Free The Virgin's Proposition by Anne McAllister Page B

But there will be time—”
    “Yes,” Gerard said cheerfully. “Tonight. After the party.”
    “But—”
    “So, no, you will not be my official hostess,” he went on, “but we have waited long enough. I’ve missed you, Adriana.”
    “I’ve—” Anny swallowed “—missed you, too.”
    He heard the hesitation in her voice. “You are upset that I wasn’t here last week.”
    “No. I—”
    “I’m sorry I couldn’t be,” he explained to her. “Duty called. It often does,” he added wryly. “You understand. Better than anyone, you understand.”
    “Yes.”
    “But I am here now. And I’m looking forward to seeing you tonight. I will be there for you at eight.” He rang off before she could object.
    Object? Hardly. Gerard had the same ability to command that her father did. It came from a lifetime of expecting people to fall in with his plans. And even if he had stayed on the phone, what possible objection could she have made?
    Of course he had sprung it on her at the last minute. But it wasn’t as if she couldn’t pull herself together, find a dress, be prepared to leave at eight.
    Princesses were always prepared. It was part of their job description.
    She just wished she felt more prepared to marry him.
    “His Highness regrets that he is unable to come in person,” the driver said respectfully as he bowed, then helped Anny into the back of the black sedan that had arrived outside her flat at precisely 8:00 p.m. “He is hosting a dinner meeting. He will be on the yacht when you arrive.”
    Anny tried to look regretful, too. But what she felt was relief. While she could make conversation with anyone anywhere, thinking about being alone with Gerard in the confines of the car had made her edgy for the past three hours.
    He would be all that was proper and polite. And so would she. They would make small talk. Discuss the weather. His trip to Toronto. Her latest chapter notes on her dissertation.
    Or their upcoming wedding.
    She flashed a quick smile at the driver. “C’est bien. Merci.”
    He shut the door, and immediately the silence enveloped her. Sometimes riding in cars like this suffocated her. She felt as if she were buffered from the real world, isolated, with the sounds and commotion beyond the doors held firmly at bay.
    But right now, for a few minutes, she welcomed it. The short ride to the harbor would give her a chance to compose herthoughts, to prepare herself, to become the princess of Mont Chamion she would have to be this evening.
    But as the car approached the harbor, she became distracted by the rows of yachts and sailboats, thinking about how Demetrios and his brother had brought Franck here. Now she scanned the multitude of boats as if, just by looking, she might be able to tell which one was Theo’s.
    Of course chances were very good Demetrios’s brother was already gone. And it didn’t matter anyway. The memories of her night with Demetrios had been intended for her to take out and savor, yes. But they weren’t intended to distract her from the obligations at hand.
    Now, though, even when she turned her gaze away from the harbor and stared resolutely straight ahead, it wasn’t the driver she saw. In her mind’s eye she still saw Demetrios making love with her.
    “Go away,” she muttered under her breath.
    The driver glanced around at the sound of her voice and met her gaze in the rearview mirror. “I beg your pardon, Your Highness?”
    “Nothing.” Anny pressed her fingers to her temples, feeling a heachache coming on. “I was simply thinking aloud.”
    And she needed to stop. Now.
    A small launch carried her to where the royal yacht lay at anchor. As they approached the yacht she could see tuxedo-clad staff scurrying around. She caught snatches of the lively sounds of live music. Maybe she and Gerard would dance. He would hold her in his arms and they would find love together. It had happened that way for Papa and Mama. Her father had assured her it was so. Their