A Tale of Two Cousins (A Papaioannou Novel Book 3), Page 4

  She bit her lip again, but shook her head. “That’s sweet of you to offer, but I wouldn’t feel right about leaving him with a stranger. He has to be grieving for his little girl, and the home he knew, and I wouldn’t want him to have any more anxieties than what he already has.”

  “Has he shown signs of anxiety?”

  “Well ... not so much, although he looked so pathetic when I was going to the shower that I ended up taking him with me. He stood outside it and monitored the water flow.”

  Dmitri had a sudden mental vision of soapy water sliding down her lush curves, of her wet, sleek hair pointing straight down to her ass, and was immediately aware of that he was becoming hard. He cleared his throat, telling himself he really needed to avail himself of a woman if he was having that sort of reaction after having been in Thyra’s company for less than an hour. In order to distract himself from just how long trails of soapy bubbles would wind themselves down her legs, he asked, “Since Valentino doesn’t mind walking, there are several interesting ancient neighborhoods we could stroll through. Do you have an interest in history?”

  A little smile made her lips curl. “You could say that. My family is very big on it.”

  What the hell did that mean? He shot her a quick glance, but she was exclaiming over the scenery. Was she deliberately trying to pique his interest with curiosity about the odd things she said? He didn’t think so. She seemed to be unaware that her comments were anything but normal. He continued to study her while they toured the botanical gardens, relishing her delight with everything despite the fact that he wasn’t actually interested in plants.

  After an hour of that, he lured her to the Anafiotika neighborhood. “It’s very scenic,” he told her when they climbed one of the narrow white stone staircases, surrounded by white stone houses and walls, and bougainvillea that seem to spill down over every available surface. “There are several cafés right on the stairs ... ah, yes, Valentino, and many cats, too.”

  Thyra giggled when Valentino came face-to-face with an indifferent cat. He stared at it for a moment, his yellow eyes unblinking until the lazy white-and-gray cat got up, stretched, then sauntered off down the stairs. “Valentino! Why do I have a feeling you just glared at that cat until he moved out of your way?”

  Valentino strolled forward, his tail held straight up with its little shepherd’s crook bend at the tip giving him a jaunty air.

  They roamed the area for another hour before Dmitri’s subtle suggestions of having lunch in a cool taverna took a more direct bent. “I’m going to drop if I don’t get something cold to drink, and what’s more, your cat is bound to be thirsty. You may not feel the need for refreshment, but Valentino and I do. Ah, this one looks pleasant.” With a hand on her back, he all but pushed her into the small fenced garden area crowded with white metal wrought iron tables and chairs, and umbrellas that gave much desired refuge from the midday sun.

  “Well ... I suppose a little lunch would be OK,” Thyra said reluctantly, picking the cat up to carry him through the crowd. “I brought his food so that he can have a meal. The woman at the pet store said he is probably used to eating throughout the day.”

  When a waitress came to see what they wanted, Dmitri asked for a pitcher of water for them, and a bowl of the same for the cat, while they perused the menu. She gave him a little flutter of her lashes that he had no difficulty interpreting. To his surprise, Thyra commented on that after the woman left to get their water.

  “Does that get old?”

  “Does what?” he asked, looking up from the piece of paper that listed the day’s offerings.

  “Women ogling you like that. That waitress was all but drooling on you. I just wondered if you’re flattered by that sort of thing.”

  Dmitri considered that for a few moments. “I don’t really think much of it, to be honest.”

  She made a face. “Which means you secretly like it, but you don’t want to say that because you’re afraid I’ll think you’re egotistical.”

  “Not exactly. I would be lying if I said that I don’t notice the attention that I get from women, but that’s just something that happens to us, so I don’t spend much time worrying about it.” He looked back at the menu.

  “Us?” Thyra asked, her straight eyebrows rising a little.

  “My cousins. They are ... were ... very popular with the ladies before they were married. If you want to see ogling, you should see them in public without their wives. Women have been known to go to great lengths to get their attention, and that, I assure you, has not happened to me.” He smiled at the memory of the times Iakovos and Theo had been all but dripping with women.

  The waitress returned with a pitcher of water containing a few ice cubes and several slices of lemon floating in it, which she set down before placing a separate bowl of water on the floor for the cat. She made sure that the side of her breast brushed Dmitri’s arm when she leaned over to pour a glass for him, before leaving him with a sultry smile.

  His gaze met Thyra’s. She had a hand over her mouth, but her bright amber eyes were dancing behind the lenses of her glasses. “Oh, sure, it doesn’t happen to you.”

  “That was unfortunate timing,” he admitted, then, unable to keep from asking, added, “What about you? How do you cope with men who ogle you?”

  “I’ll let you know when that happens,” she said, picking up the half sheet of paper, and frowned at it, her lips moving when she sounded out the Greek letters. After a moment she glanced up, her brows pulling together a little when she asked, “What?”

  “I was just wondering why you pretend that you’re not attractive. I know that many women have body issues that keep them from realizing just how beautiful they are, but you seem to be very in touch with your emotions, so I don’t think it’s that.”

  She shrugged. “Oh, I wish I was thinner, and taller, and could wear contacts without my eyes getting irritated, but once I hit thirty, I decided life was too short to worry about crap like that. It doesn’t mean I delude myself, however. Men don’t seem to be overly interested in me. Most men.”

  “Now, that is a very cryptic statement, one I will want to return to in a moment, but first, do you need help with the menu? I can translate for you if you wish. I think we’d better have our order ready before the waitress returns, lest she feel the need to refill my glass again.”

  “Well ...” She bit her lip, hesitating before giving a little sigh. “I’d like a salad if possible.”

  “After walking around all morning? You can’t tell me you’re not hungry. Or are you slimming? Er ... dieting?”

  “I should be, but eh.” She made a face. “I actually do like salads. I’m not one of those women who pretend they don’t eat anything in front of a man, and then go home and binge on a pizza, in case you were worried.”

  “Very well. I am most definitely an omnivore, so I believe I’ll have something a bit more substantial. Shall we get a bite to eat for Valentino?”

  “I have his kibble here, but maybe I could swing ... maybe just a tiny bit of plain chicken breast,” she answered, tucking a small packet of cat food into her purse. “The woman at the pet store said not to give him too much people food, but they have plain chicken in cat food, so I can’t imagine that would hurt him.”

  The waitress returned for the order, retreating without rubbing herself on Dmitri again. But Thyra’s odd statement remained in his mind, and when she had finished talking about how much she enjoyed this neighborhood, he gently returned her to the topic that interested him. “Would you consider it rude if I asked what you meant by most men not being attracted by you?”

  She looked down at her glass, giving it a swirl before taking a sip, after which she bent over to check on Valentino. The cat was sitting in the shade of the table, his eyes mostly closed. “That’s kind of a long story. And one that I shouldn’t ... but I hate this, I really do, and I’m not any good at lying. Chris always said that I had the worst poker face he’d ever seen.”

  “Ch
ris?”

  “My brother, Christian.” She made a vague gesture, looking anywhere but at Dmitri, clearly distressed by something.

  “Thyra, you don’t need to tell me anything that would make you feel uncomfortable,” he said, reaching across the table to give her fingers a friendly squeeze. That was his intention, but the way her fingers curled onto his made him aware once again that she possessed a many attributes that he would greatly enjoy exploring further.

  “I know, but we’ve had such a nice day, and I just hate this. I really do. I didn’t think I would, because I always thought it doesn’t matter, you know? It was always there, and it doesn’t mean anything, but then Maggie had this idea that she could take my identity temporarily, because I’m such an introvert and am so bad with people, and she’s just the opposite, and she eats up attention.”

  “Maybe we could start at the beginning,” he said, confused. “What didn’t you think you’d hate?”

  She hesitated, bit her lip again, drawing his attention to her mouth. A rush of blood hit his groin when he watched her little white teeth bite what were sure to be sweet, sweet lips. “Have you ever heard of a country called Beck?”

  He dragged his mind off the idea of tasting that delectable lower lip that she insisted on abusing, digging through his memory. “Beck ... no, I don’t ... oh, wait, yes I do. It’s a small Russian country that recently declared its independence?”

  “Not quite. Beck was part of Prussia originally, then belonged to Poland, and after World War I was given to Germany. The government there has declared independence from Germany, and has applied to the United Nations and European Union for recognition.”

  “Is your family from there?” he asked, guessing there was a reason she knew so much about what he recalled was a tiny principality of no particular importance either politically or geographically.

  She nodded. “My brother and I were born there despite the fact that my father was exiled. ...Well, his grandfather was, and on down the line to Dad. And Chris, I suppose. But Dad said it was important we were born in Beck, even if it wasn’t really Beck at the time, so he dragged my mother there when she was about to pop both times with Chris and me.”

  “That must have been difficult on her.” He was confused by the importance of her birthplace, but was content to let her tell the story in her own time.

  “I’m sure it was, but that’s all part of why this just seems so wrong now. Dad ...” She shook her head. “Dad would have had kittens if he knew what I’ve done. He was always insistent that we knew who we were, and honored our family. But Maggie can be very persuasive, and it seemed to make sense at the time. I was desperate for the job the magazine offered, but I couldn’t do what they wanted me to do, parading around like ... ugh. I just couldn’t. But Maggie could, only she kind of let it go to her head, and last night ... last night was just so awkward. She loved it, but I didn’t, and heaven only knows what the people in Beck are going to think if they ever hear about it. Not to mention the fact that Dad is probably rolling in his mausoleum.”

  Dmitri wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about, or what a charity party had to do with the small country of Beck, but figured that if he was patient, she’d explain. “Last night at the party?”

  She nodded, her expression miserable as she played with the water glass, her gaze firmly affixed to it. “It was awful.”

  “Did someone say something to you?” he asked, deciding right then and there that if anyone had made an unkind comment, he’d have a word or two to say to the person in question.

  “No. Yes. Maggie did.”

  “Maggie is ... ?”

  “My cousin. Actually, second cousin once removed, but her mom and my mother were best friends, so we grew up fairly close.” She glanced up at him, her lovely eyes almost glowing in the sunlight. “Maggie came to Athens with me. Her name is Margaret Colton. Except last night, she told people at the party that she was Princess Juliane of Sonderburg-Beck.”

  Dmitri thought back to the blonde who had knocked the glass of wine onto his chest. “I believe I saw her. She was quite the ... er ... life of the party.”

  “That’s Maggie for you,” Thyra said with a sigh, her shoulders slumping, pouring a little of her water into the now-empty cat’s bowl. Valentino sat up and promptly stuck a paw in the water, patting the edge of the bowl until he dragged it closer to him. “She always has been a bit of a ham. She should have been an actress, but she doesn’t stick to things for very long. I hope she didn’t do anything embarrassing last night.”

  “Nothing out of the norm for a woman who clearly enjoyed being the center of attention ...” A thought occurred to him, one that had him narrowing his eyes on her. “You said that she was pretending to be you?”

  She nodded, chewing on an ice cube.

  “But if she told people she was this princess, that would mean you ...” He stopped, unable to continue.

  “It doesn’t mean anything,” she told him. “Not really. Beck hasn’t existed for almost a hundred years, and although Dad’s family maintained the titles, they are basically meaningless. Just an anachronism held by a bunch of stubborn men who refused to admit that times had changed.”

  “You’re a princess?” he asked, not believing that it was possible.

  She nodded. “But like I said, it’s not—”

  “A real princess?” he asked, trying to wrap his brain around the idea that the quirky, unconventional, completely unique woman before him was a royal. An actual royal princess. One whose ancestors ruled a country.

  No. It couldn’t be. She had to be pulling his leg. If there was anyone less like nobility than Thyra, he had yet to meet them. For some reason, she was trying to beguile him into believing her incredible story, and that left him moderately annoyed. He’d enjoyed the day spent with her, enjoyed thinking about her all soapy and wet, her flesh silky smooth as he stroked his hands along her curves, but if she expected him to even consider wanting to kiss and touch her after she’d filled him full of such obvious lies, she was very mistaken.

  “You don’t believe me, do you?” she asked, a little smile curling up one side of her mouth.

  It took him a moment to find a response that wasn’t downright obnoxious. “It’s an incredible story.”

  She rummaged around in her bag for a moment before pulling out a passport. “I’m glad I got this back from Maggie this morning.” She held it out to him.

  He took it, staring deep into those amber eyes, seeing only their clear depths. Slowly, he flipped open the first couple of pages until he came to her picture. Below it, was her name.

  Juliane Thyra Friederike Luise, Princess of Sonderburg-Beck.

  “Hell,” he swore in Greek, then looked up to meet her gaze, her eyes now filled with amusement. “You’re a bloody real princess.”

  “If you get all weird on me and start calling me Your Serene Highness, I will dump this pitcher of water on you,” she said, taking back the passport.

  “You’re a serene highness? Not even just a regular highness?” he asked, feeling as shocked as if she had, in fact, dumped ice water on him.

  “Right, don’t make me sorry I told you,” she said, her brows pulling together again. “This is exactly why I don’t tell people. They get so weird around me once they know. I’m no different than I was ten minutes ago, Dmitri. I’m unemployed. I live in a small flat in London with four other people, because I’m broke. The money the magazine is willing to pay me to interview some hotshot Greek businessman is the only thing that’s going to feed me for the next month. So you can stop looking at me like I’m something special, because I’m not. I just have a title that goes along with my name, that’s all.”

  “On the contrary, I think you’re very special,” he said, adding before she could voice her protest, “But it has nothing to do with your ancestry. I’m confused about one thing, though: if your title is tied to Beck, why aren’t you there living the royal life?”

  “It’s a long story, one involvi
ng a man named Kardom. He’s trying to convince the Beck powers-that-be that he should be named crown prince over my brother, who actually is the crown prince. Kardom’s doing his best to make everyone think that Chris and I aren’t worthy of taking on the job of being the new royal family.” She wrinkled her nose. “And to be honest, Chris doesn’t want any part of it.”

  “But you do?” he asked, intrigued.

  “I wouldn’t mind it, if ...” She hesitated and bit her lower lip once more. He wanted desperately to taste that lip. “Well, it’s a moot point. The leadership of Beck doesn’t seem to be overly interested in having me take the job.”

  “It doesn’t work like that, does it?” He thought of what he knew about other small principalities, which admittedly wasn’t a lot. “If you’re the heir, doesn’t the government have to recognize you as such?”

  “Yes, but they can choose simply to not recognize us and forgo having a royal family. I heard that they did want a royal family, though, for reasons of tourist revenues, but the minister I talked to said that Kardom was deep into the government’s back pockets, and was handing out bribes like crazy to be recognized over us. Over me.” She drew little circles on the top of the table, not meeting his gaze.

  “So, what are you going to do about that?”

  “Do about it?” Surprise was evident in the glance she shot him. “About Beck not wanting me, you mean?”

  He nodded.

  Her back stiffened. “Nothing. There’s nothing to be done. Kardom’s work is done.”

  “Who exactly is Kardom?” he couldn’t help but ask, not wanting to upset her, but disliking the feeling of confusion.

  “He’s a cousin. A very distant cousin,” she added with emphasis. “He’s descended from another line, not the direct line like Chris and me, and thus his claim to the title is much, much weaker. But he’s not letting that stop him, the bastard.”

  “Hmm.” He rubbed his chin as he thought. He didn’t know why he felt so invested in Thyra’s problem, but he accepted the fact that he did, and moved on. “You’re going to fight him, naturally.”