Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses. Alison Roberts
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all. Fear was apt to make her anxious and edgy, liable to react nervously to even the most inconsequential thing.
But how could she feel anything but scared about the possibility of going to live in Spain amongst people she didn’t know, as well as putting herself under the daunting wing of a man like Cristiano Cordova? It hardly surprised her that he was a lawyer—no doubt a frighteningly successful one too. Once they were in his sphere, he would hold her and Matilde’s futures in his hands as ruthlessly and single-mindedly as he controlled the fates of the people he represented in court, she was sure.
Yet, even so, Dominique realised that this was the right thing to do for her child. She might not have had the chance to find out about her own father, or be close to his family, but Matilde would. And even though she could foresee that sparks would fly between herself and Cristiano—he would want to control her and Dominique would naturally want to resist being manipulated in any way—he had told her that his family were kind, loving people, and the picture he had painted so evocatively of the kind of Christmases they enjoyed had been compelling. Her heart had squeezed with longing for such an experience.
If only she could trust what he said, then maybe she could start to allow herself to hope that the future might not be so frightening as she feared. She ached to feel connected to the rest of the world again … not to be cut off by people who were so emotionally distant that they made Dominique feel like an island in a stark, cold sea. Her mother had scorned her for throwing away her future by having Matilde, but it was her emotional neglect that had driven her into Ramón Cordova’s arms in the first place.
Ramón. Even though he had been thoughtless and wild, and in the end had rejected her, when they’d been together he had given her more attention and affection than anyone else ever had. He had shown her what it was to laugh too, to be young and foolish and not to take life so seriously.
Suddenly it hit her hard that he was dead—his vibrant young life ended before it had really begun, leaving his child without even the possibility of ever meeting him. She felt her whole body sag towards the floor, as if some strange irresistible force were dragging her down, down into a dark abyss, and tears welled up in her eyes like hot springs, rolling down her cheeks in glistening wet tracks. Was she destined to be alone and unloved for ever? She almost couldn’t bear it.
‘Dominique? Is everything all right?’
Cristiano’s voice sounded from the other side of the door. Straightening in shock, Dominique ripped a tissue out of the chic box on the vanity unit, blew her nose and mumbled, ‘I’m fine. I just need a minute, okay?’
‘You are crying,’ he retorted, his voice accusing.
‘I suppose that’s a hanging offence where you come from?’ she burst out, unable to help herself.
‘Do not be so foolish! I never said it was an offence to cry.’
There was a surprisingly gentle quality to his tone that Dominique had not heard before.
‘But if you are upset I would like to help comfort you,’ he added.
Comfort … Spiritual, emotional, physical … It was the thing she longed for, but somehow it always escaped her. The distressing events of the past year had all but ripped away her confidence and trust in everything, and on top of that her hormones were going haywire after having Matilde.
‘You are the last person I would want to comfort me!’ she heard herself rail, before she could stem the impulse.
There was silence outside for a long moment, then Cristiano spoke again, his voice low and his words measured.
‘Maybe you would prefer it if it was my cousin standing outside this door talking to you? But as we both know that is not possible. You will simply have to make do with me. Open the door, Dominique.’
‘I don’t want Ramón!’ she answered, her tears coming faster. ‘Why would I want him? It was over between us a long time ago, and he walked out on me—remember? It’s just such a waste, that’s all—to die like that! A stupid, stupid waste!’
Glancing at her stricken expression sidelong in the mirror, Dominique gulped down another sob and dabbed feverishly at her reddened eyes.
‘Sometimes it is hard to make sense of these things, even when one has faith … But life goes on, yes? And you have a beautiful baby daughter to remember him by. Not all is lost.’
Strangely comforted by his words, Dominique took a deep breath, then shakily released the latch and opened the door. The handsome visage that confronted her was both grave and concerned, and she didn’t know why she should feel so guilty about yelling at him, but she did. He was, after all, throwing her a lifeline of sorts, as well as giving Matilde an opportunity to grow up knowing the family that had raised her father …
‘There is a park close by,’ Cristiano told her, dark eyes assessing her tear-stained face with intimate scrutiny. ‘The day is bright and cold—I think we should take a walk together and get some air. What do you say?’
‘I don’t know. Yes … all right.’ But even as she agreed, Dominique sensed her lip quiver uncontrollably and her face crumple. ‘I’m just so tired!’ she breathed mournfully, dipping her head. ‘So tired of everything!’
In the next instant Cristiano had propelled her into his arms and was cradling her head against his chest, just over his heart. The steady, even throb of his heartbeat and the comforting sensation of warmth and strength that emanated from his hard, masculine body made Dominique curl her fingers into his fine wool sweater for added security, and she gratefully shut her eyes, feeling as if they stood together in the eye of a storm. She prayed it would soon pass. But her scalding tears would not be so easily contained, and they seeped from her eyelids in a steady trickle of pain and sorrow. What was the matter with her? After all this time of staying strong, telling herself she could cope come what may, she was suddenly falling apart.
‘Cry all you want, querida,’ the man who held her murmured in his compelling velvet-lined voice, his big hand cupping her head and stroking her hair as though tenderly giving consolation to a child. ‘Expressing our sorrows is sometimes necessary rather then holding them inside. You should not see giving in to grief as something undesirable, or feel that you have to put on a brave face when you are feeling sad. That would not be good for you or the little one!’
For disturbing moments Cristiano felt as if his feelings were under siege as he held Dominique’s slender quivering body close to his own. The scent of her honey-laced shampoo was inexplicably alluring as it drifted beneath his nose, and he had never touched hair of such fine silk as hers before. The sensation was incredible. He was aware too of the soft fullness of her breasts as they pressed intimately into his chest, and was shocked by the entirely inappropriate sensations that swept violently through his body as a result of that close contact.
It had been too long since he had held a woman in his arms, and no doubt that was why his body was reacting so strongly. All he had wanted to do was offer Dominique some comfort and reassurance, but now her body was awakening feelings in him that he’d thought long petrified. If the sensations were purely sexual he could handle them well enough—women had always been interested in Cristiano, and there had been no lack of opportunity for that kind of consolation since the tragedy that had stopped his world. But other, much more dangerous emotions were assailing him too, and Cristiano realised he would have to be on his guard against getting this close to the beguiling Dominique again. The risks were simply too terrifying to be contemplated …
CHAPTER FOUR
AS HER tears and sorrow started to abate, Dominique became disturbingly aware that she was actively enjoying being held in Cristiano’s arms. Not just because he was giving her the comfort she sorely needed, but because his body was hard and warm and strong, and the contact made her feel alive and human again, after being shut off from those vital sensations for too long.
Now she knew why babies failed to thrive when they were