The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection. Kate Hardy

words felt like a crushing blow against his chest. He wondered, for some reason, if anyone had ever taken care of her. Yes, the people who had raised her had certainly seen to her needs. Her basic needs. But he wondered if anyone had truly cared for her.

      His mother had left, and his father had been distinctly disinterested, but he’d had servants, nannies who at least approximated some kind of love. Who had read him stories, and tucked him in. Had anyone read her stories? She was a girl, a girl who had thick, luxurious hair. Surely someone would have needed to braid it for her? Had anyone ever done so? It seemed a crime if no one had.

       As if you’ve treated her any better. You were rough. You took no care for her virginity. And you must’ve known. There’s no way you couldn’t have.

      He had only contributed to her loneliness. He had left her. He hadn’t taken care of her. He had been so focused on her failing him that he hadn’t taken into account the fact that he had failed her.

      Just as he had failed his mother. His father. His brother.

      He had a chance to endeavor to do better by her. At least now.

      “Go into the bathroom,” he said, unable to modify his tone.

      She stayed rooted to the spot, glaring at him intensely.

      “Must you be stubborn about everything?” he asked. “Go into the bathroom.”

      She practically snarled as she pushed away from the wall and stomped past him, heading into the bathroom.

      He followed, undoing the last of the buttons on his shirt before casting it, and his jacket, down onto the ground. He tried to fight the heat that was pouring through his veins. This was not the time. He slowly undid his belt buckle, the button on his pants, and left both of them behind as he continued on. By the time he entered, he was naked.

      Zara looked up at him, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”

      He bent down, turning the handle on the bathtub. “I am giving you a bath. I’m certain that you feel in need of one.”

      She crossed her arms over her chest as though she was trying to protect herself and looked away. “I do.”

      “Then, take your dress off.”

      She shrank in on herself, her expression suspicious. “I don’t know that I’m ready to be naked with you.”

      “It’s a bit late for that.”

      She locked her attention on to him, a blush coloring her cheeks. “It is not too late. We weren’t naked.”

      “No, but I was just inside you.”

      The color in her cheeks intensified. “Well, I don’t know if I’m ready for that to happen again.”

      She was so raw. So hurt. He was the lowest creature. This was too little, too late, and he knew it.

      “I left you so I wouldn’t hurt you,” he said. “And...and because it was the only way I knew to get control over myself.”

      She looked up at him. “What?”

      “I was rough with you. I was...beyond myself. It is something of a default. A...a punishment for me to remove myself from people when I...misbehave.”

      She frowned. “You punish yourself?”

      “When I need it.”

      “Oh.”

      He let out a sharp breath. “I swear to you, I will not touch you like that. Not now. Not until you say.” A skeptical light glistened in her dark brown eyes. “I only want to take care of you.” Were she another woman, one who did not deal in uncomfortable honesty, she would not have believed him. If she were another woman, and this were another time, he would not have believed himself.

      “Turn around,” she said.

      He obeyed, and he heard rustling behind him. He was hard again. And he despised himself for that too. He had good intentions. Sadly his body did not. His body did not understand how to keep its word.

      But he would. He would overcome. He would prove himself now, though he had failed his earlier tests. He did have control over himself now. Yes, he had spent a great many years not exercising that control, but he knew it was there.

      He would prove it now. This was the ultimate atonement. The ultimate test.

      He heard the sound of her disturbing the water, and he closed his eyes, trying very hard not to imagine what it would look like as she sank down into the tub. Trying very hard not to imagine what her bare skin would look like.

      He had shown restraint that first day, when he plucked her out of the bath and threw her onto his bed. He had not given himself permission to look at all of her bare, silken skin. He would not show such restraint today. Today, he would look. He would not touch her, not until she begged for him to, but he would look.

      He waited a moment, then without waiting for her permission turned. She was submerged beneath the water, only the tops of her shoulders and her head visible above the surface.

      Andres walked toward the tub, stepping into it, sinking down across from her. The water level rose, and her eyes widened. “A bit late to play the blushing virgin. You should have affected that bit earlier.”

      “I’m still practically a virgin.”

      He laughed, but the sound carried no humor. “Not even a little bit, agape.”

      He reached out, wrapping his arm around her waist and turning her so that she was facing away from him, wedged between his legs. She squeaked as he adjusted their positions, but she didn’t fight him. “Well, it isn’t as though I have a vast array of experience.”

      She was determined to fight him. Every step of the way. If he didn’t enjoy it so much, it might irritate him.

      “You don’t want a vast array of experience,” he said, softening his tone. “You said yourself you are not prepared for any more.”

      She shifted, the round curve of her butt brushing against his arousal. “I said not right then.”

      “You are the most difficult creature.”

      She turned to look over her shoulder. “So are you. You are so determined to have your way.”

      He lifted his hand out of the water and caught her chin. “This is not about having my way. I am trying. For my brother, for my country. You have not been honest with me.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “You told me you had accepted this.”

      “I never said that.”

      “Scoot forward, and lay your head back.”

      “Why?”

      “Why do you insist on arguing with everything I say?”

      She had no response to that. Instead, she complied. He held her tightly as she lowered her head backward, her dark hair slipping beneath the water, fanning out around her. His eyes were drawn to the pale, rounded curves of her breasts, visible just above the surface of the water. In fact, the new pose brought all of her body much closer to the surface, revealing each curve, dip and hollow. But he had promised he wouldn’t touch. Not in that way. So he didn’t. Instead, he helped her tip her head back farther, careful to keep the water out of her face.

      Once her hair was wet, he guided her back up between his thighs, reaching for one of the cut-glass bottles that was resting on the edge of the tub. He tipped it to the side, putting a bit in his hand before replacing it, and turned his focus back to her. He buried his fingers in the dark, silky locks.

      “What are you doing?”

      “Washing your hair.”

      He felt her shoulders go rigid. “Why?”

      “You are far too full of questions.”