The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection. Kate Hardy

pleased with the idea of marrying him.

      “I see that you like that.” A smile curved the corner of his lips. He seemed pleased that she was pleased. And that made her feel...pleased. She had the feeling that sex made people slightly crazy and she was suffering the aftereffects of that. She had spoken very boldly of all she knew about it. Because she had of course been aware that it happened around her in the camp. Caravans, tents, were not soundproof.

      Still, she had never had these kinds of feelings about anyone. So the entire concept might as well be foreign.

      “I have never been anywhere. Never, not in my life. Coming here to Petras was the first time I had ever been outside Tirimia. And since coming here...I haven’t left the palace.”

      “Well, you will be leaving today.”

      “I see you have everything all planned out. It would be nice if you would share those plans with me.”

      “We are going to a Christmas play.”

      Zara sputtered. That was about the last thing she had expected for him to say. “I didn’t expect that.”

      “Several of the local schools are putting on a program. Kairos and Tabitha were unavailable and someone from the royal family needs to be there.”

      “So we are going.” She was a part of the royal family now. She was a part of the family. The thought made a warm sensation bloom in her chest and start to spread outward, making her fingertips, her legs, her toes feel warm too. She hadn’t realized until that moment just how cold she had been.

      “Yes. Your clothes have already been selected and are being sent up.”

      “If you aren’t careful I could fall into the habit of letting you take care of things for me.” She took a deep breath. “It’s sort of nice not to have to worry about details.”

      “I’m not worrying about your details. Untold legions of palace staff are. I prefer for them to worry about mine, as well.”

      “It is quite a luxury.”

      “I’m surprised to see that you aren’t hissing and spitting. I should have used sex to quiet you down from the first moment.”

      She glared at him, completely annoyed with herself as she felt her face heat. She was certain she was not looking angry so much as flushed and eager. How irritating that being with him had in fact stolen some of her thunder.

      “I did not fight with you for no reason. I’m hardly going to do it just for the sake of it.”

      “Yes, I know, it was all about your freedom.”

      The warmth in her chest only grew in intensity. She felt...understood. She could not remember the last time, if ever, she had felt that. A knock on the door to the bedchamber broke the tension between them.

      “Those would be your clothes. I will leave you to that.”

      “I’m wrapped in a blanket!”

      “Yes, but the stylist is going to dress you anyway. Probably for the best that you are starting out undressed. Saves time.”

      She lifted a shoulder. “Okay.”

      “I will meet you downstairs.”

      Without another word he turned and walked toward the door, opening it for the stylist and leaving her alone with the woman holding a garment bag.

      An hour, some makeup and some hair products later, Zara was in the back of a limousine with Andres, driving away from the palace. The roads were clear, but there was snow on either side of them, covering the ground and the pine trees beyond. Little bits of green velvet showing through the pristine blanket of white.

      It wasn’t so different from the landscape in Tirimia, and yet, as they wound away from the private drive that led to the palace, it started to appear more and more foreign to her. They had driven over the Tirimian border at night when she was brought here to Petras, so she hadn’t had a chance to get a sense for the city. Added to that, she had been terrified.

      But she was seeing it now. Old churches stood alongside modern high-rises, Georgian-era homes placed near trendy boutiques and bakeries. She was transfixed by the movement. The cars on the road, the people on the sidewalks. It was anything but lonely. Every piece of stone was part of something, touching something else.

      She turned to face Andres, suddenly conscious of just how quiet he had been the entire drive. His eyes were on her, assessing. “What are you doing?”

      “Watching you.”

      “I’m not doing anything.”

      “That isn’t true. You’re looking at the scenery. Quite prettily, I might add.”

      A rush of adrenaline and satisfaction filled her. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of doing anything prettily before.”

      “You’re very pretty. Everything you do is done prettily as a result.”

      “Even when I hiss and spit and gnaw on chicken bones?”

      “You didn’t gnaw the bones.”

      “I would have. If you hadn’t dumped my dinner in a potted plant.”

      He surprised her then by laughing. Not a carefully controlled laugh. Not one designed to mock. But one filled with humor. “I did dump your dinner in a potted plant, didn’t I?”

      “Yes. You owe me chicken.”

      “I will keep that under advisement.”

      As stunning as the scenery was, she found that she suddenly wanted to keep her eyes on him. He was beautiful when he smiled. His dark eyes glittered in a way they didn’t usually, his teeth white against his golden skin. He had a slight dimple on one side of his mouth. One she hadn’t noticed before. She had seen him naked, and still, she noticed something new about him. She wondered how long it would take for her to discover every mystery he contained.

      Suddenly, she felt panicked, because she was afraid a lifetime might not be sufficient. She was so behind in her learnings on this sort of thing. When it came to the mysteries that passed between men and women, she had to learn to be a princess and a wife, and she had no idea how she would ever accomplish both.

      She didn’t have time to worry, as just then the limousine pulled up to a large, ornately carved building. “The oldest church in Petras,” Andres said, anticipating her question before she spoke it.

      “It’s beautiful,” she said, getting out of the car when the driver opened the door for her.

      Andres got out and looped his arm through hers, leading her up the steps. She looked at the expansive doorway, at the saints and angels fashioned into the stone.

      The building was even more spectacular inside. There was a large basin filled with water, holy water, she assumed. Beyond that, chairs were set up facing the stage and a large stained-glass window was positioned above, light filtering through and casting colors onto the floor below. There were Christmas trees, large and perfectly dressed, stationed throughout the sanctuary, lit by white lights, wrapped in dark red garlands.

      As had happened at the palace, the crowd parted to allow Andres passage.

      There was a seat reserved for them in the front, and once they sat, she sensed all the eyes in the room on them. At least, until the play began. Children of all ages stood holding candles, singing songs. The young children didn’t sing beautifully, but they sang loudly. The older children managed harmonies, their voices echoing beautifully in the space, filling it, filling her.

      When they began the last song, her eyes began to well up and she grabbed a hold of Andres’s hand, squeezing it tightly, trying to keep tears from falling. She never cried. She had cried for her parents. For her brother. Anything after that hadn’t seemed worthy of her tears. But she had never before cried for beauty. For something so lovely it seemed it had come from another world.

      When