His Contract Christmas Bride / Confessions Of A Pregnant Cinderella. Эбби Грин
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housekeepers. And wasn’t her trepidation one of the reasons he had chosen to marry her? She was both compliant and inexperienced and because of that he could mould her into the kind of spouse he wanted her to be, just as he would train up a new assistant.
‘It’s huge,’ she commented.
‘But you’ve been here before. When you met Xander.’
‘Yes. That’s right. But I only saw the nursery areas. I had no idea there was this other huge section.’ She looked around, cocking her head to one side as if listening for something. ‘Where is Xander?’
Drakon still wasn’t used to having the baby around and he frowned, trying to remember. ‘Sofia has taken him to the doctor for some sort of routine check. At least, I think that’s what she said.’
She sucked in a deep breath. ‘You didn’t consider it might be better if I could have gone along as well? If I’m to be his, well, his...mother.’
Something unknown clutched at Drakon’s heart like a vice. Was it anger that his brother should have treated his son with such a failure of care and cast him into the unwanted role of father? Or fear that he would be incapable of giving this child any true affection, as his own father had been unable to give him? With an effort, he pushed the bitter memories away—for what good would they serve him now?
‘There will be plenty of time for you to play happy families, Lucy. First things first. Let me show you around properly and then I have a surprise for you.’
‘I’m not crazy about surprises,’ she warned him lightly.
‘I think you’ll like this one,’ he promised.
Lucy thought how arrogant he sounded. Did that mean she was going to have to pretend? To smooth the way for their future marriage by showing him gratitude at all times? Would that be the grown-up way to proceed?
She began to follow him through the huge apartment, trying and failing to remember the precise configuration of the rooms. But she would quickly learn where everything was, she reassured herself—despite the fact that the entire ground floor of her riverside cottage would have fitted into one of the en suite bathrooms! One of the vast reception rooms led into a book-lined study, which looked more like a public library and contained leather-bound volumes in both English and Greek. There was an enormous kitchen with an adjoining dining room, three big en suite bedrooms on one side of the wide corridor, as well as the nursery suite on the other, which was completely self-contained.
‘I’ve given you your own bedroom,’ he said as his footsteps halted. ‘I decided it would be more appropriate if we slept apart until the wedding. Something befitting the status of my relatively innocent fiancée.’ His black eyes gleamed. ‘That doesn’t mean we cannot be intimate or imaginative, of course.’
‘Oh?’
‘I’ll be right next door,’ he informed her. ‘It will be like a throwback to a different age. I cannot tell you how much the novelty of that appeals to me, Lucy.’
Lucy’s breasts had grown heavy at his provocative words but her erotic recall was forgotten the moment he pushed open the bedroom door. Her lips fell open but she barely noticed the amazing view or huge bed, or the superb painting of a tiny fishing village which looked suspiciously like the one on his private island. All she could see were the piles of clothes which were everywhere, making the room look more like the changing room of an upmarket department store than a bedroom. There were sleek dresses hanging in front of the built-in cupboards and a gorgeous plum-coloured coat with a velvet collar. One of the cupboards was open and inside she could see colour-coordinated lines of beautiful silky shirts, and skirts which varied from pencil to flounce. Further along the rail were more casual clothes—cashmere sweaters which bore little resemblance to her own hand-knits and denim jeans which she was doubtful she’d be able to slide over her curvy hips. This must be the surprise he’d been talking about.
‘I hope you like them,’ Drakon said as she continued to stare at it all in silence.
Lucy forced herself to say something dutiful which wouldn’t sound ungrateful, because there was no denying he must have gone to a lot of trouble. ‘They’re gorgeous. Did you—?’
‘Actually, my partner chose them.’
‘Your partner?’ she questioned blankly and, although it was unconscious sexism on her part, she instantly imagined some strapping Greek male walking into a store waving a charge card.
‘Amy,’ he supplied, clearly oblivious to the sudden uncertainty in her voice. ‘We’ve worked together for years.’
She wondered if he was aware of the emotional impact of his words, or of the exact way he’d phrased them—because didn’t his relationship with his partner sound way more intimate and close than the one he had with her? Lucy could feel her heart punching against her chest in a way which was making her feel almost dizzy. ‘I see. And does... Amy choose all your girlfriends’ clothes for you?’
‘Never. But then I’ve never been in a situation like this before. I knew your wardrobe was insufficiently versatile to be able to cope with your new role as my wife,’ he said, clearly seeking diplomatic words to take the sting out of his statement. ‘And I thought you’d be too busy packing to have the time to hit the shops.’
Was that so? Or just that he thought she would fail miserably at the task? That her lack of experience—and money—meant she’d be incapable of selecting her own clothes? But Lucy tried to be positive and take Drakon at his word. She had to be, or this simply wasn’t going to work. And she would never have chosen any of these exquisite clothes—not in a million years. She wouldn’t have dared purchase items which individually probably cost more than she earned in a month. The question was whether she’d be able to change or return any without embarrassment if they turned out not to fit.
On a nearby chest she could see a deep drawer which was partially open and, sucking in a breath, she walked over and pulled it wide open to find it filled with the most provocative lingerie imaginable. Sexy thong panties were lined up beside balcony bras. Silk stockings and lacy suspender belts lay side by side and Lucy blinked at them in disbelief, sudden ice rippling down her spine. ‘Please don’t tell me your partner choose these?’
He shook his head and laughed. ‘Of course not. I bought these myself. It happens to be the most enjoyable shopping trip I’ve done in years, if you must know. Do you like them?’
Lucy continued to stare at them as she considered his question. On the one hand, of course she did. This was the kind of underwear she’d never imagined herself wearing, not in her wildest dreams. It was impossible not to like such exquisitely made garments, nor to imagine the amount of work which must have gone into making them, but... She turned to him, blinking her eyes rapidly. ‘How on earth did you know my size?’
He shrugged. ‘I guessed.’
‘You guessed,’ she repeated slowly. ‘Because you have such a comprehensive knowledge of a woman’s body that you instinctively know what size bra she wears?’
‘I’m in the ship-building industry, Lucy. Learning about dimensions comes with the territory.’ A smile curved the edges of his sensual mouth. ‘The shoes were a little more difficult.’
‘The shoes?’ she questioned blankly as the expansive wave of his hand indicated rows of high-heeled shoes and butter-soft leather boots she hadn’t even noticed before. She wondered what on earth he was doing as he bent down to retrieve something from underneath the bed, and was momentarily taken aback when he produced a suede moccasin and waved it in the air—like a magician plucking a rabbit from a top hat. ‘That’s my shoe!’ she declared.
‘I know.’ He gave slow smile. ‘I picked it up from that pile by your front door so I could get your size right, on the day I asked you to marry me. It isn’t really a winter shoe, so I didn’t think you’d notice it had gone.’
It took a couple of seconds before Lucy could bring herself to speak and when