Virgin Princess's Marriage Debt

“I want what you once promised me…”

The Greek’s demanding proposal!

At an opulent Paris ball, billionaire Theo Tersi sees Princess Sofia. She abandoned him once, rejecting the future they’d planned—and he wants an explanation! But when they lock eyes, Theo’s careful plans explode in the fire of their still-intense connection.

The truth? Devastated Sofia was forced to return to her royal duties all those years ago. But now Theo has created a scandal, and he’ll take back what’s his and claim Sofia—as his bride! Can their enduring bond overcome his quest for passionate revenge?

PIPPA ROSCOE lives in Norfolk near her family, and makes daily promises to herself that this is the day she’ll leave the computer to take a long walk in the countryside. She can’t remember a time when she wasn’t dreaming about handsome heroes and innocent heroines. Totally her mother’s fault, of course—she gave Pippa her first romance to read at the age of seven! She is inconceivably happy that she gets to share those daydreams with you. Follow her on Twitter @PippaRoscoe.

Also by Pippa Roscoe

Conquering His Virgin Queen

The Winners’ Circle miniseries

A Ring to Take His Revenge

Claimed for the Greek’s Child

Reclaimed by the Powerful Sheikh

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Virgin Princess’s Marriage Debt

Pippa Roscoe

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-1-474-08831-2

VIRGIN PRINCESS’S MARRIAGE DEBT

© 2019 Pippa Roscoe

Published in Great Britain 2019

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For Sharon Kendrick.

Without your amazing, encouraging, supportive

advice I would never have finished this book.

You are a true Modern queen!

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

PROLOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Extract

About the Publisher

PROLOGUE

THEO LOOKED AT his watch again. She was late. This wasn’t the first time they’d snuck out of the impossibly expensive Swiss boarding school at night, but this time felt different. She’d said that she had a surprise for him and he couldn’t for the life of him figure out what that might have been.

Knowing Sofia, it could be anything. She was like that. Impulsive, reckless, often secretive…and most definitely alluring. It had taken Theo a good long while to believe that she wasn’t like the other kids at this school. This school that he hated.

He wasn’t naïve. He knew attending a school this reputable was a thing he could not take for granted—even if at every single turn the other students tried to make him believe that he shouldn’t be there. It hadn’t taken him long to realise that he was not wanted, the poor illegitimate scholarship kid polluting their air. He almost shrugged a shoulder at the train of his thoughts. Why should here be any different to the way he had been brought up in Greece, with his mother’s family?

The teachers were hardly any better than the students. If there was something to be blamed, it would be his fault. But they couldn’t deny his grades. At seventeen he already had scholarship offers at some of the world’s leading universities and there was nothing he’d do to jeopardise that. No, Theo Tersi was going to make damn sure that he never had to return to his mother’s family vineyards in the Peloponnese. He would be a banker, something in finance. He wanted an office, like his mother’s current employer who had paid for his education here. He would never scrabble around in the dust like his uncles and cousins—the ones who had taunted him since his birth. So, no. He wouldn’t fight back against the bullies here. He couldn’t. Not without risking everything he’d worked so hard for. Because he wanted more. For his mother, for himself. He wanted never to feel the sting of rejection and shame and hunger… And once he got out of this school, once he finished university, he would make sure that no one would taunt him again.

He looked again at his watch, the round white face gleaming in the moonlight. Where was she? Sofia was usually already waiting for him. He looked around. The night seemed almost unnaturally still, as if it were holding its breath, as if in expectation…

And he felt it too. That anticipation, the moment when he would see Sofia emerging from whatever shrub she was hiding behind. He still had to pinch himself sometimes. Never quite sure if he could really believe that someone like her would really be interested in someone like him. But tonight…he was going to tell her. Tell her that he loved her. That he wanted her to be with him when he left for university…that he wanted the life they had often talked about having in the last six months. Because somehow she’d worked her way through the anger and distrust he’d first met her with, she’d broken down the barriers all the taunts and cruel tricks the other students had thrown his way.

She had been the one bright thing in his days at school over the last few months. For so long his life had simply been about him and his mother, doing whatever it took to get through the day. He’d hated how his mother was treated by her family…because of him, because of the father he’d never met, and never wanted to. The move from Greece to Switzerland had been a fresh start for them both—the opportunity at this school one almost unimaginable for a housekeeper and her son.

And no matter what people threw at him, Theo was determined to bide his time here, knowing that it would get him to where he wanted to be. But the moment he’d first seen Sofia…the way her oceanic blue eyes had sparkled with mischief, the way his heart had kicked and thrashed, as if for the first time, when her gaze collided with his he had found something more from life than just lessons and determination. And it had never stopped, that heart thumping. He felt that same way every single time he saw her.

She had this air about her, as if nothing bad could ever touch her. And it was addictive. He leant into it every chance he could get. But he worried about her, wanted to protect her from herself even. If the school prankster was caught pulling another stunt, the headmaster had been clear—they would be expelled. He doubted they’d ever guess it was the sweet, innocent-looking blonde angel she appeared to be. But he couldn’t deny that it was exactly that strange, thrilling combination of innocence and recklessness that had first drawn him to her.

He wasn’t quite sure what it was, but there was also a deep desperation within her. Some kind of urgency that called to him, to his feelings for her…his love. She hadn’t said much about her family, dropping little breadcrumbs of information about a loving but strict home that stifled the freedom Sofia loved so much. It certainly didn’t sound like something that he would run from. But there would be time to uncover the secrets she held. There would be the rest of their lives.

That he was another of her secrets, he hated… It came far too close to the way he thought his father must have felt in order to flee from their village the same night of his birth. As if there was something about Theo that was shameful or embarrassing somehow.

A noise in the bushes off to his left startled him, his heart racing, knowing that it wouldn’t settle until he saw her.

‘Tersi. I was told I’d find you here.’

Instead of Sofia’s softly accented Iondorran tones, fear sliced through his high hopes as the voice of his headmaster cut into the night.

He didn’t move. Not a muscle. His heart dropped, sickness and nausea an instant reaction to being caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. But greater than that was his concern for Sofia.

‘What’s going on?’ Theo ventured to the man who had never liked him.

‘What’s going on is that I now have my prankster. Did you really think that I would allow my car, my car, to be put onto the roof of the sports hall and take no action?’

Theo was shaking his head. ‘I don’t know anything about that, sir, honestly.’

The grim look of determination on the older man’s face told Theo that he wasn’t believed. Not for a second. Panic began to set in then.

‘Where’s Sofia?’

‘The princess has returned to Iondorra.’

‘Princess? What are you talking about?’ Theo demanded, any hesitation overruled by his confusion.

‘She didn’t tell you?’

‘Tell me what? Sir, please—’

‘Did you really think that a princess would be interested in…?’

The man must have seen the look on Theo’s face, the one he knew had descended as quickly as the fury had whipped within his chest. If there was even a moment of pity, or hesitation from the headmaster, Theo didn’t see it.

‘Well, it’s done. She’s gone. And you, skulking around in the shadows waiting to see the effect of your handiwork, will regret the day you pulled this last prank.’

‘Mr Templeton, I didn’t do anything to your car,’ Theo said, desperately trying to hold on to his temper.

‘No? Then why is your school scarf wedged underneath the wheel arch of my Mini Cooper?’

‘I have no—’

Horror hit Theo hard and fast. The last time he’d seen his scarf he had been looping it around Sofia’s neck as she shivered in the cold winter’s sun. Sofia had lied to him? She was a princess? It was impossible. But as Theo was marched back to the headmaster’s office, his quick mind ran over the images that shifted like a kaleidoscope in his memory. Every interaction, every conversation, every kiss and his stomach turned. Each memory played to the sound of taunts he had never risen to. The cries and jibes of students belittling him for his humble beginnings—ones he had taken because this school had been his ticket out. His way to rise up, no matter what people said or did. But Sofia? She was the one who had wanted to keep their relationship a secret. She was the only one who had known where he would be that night. She was the one who had said she had a surprise for him. She was the one who had been pulling the pranks all this time, and had finally left his scarf at the site of the latest one. Had it all been a ruse? Had she spent the last six months priming him to be the patsy? The fall guy to take the blame for her pranks? Was that why he’d doubted her in the beginning, because somewhere deep down he had known it was all lies? Had she really been the cruellest of them all, to make him fall in love with her, when he should have known better?

He was going to be expelled. He was going to lose everything. Because of her.

CHAPTER ONE

Paris…ten years later

PRINCESS SOFIA DE LORIA of Iondorra looked out across the Parisian skyline as the sun began its slow summer descent over the rooftops and cobbled streets of Europe’s reportedly most romantic city. The irony was not lost on her. Tonight she would meet the man she would spend the rest of her life with. Not that romance had anything to do with it. No, that was the domain of Angelique—the practical, determined matchmaker who had been employed for that express purpose.

The hint of jasmine that settled around the room of the luxurious hotel near the Sixth Arrondissement from some invisible air dispenser was nothing like the real thing and Sofia longed to return to her palace in Iondorra. Although she did appreciate the soft white and gold tones of the room and, casting a look to the king-sized bed, her heart lurching, she felt desperate to throw herself amongst the soft pillows and deep comfort offered by the impossibly thick duvet. She had been away too long, immersed in diplomatic duties unruffling more than a few feathers caused by her father’s recent and increasing absence from the world’s stage. More and more, she found that she just wanted to go home.

She pulled her gaze from the incredible view of the Jardin de Luxembourg and paced towards the larger seating area of the stunning suite. Only yesterday she had been in Prague, two days before that, it had been Istanbul. Her body moved oddly within the costume for that evening’s masquerade ball—the full corset holding her back straight and pushing her breasts against the gentle arc of the low, sweeping neckline. She felt confined by it, not that it was an unfamiliar feeling to Sofia. The bustle of material behind her, falling into a wide golden train, made her feel as if she were pulling the weight of more than just her, and Sofia couldn’t help but think that it somehow fitted that evening.

The masquerade ball being held to celebrate the birthday of one of Europe’s minor royals had presented the perfect opportunity to meet her three would-be suitors without attracting the notice of the world’s press, or the intrigue of the very royal and rich society that had been waiting with bated breath to see who the Widow Princess would marry next.

A sliver of pain twisted through her heart as she recalled the description favoured by the international press so much that it had almost become part of her title. Princess Sofia of Iondorra—the Widow Princess.

Every time it was mentioned it was accompanied by images of her in mourning, her pale skin harsh against the depth of the black clothes she had worn to honour her husband. Four years. Antoine had been gone for four years. The familiar sense of grief, softened only slightly over the years, edged around her heart. Theirs might not have been a love match in the truest sense, but Antoine had been her friend, her confidant. He had known about her father’s illness and helped shield it from the world. He had supported her through their brief marriage as she adjusted to the reality that she would be queen much sooner than anyone had ever expected.

She missed his quiet support and understanding and once again felt the strange sense of bafflement that had met the news of his shockingly unexpected death at a charity car race. The footage of the six-car pile-up in Le Mans had shocked nations, but only devastated one. Because only Antoine’s life had been lost.

But she could not afford to indulge in her grief. Not tonight. Antoine, more than anyone, would understand why she needed to remarry for the good of her country. Her father’s illness had deepened in the last few months, and, whether she liked it or not, the council was right. If the news of his illness broke while she was still considered the Widow Princess, then the future of her country would be in serious jeopardy. With a fairly inexperienced prime minister forced into making difficult austerity measures, the monarchy was the only stability and security the people believed in. And the only way Iondorra would survive the impending announcement of her father’s diagnosis was if they had some hope for the future—a fairy-tale marriage heralding the next generation of royals.

It hadn’t been Antoine’s fault that they’d not conceived during their four-year marriage. They had tried a few times, but even Sofia had been forced to admit that neither had been able to bring themselves to actually consummate their marriage. And she knew why. Only once had she experienced a chemistry, an attraction that had been at once all-consuming, that had seemed almost to threaten her very sanity. And it hadn’t been with Antoine.

It hadn’t taken long before her husband had started to look elsewhere for the pleasure that she simply could not offer him. He’d been so devastatingly discreet and quiet about it all. Every now and then he would disappear for a few days, and return with some impossibly expensive gift, offering it to her with eyes that could never meet her gaze. It hadn’t angered her, torn her up inside the way it should have done. Instead, all she’d been able to feel was so very sad for the man she cared for like a friend, like a brother, to be trapped in the same cage she was caught within. Duty. A passionless marriage.

And here she was again, on the brink of yet another one. Wasn’t the definition of madness doing the same thing over and over again, expecting a different result?

‘Are you ready?’ Angelique’s voice came from somewhere behind her.

‘For the royal equivalent of speed dating?’ Sofia asked. ‘Yes,’ she said, answering her own question, all the while shaking her head to the contrary.

Angelique smiled, the movement softening her features into something more relatable than the fierce businesswoman persona she usually adopted.

‘Are you sure this is what you want? We can always cancel, find some other way…’

‘Are you trying to do yourself out of a commission? That doesn’t seem very wise.’

Angelique cocked her head to one side, quite birdlike. ‘My finances are perfectly secure, I assure you, Your Highness. And, as you have requested the utmost secrecy, then so would be my reputation. You do have a choice, Sofia.’

But they both knew that was a lie. Sofia looked to the window again, as if it were an exit route, as if she could fly to it and escape from what was about to happen. Because somehow, in some way, Sofia simply couldn’t shake the feeling that, after tonight, her life would drastically change.

Yes, she’d have met and chosen the man she would marry, but it felt bigger than that. It felt as if she were on a precipice but that she couldn’t see the edge. And it made her angry. Angry for all the sacrifices she had already made, and the ones she could continue to make in the future. As if a summer thunderstorm had zapped her with a lightning strike, coursing white-hot heat through her veins. But where once she would have vented her anger, her fear, all this impossible-to-express energy, Sofia had to fight it. Princesses didn’t get angry. They got married.

‘Okay,’ Angelique said finally as if, too, sensing there was no going back. ‘So, would you like the motivational speech now, Your Highness?’

Sofia couldn’t help but smile at the gentle humour in Angelique’s tone. It felt like years since someone had laughed with her. It had been years.

‘What would you like? Braveheart-style, Beyoncé Run the World, or something à la Churchill?’

Sofia let a small, sad laugh escape from her lips. ‘I’ll forgo the attempt at a Scottish accent, I think. I don’t suppose you have anything just for me?’ she asked, instantly hating the sense of vulnerability her words evoked.

‘I do,’ Angelique said, locking serious eyes with hers. ‘You will be a great queen. You will care for Iondorra with as great a sense of purpose as any who have gone before you. You will rule her with love and duty and sacrifice, but all of that will ensure Iondorra’s longevity amongst the world’s greatest nations. And you will do it with a man at your side who will love, honour and protect you in a way that allows you to protect your country. You, Your Highness, are a force to be reckoned with and my wish for you is that you find a man worthy of that. These three suitors are perfect candidates. They understand your duty, your role in life, and are willing and able to support you in that. And now it is time.’

‘To go to the ball, Fairy Godmother?’

‘No, Sofia,’ Angelique said gently. ‘To remove Antoine’s ring.’

Sofia’s fingers flew to the wedding band around her fourth finger. It felt as sacrilegious to remove it, as much as it was easy for her to do so. Antoine would have understood. She placed the simple wedding band she had worn for eight years on the dressing table and felt a little bit of her past slip away from her grasp.

As Angelique left the room, Sofia returned her watchful gaze to the Parisian rooftops. For just a moment, she had fallen under the spell of the other woman’s words, grateful for them, thankful. But that positive determination she had felt fizzing in her veins had disappeared with Angelique’s departure. And for the first time in a while, she let the façade drop and allowed the feel of exhaustion to sweep over her. Her father’s deterioration had increased in the last few months and propelled the need for the one thing she’d been putting off for several years. The cost of keeping her father’s illness a secret had been a great one to pay, but one that she would do again and again. Because the people of Iondorra needed security.

She thought of her little European principality, cradled in between France, Switzerland and northern Italy. The country that she was to rule, protect as if it were her child. The country that, ever since she was seventeen and had been whisked away from her boarding school, she had been trained to protect, ruthlessly sculpted to become the perfect princess.

And then, as always following these moments of weakness, came the inner strength that saw her match even the strongest heads of state at the tables of European negotiations. She, and Iondorra, had no time for selfish, moping thoughts. She’d put those things aside a long time ago. Just as she’d put aside the thoughts of her own happy-ever-after.