Читать книгу His to Command: the Housekeeper - Sharon Kendrick - Страница 15

CATHY suddenly experienced the strangest sensation—almost as if she had moved outside her body, and were now looking down on it. As if she were distanced and removed from the moment.

She could see the imposing physique of the Prince radiating power and privilege—and that slightly hunched woman in the crumpled floral dress must be her. She was staring up at him, an expression of disbelief on her face—as if she couldn’t believe that such a man had just asked her to marry him. Her lips were dry and she couldn’t utter a word—even if she’d had a clue how to reply.

‘Cathy? Did you hear what I said?’

His voice interrupted the swirling confusion of her thoughts and brought her telescoping back into her own body with a shock. Swallowing down the sudden clamour of fear as her senses returned, she felt the cold prickle of sweat at her brow and prayed that she wouldn’t do something foolish, like slide to the ground in a faint.

Yet her heart wasn’t beating wildly with the exultant joy she might have expected. Wasn’t it strange how something you’d longed for only in your wildest dreams could have the ring of the nightmare about it when it actually came true? This man—no, this prince—had flown her out to his Mediterranean island and just proposed marriage to her. Cathy’s eyes searched the hard contours of his face, wanting him to repeat it—no, needing him to repeat it, for fear that she might be quietly going insane.

‘I’m not sure that I did,’ she said. ‘Say it again.’

‘I want you to marry me.’

Her voice was now little more than a hoarse whisper. ‘But…why?’

‘Because…’ He knew the words she wanted—the words were traditional at such a time. Words of love and hopes for a shared future. But he couldn’t do that. Xaviero wasn’t blind to his faults—though the power afforded him by his position in society meant that they were always tolerated, even indulged—but he had never been a hypocrite and he wasn’t going to start now. ‘Because I need a wife.’

Need. It was an interesting choice of word and usually it implied some kind of emotional depen-dence—but Cathy suspected that it didn’t mean the same for Xaviero as it did for other people. His face was nothing but a cool, dark mask of near-indifference. He wasn’t exactly flinging his arms around her and telling her that she was the only woman in the world for him, was he? That his life would never be the same unless she said yes.

‘Why?’ she questioned again. ‘I don’t understand.’

Again, he chose his words with care. The truth was vital, yes—but how much of it could she take? And yet if he were anything other than completely candid with her—might she not in future turn round in that hysterical way that women sometimes had when life didn’t turn out the way they wanted it to, and accuse him of having tricked her?

‘Because…’ The lump in his throat momentarily restricted his speech. ‘Because my brother lies insensible in his hospital bed and thus is powerless to act in the interests of his people. It is an impossible situation which cannot continue and I have been charged to govern my country as Prince Regent until he recovers.’

‘Until?’ Cathy seized on the single word. ‘You mean there’s a chance he will recover?’

His eyes narrowed. He had forgotten her native intelligence which seemed to shine through despite her formal lack of education. Had he implied that Casimiro’s prognosis was hopeful? ‘If he recovers,’ he allowed unwillingly and then met the question which clouded her brilliant aquamarine eyes. ‘The doctors think it unlikely. They say that he could lie in this vegetative state for years. I am to be sworn in as Prince Regent—and if I am to rule, then I need a woman at my side.’

To help and support him? she wondered—as her heart gave a sudden leap of hope. To be his solace and his comfort in times of need? Wouldn’t she gladly do all that—and more—for this complex and compelling man? Wouldn’t she be honoured and thrilled to stand by his side? Trying not to let the sudden rise of happiness show on her face, she clasped her hands together. ‘Do you?’

He nodded. ‘Sì. The people are obviously unsettled by what has happened. But a new Princess would give them hope—something bright to lighten the gloom of the accident and the dark days which have followed. Someone to open their hospitals and visit their schools.’ There was a pause while his golden eyes gleamed out a different message entirely. ‘While I cannot live without the physical comfort which only a woman can provide. A comfort which you provide so exquisitely,’he said, his voice growing husky with memory. ‘As we both know only too well.’

Somehow Cathy kept her face from crumpling. What had she been expecting—words of love? Or at least words which contained some kind of affection, along with hope for a shared future. Instead, he had presented her with the option of visiting schools and warming his bed at night! Was he expecting her to eagerly snatch at his offer—the way she had greedily fallen into bed with him? Well, she would match his cool words with her own response.

‘But why me?’ she queried. ‘Why not a woman more suitable for a prince—someone high-born and not a humble chambermaid?’

Xaviero nodded, pleased with the dispassionate nature of her question—because surely that boded well for the future. ‘Because I know the identity of every eligible woman on the island—and have no wish to marry any of them. But neither do I have the time to go trawling the world in search of a more…’ He shrugged as he met her eyes, but he would not shrink from what was, essentially, the truth. ‘A more suitable candidate of aristocratic breeding. And of course you have one essential qualification for the role, Cathy—one which I can vouch for myself.’

‘My virginity?’ she guessed slowly.

‘Of course.’ Remembering the afternoon she had lost it, he felt the beat of desire and longed to take her in his arms right then. To lose himself there in the sweetest way possible and to temporarily rid himself of some of the dark weight of expectation which now fell on his shoulders. But he dared not touch her. Not yet. ‘So…’ He raised his dark brows. ‘Your thoughts on the matter?’

If only he had kissed her or hugged her instead of asking the question in such a cold-blooded way. If he had let physical affection masquerade as love—then wouldn’t it have made everything easier? But he was still standing away from her—only a few feet, it was true, but it might as well have been a million miles. Think straight, Cathy, she urged herself. Because this is very important—for both of you. And if you are to give his unbelievable proposal any serious consideration, then you must be in full possession of the facts.

And that meant remaining as detached as he was.

‘So my innocence is the sole reason for this fairy-tale proposal?’

Xaviero gave a quick smile. Was she trying to shock him with her sudden bluntness? ‘I think you underestimate your petite, blonde beauty, mia tesoro,’ he demurred softly. ‘Though our marriage would of course be impossible if you had been intimate with other men. But it is your biddable nature which was equally important in helping me come to my decision.’

Cathy stilled. ‘What…what are you talking about?’

‘It is one of your most commendable qualities—the fact that you are so wonderfully compliant,’ he murmured and he began to walk across the room towards her. ‘Such a wonderfully old-fashioned trait and it is because you are not from aristocracy that you are in possession of it. I watched you begin to learn about sex with an enthusiasm and an aptitude which was thrilling to behold. Your eagerness to please and to improve bodes well, Cathy—and can be applied to other fields outside the bedroom.’

‘Compliant?’ she repeated weakly, because now he was before her—his glorious face in close-up, his own distinctive scent invading her senses.

‘Yes—compliant. You are like a blank canvas on which I can paint whatever I like. Someone who will learn to be the perfect Princess, just as you have learnt to be the perfect lover. Few women are as teachable as you, mia bella Cathy. Now come here—’

His voice had dipped and Cathy heard the raw hunger in it—but she stood stiff and unmoving when he took her into his arms. Say no, she silently urged herself. Tell him what he can do with his insulting request. Tell him that you’re more than just an ex-virgin who learns quickly and will grab at anything he offers you.

‘Cathy,’ he murmured, touching the tousled fall of her hair as he had been longing to do from the moment she had entered the room, tangling his fingers in its silken spill. ‘Sweet, sweet Cathy.’

She tried to fight it, but desire was proving far stronger than pride—and hadn’t she hungered for his touch for so long? Hadn’t he hovered on the periphery of her every waking thought for each moment they’d been apart—reminding her of how totally he could captivate her?

She had thought that she had tasted the last of him, and couldn’t ever have envisaged that she would be in his arms again. But now she was, and it was even better than she remembered—obliterating everything but a hot and urgent desire. He was smoothing his palms down the side of her head, stroking her hair as if she were a cat. Each of his thumbs was now tracing an outline on each side of her lips, sending them into a helpless tremble. It was a fervent and curiously innocent gesture and it was almost her undoing. ‘Xaviero—’

‘Kiss me,’ he urged, his voice suddenly raw. ‘Kiss me as you’ve been wanting to kiss me since you walked in here. But do it now for we do not have long—and then I must have your answer.’

Pride made her ask and she prayed that her eagerness didn’t show. ‘You still haven’t told me wh-what’s in it for me.’

Should he tempt her with diamonds and palaces? Or something more potent still? The inexplicable something which had sizzled between them right from the start. ‘This,’ he said roughly as his mouth drove down to meet hers.

Later she wondered that if she’d had the strength not to let him kiss her, whether her answer might have been different. But she was too weak to resist and just one touch was like lighting the touchpaper on her dormant passion. And hadn’t he had that power over her from the very moment he had first walked into her life—the man in denim with the lazy smile? Hungrily, she clung to him as his lips began to plunder hers and she gasped as he pulled her roughly against him so that she could be in no doubt about the powerful strength of his arousal.

Cathy moaned softly. If he had stripped her bare and taken her there, without formality on the marble floor of the elaborate room, she would have let him—welcomed it even, for then he would have been simply a man again, without all the trappings of his royal title. But he suddenly terminated the kiss, his golden eyes almost black as they scoured her face, his breathing as ragged as if he had just been running a race.

‘You will be my bride,’ he stated, necessity forcing him to swallow down the urge to quickly join with her sweet, supple body, and then he put his lips to her ear. ‘Won’t you?’

And despite the misgivings which ran as deep as her desire, Cathy knew that she couldn’t say no to that soft, urgent entreaty. This renewed contact with him had made her realise just what she’d been missing, how much she had ached for him during his absence—and the thought of leaving him tore at her heart like a rusty nail. It was true, he wasn’t offering her what men usually offered when they asked a woman to marry them—but he was offering himself.

And wasn’t that enough?

Couldn’t she make it enough?

‘Yes, Xaviero,’ she said slowly, her heart thudding beneath one swollen breast. ‘I will be your bride.’