Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses. Alison Roberts
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what she said. She took a moment before she asked Elena to convey to her that there was no blame in her own heart for what Ramón had done, only a great sadness that he had not lived to see the beautiful daughter he had fathered.
All the while she was speaking, Dominique had been keenly aware of Cristiano listening intently to what was being said, and a big part of her wanted to go to him and lay her head on the broad, hard-muscled shoulder she was fighting so hard not to depend on. Reminding herself that she had to cultivate a distance from him emotionally—not get even more deeply involved that way—she leant forward and kissed Consuela affectionately on her cheek.
‘Gracias,’ she said softly. ‘Thank you for inviting me and Matilde to come and stay with you. I honestly was not looking forward to the two of us spending Christmas alone.’
As Elena translated, Cristiano moved closer.
‘Let me take you and show you where you will be sleeping.’ He put a hand beneath Dominique’s elbow, and the expression on his bronzed handsome face was hard to decipher even as he bestowed a warm, tender smile on the other women. ‘Consuela, why don’t you take care of the little one while I show Dominique to her rooms?’ he suggested.
CHAPTER SIX
THE house—if you could call it that—was like its own little kingdom.
Everywhere Dominique looked were soaring stone arches leading into door-lined corridors. But although it was certainly vast, somehow the family that lived there had cultivated a distinctly warm and welcoming ambience inside, instead of one that might so easily have been distant and intimidating because of its sheer dimensions.
There were homely touches everywhere. Family photographs in the most elegant frames sat atop classically designed furniture as well as on more native, unvarnished pieces. Vases of exotic blooms were plentiful, as were vivid and colourful tapestries adorning the thick earthen walls that were securely reinforced by tall brick pillars. Candles abounded, as well as a plethora of bookcases in different cosy alcoves, crammed with books of all kinds—and usually with a comfortable chair nearby, Dominique noticed, in which to sit and read undisturbed. Charmingly, every windowsill also housed a small, simply designed lamp of some kind.
But the thing that arrested her attention the most was the unique flavour of the country and its people that somehow permeated the atmosphere and wrapped itself round her enraptured senses as though casting a spell. Walking through that amazing building, with its mosaic-tiled floors, arabesque design work and compelling artefacts, Dominique had the sense that she was being somehow transported back through time. This might easily have been the palace of a sultan or an emir! An excited shiver ran down her spine. It was strange … but now that she was here she didn’t feel as alien as she’d thought she might. In fact, she had the oddest sense of belonging that she couldn’t explain.
Standing at the entrance to the most exquisite bedroom, after negotiating countless corridors and one grand sweeping staircase with Cristiano, Dominique likened herself to a shipwreck survivor who had somehow, by angelic intervention, been washed up on the shores of a beautiful island filled with every lush fruit known to man. As her brooding escort silently watched her, she was almost too overwhelmed for words by the sight that met her gaze.
The room she viewed was one of the two allocated to her, comprising a sitting room and bedroom, and was the most luxuriously appointed she’d ever contemplated staying in. Drawing the eye immediately was a very grand and magnificent four-poster bed, draped in gold and emerald-green brocade, and next to it was the most charming intricately carved wooden crib for Matilde. Dominique exclaimed her pleasure out loud when she set eyes on it. The little satin pillow and quilt inside looked hand-sewn, and were quite simply exquisite.
Sweeping her gaze round some more, she saw lush hangings made of silk on the walls, with embroidered scenes reflecting the fascinating mix of Arabic, Judaic and Christian legacies that Cristiano had informed her influenced this particular part of Spain. The antique chairs, occasional tables and clothes chests that furnished the rest of the room looked like the very finest. Her bedsit back in London resembled some Dickensian pauper’s dwelling in comparison! What must Cristiano have thought when he saw it?
‘This is just for me and Matilde?’ she asked, hugging her arms over her chest in the thin petrol-blue sweater she wore with skinny black jeans. ‘The pair of us could easily get lost in all this space after what we’ve been used to! What an amazing place you live in … I had no idea!’
‘Ramón never talked about his home?’ Cristiano’s glance all but dissected her, it was so piercing.
Feeling a little uneasy, Dominique shrugged. ‘Not really. He talked more about you, as a matter of fact.’
‘Me?’
‘He really looked up to you, you know? You were someone he admired and aspired to be like.’
Someone he’d admired and aspired to be like? Was he supposed to take heart from that, when since Ramón’s death the thought had routinely niggled away at him that in the final analysis he had simply let his cousin down? Just as he had let down his wife and child, Cristiano reflected bitterly. He hadn’t been able to save any of them. Even though he would have sacrificed everything—including his own life—so that they could live.
Frowning, he tried to push away the sense of hopelessness and futility that suddenly washed over him, but it was not easy. Finding himself staring at the slim but shapely young woman standing just a few feet away from him, with her tantalising silken rope of hair, dressed in the kind of plain and simple clothing that should not be remotely alluring at all yet somehow was, Cristiano almost swayed at the force of his desire to touch and hold her. It swept over him with all the power of something deeply primal.
Madre de Dios! What was happening to him? He was not supposed to feel this way about a girl he considered himself guardian and protector to! He knew right then that it would be extreme folly to give in to such an impossible and dangerous urge—that it would be like lighting the fuse to a most lethal explosive and the fall-out would be considerable. Everything inside him felt like a coiled spring, tightly bound, because he had to strive so hard to control his shocking impulse …
‘My family were overjoyed to see the baby … just as I knew they would be,’ he remarked, a slight catch in his voice.
There was an urgent need to change the subject to something lighter, to somehow tamp down this restless, potentially perilous desire that tormented him. It did not help his case to observe the huge four-poster bed, positioned only inches away from where Dominique stood.
‘It is so good to see them smiling again.’
‘They are incredible women! I did not realise they … and you … had lost so many of your loved ones. It’s just so sad. If Matilde being here helps bring happiness into the house, then I am truly glad that I came.’
‘Good.’ His smile somewhat strained now, Cristiano moved towards the door that led back into the corridor. ‘Why don’t you familiarise yourself with your new surroundings for a little while, and I will go and arrange for your luggage to be brought up? Do not worry about Matilde … she has three doting women to take care of her now, and is perfectly safe.’
‘Cristiano?’
‘What is it?’
Suddenly she was there beside him, her peachy smell stirring the air and making his body tighten with almost shocking and violent demand as he glanced into the flawless blue mirror of her long-lashed gaze.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Of course. Why should I not be all right?’ he answered tersely, confused that she should display such apparent concern towards him.
‘It’s just that I sense some tension in you. Won’t you tell me what’s the matter?’
She bit down on a temptingly plump lower lip that Cristiano would defy a saint not to want to taste and coloured deeply.
‘You’ve