Читать книгу Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses - Алисон Робертс - Страница 12

DOMINIQUE was certain her bones were melting … As soon as Cristiano’s lips had made their descent towards hers, her eyelids had closed of their own volition as she gave herself up to the sense of wonder and the most all-consuming excitement she could ever have imagined.

Divine, glorious, essential … These were the epithets that soared through her mind as she willingly surrendered to his kiss. Her hands held onto his lean waist, everything in her softening to welcome his opposing hardness, and she was shocked to discover what little resistance she had against this man.

The combustible contact probably only lasted just a few seconds, but in Dominique’s mind it seemed to go on for ever … perhaps because she willed it to? In the end it was Cristiano who ended the kiss, not Dominique—even though she knew it probably should have been she who called a halt to the most devastating engagement of the senses that she’d ever had.

His dark, aroused glance reflected back to her the fact that he had been equally engaged and affected by the sensuality they had both just experienced.

‘I probably should not have done that … but somehow I find that I cannot regret it. Buenas noches, Dominique. Sleep well.’

He turned around and strode back down the hall before Dominique even got the chance to reply, his heels hitting the ground in rhythmic staccato echoes.

Feeling even more disorientated than before, she glanced round almost dazedly at the terracotta walls with their glowing lamps, needing a moment to right herself again. She was finding it hard to believe what had just happened wasn’t some astonishing dream she’d somehow conjured up because she was tired and emotional. She sighed softly and hugged herself tight …

‘Tilly, Tilly! You are so silly!’

Blowing a loud raspberry on her daughter’s perfectly plump little belly as the baby lay in the centre of the huge bed, arms and legs flailing in excitement and her sweet face wreathed in delighted dimples, Dominique sensed a wave of love so strong consuming her that it almost took her breath away.

Every day the bond between mother and child was growing ever more powerful, and the little girl meant the sun, moon and stars to her. Yet as she gazed lovingly down at Matilde, Dominique found herself wondering if her own mother had ever looked at her like that when she was so small and defenceless and had depended on her for everything. It was hard to imagine when all Dominique could recall was impatience and irritation.

Swallowing down the hurt this thought provoked, she asked herself what it was about her that was so hard to love. She’d always tried to do her best, to be helpful and thoughtful and not deliberately difficult. Yet even Ramón had not been able to love her … not even when he’d known she was carrying his baby. The fault surely must lie with her.

Her mind drifted cautiously to Cristiano’s devastating kiss last night. Dominique had been trying to hold the intoxicating memory of it at bay from the moment she’d opened her eyes an hour ago and greeted the day, but now it filled her mind in glorious and vivid Technicolor, and something deep inside her ached hard with need. She was sure that in the cold light of day—despite what he had said last night—Cristiano would regret their passionate kiss. And now Dominique had to shore up her defences even more firmly against the growing attraction she felt towards him, and learn to keep her distance whenever she could. She’d been hurt enough. She did not want to be hurt so badly ever again …

‘Come on, Tilly! There’s a good girl. Let’s put this lovely new dress on you, shall we? Your grandmother is looking after you this afternoon, and I think you should look your best for her, don’t you?’

The knock on her sitting room door startled her. Glancing down at her pyjama-clad figure, Dominique reached for the robe at the end of the magnificent bed and quickly put it on. Thinking it might be her daughter’s doting new grandmother, come to wish her grandchild good morning, she scooped the half-dressed baby up in her arms and hurried out to see if she was right.

But it was not Consuela Cordova who was waiting. It was her ebony-eyed, broad-shouldered and handsome nephew, dressed in crisp white shirt and jeans and looking unexpectedly and disturbingly more relaxed than Dominique had ever seen him.

‘Buenos días!’ He smiled, and his teeth were very white against his beautiful bronzed skin.

‘Good morning,’ she answered, a distinct husky catch in her voice.

‘My mother and my aunt have already breakfasted, but I have been waiting for you and Matilde,’ he explained.

Then, before Dominique could respond, he reached out his arms for the baby, who was busily chewing on her soggy drool-covered thumb as her mother held her.

Her daughter was completely at ease and smiling as she handed her over. Was there any female who wouldn’t be similarly delighted to find Cristiano Cordova on her doorstep? Dominique wondered, a rogue shiver of pleasure rippling through her.

‘Buenos días to you too, my beautiful little angel! Did you sleep well? Did you? We must have a little chat about all the sweet dreams you must have had!’

‘You shouldn’t have waited for us,’ Dominique told him, flustered, as he swept past her into the room, murmuring baby talk to a clearly entranced Matilde.

‘I wanted to.’ Glancing away from the baby for a moment, fixing his attention on Dominique instead, he shrugged and then smiled again. ‘Now, go and get yourself ready and I will wait here with Matilde.’

‘I need to finish putting on her dress.’

‘Give it to me and I will do it.’

His tone clearly brooked no argument, and with her legs stupidly trembling Dominique went and fetched the dress and brought it back to him.

‘Now go! We will be perfectly all right here until you return—won’t we, Matilde?’

There was something utterly sexy and compelling about a man who could be relied upon to take care of a baby, Dominique thought as she hurriedly showered and dressed. Then, guiltily catching herself, she remembered her vow not to get too emotionally attached to Cristiano unless she wanted to invite a whole mountain of trouble to come crashing down on her!

‘Concentrate!’ she exclaimed out loud.

Pushing her fingers irritably through her newly washed and dried hair, she quickly plaited it, then nervously surveyed the very spartan selection of clothing she’d brought that now hung in the huge antique wardrobe. Cristiano had said something about taking her to lunch. Dominique hoped it would be somewhere fairly casual rather than upmarket, because she didn’t even possess an item of clothing that was what you could call dressy.

It occurred to her that she might be expected to wear something sombre, in deference to Ramón’s death. The idea was too depressing to be 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, Cristiano made himself remember what had happened to Martina and their baby, and as ice flowed into his blood instead of heat he found his ardour for the pretty young woman beside him thankfully ebb …