He glanced at his watch. Another couple of hours and this would be over. He would call Amy and she would come to him.
Now, she was a woman of substance.
A frisson of tension raced through him as he recalled their earlier exchange. He’d never seen her angry before. There’d been a possessiveness to that anger too. She’d been jealous.
Usually when a lover showed the first sign of possessiveness it meant it was time for him to move on. In Amy’s case he’d found it highly alluring. Her jealousy had strangely delighted him.
Helios had long suspected that she kept parts of herself hidden from him. She gave her body to him willingly, and revelled in their lovemaking as much as he did, but the inner workings of her clever mind remained a mystery.
She’d been different from his usual lovers from the very start. Beautiful and fiercely intelligent, she held his attention in a way no other woman ever had. Her earlier anger hadn’t repelled him, as it would have done coming from anyone else; it had intrigued him, peeling away another layer of the brilliant, passionate woman he couldn’t get enough of. When he was with her he could forget everything and live for the moment, for their hunger.
The seriousness of his grandfather’s illness clung to him like a barnacle, but when he was with Amy it became tamed, was less of a thudding beat of pain and doom. When he was with her he could cast aside the great responsibilities being heir to the throne brought and simply be a man. A lover. Her lover. She was a constant thrum in his blood. He had no intention of giving her up—marriage or no marriage.
‘Has anyone else caught your attention?’ Theseus asked him.
‘No.’
Helios had always known he would have to marry. There had never been any question about it. He had no personal feelings about it one way or another. Marriage was an institution within which to produce the next set of Kalliakis heirs, and he was fortunate to be in a position where he could choose his own bride, albeit within certain constraints. His parents hadn’t been so lucky. Their marriage had been arranged before his mother had been out of nappies. It had been a disaster. His only real hope for his own marriage was that it be nothing like theirs.
Princess Catalina, currently dancing with a British prince, caught his eye. She really was incredibly beautiful. Refined. Her breeding and lineage shone through. Her brother was an old school friend of his, and their meals together in Denmark had shown her to be a woman of great intelligence as well as beauty, if a little serious for his taste.
She had none of Amy’s irreverence.
Still, Catalina would make an excellent queen and he’d wasted enough time as it was. He should have selected a wife months ago, when the gravity of his grandfather’s condition had been spelt out to him and his brothers.
Catalina had been raised in a world of protocol, just as he had. She had no illusions or expectations of love. If he chose her he knew theirs would be a marriage of duty. Nothing more, nothing less. No emotional entanglements. Exactly as he wanted.
Making a family with her would be no hardship either. He was certain that with some will on both their parts a bond would form. Chemistry should ensue too. Not the same kind of chemistry he shared with Amy, of course. That would be impossible to replicate.
A memory of Amy heading barefoot down the dimly lit passageway, her clothes and towel huddled to her, her dark blonde hair damp and swinging across her golden back, her bare bottom swaying, flashed into his mind. She’d been as haughty as any princess in that moment, and he couldn’t wait to punish her for her insolence. He would bring her to the brink of orgasm so many times she would be begging him for release.
But this was neither the time nor the place to imagine Amy’s slender form naked in his arms.
With titanium will, he dampened down the fire spreading through his loins and fixed his attention on the women before him. For the next few hours Amy had to be locked away in his mind to free up his concentration for the job in hand.
Before he could bring himself to dance again he beckoned a footman closer, so he could take another glass of champagne and drink a large swallow.
Theseus eyed him shrewdly. ‘What’s the matter with you?’
‘Nothing.’
‘You have the face of a man at a wine-tasting event discovering all the bottles are corked.’
Helios fixed a smile on his face. ‘Better?’
‘Now you look like a mass murderer.’
‘Your support is, as always, invaluable.’ Draining his glass, he got to his feet. ‘Considering the fact I’m not the only Prince expected to marry and produce heirs, I suggest you get off your backside and mingle with the beautiful ladies in attendance too.’