onto her side and tucked her knees up to her chest. As the sun had set Theo had made souvlaki on the grill on the terrace overlooking the sea and they'd eaten it with sticky fingers as the stars came out, diamond pinpricks in a drop cloth of black velvet. Relaxed from a day in the sun and a few glasses of very good wine, Ariana had started remembering how soft Theo's lips had felt. Soft and yet so demanding. And she'd wanted him, quite desperately, to kiss her again.
And then he had. He'd risen from the table, put his hands on her shoulders, told her he was leaving and would be back before dawn. Ariana had opened her mouth--to do what? Gasp? Protest? Beg ?
Theo had kissed her silent. One hard, swift kiss, and then he was gone--before she could ask him to stay, tell him it didn't matter about the boat.
Yet as she watched him stride from the terrace, his body hardening and tautening with purpose, she knew it mattered to him. I am not a thief . Theo had come a long way, longer perhaps than she would ever know. He wasn't about to go back again.
And neither was she. Fear seized her as she thought about Theo being discovered. Arrested. Imprisoned. And what would happen to her? Her father would come find her, take her back to the island. Force her to marry Dion.
Ariana closed her eyes. It was all so awful, so horrifying, yet the possibility that made her rigid with terror was not her own fate but Theo's. She was worried for him.
She cared about him.
How had that happened? She barely knew the man. Was she such a love-starved innocent that a single afternoon of kindness made her start believing in fairy tales? In love?
No, surely not. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if even now she could will sleep to come. She did not love him. Wouldn't love him. Tomorrow they would marry and in six months that sham marriage would be annulled.
Six months. What would she do for those six months? Where would she live? And if Theo was just marrying her out of some twisted desire to annoy her father, what did that mean for her? For them?
There was no them, she reminded herself. Theo might have kissed her, might have made her laugh, but she was no more than a means to an end for him, an end she didn't yet fully understand.
And that's all he'd be to her. A means to freedom and self-sufficiency. Taking another deep breath, she willed herself to relax. Still the minutes ticked by and sleep didn't come.
Eventually she must have dozed, for she lurched upright suddenly, her heart pounding as she blinked sleep from her eyes. Downstairs she heard someone moving about, quietly, stealthily, and air bottled in her lungs.
Was it Theo? Or one of her father's henchmen having found Theo--and a way here?
Silently she slipped from the bed, looked for a weapon. A lamp? Ridiculous. She was ridiculous and completely unprepared for anything. She heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and reached for a discarded shoe. Not much, but it would have to do. She pressed against the wall; if the door opened, she would be hidden--and ready to attack.
And then the door did open, a cautious creak, and Ariana held her breath, the shoe raised--
"Good Lord." Theo wrapped his hand around her upraised wrist. "What were you going to attack me with? A sandal?"
She sagged against the wall, weak with relief. "It has a high heel."
"True." He took the shoe from her nerveless fingers and examined the tapered point of the heel. "I'd rather not have this thrust in my eye, thank you very much."
She let out a shaky laugh. "I was afraid you might be someone from my father."
Theo clucked his tongue. "Have you no faith in me at all, Ariana?"
"Did you return the boat?"
"Of course." He tossed the shoe aside and moved into her bedroom, as comfortable there as he'd been anywhere. He wore a black shirt and black jeans, and in the moonlit room she could barely make out his features.
"How did you get back?"
"Lukas followed me in my own boat. I moored the boat to your
And then he had. He'd risen from the table, put his hands on her shoulders, told her he was leaving and would be back before dawn. Ariana had opened her mouth--to do what? Gasp? Protest? Beg ?
Theo had kissed her silent. One hard, swift kiss, and then he was gone--before she could ask him to stay, tell him it didn't matter about the boat.
Yet as she watched him stride from the terrace, his body hardening and tautening with purpose, she knew it mattered to him. I am not a thief . Theo had come a long way, longer perhaps than she would ever know. He wasn't about to go back again.
And neither was she. Fear seized her as she thought about Theo being discovered. Arrested. Imprisoned. And what would happen to her? Her father would come find her, take her back to the island. Force her to marry Dion.
Ariana closed her eyes. It was all so awful, so horrifying, yet the possibility that made her rigid with terror was not her own fate but Theo's. She was worried for him.
She cared about him.
How had that happened? She barely knew the man. Was she such a love-starved innocent that a single afternoon of kindness made her start believing in fairy tales? In love?
No, surely not. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if even now she could will sleep to come. She did not love him. Wouldn't love him. Tomorrow they would marry and in six months that sham marriage would be annulled.
Six months. What would she do for those six months? Where would she live? And if Theo was just marrying her out of some twisted desire to annoy her father, what did that mean for her? For them?
There was no them, she reminded herself. Theo might have kissed her, might have made her laugh, but she was no more than a means to an end for him, an end she didn't yet fully understand.
And that's all he'd be to her. A means to freedom and self-sufficiency. Taking another deep breath, she willed herself to relax. Still the minutes ticked by and sleep didn't come.
Eventually she must have dozed, for she lurched upright suddenly, her heart pounding as she blinked sleep from her eyes. Downstairs she heard someone moving about, quietly, stealthily, and air bottled in her lungs.
Was it Theo? Or one of her father's henchmen having found Theo--and a way here?
Silently she slipped from the bed, looked for a weapon. A lamp? Ridiculous. She was ridiculous and completely unprepared for anything. She heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and reached for a discarded shoe. Not much, but it would have to do. She pressed against the wall; if the door opened, she would be hidden--and ready to attack.
And then the door did open, a cautious creak, and Ariana held her breath, the shoe raised--
"Good Lord." Theo wrapped his hand around her upraised wrist. "What were you going to attack me with? A sandal?"
She sagged against the wall, weak with relief. "It has a high heel."
"True." He took the shoe from her nerveless fingers and examined the tapered point of the heel. "I'd rather not have this thrust in my eye, thank you very much."
She let out a shaky laugh. "I was afraid you might be someone from my father."
Theo clucked his tongue. "Have you no faith in me at all, Ariana?"
"Did you return the boat?"
"Of course." He tossed the shoe aside and moved into her bedroom, as comfortable there as he'd been anywhere. He wore a black shirt and black jeans, and in the moonlit room she could barely make out his features.
"How did you get back?"
"Lukas followed me in my own boat. I moored the boat to your
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