Virgin Princess's Marriage Debt

Theo had never, ever introduced his mother to anyone he had been intimately involved with. He knew that she refused to read the articles written about him in the last two years, and only now did he realise how ashamed he felt of them. Ten years ago, he had intended to bring Sofia to his mother and...what? It was only now that he was beginning to realise that what Sofia had said on the boat was true. That what they had shared at school had been the stuff of fantasies and impossible dreams. Had she perhaps not been a princess it might have been different, but even then, Theo wasn’t quite sure.

He almost laughed, bitterly, at the thinly fabricated future they had concocted in their minds. Even had she not been a princess, even with the scholarships, the reality was that he would have had to take one, maybe two jobs to pay for living expenses. He would have struggled just as much as he had in reality, but with her by his side. He would have spent hours, days away from her, and possibly in the end either resented that he wouldn’t have been able to provide the life he had wanted for her, or, worse, her. And she? Would have been ruined by the hard life he would have taken them to. And he couldn’t shake this feeling that perhaps what had happened was how it had been meant to be. That the very reason he’d been able to achieve such impossible success was the drive and determination that had fuelled him all these years. These thoughts struck a cruel blow as they reached the door to the small house on the border of his land.

He’d tried so many times to entice his mother to a grander home, an easier home perhaps on one floor, with cleaners, and staff even, but she had refused, loving the little home that they had first shared when he’d initially bought this land.

Before he could even raise his hand to the door, it swung open and he was instantly enveloped by his mother’s small frame and a stream of adoring, loving Greek spoken so quickly, even he only picked up on half the words. Within seconds both he and Sofia were being practically dragged over the threshold, straight into the small kitchen full of smells that instantly made his mouth water, and heart lurch with memories of the past.

He looked at Sofia standing in his mother’s kitchen—a smile one of her biggest and brightest as she stood there in a pretty summer’s dress. She had told him, every inch the royal, that she refused to meet his mother in wet clothes, and they had returned to the rooms in the hotel to shower and change before coming here. But now—with no trace of any etiquette, no royal greeting on his mother’s behalf, simply welcomed through the door and into the kitchen, Sofia seemed happier than she had in all the days he’d spent with her.

Aggeliki was tactile, even for a Greek mother, and he marvelled at how Sofia—usually protected by a dozen bodyguards from anything even close to physical contact—was taking all the touching and hugging. His mother was asking her about how she liked the vineyard, and he was about to translate, when Sofia, along with a surprising amount of gesturing, managed to explain that she liked it very much. In Greek. When had she learned Greek? he wondered. She was doing fairly well, but every now and then had to defer to him for the translation of a few words, and after he’d warned his mother to slow down they seemed to be able to understand much of what was said between them. Their evening became a strange mix of Greek, English and the occasional French, when even English wouldn’t do.

They sat outside at a wooden table beneath a pergola almost buckling under the weight of the stunning bougainvillea they had planted when they had first bought the land. Aggeliki had lit citronella candles the moment she had seen Sofia’s pale skin, knowing that the mosquitos would love nothing more than to feast on the perfect blood in her veins, and the lemony scent hung in the warm night air as they feasted on the numerous dishes Theo’s mother had produced.

He watched his mother and Sofia, heads bent together almost conspiratorially, and realised that he could not go through with his plan for revenge. He had told Aggeliki that he was to be married, but had refused to sink so low in his mother’s expectations as to admit the truth behind his actions. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of rightness as he watched the two women together, forging a relationship in the way he’d once imagined ten years ago.

He hadn’t missed the way that Sofia had been nervous about meeting his mother, but hadn’t managed to reassure her that she didn’t have to worry, that he’d never revealed the source of his shame. Because he’d been so consumed by the way the blame he’d laid at her feet—which had once been on such on solid ground—was now shifting.

Sofia sat back in her chair, more full of food than she could ever remember being in her entire life. She had tried to help Theo’s mother take the plates away, but she had shooed her with hand gestures, firmly keeping her in the seat, and Sofia had reluctantly stifled her manners.

For just a moment it was her and Theo, his brooding gaze on her, glimmering in the darkness—the thin shadows cast by the little citronella candles enough to create warmth but not quite illumination. Not that she needed it. She knew every millimetre of his face, his features etched in her heart for ever ten years before—she’d only had to let herself remember them. For one moment, barely the space of a heartbeat, there was peace between them. Peace and something she’d dare not put a name to. Because if she lost it again, she didn’t think she’d survive.

Aggeliki returned to the table with even more food, this time the scent of sweetness hitting Sofia hard and making her mouth water.

She laughed, ‘What is all this?’

‘This is dessert!’ Theo’s mother proudly claimed as she put down the tray covered with enough sweet treats to feed an army. She also noticed on the tray a small plate with a number of pills and frowned as she watched Aggeliki take them with a mouthful of water in between each one. She raised a brow at Theo, who had yet to take his eyes from his mother, now swallowing down the last one, but Aggeliki must have caught the look.

‘It’s okay,’ she said, rubbing warmth into Sofia’s cold hand. ‘It’s nothing. I am fine,’ she said with smiling reassurance, but it did nothing to ease the concern building in Sofia’s chest.

‘My mother...she had a heart attack and was treated and is now—as she says—better than ever.’ Sofia didn’t call him on the brief pause that spoke of his own concern, instead focusing on what she needed to know.

‘When?’

Theo shrugged and shook his head. But she wouldn’t let it go that easily.

‘When did it happen?’ she asked, purposefully gentling her tone.

‘Five years ago,’ he said, refusing to meet her gaze.

Something cold and hard twisted in her chest and ached for him, for his mother, for her own selfish actions. From what he had told her earlier in the vineyard, he’d barely won his first vintner’s award. He may have had some success at that point, and she didn’t know much about the Greek healthcare system, but knew enough. Enough that meant it would have nearly crippled them financially, especially with a fledgling business underway, not to mention the hard work and struggle that it must have taken to be torn between a sick parent and full-time duty. Yes. She knew enough about that to know what it must have cost him.

She searched her mind for the words that would explain how she felt, how truly sorry she was, but they wouldn’t come. They didn’t have to. Finally Theo met her gaze and she knew that what he saw in her eyes was enough. He nodded, as if he’d understood, all the while his mother explaining the different types of dessert she wanted Sofia to try. And, as full as she was, Sofia would take a bit of each and every one of them.

This time, when it came to clearing the table, she ignored Aggeliki and helped the woman back into the small kitchen with the empty plates and coffee cups from the end of their meal. She liked this small room, how homely it felt, how easy it was just to prepare a meal and eat—rather than the impersonal feeling of a meal served to her each and every night, alone in a dining room big enough to seat twenty. Usually she brought her laptop, immersed herself in work to avoid t

he stark realisation that she was alone, that her mother and father had retreated to another estate far away from the palace. There was no laughter, as there had been this night, no gentle teasing or recounting of family stories, or praise of Theo’s successes...and it hurt in a way she had never allowed herself to feel before.

As she glanced around the beautiful little kitchen, her eyes caught on an old black and white photo of Aggeliki and a man standing beside each other, with easy smiles and laughter in their eyes.

‘Oh,’ she gasped, moving towards it. ‘This is such a beautiful picture of you, Aggeliki. Is this Theo’s father?’

It was as if the temperature in the room had dropped.

‘No. It is Nikos. We don’t speak of my father. Ever.’

The words were in English, and even though she didn’t think Aggeliki had translated them in her mind, Theo’s reaction couldn’t have been more clear. Especially when he retrieved his phone and left the kitchen.

She felt Aggeliki rub her arm softly and smile.