CHAPTER.

TWENTY-ONE.

G abriel hated himself for having to be so hard.

When he had come into their hotel room at Perpignan and found her with her eyes red and puffy, his leaden heart had sunk further, but she would not share her tears with him as she had the previous night at the country inn.

What could he do but let her treat him however she needed to? This whole ordeal was going to be difficult enough for her. He didn't want to make it any worse. His calm, respectful manner in the following two days showed, he hoped, that he was there for her if she wanted him. But he kept a safe distance in case she did not.

G.o.d, he wished he had never had to say those things, advising her to marry someone else if he fell in the coming battle. He hated the thought of his woman with anyone else. And if he let himself dwell on the possibility of her giving birth to their child nine months hence, he became dismayed by the idea of not being there to raise his son or daughter.

But he told himself to calm down. To take it one step at a time. There was no reason for his ominous intimations of death. He quite knew how to handle a sword, after all. And besides, there was no point in distracting his mind with such a monumental question when it was still too soon to know if she was with child. But what the h.e.l.l, then?

What the h.e.l.l was he going to do? The mere notion of absentee fatherhood offended every atom of his being. It violated his sense of duty as a protector and turned his precious cavalry honor to ashes in his mouth.

He almost wished that he had never touched her. But he would not have traded the past couple of days with her for the rule of Heaven itself. Sophia owned him now in body and soul. He had never known such happiness as he had tasted in those brief hours, nor had he loved like this in all his life.

Whether he'd live to enjoy it for years, or if those most capricious hags of Greek myth, the Fates, had nearly finished weaving his little thread of the great tapestry-that remained to be seen.

In the meantime, he got them onto a good, seaworthy fishing boat and paid for their pa.s.sage to Kavros, still traveling incognito as newlyweds.

Presently, the island chain his little "bride" would rule unfurled ahead.

Stark and dramatic crags of earth-brown rock climbed from surrounding waters of brilliant blue intensity. The sharp white of the hilltop town spilled down the shoulder of the main island like the curl of the white breakers smashing into the island's rugged approaches.

Great chunks of stone made it treacherous going for boats unfamiliar with these waters. The British Navy had stationed its base over in the deepwater harbor, where the way was clear, but elsewhere-all around, among, between the various size islands of Kavros-these giant useless boulders loomed, tossed at random, as if Cyclops had had a temper tantrum.

With the sails billowing overhead, Gabriel ignored the rowdy fishermen trying to capture a shark that had glided by, making a pa.s.s at their bulging nets, and continued to study this country he might either move to or die for.

Kavros Town was an irregular collection of bleached white boxes-houses and shops-all piled and jumbled together along the angle of the hill. Dominating all was the smoothly rounded blue dome of the cathedral with its gleaming cross on top.

Cl.u.s.ters of deep green olive trees skirted the town and the hills here and there, giving the scrambling goats a little shade. He spotted the ruins of an ancient something or other-only the outline of the sand-strewn foundations and a few marble columns were left standing.

As they came closer, he spotted an impressive hilltop palace above a beach of glorious white sands. Sophia had mentioned the sprawling Mediterranean royal villa where she had grown up. To the best of his knowledge, it had been sealed up tightly ever since the royal family's exile. On the beach below it, a collection of lazy fishing boats bobbed here and there, the sun-browned men done with the bulk of their work by midday.

With any number of questions he wanted to ask her, Gabriel glanced at Sophia to read her reaction to this first sight of her homeland after all these years.

But when he saw her face, his friendly questions withered on his tongue.

Her expression was muted, her stare faraway. Her taut, serious expression was more foreboding than happy, or even sentimental. He supposed he should not be surprised. Still, he was worried about her. "Are you all right?" he murmured cautiously.

She just looked at him.

She hadn't had much to say to him since their argument on the beach at Perpignan. She hadn't turned hostile at all, only cool and distant and withdrawn. He almost would have rather had her angry at him. Her temper was something he could deal with. This distance...she was shutting him out and he didn't know how to respond.

She stared forward again.

Frustration surged through his veins. Eyeing her beside him, Gabriel abandoned his attempt at conversation and decided to keep his mind fixed on his task-getting her safely to sh.o.r.e.

Their first destination was the naval base, and as they approached, Gabriel saw it was much like the ones in India and Africa and the Caribbean and all the other spots around the world where Britain ruled the waves.

With the Union Jack flying above it, the base's cannons bristled from the thick stone ramparts. He did not see as many Navy vessels in the harbor as he had expected and realized the big warships must be out on patrol.

The sheer power and force that the first-rates represented with all their bristling gun-decks were a major factor in keeping order throughout the Mediterranean. They held the Barbary pirates away from the merchant ships trundling past, kept petty rivals in the region from sneaking into each other's back gardens, and generally made sure that everyone played nice together, Gabriel mused. He rested his hands on the rails, waiting as the fishing boat drifted to a halt, and watching patiently as the Navy cutter scuttled forth to intercept them.

n.o.body got much closer than this to the base without first speaking to the lads in charge of the harbor. And if they didn't like your answers, you were politely invited to leave.

When the cutter pulled up alongside the fishing boat, Gabriel gave the officers his name, but not Sophia's, and asked permission for him and his "wife" to come aboard.

She flinched a little at the words; he could not bear to look at her.

"Commander Blake has been expecting us for some time," he informed them. "We are his cousins from Nottinghamshire."

"Nottinghamshire?" the young lieutenant exclaimed with a grin at the mention of that familiar place. "Welcome, sir." Seeing that he was English, they let him and his missus aboard.

Gabriel thanked the fisherman, who looked on with nosy and suspicious curiosity while Sophia climbed down the ladder into the cutter. The sailors helped her into the boat, and when she was secure, Gabriel followed her down.

Once aboard the cutter, Gabriel produced the Foreign Office papers informing the crew who she really was.

The sailors' eyes turned as round as English teacups, and the usual bowing and sc.r.a.ping began. It seemed to pain Sophia, this return to her Royal status, but she accepted their homage with her usual grace.

He supposed she had good reason to be upset. This was not how the princess royal was to have arrived to accept her throne. There was to have been great pomp and ceremony, celebrations, music, flower petals, speeches, and an army of attendants disembarking from the treasure ship scheduled to bring her people all the supplies they had been missing.

Instead, thanks to the action of her enemies, she had arrived in secret with nothing but the clothes on her back and one scoundrel of a bodyguard, he thought, who had some gall to show his face here, considering he was delivering the luscious beauty back to her nation, sans virtue.

Rather than announcing her royal presence, they kept up their pretense as ordinary visitors from England all the way into the base, where out in the commons, the sergeants were drilling their troops. Hearing the rhythmic bellows of their commands, Gabriel felt a twinge of nostalgia for his regiment; Sophia faltered, meanwhile, when she first stepped on Kavros soil. He reached out to steady her, but then she appeared to remind herself that the base was officially a little piece of England transplanted here. She nodded her thanks to him and then walked on.

"Sir!" the lieutenant exclaimed upon delivering them to Commander Blake. "Your cousins from Nottinghamshire are here!"

Wink.

Why, the precious boy seemed to think this was some mysterious code rather than just a quick lie that Gabriel had made up on the spot. Gabriel smiled wryly and explained himself to the sunburned Scot in charge of the Adriatic base. Commander Blake made them welcome, but even he gazed at Sophia in awe as he offered the lady a chair.

"Would you please send for the Archbishop Nectarios, Commander?" Sophia asked when the three of them were closeted in Blake's private office. "He counseled my father and baptized me and my brothers when we were babes. I shall be counting on him to make the introductions between me and my people."

"At once, Your Highness," Commander Blake replied with a gallant bow. He opened the door to his office and ordered his clerk to send a carriage for the old holy man and bring him here, posthaste.

"I hope the manner of our arrival does not cause undue inconvenience," Sophia said with dignified reserve.

"Not at all, Your Highness. All of Kavros has been anxiously awaiting you."

"I did not deem it prudent to notify you ahead of time about when, where, and how we would arrive in case the message were intercepted," Gabriel said sternly. "We have been traveling incognito, as you can see." Then he took a few moments to explain how Sophia had been kidnapped by the Janissaries, along with the still looming threat from the Order of the Scorpion.

Sophia had asked him previously not to reveal Alexa's role in the abduction, so Gabriel left that part out. Because Alexa's ancestors had been loyal for generations, Sophia had generously decided that the girl's whole family did not deserve to be disgraced due to the treachery of one.

Commander Blake was still looking at him in amazement when he finished his account and folded his arms across his chest. "This might be a good time to ask how many men you have under your command," Gabriel added in a dry tone.

"Normally, two hundred," Blake replied, "but right now, I'm afraid I'm down to only fifty." He glanced guardedly at Sophia, as though unsure if it was acceptable to discuss such unpleasant matters in front of a lady. "There have been earthquakes lately throughout the area-"

"Bad?" she interrupted anxiously.

"A little stronger than the usual rumblings, Your Highness, but thankfully, there have only been a handful of fatalities. The aftershocks continue. I'm sure you'll feel them. I dispatched a goodly number of my Marines to help sort out the towns that were hardest hit."

"Thank you for lending a.s.sistance," Sophia murmured. I'm sure with so many of our buildings already damaged by war, one good shake could bring down more of these structures than might appear at first to be at risk."

"Just so. Fortunately, on the whole, you Greeks have a talent for building to withstand the test of time," Blake said with a respectful smile.

Sophia gave him a grateful look.

"Well, considering that Ali Pasha seems to be the one behind all this," Gabriel resumed in a businesslike tone, "it might be a fine time to parade the first-rates along his coastline for a show of strength. That should help remind the Terrible Turk to keep to his side of the water."

"Capital idea," Blake agreed, looking outraged on Sophia's behalf. "I will send a summons to them at once. They should be able to get here within a few days. In the meantime, we've got about ten second- and third-rates on hand in case of any unpleasantness."

"Excellent," Gabriel murmured, nodding.

"Are we sure the big gunships can make it through the narrows?" Sophia asked in a more cautious tone.

Commander Blake seemed impressed by her sensible question. "They'll not have much room to maneuver, Your Highness, but there is a deep, narrow channel they can sail through without running aground. With all my heart, ma'am, I hope you were not harmed in your ordeal."

"Colonel Knight executed a magnificent rescue," she murmured with a pensive smile.

"The princess is too modest. She handled herself with superb self-possession," Gabriel countered, returning the compliment. "Her Highness has been well trained from childhood to protect herself. Marksmanship, knife combat. Trust me," he added with a proud half smile, "they'll not get the best of this one."

Commander Blake raised a brow and glanced discreetly from one to the other. "I see."

Something in his tone made Gabriel drop his gaze and suddenly wonder if he had said too much.

Sophia cleared her throat in a delicate fashion and quickly changed the subject. "What is the disposition of my people at this time, sir?"

Blake hesitated politely. "I daresay that all are very eager to see you."

"Hm," she replied, folding her arms across her chest with a wry smile. "Please, Commander, feel free to speak as plainly to me as you would to a man. Have they been very unruly for you?"

"Well, Your Highness-"

"A simple ma'am will do, Commander."

He nodded. "To tell you the truth, ma'am, lately, they've been at each other's throats. Setting fire to each other's farms, blowing up each other's fishing boats, insulting each other's ancestors, and generally causing a riot, here, there, and everywhere. As soon as I send off my men to go and calm things down in one quarter, some wild disruption breaks out on the opposite end of the island. And then, as often as not, when my lads arrive, they are greeted with thrown rocks and curses."

"Oh dear, oh dear," Sophia said with a sigh. "It seems I have my work cut out for me."

"Indeed."

"This can't all be coming from them," Gabriel said with a frown. "No, I fear our friends are doing their best to stir things up. Divide and conquer. It couldn't be more plain. It's what I'd do if I were them."

"Well, it isn't going to work," Sophia said in a hard tone. She rose from her chair. "Their dirty tricks will never intimidate me. Nor will I let them intimidate my people. I'll want a tour of my realm at the first opportunity. I want to see my countrymen face to face. I am sure they still doubt me, being that I am...not one of my brothers. But when they look in my eyes, they will know that I will fight for them as hard as Giorgios or Kristos would have done. Or even Father himself."

"A tour?" While Gabriel admired her spirit, he did not like the sound of that one bit. "There are people trying to kill you."

"We all have our burdens to bear. You will do your job and I will do mine, oui?"

He flinched as though she had slapped him and turned away from her cool stare.

"I, er, can understand the colonel's position, ma'am," Blake said gingerly. "Taking you out to meet your people at a time like this does seem as though it would pose a great risk to your security."

"Especially since we don't yet know where the Order of the Scorpion is lurking," Gabriel added through gritted teeth.

"No matter," she answered in a polite tone of ice. "I have full confidence that you clever English gentlemen will know how to protect me. My people need me, and this is my will."

She walked out and left her two "clever Englishmen" standing there, exchanging a glance of chagrin.

"Just so I know-is she always like this?" Blake asked barely audibly.

"Just be glad she didn't take out her knife," he muttered.

Meanwhile, in the next room, Sophia had just been reunited with His Beat.i.tude, Father Nectarios, the Archbishop of Kavros. As Gabriel and Commander Blake joined the pair, they found the old man teary-eyed before her, lowering himself down onto one stiff knee to kiss her ring.

That was the first moment that it all became truly real to Gabriel. She really was a princess, soon to be a queen. And he was still a commoner. How could he have ever thought...?

He lowered his head in pain, but it was not his solar plexus that hurt anymore. The ache was a little higher now, right around the region of his heart.

While Sophia reminisced with her family's spiritual adviser, giving him the cold shoulder, Blake dispatched a few fast boats to find and bear messages to three of the formidable first-rates, summoning them back to Kavros with orders to travel through the straits.

Then, since her Greek bodyguards were scattered on their diverse missions, Blake a.s.sembled a company of Marines to escort Her Highness up to the hilltop villa that had once been home to the royal family.

Father Nectarios got into the carriage to lend her a little moral support for the abandoned, empty home she had to face. Gabriel reminded Blake to keep a weather eye out for any of her Greek bodyguards returning, especially Timo and Niko, who would be coming soon, G.o.d willing, with information on the whereabouts of Sheik Suleiman and his throng of followers. If their location was in Albania, then there was a chance they would never see their two brave scouts alive again. The Terrible Turk did terrible things to spies who were caught in his country.

G.o.d keep them, Gabriel thought.

Then they left the naval base for the drive up to the palace, and everywhere they pa.s.sed, people stopped and looked and pointed in amazement. Word of her arrival traveled like wildfire over the dry Greek hills.

At length, they arrived at the palace, which had been locked up tight for many years. Gabriel ached for Sophia as he watched her glancing around at the lonely rooms with their rounded arches, broken windows, and empty marble floors. He longed to go to her and take her into his arms, but then again, every Marine watching over her probably felt the same. He scowled in their direction, but d.a.m.n it, this instinctual possessiveness had no point. How could she ever really be his?

As Sophia walked ahead into the once grand, now empty throne room, Gabriel could hear a growing, chanting clamor coming from somewhere outside.

Father Nectarios followed her as she grasped the pair of double doors at the end of the room and slowly opened them. She paused. Staring, Gabriel drifted after her. Then Sophia stepped out cautiously through the doors onto an ornate balcony overlooking some open s.p.a.ce below, a square or something. Gabriel could not see it too well, for he hung back at the doorway, remembering his place-a few steps behind her at best.

"I think that's where King Constantine used to address the people," Blake whispered.

As she walked out ahead toward the railing with its chipped gilding, Gabriel saw her hesitate, glancing down at her clothes with a flicker of worry that her beige French traveling gown was quite ordinary. No royal robes or jewels adorned her yet. But then, in profile, he saw her lovely face harden, and his heart clenched as she seemed to remind herself that it was not the outer trappings that had ever made a queen.

No, it was something in the eyes, something in the way she moved. And Sophia had it. By G.o.d, she did.

He held his breath as she advanced out to the balcony and claimed it for her own, resting her hands on the dusty railing and surveying the crowd with a look of determination. It veiled whatever fear she might have felt.