ballroom before I decide to tell the prince of your reluctance to do the job you are employed to
do,’ he said tersely. ‘And, Rina—’ he paused in the doorway of the sitting room ‘—don’t forget
my champagne, will you?’
His arrogance was breathtaking. It was on Kitty’s lips to tell him that under Aristo’s ancient
laws his lack of respect for a member of the royal family was a serious offence. He was lucky
she did not call for the palace guard, and have him thrown out, she thought angrily. She was
renowned for her calm and peaceable nature, but she was infuriated by his insolence.
But it was her own idiotic fault that he believed she was a waitress, and, uttering a most
unprincesslike curse, she swung on her heels and marched out of the banqueting hall.
CHAPTER TWO
KITTYspent the rest of the evening carefully avoiding Nikos Angelaki, but she could not forget
him, or the electricity that had fizzed between them when they had been alone together. No man
had ever looked at her the way Nikos had done—with a raw, sexual hunger in his eyes that had
evoked a wild longing deep inside her and left her wishing that he had swept her into his arms
and made passionate love to her on the banqueting table.
Unable to dismiss her shocking fantasy from her mind, she had been too embarrassed to face
him again with the food and champagne he had requested, and had asked one of the staff to serve
him. Later, she had hovered behind a pillar, and watched him partner a steady stream of beautiful
women on the dance floor. If it hadn’t been for her stupid lie she could have asked Sebastian to
introduce them, and maybe he would have asked her to dance. But if she revealed her identity to
him now she would look a complete idiot in front of Nikos, and her brother.
She wouldn’t know what to say to him anyway, she acknowledged bleakly. She was hopeless
with men. The few fledgling romances she’d had at university had been disastrous and she knew
her family despaired of her ever finding a husband. Kitty sighed, weighted down by the familiar
feeling that she was a failure. Her dress was uncomfortably tight and tendrils of her hair had
come loose and curled about her hot face. She wished the ball were over. She’d spent so long
fretting over it and she was glad it was a success but she longed for the quiet solitude of the
palace library and her books.
The king had shared her fascination with the history of the Adamas Kingdom, and she treasured
her memories of the evenings they had spent together researching their ancestors. Nothing was
the same without her father, she thought bleakly. One day soon Sebastian would be crowned
King and she would give him her full support, but she missed King Aegeus desperately.
Grief surged through her and she bit her lip, knowing that she must control it as Queen Tia
managed to do when she was in public. She was tired of the party, and she stepped through the
French doors leading onto the terrace. The night air was warm and heavy with the perfume of
jasmine and honeysuckle, and the silence was blissful after the hubbub of voices in the ballroom,
but her peace did not last long.
‘Well, well. Kitty Karedes! I didn’t realise it was you. I saw a woman slip furtively out of the
ballroom, and assumed she was meeting a lover, but, unless the ice-princess has thawed
considerably since we last met, that’s not likely, is it?’
‘Vasilis! I won’t lie and say it’s a pleasure to see you. But the idea of you sneaking out to spy on lovers is wholly believable,’ Kitty replied contemptuously. She glanced at Vasilis Sarondakos,
felt the familiar wave of revulsion sweep over her and turned her back on him, hoping he would
get the message and leave her alone. But Vasilis was not renowned for his sensitivity.
The Sarondakos family were leading members of Aristo’s aristocracy, and Vasilis’s father,
Constantine, had been a close friend of the late king. At eighteen, Kitty had been painfully naïve,
and had never had a boyfriend. With her father’s encouragement she had gone on a date with
Vasilis, but she had been deeply traumatised when he had subjected her to a drunken assault. His
taunts that her voluptuous body was designed for sex had been devastating, but she had been too
ashamed to tell her family what had happened, believing Vasilis’s assertion that because she had
worn a low-cut dress she had been—in his words— ‘gagging for it’.
The memory of his hot, alcohol-fuelled breath on her skin and his sweaty hands tearing her dress
and touching her breasts still haunted her, and when her father had suggested a couple of years
ago that he would be pleased if she married the son of his dear friend, Constantine Sarondakos,