Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses. Alison Roberts
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Cristiano’s utter surprise, she reached out and laid her slender cool palm over his hand. Sensing what he was sure was simply meant to be comforting pressure, for a moment he was rocked to his very soul. The turmoil-inducing contact scorched along his nerve-endings like living flame.
‘That is a dangerous offer, Dominique. And, trust me … it is one that you would be very wise to retract at this moment in time.’
His smile was almost bitter, as well as painfully rueful. Freeing his hand and opening the door, Cristiano stalked away from her without saying another word …
Joining them for a special homecoming meal which the women of the household—along with the housekeeper, María—had prepared for that evening was Marco, Elena’s Italian boyfriend. They had recently become engaged, Elena had confided to Dominique earlier, her dark eyes glowing with excitement and pleasure. He was a slim-built and extremely handsome young man, and the couple seemed quite besotted with each other.
In fact, watching them from time to time as she hungrily tucked in to the delicious food that had been cooked in her and Matilde’s honour, Dominique knew a pang of longing that wouldn’t easily abate. And it was worryingly heightened whenever she glanced Cristiano’s way. He was sitting at the head of the magnificent dining table to her left, and amid the magical glow of myriad softly flickering candles his dark eyes and sable hair glinted with the fierce sheen of polished jet.
Why had he reacted so bitterly to her offer of help earlier? His sudden unexpected coldness had hurt her. It might be wrong, and not very wise of her, but Dominique had started to see him as her friend … someone she could trust above all. But now she indeed saw the danger of viewing such a powerful, charismatic man as him in such a way. When it came down to it he was as unpredictable and unknowable as he had been when Dominique had first met him. She was kidding herself if she dared to assume a closer bond than that.
Her stomach dived to her boots as she considered the thought that had been worrying her the most. What if he was furious with her because he thought she’d been trying to come on to him in some way? Reliving the scene when he’d made his terse remark, Dominique shockingly reflected on how her words might not have seemed quite innocent from Cristiano’s point of view. Deeply perturbed, she reached out for the glass of ruby-red Rioja that was glimmering in the candlelight beside her plate, and almost knocked it over in her haste to lift it.
‘Careful!’
Next to her, Cristiano’s compelling rich voice throbbed out a warning.
Glancing up at him in alarm, Dominique grimaced. ‘Sorry.’
‘You do not have to apologise. You are enjoying your food?’
‘It’s wonderful! I’m loving it, actually … What did you say this casserole was called?’
‘Estofado de pescado. This particular region is well known for its fish dishes.’
‘Well, it’s absolutely delicious!’
Across the long and magnificently laid table, Consuela caught her eye and bestowed an uninhibitedly warm smile on the younger woman. She had spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the early evening taking care of Matilde, and had even accompanied her to their bedroom to watch her settle the baby into the beautiful crib that Dominique was not surprised to learn was a family heirloom.
‘Eat more!’ she said, in her limited English, pushing another appetising dish in her direction. Then, turning towards her nephew, she addressed him in rapid Spanish, and it was obvious to Dominique that the conversation was about her.
‘My aunt has heard that the food in England is terrible and is worried that you have been starving yourself because it is so bad!’
Cristiano grinned, and there was no strain about that sensual, rather beautiful mouth of his as he translated. Instead it was curved with genuine delight, and beneath its dazzling effect Dominique felt a little like a neglected plant that had been languishing in the shade too long and had suddenly been moved out into the sunlight.
‘What?’
‘She thinks that you need some more meat on your bones, Dominique … and also that you need to be out in the sun more—because you are, in her opinion, far too pale!’
Knowing the older woman did not mean any insult, but was merely saying what she thought, Dominique sighed. ‘Well, please tell Consuela that I have never starved myself in my life and never will! I certainly don’t hold with all that rubbish the media push about skinny being best! And the food at home is not that bad! There’s plenty of variety, at any rate, with all the different cultures that thrive there. As for being too pale … I’m sure the Spanish sun will soon change that—given time!’
Studying her intently for a moment, Cristiano translated what she’d said, and Consuela’s concerned frown quickly turned into a pleased smile.
‘Bueno!’ She nodded and, reaching across the table, tightly squeezed Dominique’s hand.
The other woman’s care and attention was touching and, caught unawares, Dominique sensed the sting of tears prick the backs of her eyelids. She had received more kindness in this household in one day than she had in years at home with her mother, and she almost didn’t know how to handle it …
‘Tomorrow my aunt would like to take care of Matilde while I take you to lunch, and also show you some of the sights of our beautiful town. Does that plan meet with your approval?’
‘Don’t you have to get back to work?’ Dominique asked Cristiano in surprise, blinking away the moisture that had helplessly surged into her eyes.
‘I have made some phone calls and I do not need to be back in my office for another two days. Until then I will be here to help you settle in.’
‘You don’t have to do that. I’m sure you have more important things to do than play nursemaid to me and Matilde! I’ve already taken up too much of your time as it is.’
‘What could be more important than bringing my aunt’s grandchild home? And I would be very remiss in my duties indeed if I did not take proper care of you and your daughter while you are living under my roof!’
‘I told you before,’ Dominique retorted, dabbing her eyes with the corner of her linen napkin, suddenly feeling more vulnerable and exposed than she liked, ‘I don’t need anybody to take care of me!’
The truth was that something in her took great offence at the idea that Cristiano only viewed her as some kind of ‘duty’ he had to fulfil. His marked distance towards her since their arrival in Spain had left her longing for the return of the charming and attentive man who had walked through the park with them on a crisp winter’s day, with his hand at her back, talking quietly about the many stunning vistas of Spain and the fragrant, sultry heat of his homeland that he was missing with a passion.
‘Excuse me.’ Politely inclining her head towards Consuela and Luisa, Dominique pushed back her chair and hurried out of the grand dining room, with its fabulous coffered ceiling and glowing candles, trying hard to get her bearings through her tears as she stood in a cavernous corridor illuminated only by the softest lamplight.
Footsteps from behind told her she had not been allowed to escape as easily as that.
‘Everyone is concerned that you are not happy. What is wrong?’
Turning, she saw Cristiano walk slowly towards her, compelling and heart-stoppingly masculine, dressed in top-to-toe black, the lamplight making the carved contours of his face appear even more hauntingly arresting than usual.
‘Today has been an emotional journey in more ways than one, that’s all. And I’m very tired. I don’t mean to offend anybody, but I’d like to go back to my room now and maybe have an early night. Will you please give your family my apologies?’
‘That is not a problem. But I do not like to see you so upset.’
Before he could consider the wisdom of such a gesture,