Читать книгу Modern Romance November 2016 Books 5-8 - Мишель Смарт, Rachael Thomas - Страница 15

CHAPTER FIVE

HOW MUCH HUMILIATION could one person take?

Catalina blinked back the tears that had been threatening all day, mortification ravaging her.

Nathaniel no longer found her attractive. Whether it was because she was pregnant or because he’d had her once and had no wish to repeat the experience, she didn’t know and she didn’t care. It was the final indignity to add to what had been an awful, horrendous day.

She could already imagine the headlines of the La Belle piece and knew that at some point the text would say the immortal words, ‘best day of her life’.

And yet it had to rank as one of the worst; certainly the worst since the day she’d said goodbye to her mother.

She spun around in this strange room that was to be hers alone. There wasn’t even the pretence of a real marriage. She was going to live as Nathaniel’s wife for a year and he wanted nothing physical to do with her.

Being rejected by Helios had been bad enough, but this...

It was infinitely worse. She hadn’t had any feelings for Helios, whereas her feelings for Nathaniel were all over the place. One minute she wanted to hit him, the next she was yearning to feel his warm, firm lips upon hers again and to rediscover the touch of his hands upon her skin.

She’d prepared herself for emotional distance between them, especially since the opera, but it had never entered her head there would be physical distance too.

A celibate marriage? To one of France’s most notorious playboys?

She could only imagine Dominic’s crowing if he were to discover Nathaniel found her so unattractive he wouldn’t even share a bed with her.

The nausea that had been kept at bay all day suddenly hit her with a vengeance. She only just made it to her bathroom before she brought up the remnants of the little food she’d managed to eat.

Afterwards, she sat on the heated floor tiles and clutched her head. There was a buzzing in her brain making it hard for her to think straight, but think she must.

This apartment was her home for the next year. She couldn’t spend that time sitting on the bathroom floor feeling sorry for herself. Self-pity never changed anything.

Dragging herself to her feet, she looked from the inviting freestanding bath to the walk-in shower section of the bathroom. As she debated which to take, she noticed the toiletries that had been neatly placed on the tray by the bath. They were the exact brands she used at home.

In some small way, Nathaniel was trying to make this easy and painless for her.

She took the lid off the bubble bath and sniffed, feeling better with the familiar scent in her nose. And then she caught sight of her reflection.

She wouldn’t be able to have a bath or a shower if she didn’t get out of her wedding dress. The only problem was how she would do that.

For a fortnight she’d let her secret thoughts dart to places she should never have allowed them to go; to a place where Nathaniel had been the one to take the dress off for her. She had imagined the scenario in detail.

Did helping her out of her wedding dress count as something Frederic was supposed to deal with? Surely not. Her companions had always been the ones to help her. She could never ask a man.

Should she ask Nathaniel?

Absolutely not. She didn’t have to give him another excuse to reject her.

And just like that, the calm she’d found with the scent of the bubble bath evaporated and anger pushed its way through.

She was a fully grown woman but as helpless as a child. She’d been raised this way. It hadn’t been her choice.

Well, she decided, she was going to have to learn to take care of herself. Starting right now.

Returning to the bedroom, she hunted through drawers and opened cupboards until she found what she was looking for.

She took the scissors into her hands and carefully placed them at the sleeves of her dress. And then she snipped. She snipped her dress until the fabric fell away and she could step out of it.

It felt like shedding skin.

* * *

‘Are you sure this is all the stuff that was sent from the palace?’ Catalina asked Clotilde, who was watching her anxiously. They were in her dressing room. It wasn’t even a quarter filled.

Clotilde nodded. ‘Two suitcases. Were you expecting more? It doesn’t seem very much for a princess.’

Catalina pasted a smile to her face, fighting hard not to let her anxiety show. ‘Thank you for helping me look. I’m sure it’s just an oversight. I’ll call my father and have the rest of my possessions sent on.’

Nathaniel had said she could trust his staff’s discretion but he hadn’t been the one who’d spent a lifetime living with spies and turncoats. Clotilde had introduced herself twenty minutes ago when she’d brought Catalina breakfast in bed, proudly informing her that she would be her dedicated companion. Her eagerness was touching.

A few years younger than herself, Clotilde was a breath of fresh air and reminded her of Aliana, her favourite of her palace companions.

But, however nice and eager to please Clotilde appeared to be, Catalina didn’t know her. It was far too early to trust anyone in this household. She couldn’t rule out the possibility that her father had already bought them and that every word or deed made under this roof would be reported back to him.

Clotilde nodded brightly. ‘What shall I do for you now?’

‘Can you show me how to use the shower?’ She’d been desperate for a shower once she’d cut off her wedding dress but hadn’t been able to work out how to turn it on. Now, after discovering what her father had done, she wanted nothing more than a few minutes of peace to wash it all away and gather her thoughts before the stinging behind her eyes turned into tears.

She followed Clotilde into the bathroom, where her new companion opened the shower door.

‘Turn the left side for your temperature...’

‘Does red indicate hot?’

She nodded. ‘The right side one is the pressure.’

‘And how does the bath work?’

The look Clotilde gave her made her feel like a child.

‘I’ve never run a bath for myself or turned a shower on before,’ she said quietly, wishing she didn’t feel the need to explain herself.

Clotilde’s eyes resembled an owl’s. ‘Never?’

‘Never. My companions have always done everything for me.’

After showing her how to turn the taps on, Clotilde said with a theatrical sigh, ‘I would love to be a princess, and be waited on all the time.’

Catalina gave a wry smile, biting back the retort that being a princess wasn’t all it was made out to be. ‘I’ve never even brushed my own hair.’

‘I am very envious of your hair. Would you like me to brush it for you now?’

How hard could brushing hair be? ‘I think it is time I learned how to do the basic things for myself, don’t you agree?’

From the look in Clotilde’s eyes, she most definitely did not agree.

‘I thank you for all your assistance but I can manage on my own now.’

‘I don’t think Nathaniel will be pleased if I leave you to look after yourself.’

Was that because he wanted reports on her behaviour like her father had always insisted on from her palace companions?

‘Then don’t tell him.’

‘But he said I was to stay with you at all times.’

Catalina gritted her teeth behind her smile. None of this was Clotilde’s fault. Nathaniel was her employer. She was obeying orders. ‘Why don’t you wait in the bedroom for me?’

‘You will call me if you want anything?’

‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Thank you, Clotilde.’

Her new companion beamed as she closed the bathroom door behind her.

Alone for the first time since she’d awoken that morning, Catalina closed her eyes and wished away the tears still gathering behind her lids.

She’d had three dedicated rooms in the palace. How could all that have been reduced to two suitcases of basic everyday clothing? Everything of sentimental or monetary value had been left behind. Her portion of her mother’s jewellery...

She could understand why her father had kept the heirlooms that had been passed down through the House of Fernandez, although it would have been nice if he’d mentioned his intentions to her. But why would he take her mother’s personal pieces, the items she’d been gifted or had inherited from her own family? They had never belonged to him.

Placing a hand to her stomach, she wondered, not for the first time, if it was a boy or a girl growing inside her.

It wasn’t just her mother’s jewellery and most of her wardrobe, everything passed on by her mother had been kept behind. The same went for her book and art collection, all of the things Catalina had expected to pass on to her own children.

Nothing could have told her more that she was an outcast from her family.

Nathaniel might have dismissed her fears but she knew in her heart that her instincts had been right. Her father and brother had fired a warning shot at her. She was owned entirely by the House of Fernandez. This was their way of telling her that if she didn’t behave herself, she would never be allowed back in the fold.

She was doing everything they wanted and still they wanted more for their pound of flesh.

For the first time she questioned whether she wanted to return to the fold.

She’d spent her life believing in duty and loyalty. Was it too much to expect some loyalty and compassion in return?

* * *

Nathaniel put his files away, turned his laptop and desktop off, checked his phone for messages and decided to call it a night.

As he stepped out of his office, movement behind him made him turn.

Catalina stood half in and half out of the sitting room, hovering in the doorway. ‘I thought I heard a noise,’ she said softly.

‘I’m just finishing for the night.’ He shut the door behind him and kept his hand on the handle, trying not to notice that she was wearing a long white Victorian nightdress with a high neck but also the thinnest of sleeves that showed off her slender arms. Her raven hair was loose and spilled down her back and over her shoulders. She looked innocent. Clean and pure. Yet her innate sexiness shone through.

He cleared his throat. ‘Where is Clotilde?’ Assigning Catalina a dedicated companion in his household had worked out as well for him as it had for her. He’d made it to three days of living under the same roof without finding himself alone with his wife. Until now.

‘She’s making me a hot chocolate.’ One bare, creamy shoulder lifted. ‘She wouldn’t let me help.’

‘I should think not.’ His staff had strict instructions—under no circumstances should the Princess do anything for herself. Frederic had spoken to a senior member of the palace staff who’d informed him the only personal duty the royal family performed for themselves was the brushing of their teeth. The King, however, left even that for one of his minions. It was an alien lifestyle to Nathaniel, even with the vast wealth he’d accumulated, which easily rivalled that of the House of Fernandez. ‘How are you settling in? Have you everything you need?’

‘Your staff are taking good care of me.’ Catalina stepped out from the threshold and stood before him, a shrewdness to her stare. ‘Will I be seeing you tomorrow?’

‘I’ll be at home.’

‘That’s not what I asked.’

‘I know.’ He ran a hand through his hair, pretending not to notice that the light she stood under had the effect of making her nightdress almost transparent. ‘I’ll be here but working again.’

Her lips tightened a touch but she gave the graceful nod he’d been fascinated by for years. It was a nod that could mean anything and nothing. It gave away nothing of her thoughts.

Breathing had become a struggle. The outline of her breasts was clearly visible beneath the fabric.

A seemingly modest, old-fashioned nightdress had kick-started his libido better than any overtly sexy lingerie ever could. Because he knew what lay beneath it and the ecstasy he had found in her arms.

She couldn’t be aware of how exposed she was; not when she could be seen by any member of his staff. Catalina was no exhibitionist.

He shouldn’t be staring. He wasn’t a lusty teenager...but, he had to admit, being within three feet of her made him feel like one. She was walking temptation, a danger to him as great as the biggest temptation he had ever known, which had ruined his life all those years ago, making him an outcast from what remained of his family.

His seduction of Catalina had almost made her an outcast from her family. It still could.

There had been no quell in his desire for her. None at all. He’d spent the past three days catching up on paperwork but had only accomplished a tenth of what he’d set out to do. The rest of the time he’d spent gazing at the office door wondering what she was doing at that precise moment.

He could tell himself it was concern for a princess yanked from her palace to live amongst commoners that had him constantly thinking about her. But lying to himself was something he hadn’t tolerated since he was seventeen, when he’d lied to himself that his libido was stronger than his morals. The truth was he had spent the days thinking of Catalina because her living under the same roof as him had increased the vividness of his memories of their night together. He could see her as clearly with his eyes open as when they were shut.

He might have successfully avoided her by locking himself away in his office but her presence had been with him nonetheless.

And here she was now, her eyes piercing him, her scent tantalising him, her body visibly naked beneath her thin...

‘You should think about wearing a robe with that nightdress,’ he snapped with an unintended brusqueness.

Her pretty brows drew together. ‘Why?’ Then she looked down, looked up at the light, looked down again, and turned the colour of a radish.

This was the moment he should retire to his bedroom. He should be far away from her, not fighting the urge to pin her to the passageway wall and strip that nightdress off her.

‘I think you must use brighter light bulbs than we use in the palace,’ she whispered after moments of painful silence. Strangely, she made no effort to cover herself or step out from under the light and her eyes held his.

It was only Clotilde appearing from the left, a bone china cup and saucer in hand—someone in his household must have bought them in especially for the Princess because, as far as he was aware, everyone in his household drank from mugs, himself included—that broke the tension between them.

Catalina stepped immediately out of the light bulb’s glare and, with only the smallest of catches in her voice, thanked Clotilde.

Clotilde, blissfully unaware that she had walked into anything—nothing, he reprimanded himself sharply; she hadn’t interrupted anything—beamed and turned to Nathaniel. ‘Can I get you a hot chocolate too? Or fix you a nightcap?’

‘I’ll fix my own when I’m ready.’ Nodding at them both without making eye contact, he bid them goodnight and disappeared to his bedroom.

* * *

Catalina sat in her bed, flicking through one of the magazines that Clotilde had left after sitting in the bedroom while Catalina had had a bath. Starting from tomorrow she was going to start easing Clotilde’s attempts to win a Companion of the Year Award and start learning to do things for herself. So far, any attempt at independence other than brushing her own hair had been neatly sidestepped.

While she read, she tried to focus her mind on things she could do to fill her time. As her royal engagements were cancelled until after the baby was born, she would need to find something to keep her occupied. The long days stretched ahead of her interminably. She needed to broach the subject with Nathaniel. But not in her nightdress.

Heat flamed her cheeks as she remembered standing before him and the stark realisation the passageway’s lighting had caused her nightdress to become see-through. Then heat flamed a more intimate part of her as she remembered the look in his eyes. That had been hunger there. She’d recognised it. She’d seen it the night they’d conceived their child.

It was that hunger that kept her eyes flickering to the door and her senses alert for any approaching footstep.

Would this be the night he came to her? Would he knock on her door, intent on the consummation of their marriage?

Would she let him or would she say no? Royal wives of Monte Cleure were not supposed to deny their husbands. She might have married a commoner but she was still a royal princess. Legally, she was Nathaniel’s property and would remain so until their divorce was finalised. Unless her father actively cast her out and stripped her of her HRH title, she remained bound by her palace’s constitutional laws...

It occurred to her that the constitutional laws only applied while she was on Monte Cleure...

She heard a noise and stopped breathing, her heart setting off at a canter.

After long seconds of silence she lay back against the headboard and closed her eyes, willing her pulse to slow.

No, she couldn’t swear that if he came into her room and climbed into her bed she wouldn’t open her arms and welcome him.

And neither could she swear that she wouldn’t freeze him out and demand he leave.

She never got the chance to find out what she would do.

Three hours later when midnight was but a distant memory, her tired brain finally switched off and went to sleep.

Her weary but aching heart still hurt when she awoke the next morning.