The vision he had experienced at death's door had left him fairly well convinced that when he fulfilled the destiny he had been sent back to finish, he would be returned to that blessed Light he had seen, this time, permanently. Until he had met Sophia, the peace that had filled him in that fleeting glimpse of heaven had been preferable to anything on earth...

"My son!" a deep, mellifluous voice boomed out cheerfully all of a sudden.

Gabriel looked over and saw his father, Lord Arthur Knight. He grinned. One of his favorite people on earth.

The tall, white-haired aristocrat was coming out of the refreshment room with his matronly lady-friend, Mrs. Clearwell.

As Gabriel greeted them, both elders showed him the sampling of Greek delicacies that they had collected on their small plates.

Gabriel stayed a moment longer to chat with them, for he had always been particularly close to his jolly, manly father and was delighted by his old man's budding romance with Lily's erstwhile chaperone, the adorable, plump, vivacious, little Mrs. Clearwell.

In truth, the bustling and witty widow was much nicer to his father than Gabriel could ever recall his late mother having been. At any rate, they both knew he was on duty, so they did not detain him.

He left them happily keeping each other company and continued on patrol, trying not to imagine what sort of impact news of his death would have on his old man, if it came to that.

Pa.s.sing by the Delphic Oracle's room once more, he spotted his cousin, Jacinda, Lady Rackford, along with Alec's wife, Becky, both having their fortunes told, and listening to the woman's nonsense with great enthusiasm.

He smiled wryly at their girlish playfulness over the whole thing, then his watchful gaze traveled over the rest of the guests in the darkened chamber, about fifty people in all. Suddenly, he noticed a couple taking advantage of a shadowy corner to steal a kiss.

Oh, Lord, he thought, recognizing the pair as Derek and Lily. He shook his head as the couple seemed to lose themselves in their torrid embrace. b.l.o.o.d.y newlyweds.

Becky spotted him in the doorway and waved, while Jacinda reveled in telling the Delphic Oracle that her husband had a tattoo a lot like that great snake of hers, all wrapped around his arm. Gabriel laughed to himself, wondering how the decidedly secretive Rackford would have felt about this revelation by his wife, but that was Jacinda for you. Never a dull moment. No wonder she got along so well with Georgiana.

Farther down the hallway, Gabriel smiled at Lord Strathmore's bluestocking bride, Lizzie, as he pa.s.sed her, but he did not dare interrupt her heated discussion.

"I don't see how one can argue that Lord Elgin had any right to ship the Parthenon marbles back to London. I mean, really, they belong to the Greek people-"

"But Lady Strathmore, the statues would have been destroyed!" some pompous-looking MP was trying to convince her. "Lord Elgin saved them from the ravages of war, don't you see?"

"I'm sure Princess Sophia would agree with my position," she said firmly, but as Gabriel moved on, he wondered where Princess Sophia was at the moment.

First there had been the reception line, then a period of sitting at the head of the ballroom with her host, the portly Prince Regent. This done, she had been mingling and charming everyone, moving among her guests with four of the guards whom Gabriel tended to suspect the least a.s.signed to shadow her every movement.

The English soldiers from the garrison were posted around the ballroom's perimeter, but the Greeks stayed with her. After long deliberation, Gabriel had selected Yannis, Markos, Niko, and Kosta for the honor. The others were dispersed throughout the castle.

Keeping a discreet and respectful distance, the four chosen bodyguards formed a wide, secure box around her, front and back on both sides. Whenever she took her seat at the head of the room or at table, they retreated to flank her, a pair of men behind her on each side.

All the Greek bodyguards were certainly easy to pick out of the crowd. Tonight, instead of their usual black garb, they were proudly arrayed in the traditional costume of their countrymen: a red vest, richly embroidered with gold and silver thread, worn over a white cotton shirt; a loose, skirtlike garment called a fustanella, also of white cotton, which was secured with a broad red sash, and worn over wool knee breeches, with stockings and odd-looking shoes called tsaruxia. On their heads, each man also wore a plain, circular cap of matching red felt.

Rather than also adopting the traditional dress of her country's ladies, Sophia had opted for a different strategy in her apparel. Eager to inspire her guests' generosity, the whimsical temptress had adorned herself in a modified version of the ancient fashion.

Though Gabriel and the other military men had mocked the thought of guests wearing togas-thankfully, they had been wrong about that, as formal attire had proven to be de rigeur-they had all been stunned into awed silence when they had caught their first glimpse of Sophia tonight, arrayed in gauzy white silk like some marble Aphrodite brought to life.

A wreath of bay leaves crowned her head; a golden circlet hugged her upper arm. On her feet, sandals.

She had to be freezing.

He couldn't believe she had dressed like that, but she had caused a sensation with her daring, and that, he supposed, was exactly the sort of thing a gorgeous young royal was supposed to do.

All he knew was that he disliked intensely the overheated stares she drew from too many of the male guests. At the same time, he mocked himself for his jealousy and his useless possessiveness. She wasn't his. She never would be, no matter how his heart protested.

Perhaps he could at least dance with her, he thought, recalling her attempt to make him promise her a waltz when he had showed her the escape route through the wine cellar.

He had refused since he would be on duty, but did he really need to be quite so standoffish? The distance that had come between them ever since he had mentioned his worries about a traitor had him now reconsidering his obstinacy.

If one dance would make her happy and bring them back into harmony with each other, then where was the harm?

Yes, he decided, he would ask her to dance.

Sauntering back toward the ballroom, Gabriel braced himself for the sight of her again, because every time he looked at her, she took his breath away.

Crown Prince Christian Frederick of Denmark had seated himself by her side and soon commenced grilling her none too subtly on all manner of topics concerning herself, from her upbringing and her education to her views on home and family. It seemed to be some sort of interview, and Sophia knew she should not be growing annoyed.

The big, strapping Norseman was perfect for her purposes: handsome, brown-haired, thirty-two, and looking for a royal bride. His country had even had the sense to try to stay neutral as best it could during all the warring between Napoleon and the rest of Europe. Greece and Denmark; fire and ice; the bottom of Europe and the top. It made perfect sense strategically and in many other ways.

The prince was undeniably attractive, too.

If the people of Kavros needed her to make a wise marriage alliance someday, she was quite certain the ideal royal husband was sitting by her side.

Unfortunately, Sophia could not stop furtively scanning the crowd for the flash of a scarlet uniform.

Where are you? she thought desperately, searching for Gabriel. She knew he was on duty somewhere nearby, overseeing all of his ironclad security measures, but she had not laid eyes on him in half an hour, and she found herself growing thirsty for lack of him, like a plant that needed water.

Perhaps it was not as her bodyguard that she needed him right now, but as the man who had already staked a claim on her heart, whether either of them had intended it or not. G.o.d, she felt so torn. She could not afford not to charm the Danish prince, but despite herself, she was not enjoying the reminder that she'd probably end up with someone else. She only wanted Gabriel and what on earth were they to do?

The prince noticed her distant smile and summoned a footman with an elegant wave of his jeweled hand.

But when he lifted a gla.s.s of champagne off the footman's tray and offered it to Sophia, she declined with a regretful shake of her head. "I am sorry, Your Highness," she murmured. "My chief of security has ordered that I may only accept gla.s.ses brought to me by that one fellow alone, and n.o.body else. See?" She pointed to one of the British soldiers from the garrison, the captain's second in command. He was in charge of the bottles served to her from private stock and every gla.s.s that was to touch her lips.

If anyone managed to poison her tonight, that tried-and-tested soldier was the one who would be hanged for dereliction of duty.

"Ah, the old threat of poison," the future king said with a world-weary smile. "Believe me, my dear, I know just how you feel. Living this way can be such a royal bore. I shall taste it for you."

"Don't!" she warned.

The Crown Prince did it anyway. He took a sip and, satisfied that he had impressed her with his gallantry, then offered her the gla.s.s.

Sophia accepted it only when she saw that he did not fall dead upon the floor.

His Highness regarded her with a speculative smile full of amus.e.m.e.nt, but she only held the gla.s.s in her hand.

She did not take a sip. To have done so would have felt disloyal to her bodyguard. After all, she told herself, if Colonel Knight was putting his life on the line for her, the least that she could do was obey the blasted protocol.

The prince eyed her Ancient Greek costume in wary amus.e.m.e.nt. "Shall we dance, my fair G.o.ddess?"

Distracted from her search for her Gabriel, she glanced over at him in surprise.

Crown Prince Christian Frederick stood and offered her his hand.

She thought of Kavros, and her people, and Gabriel's stoic refusal of her request for a waltz a few days ago-such a simple thing to ask, but he would not do it. Why was she making herself miserable over a man who was so determined to keep her at arm's length?

With that, she summoned up a brilliant smile for the Crown Prince, though inwardly she was feeling rather wretched. "I would be honored, Your Highness." She placed her hand in his and rose.

He watched her in fascination as she allowed him to escort her to the dance floor.

CHAPTER.

THIRTEEN.

U pon walking into the thronged ballroom, Gabriel noticed at once that the music had changed, the Greek players with their rousing folk tunes replaced by the smooth elegance of the orchestra.

The dancing had begun. Excellent, he thought, looking around for Sophia with an air of determination. The first person he saw, however, was his sister, Georgiana.

"Brother!" She was standing right inside the entrance with her husband, Lord Griffith, and his closest friend since boyhood, their firstborn cousin, Robert, the Duke of Hawkscliffe, head of the Knight clan.

Gabriel greeted his kin with a smile. His sister hugged him with her usual doting affection, moving carefully with the now-showing curve of her pregnant belly.

Ever the protective elder brother, he had not entirely approved of her traveling over b.u.mpy roads to the castle for the occasion, but if her husband did not see cause for alarm, then he could hardly object. Besides, a lifetime as her sibling had taught Gabriel that it was nigh impossible to stop Georgie from doing what Georgie wanted to do.

With her pa.s.sion for the rights of women, he supposed that his sister was not about to be denied the chance to meet the future female ruler of a whole country, no matter how small and poor it might be.

"She's brilliant!" Georgie confided. "I love her! Ian just introduced us a little while ago."

"She's very beautiful," Robert remarked in a respectful tone. "Smart as a whip, too, from what I hear."

"She also happens to be very good with a knife," Gabriel informed them with a crooked grin.

"Egads," Robert murmured.

"I don't know how she manages to stay so strong without her family helping her through this," Georgie exclaimed. "It's tragic how so many of them have been killed. You keep her safe, Gabriel, will you?"

He put his arm around his sister. "I'm not going to let anything happen to her."

"I know you won't. Keep yourself safe, too." Georgie clung to his arm. "We're going to miss you so! You're the best brother in the whole world."

"Hey! What about me?" a voice retorted from nearby.

Gabriel laughed as their middle sibling joined them.

"Derek," Griff greeted him, laughing.

"Just because I always teased you and he was too d.a.m.ned n.o.ble to sink to my level?" Derek jested, giving their sister a kiss on the cheek. He nodded to the others. "Hullo, all."

"Where's Lily?"

"She got caught up trying all the Greek foods with Mrs. Clearwell and Father."

"I hope I can talk to Her Highness again later this evening," Georgie said. "I might have ideas about how to help the poorer citizens of Kavros, since that seems to be such a concern."

"My wife was very active in helping the lowliest citizens back in Calcutta," Griff told Robert with a proud gleam in his eyes.

Gabriel swept the room with a quick glance. "Where has she gone, anyway?"

"Her Highness? She is dancing."

Gabriel halted. "Oh." He turned toward the dance floor and searched the weaving crowd of whirling couples, gliding at the waltz. For a fleeting moment, he caught sight of Sophia in the arms of a tall, brown-haired man in uniform. An array of glittering medals and the red diagonal sash the haughty-looking fellow wore across his chest suggested he was some sort of dignitary.

A strange reaction moved through him in a wave when he saw them. An unpleasant pain that rather choked him. "Who is that...dancing with her?" he forced out.

"That," Robert informed him in a low tone, "is Crown Prince Christian Frederick of Denmark."

"Prince?" Gabriel echoed faintly, absorbing the word like a body blow.

"Yes, I understand he's looking for another wife."

"Another wife? Is he a widower?" Georgie asked blithely, only making conversation, while Gabriel stared, his mind reeling.

The strangling sensation grew. "He certainly looks like he's enjoying himself," he growled, still watching the dancers for another glimpse of the storybook pair.

"Actually, it was a bit of a scandal," Robert told them. "The prince was previously married to a young lady who I believe was his cousin. But he dissolved the marriage after learning that she was having an affair with her music teacher."

"Good heavens!" Georgie whispered.

"The prince banished his ex-wife to the coldest reaches of Jutland, and forbade her from ever seeing their child again."

"Oh, that's terrible," Georgie murmured, while Gabriel stared at his ducal cousin with a chill arrowing down his spine. "Well, if Princess Sophia fancies him, I daresay she'd better never stray from her vows."

"Not that she would," Lord Griffith amended.

"Unless she likes the snow," Derek drawled under his breath.

"Would you all please excuse me?" Gabriel choked out abruptly. "I need to go and check on my men outside."

Derek eyed him sharply. "I'll come with you."

"That really isn't necessary-"

"I don't mind. I could use some fresh air."

Gabriel was too routed by the duke's explanation to argue. Stunned by the news about Sophia's latest suitor, he could see the writing on the wall.