Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses. Alison Roberts
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contemplated—and surely Cristiano would have mentioned it if that were the case?
Telling herself not to get too hung up about clothes, she picked out a fairly demure knee-length dress with a colourful floral design and a band of blue ribbon that went around the ribcage, underneath her breasts. If the day were as warm as yesterday, then it would surely fit the bill? She could already feel the heat through the opened patio doors, and she paused to savour its sultry kiss as the evocative perfume of the new morning filled her senses. The house was on a hillside, not too far from a mountain range, and consequently the air was quite intoxicating.
‘I’m ready. Sorry if I kept you waiting.’
Cristiano’s heart slammed hard against his ribcage as Dominique walked back into the sitting room. He already knew she had a good figure, but in the pretty summer dress she was wearing he discovered it was actually quite sensational. Her legs were long and shapely, and thankfully not too thin. She had slender, elegant calves, and a tiny waist, and Cristiano realised that her shape was definitely more hourglass than straight up and down. Her dress showcased her attributes perfectly, and the scooped neckline of the bodice allowed a glimpse of cleavage that was simply … arresting.
Suddenly becoming aware that he had still not said anything but was just staring—like a schoolboy with a crush on his teacher—he pushed to his feet from the couch with Matilde in his arms, briefly inclining his head.
‘Very nice. That is a very charming dress you are wearing, Dominique. It will not do a lot to help my blood pressure today, but still … I definitely appreciate it.’
He knew the look he gave Dominique to accompany his words was provocative, but Cristiano could not help himself. Waking up this morning with the memory of those sweet lips of hers pliant, warm and sexy beneath his, and now seeing her in that sultry little dress was doing nothing less than adding fuel to the fire that was already simmering inside him …
‘If you think it’s not suitable then I’ll change into something else.’
‘I did not say it was not suitable, and I do not want you to change. You have a beautiful figure, Dominique … You are young and lovely, and I do not expect you to dress like a nun!’
‘Your mother and your aunt won’t think I’m—’ Frowning, she still seemed unconvinced about the dress. ‘They won’t think I’m being disrespectful? Wearing something so colourful, I mean?’
‘Because Consuela is wearing the garb of mourning?’ Slowly Cristiano shook his head. ‘No. In years gone by it was customary for the widow or the mother of a man who had died to wear black for quite some time—even the rest of her life if she chose—but now it is up to the woman concerned, and clearly it does not apply to you, Dominique. Please … just relax. And now we should go down to breakfast. I am sure this little one is as hungry as I am!’
‘She’s had her bottle this morning, but I’ve also brought some baby cereal from home for her. I’ll just go and get it.’
‘I may have to hold your hand so that I do not lose you. It is very busy today because Christmas is so near.’
Before they went to lunch, Cristiano had decided to take Dominique to the gypsy market. The colourful stallholders sold their wares all over Spain, but in his opinion the market that was held in their own historic little town was one of the best. Smiling at Dominique as people bustled around them, eagerly examining the goods on sale—from clothing to jewellery, ceramics to shoes—he saw that his companion was completely transfixed by it all. And holding her hand was not exactly something he found difficult, Cristiano thought ironically.
Every time he glanced her way, and her clear blue eyes met his, he had to practically fight off the almost overpowering need to touch her. Not wanting to delve into the reason for this impulse too closely, he decided to simply enjoy the day and take the opportunity of seeing the places that were so familiar to him through Dominique’s captivated eyes.
‘I’ll be all right,’ she answered him, her gaze almost deliberately avoiding his. ‘I’ll make sure I stay close. Oh, look! They’re selling Christmas trees!’
Gravitating to a large area where the most traditional Christmas decoration of all was displayed, in almost unbelievable abundance, Dominique stared wistfully at the trees for sale.
‘Will you have a Christmas tree?’ she asked.
‘Of course. In fact I know that we have one being delivered to the house the day after tomorrow. Elena and my aunt usually decorate it together. They will also be putting out the belén—remember I told you about that?’
‘The nativity scene? Yes … I remember.’
‘And tomorrow night the Christmas lights will be turned on in all the towns and cities across the country. There will also be parades and processions, and the churches will be filled with people.’
‘Do you think your family might let me join in when they decorate the tree?’
Dominique gazed at Cristiano with all the heartfelt yearning of a child long denied such a magical privilege, and he thought about the cold comfort her mother offered at Christmas and was disturbed by how angry he felt.
‘We will all do it together,’ he promised, his glance settling intently on her face and this time not allowing her to easily avoid it. ‘Even Matilde must be included. I know my aunt will insist on it!’
‘She seems to really love Tilly already.’
‘She has loved her since the moment she learned of her existence! Her grandchild being here has made the world of difference to her. Instead of dreading the future, she now wants to live to a very old age so that she can see Matilde grow up to be a woman with a family of her own!’
‘Thank you.’
‘For what?’ Cristiano’s dark brows drew together in puzzlement.
‘For bringing me to Spain and letting me be a part of all this …’ Gesturing at the busy, colourful market around her, Dominique smiled, shy and tentative.
‘You are most welcome.’ He bowed his head towards her in a formal manner almost from a bygone age, and was silently delighted when her eyes widened to the size of dinner plates in response.
From time to time—inevitably, perhaps—Cristiano spied a face that he knew in the crowd, and immediately engaged in conversation. Inevitably too a curious gaze would go to Dominique, and he would have to introduce her.
Seeing how it made her uncomfortable to receive their condolences about Ramón, he made the decision to cut short their visit and leave for the hilltop restaurant where they were lunching instead. But as they prepared to leave the bustling market behind he spied the most exquisite sapphire-blue shawl on a stall displaying many beautiful silks and scarves—it was almost the same vivid hue as Dominique’s eyes.
Steering the surprised young woman beside him towards it, he nodded at the plump grey-haired holder whose stall it was, and whose own generous shoulders were covered in a bright scarlet version. Gesturing towards the blue silk, Cristiano asked her how much it was and then bartered her down to a lesser, more reasonable figure, as was the custom. When the item had been wrapped and paid for, he drew Dominique to one side and gave it to her.
‘It matches your eyes,’ he told her, his voice lowering. ‘And it will be perfect to wear later on, when the sun goes down and the evening gets cooler.’
As she accepted the gift he placed into her hands, he was touched to see her lips tremble ever so slightly as she received it.
‘It’s—it’s too kind of you, and it’s absolutely beautiful! Thank you, Cristiano.’
The way she said his name, in her reserved English accent, made his insides flood with warmth. He liked it. The trouble was he thought perhaps he liked it a little too much, and that immediately alerted him to the fact that he was not keeping his guard up against her charms as strictly as he should be.
Grimly,