The Virgin's Proposition by Anne McAllister Read Free Book Online Page A

words to express the feeling that had been growing inside her all evening long. “Not really.”
    “No?” He looked sceptical, then challenged her. “Okay. So tell me then, what is it about?”
    She took a breath. “It’s what you made me remember.”
    His jaw set. “What’s that?” He leaned back against the wall, apparently prepared to hear her out right there.
    She sighed. “It’s…complicated. And I—I can’t stand here in the hallway and explain. My neighbors don’t expect to be disturbed at this time of night.”
    “Then invite me in.”
    Which, she realized, was pretty much what she’d already done. She shrugged, then turned and led the way back down the hall and into Tante Isabelle’s apartment. She nodded toward the overstuffed sofa and waved a hand toward it. “Sit down. Can I get you some coffee?”
    “I don’t think either of us wants coffee, Anny,” he said gruffly.
    “No.” That was certainly true. She wanted him. Even now. Even more. Watching him prowling around Tante Isabelle’s flat like some sort of panther didn’t turn off her desire. In fact it only seemed to make him more appealing. She had plenty of experience dealing with heads of state, but none dealing with panthers or men who resembled them. It was a relief when he finally crossed the room and sat on the sofa.
    She didn’t dare take a seat on the sofa near him. Instead she went to the leather armchair nearest to the balcony, sat down and bent her head for just a moment. She wasn’t sure she was praying for divine guidance, but some certainly wouldn’t go amiss right now. When she lifted her gaze and met his again, she knew that the only defense she had was the truth.
    “I am not marrying for love,” she said baldly.
    If she’d expected him to be shocked or to protest, she got her own shock at his reply.
    He shrugged. “Love is highly overrated.” His tone was harsh, almost bitter.
    Now it was her turn to stare. This from the man whose wedding had been touted as the love match of the year? “But you—”
    He cut her off abruptly. “This is not about me, remember?”
    “No. You’re right. I’m the one who—who suggested… asked ,” she corrected herself, needing to face her foolishness as squarely as she could. “I was just…remembering the girl I used to be.” She studied her hands, then looked up again. “I was thinking about when I was in college and I had hopes and dreams and wonderful idealistic notions.” She paused and leaned forward, needing him at least to understand that much. “Today when I saw you, I remembered that girl. And tonight, well, it was as if she was here again. As if I were her. You brought it all back to me!”
    She felt like an idiot saying it, and frankly she expected him to laugh in her face. But he didn’t. He didn’t say anything at all for a long moment. His expression was completely inscrutable. And then he said slowly, almost carefully, “You were trying to find your idealistic youth?”
    He didn’t sound as if he thought she was foolish. He actually seemed intrigued.
    Hesitantly, Anny nodded. “Yes. And then, when you said you’d do anything…” Her voice trailed off. It sounded unutterably foolish now, what she’d wanted. “I thought of those dreams and how they were gone. And I just…wanted to touch them one more time. Before—before…” She stopped, shrugging. “It sounds stupid now. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot. But it was like some fairy tale—this night—and…” She felt her face warm again “I just wished—” She spread her hands helplessly.
    He was the one who leaned forward now, resting his elbows just above his knees, his fingers loosely laced as he looked at her. “So why are you marrying him?”
    “There are…reasons.” She could explain them, but that would mean explaining who she was, and she’d ruined enough of herfairy-tale evening without destroying it completely. She didn’t want Demetrios thinking of her as some