Читать книгу Honour-Bound Groom / Cinderella & the CEO - Maureen Child - Страница 12

He fought back the flare of irritation that swelled inside him at her words. Was she criticizing him for not having been at the airport to welcome her? Giselle’s insinuation echoed in the back of his mind. He fought for an edge of control, reminding himself she was no doubt still overtired from her journey and perhaps still wearing her disappointment he wasn’t there to welcome her in person.

“Ah, I see you are still upset I was not at the airport to greet you. I thought Giselle explained why I could not be there.”

“Oh yes, she explained.” Loren unfolded her legs, threw them over the edge of the bed and rose to her full height.

Barefoot, the top of her head barely even reached his shoulder, and dressed as she was she gave an almost childlike impression. But there was nothing childlike in her demeanor, nor in the very female brand of dissatisfaction reflected in her eyes. He was reminded of the times he’d upset his mother. Never one to raise her voice, she’d only needed a look such as this to put him in his place.

“I would have been there if I could.” Alex softened his tone. He should have made more effort to be at the arrival hall. He realized that now. He’d tried to make things easier for both of them, but instead he’d made matters worse. Still, the situation wasn’t beyond salvaging and now he was determined to recover as much ground as possible.

“I have been looking forward to seeing you this evening,” he said, his voice low.

He saw pleasure light her eyes and felt an inner relief as her full lips curved into a smile.

“So have I,” she said shyly, dropping her gaze.

“So, you will dress for dinner and come down to share our repast?”

“Of course I will. I’m sorry I was a bit cranky. I’m never at my best when I first wake.”

Alex allowed his mouth to relax into a smile. “I’ll make a special note to remember that for after we’re married.”

She laughed, a delicious liquid sound that penetrated the last remnants of his temper and scattered them to the corners of the room.

“It might pay to.” She smiled. “Now, tonight. What time and where? I’m assuming your family still dresses for dinner?”

She must have been half-asleep already when Giselle told her, he decided.

“Yes, we change for dinner. We meet for drinks in the salon usually about eight and dine at nine. Late, I know, if you aren’t used to it anymore.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ll acclimate. Will you take me down?”

“You no longer remember where the salon is?” He cocked a brow at her.

“Of course, I don’t imagine the castillo has changed all that much. I just …” She worried her lower lip with perfect white teeth. “No, don’t worry. I’ll meet you there at eight.”

Alex dropped a chaste kiss on Loren’s upturned face and moved away before the disappointment he sensed in her encouraged him to take more. Now that she was here and they were on the verge of achieving his goal of settling the governess’s curse, there was no need to rush into anything. There would be plenty of time to kiss her the way he wanted—after they were married.

“Good girl. I’ll see you there.”

Loren watched her door close behind Alex’s back and she fought the urge to stomp her foot in frustration. Now she was here he’d reverted to treating her like a child. Gone was the attentive lover who’d wooed her back in New Zealand. In his place was the old Alex she remembered so well. Slightly indulgent and full of the importance of his role as eldest son.

Well, she’d show him she was no infant to be coddled. Her body still hummed with her reaction to the soft kiss he’d pressed in her palm to wake her. Just one small caress and she’d shot to full wakefulness, her joy in seeing him only to be dashed by his reminder of her duty to be at some formal dinner tonight.

She knew they still adhered to the old ways, ways she’d taken for granted until moving to New Zealand with its more casual approach to lifestyle and mealtimes, but she’d hoped for a private dinner with her new fiancé. It wasn’t so much to have expected, was it? Surely Alex’s grandfather would have granted them this first night alone together?

There was nothing for it now, though, she reminded herself as the chime from an antique ormolu clock in her sitting room chimed the half hour. She had to fulfill Alex’s expectations. At least she knew she’d have fun catching up with his brothers. As for Alex, well, maybe she’d punish him a little for not pressing to have kept her to himself tonight. She had just the perfect outfit in there. She’d bought it with Alex’s reaction to her very firmly in mind.

She looked about her room for her suitcases and was surprised to see them gone. A quick look in her dressing room solved her problem as she espied her clothing already unpacked and hung neatly on hangers or folded away in the built-in drawers. She must have been totally out of it not to have heard the maid come in and see to her things.

She quickly filtered through the selection of dresses she’d bought, her hand settling on the rich red silk organza cocktail dress she wanted to wear tonight. The bodice was scattered with tiny faceted beads that caught the light and emphasized her small bust, while the layers of fabric that fell from the empire line below her breasts had a floating effect that made her feel as though she was the most elegant creature on the planet. Not a feeling she embraced often, Loren admitted silently.

She laid the dress on her bed and chose a pair of stiletto-heeled sandals in silver to wear with it.

“And if that’s not dressed up enough for dinner, then nothing will do,” she said out loud.

She made her way into her bathroom and took a moment to appreciate the elegant fixtures. The deep claw-foot bath beckoned to her but she knew she had little time left to get ready. She wondered briefly why Alex had acted as if she should have known all along about the dinner tonight. Perhaps Giselle had meant to tell her and had forgotten. Although Loren suspected that Giselle forgot very little indeed.

No, it must have been an oversight somewhere along the line. What with all the paparazzi at the airport, it was something that could easily have slipped Giselle’s mind. She was prepared to be charitable. After all, she was finally home. Back on Isla Sagrado. Back with Alex.

She hummed happily to herself as she took a brief and refreshing shower. After toweling herself dry with a deliciously soft, fluffy bath sheet that virtually encased her from head to foot, she swept up her hair into a casual chignon and applied her makeup with a light hand. She studied her appearance for a moment then decided to emphasize her eyes a little more and to apply a slick of ruby-red gloss to match her dress. With the strength of color of her dress she’d disappear if she didn’t vamp things up a bit, even if she normally only wore the bare minimum of cosmetics. Finally satisfied with her smoky eyes and glossy lips, she reached for a clean pair of panties and then slipped into her gown.

Loren loved the shimmer of the fabric as it brushed over her skin. The tiny shoestring straps and the low back of the dress made it impossible to wear a bra, but the beading hid any evidence that she was braless. She slid her feet into the high-heeled sandals and bent to do up the ankle straps before checking herself in the antique cheval mirror in her room.

Yes, she’d do nicely for her first meal at home with the del Castillo men, and for whoever else might be joining them. She wondered whether either Reynard or Benedict would have companions for the evening. Both of Alex’s brothers’ eligible bachelor status led them to be featured highly in magazines even as far away as New Zealand, and she doubted either of them would have far to look to find company.

A quick look at the clock on the bedroom mantelpiece projected her through her suite and out the main door into the corridor to the main stairs. She was grateful for the ornate carpet runner because she had no doubt her heels would have caught on the ancient flagstones beneath it as she hurried down the stairs.

For a moment the sense of longevity about the castillo seeped through her. How many del Castillo brides had traversed this very path to their betrothed over the centuries, and how many of those marriages had been as happy as she hoped hers and Alex’s would be? She shook her head a little, chiding herself for being fanciful as a sudden weight of expectation settled upon her shoulders. A small chilled shudder ran down her spine, as if she was being watched—judged, even.

Loren hesitated on the stairs and looked around her, but of course there was nothing there but the gallery of portraits of successive heads of the family over the past many years. She injected a little more urgency in her step as she reached the bottom of the staircase and headed to where she remembered the salon to be.

The murmur of deep male voices, punctuated by the sound of laughter, was comforting as she approached the room where Alex had said to meet. Loren quashed the lingering effects of the sense of disquiet that had hit her earlier and focused instead on the prospect of an evening with the man she’d loved for as long as she could remember. Nothing could go wrong now, nothing. Her life was finally what she’d always dreamed it would be.

With a smile on her face, she entered the salon and was treated to the impeccable manners of four gentlemen rising from their seats to welcome her. Loren nodded in greeting to Reynard and Benedict, each easily recognizable and, she noted with some surprise, unaccompanied by female adornments.

Alex stood a little to one side. His hair, still wet from a recent shower, was slicked back off his forehead, giving him a sartorial edge that went well with the black suit and shirt he’d donned for the evening. But the serious set to his mouth and his darkened jawline made him appear unapproachable.

His dark eyes caught hers and burned beneath slightly drawn brows. She felt her smile waver a little under his gaze, but then he smiled in return and it was as if another giant weight had been lifted from her.

“You look beautiful,” he said, his eyes glowing in appreciation.

A flood of pleasure coursed through her at his words, warming her all the way to her toes.

“Come, say hello to Abuelo. He has been impatient to see you.”

She crossed the room, straight toward the silver-haired figure nearest the fireplace. Despite the fact it was May, a fire roared in the cavernous depths, throwing heat into the room and adding a cheerful ambience that chased the last of the lingering shadows from Loren’s mind.

From his proximity to the fire she deduced Alex’s grandfather felt the chill far more than he used to, and she couldn’t help noticing the slight droop to one side of his face and the way he leaned heavily on an ebony cane. It saddened her to see he’d aged so much since she’d left, but one look at the spark in his eyes showed her that Abuelo was still very much the patriarch and very much in control.

Her lips curved in genuine pleasure as she placed her hands in his gnarled ones and leaned in to kiss him on the cheeks.

“Bienvenido a casa, mi niña,” he murmured in his gruff voice. “It is past time you were back.”

“It is so good to be home, Abuelo,” she replied, using the moniker he’d insisted she call him back when she was a child.

“Come, sit by me and tell me what foolishness has kept you from us for so long.”

The old man settled back into his easy chair and gestured to the seat opposite.

“Now, Abuelo, you know that Loren’s mother insisted she move to New Zealand with her,” Alex said, coming to stand behind Loren’s chair and resting one hand upon her shoulder. “Besides, you cannot monopolize her when she is here to see everyone.”

Loren felt the heat from his palm against her bare skin and leaned into his touch, relishing the sizzling contact.

“I do not see any ring upon her finger, Alexander. You cannot monopolize her while she is yet a free woman.”

“Ah, but that is where you are wrong, Abuelo,” Alex teased in return. “Loren is most definitely mine.”

A fierce pang of joy shot through her, catching her breath, at his words. If she’d had any doubts, they were now assuaged.

Loren felt Alex’s hand slide down the length of her arm, to her left hand. Clasping it, he drew her upright to face him. Butterflies danced in her stomach as she saw the intensity in his dark eyes. Alex was a man who obviously thought deeply, not sharing those thoughts with many, but if the possessive fire she glimpsed burning bright in his gaze was any indicator, she had no doubt that he was about to stake his claim to her before his family.

Alex slipped his free hand into his jacket pocket and withdrew it again.

“This is a mere formality, as Loren has already consented to be my wife, but I want you, mi familia, to witness my pledge to marry her,” Alex announced as he revealed the ring in his hand.

“That’s if she hasn’t taken one look at us and changed her mind,” Reynard taunted his elder brother and was rewarded with a quelling glare.

“I h-haven’t. I w-wouldn’t,” Loren stuttered slightly as she saw the exquisitely beautiful, smooth, oval ruby set in old gold.

“Then this is for you,” Alex murmured, sliding the ring upon her engagement finger.

The gold felt warm against her skin and the ring fit as if it was made for her and her alone. She’d recognized it immediately when he’d drawn it from his pocket. The del Castillo betrothal ring, handed down from firstborn son to firstborn son, had been in the family for centuries. The last woman to wear it had been Alex’s mother.

The gold filigree on each shoulder of the ring had been crafted into delicate heart shapes and the stone appeared to take on a new glow against her skin.

“It’s beautiful, Alex. Thank you,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet his. “I’m honored to accept this.”

“No, Loren, you honor me by agreeing to become my wife.”

“I’ve always loved you, Alex. It’s no more than I’ve ever wanted.”

The air between them stilled, solidified, almost becoming something corporeal before Benedict interrupted them with two glasses of champagne. He thrust one at each of them.

“This calls for a toast, yes?”

He passed another glass to their grandfather before raising one of his own.

“To Alex and Loren. May they have many happy years.”

A look passed between the brothers, something unspoken that hovered in the air as they connected silently with one another, then as one lifted their glasses to drink. Whatever it was, it was soon gone as sibling rivalry and teasing took over the atmosphere, leading even Abuelo to laugh and admonish them gently, reminding them of the lady in their midst.

Now she really belonged, Loren thought as she smiled and sipped the vintage French champagne, letting the bubbles dance along her tongue much as happiness danced through her veins. And, as the subtle lighting in the room caught the ruby on her finger, she knew that no matter how distant Alex had been today, everything was now perfect in her world.