loose hair shimmied round her in rippling waves. Nobody was ever going to scare her like that again, she promised herself fiercely, but the fear that someone might try to do so still lingered...
Angel saw her from the walkway above, but she was seated in the shadow of the trees. Only a pale gleaming pair of shapely lower legs was visible from his vantage point. A confident half-smile tilting his wide sensual mouth, he strode down the corner staircase and saw her in the light shed by the lanterns, her metallic copper hair shimmering in a glorious tumble of bright splendour. Angel stopped dead. He had a ‘thing’ for redheads because of a young student who had had hair exactly like that and he was immediately gripped by an intense sense of familiarity.
But it could not be Gabriella Knox, it wasn’t possible, he reasoned with a frown of disbelief, his keen dark gaze narrowing as he stared across the courtyard at her, and instantly fierce recognition fired inside him. That nanny he had glimpsed earlier? Ithadbeen her. Itwasher! His focus now considerably more intent, he appraised her in search of change and found little evidence of the years that had passed.
Possibly that oval face of hers was a little finer now that she had reached her twenties, he reasoned, but, if anything, she was even more of a beauty than she had been at nineteen. Her hair was spectacular, and the delicate cast of her features was only accentuated by her fair, flawless skin. She was a little on the small side, indeed barely five feet two inches in height, but that did not dim Angel’s appreciation of her other charms. The average man might first notice Gaby’s hair and her face, but her highly feminine curvaceous figure commanded equal attention. Five years earlier those wondrous curves of hers had infiltrated his every fantasy.
Back then, he had quantified Gabriella’s appeal, pigeonholed her and rationalised his attraction to her because right from the start she had been trouble and Angel had never in his life before or since chased trouble in his sex life. He didn’t take risks; he didn’tneedto take risks. Women were invariably all too willing to agree to his smallest wish...onlynotGabriella. Gabriella had stood firm, defying him to the last.
Yet in his opinion what he had asked for had not been unreasonable. Other women hadn’t argued, most certainly hadn’t accused him of trying to steal their freedom or control them. He had an understandable need for discretion in the women he took as lovers. But Gabriella had been too outspoken, volatile and independent to agree to his rules. Encounters with women who only wanted to bed him to sell a story to the paparazzi had educated Angel the hard way and, while the great and good of Themos couldn’t care less that their ruling prince might have remarkable staying power between the sheets, Angel held himself accountable to a higher standard than either of his parents had observed. He believed that revelations in print about his sex life were seedy and undignified.
‘Gabriella...’ Angel murmured tautly.
Gaby was frozen in fear when she glimpsed a dark male silhouette at the edge of the courtyard, but then fear turned into incredulous recognition. Shock kept her locked to the stone bench. Initially she was unable to credit that it could be Angel, but being forced to accept that itwashim could only horrify her. Meeting Angel again plunged her into a nightmare of mortification, forcing her back into the painful insecurities of her younger self.
For the space of a crazy few weeks, she had once been madly in love with Angel Diamandis, but he had made unreasonable demands and torn her tender heart to pieces. Subsequently, he had shown neither remorse nor regret. After a massive fight in which she had screamed at him and thrown things, it had all been over, her pride’s sole consolation being that she had dumped him and refused to listen to his excuses. They had certainly not parted as friends and she had been grateful when he had finished his degree and returned home to Themos, so that she need not continue seeing him around.
‘Angel...’ Her strained voice emerged somewhere between a whisper and a croak.
He was so very tall, at least six feet three inches and built with all the classic muscular power of an athlete, broad shoulders and strong chest tapering down to a narrow waist and long, powerful legs. When had she forgotten just how tall he was? In a dark, exquisitely cut designer suit, he was as elegant and classy as he had always been. With every breath that he drew, Angel exuded sophistication, royal pedigree and immeasurable wealth. Even casually clad in jeans he had been an arresting sight, she conceded as he stalked closer, his striking grace of movement holding her attention more than she liked. She hated him, she reminded herself, so why was she staring at him like a rabbit mesmerised by headlights? Of course, five long years on, she didn’t want tostillbe showing hostility, she reflected in dismay, her cheeks warming, because wouldn’t that kind of oversensitivity only encourage his voracious ego? Be calm, be cool, be polite, she urged herself in desperation.
He moved closer and the lights edging the path illuminated him to gleam lovingly over hard slashed cheekbones set high beneath olive skin, and shadow deep-set dark-as-coal eyes before glimmering across the sculpted lines of his wide, sensual mouth. He was still beautiful in a way she had never known a man could be and he still inexorably took her breath away. The very first time she had seen him she had been unable tostoplooking at him and she had tripped over her own feet and fallen down a step, bruising and cutting her knees. Blood had seeped from the wounds as she’d fought the angry tears stinging her eyes for the pain she had inflicted on herself from clumsy inattention. It had not occurred to her in that moment, or to anyone else, that Angel would simply stride across the courtyard, scoop her up into his arms and take her away for coffee and a clean-up as if such care from a stranger were the most normal thing in the world. But then, that Samaritan act had been pure Angel, reacting to a stray impulse and utterly unpredictable.
‘I suppose you are one of the wedding guests,’ Gaby surmised, dredging herself up out of the depth of memories that threatened to drown her. She was rather pleased at the level tone of her voice, which suggested that his sudden appearance was not fazing her at all.
‘Something like that.’ Angel shrugged as only he could do, a graceful shift of a broad shoulder that was continental, eloquent and highly sophisticated in its dismissal. ‘But what areyoudoing in the Alharian palace?’
‘It would be lovely to sit here and catch up,’ Gaby declared with a fake smile pinned to her lips as she rose hurriedly to her feet. ‘But I’m tired and I was just about to return to my room for an early night.’
‘You can’tstillbe that angry with me!’ Angel shot at her in sheer wonderment.
Gaby stiffened and lifted her chin, denying the hot colour of embarrassment she could feel flooding into her cheeks. ‘Of course not.’
‘Then be normal and join me for a drink.’
‘I don’t think that would be appropriate,’ Gaby parried uncomfortably.
‘Since when did I do appropriate?’ Angel mocked. ‘Don’t be a killjoy. Seeing you again here after so many years is a hell of a coincidence and, since we both seem to be at a loose end, why shouldn’t we catch up?’
