Married By Christmas Bundle: Anthology

by Carol Marinelli

  Rocking back on her chair, Emily stared at the screen again.

  Almost as hesitantly as she might have said the words, she tapped in, Yes—why? then clicked the mouse and waited.

  We have issues to resolve sooner rather than later. I plan to spend Christmas in a small village called Lech, in the Arlberg region of Austria. I’d like you to join me.

  Emily’s heart leapt at the invitation. But she had promised to attend her mother’s famous Christmas lunch, she remembered, frowning.

  ‘Of course you must go with Alessandro,’ Miranda insisted, when Emily telephoned her twin to run the idea past her. ‘You don’t think Mother will try and make you stay in England if she thinks there’s a chance of a rapprochement with Alessandro, do you?’

  ‘No, but—’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘I haven’t told him yet,’ Emily said tensely, tracing her still flat stomach.

  ‘Are you going to wait until he can see for himself?’

  ‘I don’t know. I—’

  ‘Look, Emily,’ Miranda said, beginning to sound impatient. ‘I’ve got to go to rehearsal. You’re the one who always knows what to do. You know what you have to do now. You’re just allowing emotion to get in the way of clear thinking.’

  Emily allowed herself a wry smile. ‘Are you surprised?’

  ‘That you’ve let things go this far? Yes. It’s a fact that Alessandro wasn’t entirely open with you. Get over it. Aren’t you doing just the same to him now? If you want the truth, it looks like a bad case of double standards.’

  ‘Please don’t be angry with me. You know I’ve forgiven him. But he wouldn’t give me a chance to explain—’

  Miranda heaved a heavy sigh down the phone, cutting her off. ‘I’m not angry with you, Emily. I’m just worried about you—and Alessandro. Please say you’ll go.’

  ‘I can’t just turn up pregnant in Lech.’

  ‘No, you can’t,’ Miranda agreed thoughtfully. ‘So maybe I’ll—’

  ‘No! Don’t you dare say a word to him,’ Emily warned. ‘This is something I have to handle by myself.’

  ‘Promise?’

  ‘Have I ever let you down?’

  ‘This would be one hell of a time to make it a first,’ Miranda said bluntly.

  Emily could feel her sister’s concern winging down the phone-line. ‘I won’t let you down, Miranda. I promise.’

  After doing her research, Emily knew why her husband had chosen Lech for his winter retreat—the townsfolk were so used to visiting royalty no one paid the slightest attention to one more prince arriving for the winter sports. She realised now that any type of anonymity was preferable to none.

  It wouldn’t take her long to pack a suitcase, book a flight—

  She swung around in surprise when the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting anyone and, apart from kicking off her high-heeled shoes, she hadn’t even changed her clothes after the final meeting with her clients. Checking her appearance in the mirror, she pulled a face and made a vain attempt to capture some of her long hair into the slide at the back of her head. Reaching the door, she opened it and gasped.

  ‘Alessandro! Wh—?’

  ‘May I come in?’

  ‘Yes, of course. But—’ Her bewildered gaze followed him across the wide expanse of floor to the picture windows, where he turned and stood looking around him, the corners of his mouth pressing up in an appreciative grin.

  ‘This is very nice,’ he said, looking around the apartment.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. Shutting the door, Emily leaned back against it. Her heart-rate had gone into orbit…she needed a minute. No, a minute wasn’t nearly long enough, she realised, staring at her husband.

  His charcoal-grey vicuña overcoat had been left open to reveal a black V-neck cashmere sweater and black trousers, and his inky-black hair in its customary off-duty disarray fell over familiar dark gold eyes—eyes that were presently trained on her with amused speculation.

  ‘I don’t understand—I was just e-mailing you—’

  ‘And you presumed I was in Ferara?’

  She could see he was trying not to smile. ‘Well, yes. I wanted to share the good news with you the moment I found out myself.’ Even as she spoke the words it was as if a double helping of conscience had reared up to mock her.

  ‘Good to know you were thinking about me,’ Alessandro commented, slanting her a look.

  He didn’t miss a thing, she realised edgily, moving away from the door.

  ‘I was just around the corner in my hotel at the time,’ Alessandro said, clearly trying to put her at her ease. ‘What about Lech? Are you packed?’

  ‘I haven’t booked a seat yet.’

  ‘Booked a seat?’

  It took a whole new mind-set to deal with Alessandro, Emily reminded herself. Of course he would have flown to England in his own jet. ‘You came for me?’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Looks like it,’ he agreed dryly.

  ‘Can you give me half an hour? Here—let me take that for you,’ she said as he began to shrug off his overcoat. ‘Can I get you anything while you wait? A drink?’

  ‘Just get ready,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait.’

  ‘Wait out here, then,’ she suggested, opening the window to the balcony. It’s got a fabulous view, and—’

  He caught her to him as she went past, dragging her close and shutting her up with a long, deep kiss that wiped her mind clean of everything but him. But even as she softened against him he gently but very firmly pushed her away.

  ‘Go,’ he whispered. ‘We have a non-negotiable take-off slot. It’s nearly Christmas—or had you forgotten?’

  Alessandro took her through a sumptuous wood-panelled entrance hall into a quaint reception area decorated in typical Austrian alpine style, with red gingham curtains edged with heavy ecru lace. Garlands of dried flowers hung on the walls, and in a huge stone grate a roaring log fire acted like a magnet to the people clustered around, exchanging tall stories from their day on the slopes.

  There wasn’t a photographer in sight, Emily noticed with relief as she watched her husband complete the formalities and return to her side with a huge old-fashioned carved wooden key-fob.

  ‘When we get to the room I suggest you take a bath,’ he said as they strolled through the hotel to the guests’ accommodation. ‘It’s too late to sort out skis for you tonight, and mine are already here. So we’ll take it easy—have dinner, chat…’

  Chat. Emily nodded and smiled, but her insides were churning. There would be no more running away from the truth now. But at least he was giving her time to prepare.

  As he propelled her into the lift Alessandro’s hands were around her waist. His touch was electrifying. And suddenly all Emily knew, all she could think of, was that she wanted him…

  ‘Are we going to eat in the restaurant or our room?’ she asked as he pressed the button for their floor.

  As an attempt to kick-start the logical side of her brain it was a pretty pathetic gambit—and she knew it—but with Alessandro so close, and no one else around, it was all she could manage.

  ‘Why, Principessa,’ he murmured softly, letting his hands slip down slowly over her thighs as the lift began to rise, ‘are you hoping to seduce me?’

  Resisting the temptation to lean back into him, Emily made a soft, double-barrelled sound of denial. And when he moved to drag her close she turned to face him, warning him off with her eyes. ‘We have things to discuss,’ she said, realising uncomfortably that he didn’t know the half of it.

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed, with a small mocking bow.

  But she could see the dark, smouldering desire in his eyes and the arrogant twist to his lips that proved he was remembering other occasions when the secrets between them had lain dormant and could not douse their passion.

  She was relieved when the lift slowed at their floor. The atmosphere in the confined space had grown so thick with sexual tension she could feel herself drowning in it—and losing all sense
of what she had come to do…to say to him. But when he stopped outside one of the heavy oak doors he rested his hand on the wall, trapping her.

  ‘We have to share, I’m afraid. I could only get one suite because—’

  ‘It’s Christmas?’ she supplied crisply, channelling all her apprehension into one snippy remark.

  But he wouldn’t be provoked, only stared at her lazily, forcing Emily to wonder how long she could remain immune to his unique scent…sandalwood, musk…man. And his slow smile was producing a sensory overload that made her want to drag him into the room and to hell with everything else.

  But if he was in the mood for playing games…‘As we still have issues to resolve, I hope there’s more than one bed in the suite?’

  ‘Didn’t I just say we’d have to share?’

  ‘A suite…you said we had to share a suite. You didn’t say anything about sharing a bed.’ How come that had come out in a provocative murmur, sparing him the scolding she had intended?

  ‘Why shouldn’t we share a bed? After all, we are man and wife.’

  ‘I hope for your sake the sofa’s comfy,’ Emily said, fighting to keep her voice steady as she took the key from his hand.

  Just as she had feared, when she opened the door one large bed dominated the room. Spying her luggage in one corner, she hurried over to it and picked up the smallest bag. ‘See you after my bath, Alessandro—’

  The heel of his hand shot out, slamming into the bathroom door as she tried to close it.

  ‘Perhaps I’d better warn you—these doors don’t lock.’

  ‘I’m sure I can trust you to be a gentleman.’ Their faces were so close she could have kissed him. But, giving the door one final push, she almost sank to her knees with relief when Alessandro allowed it to close.

  Inside the privacy of the marble-clad bathroom, Emily let out a long, shaky breath. With every hour that passed it became harder to tell Alessandro about the baby. She stabbed a furious glance at herself in the mirrored wall. Just when had she become such a coward? If she couldn’t face up to it by the time she’d had her bath she didn’t have anything to offer him—or their unborn child. It would be better for all of them if she took the next flight out of Austria…

  Dinner was conducted with every outward show of restraint, whilst inwardly fires raged inside the two people facing each other across the cosy country-style table.

  There was nothing remotely cosy about the workings of Emily’s mind as she forked up the last scrap of home-made sachertorte, but she managed to hide her angst behind enthusiasm for the food.

  ‘I’ve never tasted a better chocolate cake in all my life,’ she said, as if they were two friends on a casual outing. ‘If I stayed here for long I’d be huge.’

  ‘You have put on a little weight,’ Alessandro commented, slanting her a look as he laid down his own fork with his own cake half-eaten. And she looked better for it, he thought. She looked like some luscious fruit that was ripe and ready for eating. He swiped the linen napkin across his lips to hide his smile at his mind’s meanderings. ‘Not that it’s a bad thing—in my opinion the extra weight suits you.’

  Emily remained silent. She hadn’t noticed any changes to her body—not yet. She hadn’t weighed herself for a while, but…’

  ‘Have you finished?’ Alessandro said, easing his position on the carved wooden chair. ‘I thought we’d have coffee sent up to the room. That way we can talk in private.’

  ‘Fine,’ Emily said quickly. She wanted to confide in him—tell him everything—and this was the best opportunity there’d been. She was already moving to her feet before Alessandro realised she meant to go right away.

  ‘OK, OK,’ he said with amusement, reaching the door a pace in front of her to open it. ‘I get the message.’

  Emily turned to him as they stepped into the lift. ‘Do you, Alessandro?’

  ‘I think so.’

  And this time when he dragged her close she hadn’t the will to resist.

  Binding her hands around his neck, Emily dragged him to her with a harsh, unguarded sound of need, opening her mouth against his lips, begging for possession.

  His kisses weren’t enough. But as her hands flew to the buckle on his belt he dragged them away. Ramming her into the corner of the lift, he kept her wedged there while he reached across to push the lever that would stop the antiquated contraption between floors. Then, wrenching up her slither of a skirt with one hand, he tugged off her tiny lace thong with the other.

  Swinging her up, he wrapped her legs around his waist and, supporting her buttocks in hands grown firm and demanding, he entered her in one thrusting stroke, pausing only to utter a contented groan as the moist heat of her body enveloped him completely. Then, pounding into her, he answered her calls for more, increasing speed and force until she let out a long, grateful, wavering cry as the violent spasms engulfed her in sensation.

  ‘And that’s just the appetiser,’ he murmured, nuzzling his face into her hair as he lowered her to the ground. ‘Now get dressed,’ he added sternly, bending to scoop up her discarded clothing. ‘It wouldn’t do for the Princess of Ferara to be seen without her knickers.’

  This wasn’t quite how she had pictured their first confrontation, Emily realised. But it wasn’t easy to resist, when Alessandro could make her laugh at the most inappropriate moments…make her feel happy, and safe, and desired.

  He hit the start lever while she struggled into her clothes. And when they reached their sumptuous suite, he slammed the door shut behind them with one hand and dragged her against him roughly with the other.

  ‘One bed OK for you now?’ he demanded huskily.

  ‘Bed, floor, lift…’ Emily breathed seductively against his mouth. ‘It’s all the same to me, mi amor.’

  As he backed her towards the fluffy cream sheepskin rug in front of the roaring log fire she almost forgot what had driven her from the restaurant at such speed. But, sensing her minute mood-shift, Alessandro drew to a halt in the middle of the room.

  ‘Coffee? Talk? Or…?’

  Or would be nice, Emily thought, wavering a little, still reeling from the aftershocks of his attentions in the lift. But her rational mind insisted they couldn’t go on like this. She had to tell him…tell him now.

  ‘Coffee, please,’ she managed.

  ‘Sure?’

  ‘No. Yes. I—’

  ‘Coffee it is,’ Alessandro said, as if nothing untoward had occurred between them since leaving the restaurant.

  Releasing her to switch on some subdued lighting, he poured out two cups from the coffee tray that had been left for them some time during their extended journey between floors.

  How to begin? Emily wondered, murmuring thanks as she took the cup and saucer from him.

  ‘So. What do you want to do about these baby issues? The contract?’ he prompted. ‘I presume that’s what all this is about?’

  Emily sank down onto a small leather sofa to one side of the inglenook fireplace, stunned into silence by his remark. There were no baby issues. There was only a small and very vulnerable child, growing a little more inside her each day.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  THE phrase baby issues would not have offended her so deeply had she not been pregnant with Alessandro’s baby, Emily realised. Impending motherhood had already imbued her with an overwhelming desire to protect their unborn child from everything—even the most innocent remark. And she was sure Alessandro’s remark was innocent. It hadn’t taken her long to discover that pregnancy hormones equalled emotional incontinence, and right now she didn’t trust herself to speak in case something irrational and angry burst from her mouth.

  ‘Well, if you won’t speak to me,’ he said, butting into her thoughts, ‘I don’t know what else I can say.’ Throwing up his hands in frustration, he crossed to the window, where he stood staring out at the ghostly shadow of the snow-capped mountain that loomed like a sentinel over the village at night.

  And now he was angry—and her silen
ce was to blame, Emily realised, sensing tension so thick in the air it hung like smog, keeping each of them isolated in their own lonely space. But how could she discuss their baby as if it was nothing more than a clause in a contract? She stared in dismay at the huge double bed that only seemed to mock her desire to resume normal relations with her husband.

  ‘Alessandro—’

  He turned and looked at her, his head slightly dipped and a furrow of concentration scoring a deep line between his eyes.

  It was as if his vision cleared and he had time to study his wife properly for the first time in weeks, Alessandro realised. She looked so weary—exhausted, he amended. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

  ‘Don’t be angry,’ Emily said softly. ‘I really need to be with you tonight.’

  His head jerked in surprised response, but he hid his feelings quickly. How had it come to this?

  ‘Where else would you be?’ he said gently, reaching out his hands. And when she took them he drew her into his arms.

  He held her in his arms all night, dressed in the bizarre outfit it turned out was all she had brought with her—a long baggy tee shirt, with the logo showing only faintly on the front after too many washes, and a pair of stripy pyjama bottoms that trailed over her feet.

  He had made no comment when she came out of the bathroom after her shower. And said nothing more when she climbed into the high, comfortable four-poster-bed and pulled the sheets up to her chin. He just climbed in after her, wearing a pair of boxer shorts for the sake of decency, rolled onto his back, and switched out the light.

  He wasn’t sure exactly when she edged towards him, only that she had…and he stroked the hair back from her brow and kissed her while she was sleeping, as she whimpered in his arms from some deep-seated despair.

  He must have dropped off some time during the night, because he woke to find her at the window, staring out, peering from side to side as if there was something quite extraordinary happening outside.

  Turning, as if she felt his waking presence as keenly as if he had spoken, she said,