Honour-Bound Groom / Cinderella & the CEO. Maureen Child

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Название Honour-Bound Groom / Cinderella & the CEO
Автор произведения Maureen Child
Жанр Контркультура
Серия Mills & Boon Desire
Издательство Контркультура
Год выпуска 0
isbn 9781408922880



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      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