She liked him like this, a bit annoyed, a bit aloof. It would make it easier. “Our engagement is very popular, wouldn’t you agree?”

He gave a short laugh. “Yeah.”

“For myself, I have to confess I’m quite fond of the diamond you gave me.”

“Keep it,” he said carelessly. “Consider it a gift.”

She looked down at it, then at the ring on her right hand. No more conflicting loyalties, she mused. Her emotions were very clear. “I intend to.” She smiled as he shot her a cool look. “You know, I have a number of connections. There could be quite a bit of trouble with your passport, your visa, even your flight back to America.”

Pitching the cigarette into the sea, he turned completely around. “What are you getting at?”

“I think it would be much simpler all around if you married me. In fact, I’m planning to insist.”

He leaned back against the rail and watched her. He couldn’t read her now—perhaps his own feelings prevented it. She was speaking as Princess Gabriella, cool, calm and confident. “Is that so?”

“Yes. If you cooperate, I’m sure we can work things out to mutual advantage.”

“I’m not interested in advantages.”

“Nonsense.” She brushed this off, but her palms were damp. “It would be possible for us to spend six months in Cordina and six months in America,” she went on. “I believe there must be a certain amount of compromise in any marriage. You agree?”

Negotiations. He’d carried out plenty of them as a cop. “Maybe.”

She swallowed quietly, then went on speaking in an easy, practical tone. “Naturally, I have a lot of obligations, but when Alexander marries, his wife will assume some of them. In the meantime, it’s hardly more than having a job, really.”

Enough, he thought, of details and plans. Enough negotiating. He wanted it plain. “Simplify it.” He took a step forward and she took one back.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“Tell me what you want and why.”

“You,” she said, keeping her chin up. “Because I love you and I have ever since I was sixteen and you kissed me on the terrace with the roses and moonlight.”

He wanted to touch her cheek, but he didn’t, not yet. Not just vet. “You’re not sixteen anymore, and this isn’t a fairy tale.”

“No.”

Was she smiling? he wondered. Didn’t she know how badly he needed her to mean it? “There won’t be a palace waiting for you in America.”

“There’s a house with a big front porch.” She took another step back. “Don’t make me beg. If you don’t want me, say so.”

This time she spoke as a woman, not so confident, not so cool. He had what he needed.

“When you were sixteen and I waltzed with you, it was like a dream.” He took her hands. “I never forgot it. When I came back and kissed you again, it was real. I’ve never wanted anything more.”

Her hands were firm on his. “And I’ve never wanted anyone more.”