Prince's Arranged Bride

by Susan Stephens

  ‘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 ins
isted 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 silence 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,

  ‘Alessandro, I think we’re snowed in.’

  Emily waited as he stretched and yawned noisily, then sat up and raked through his wayward black hair in a hopeless attempt to tame it.

  Padding across the room to join her, he leaned his fists on the windowsill and gazed out across what had become in a few short hours a featureless snowscape.

  ‘No chance of anyone leaving Lech today,’ he murmured.

  Where there had been pavements and cars and railings, marking the banks of the river that wound its way through the village, there was only a uniform blanket of deep white snow.

  ‘Hungry?’ he said, not appearing too concerned by this turn of events.

  ‘A little,’ Emily admitted, trying to ignore the fact that her husband was naked, apart from his hip-skimming boxer shorts, and standing very close.

  ‘I’ll ring down—have them send something up to us. I feel lazy today. We might as well take it easy…after all, we’re not going anywhere.’

  Emily moved away to put on some more logs and stoke the dying embers of the fire. The fact that they had slept in the same bed together and he hadn’t attempted to make love to her had left her feeling restless and uneasy. Was he still angry with her? Maybe he didn’t want her any more. Maybe he was going to reinstate the celibacy clause in their agreement. Maybe he would find that all too easy.

  ‘How long do you think we’re here for?’ she said, pulling herself together, knowing she sounded edgy, as if she didn’t want to be snowed in with him, when nothing could be further from the truth.

  But Alessandro seemed not to notice. He had the phone in his hand and was gesturing for her to wait as he got through to Room Service. He spoke rapidly in German…something else she hadn’t known about her husband, she realised, feeling panic sweep over her. The fact was, she didn’t know much about him at all.

  ‘That’s settled,’ he said, replacing the receiver. ‘Relax, Emily. There’s nothing we can do. We might just as well settle back and enjoy the break. Why don’t you stop prowling around the room? Go and have a nice long soak in the bath while we’re waiting for breakfast to arrive.’

  Did he want to put distance between them? Emily swallowed down the fear that had lodged in her throat. All her emotions seemed to be in turmoil—all the time; every little thing seemed to assume crisis proportions. ‘How long?’ she said again.

  ‘Breakfast? Or—?’

  ‘No, not breakfast,’ she flashed back. ‘You know what I’m talking about, Alessandro.’

  ‘Do I, Emily?’ he said. ‘I know you’re very prickly this morning, and over-sensitive. Is it something I’ve done—or not done?’

  Her face flamed as the thought of what he had not done. And when she saw the faintly ironic shadow in his slanting amber gaze she knew for sure he was reading her mind.

  ‘You seem to be in a great hurry to leave Lech,’ he pressed. ‘Do you have an urgent appointment to keep elsewhere?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Emily’s mind lurched back on track. ‘I came here to be with you—to thank you properly for helping me with that case.’

  Is that all? Alessandro thought as he snatched up his robe. Thrusting his arms into the sleeves, he threw her a cynical look. So, Emily only wanted to thank him for his help with her case? It was almost worse than being told she had only come for the sex. ‘To answer to your question,’ he said coolly, securing the belt, ‘walking parties may be able to leave here quite soon with a local guide. Others, who are not quite so desperate to return to reality, can stay on at the hotel until the road down to Zurs is cleared.’

  ‘Oh…’ Emily said, peering distractedly out of the window.

  ‘Which category of snowbound guest do you fall into, Emily?’

  She moved back towards the fireplace, where the logs were well ablaze. ‘I’m staying,’ she said without hesitation.

  ‘And we’ll do what?’

  Now it was Alessandro’s turn to sound as if he was having difficulty reining in his feelings—as if he was determined that the emotional rollercoaster ride she had subjected him to had made its final run. It was time to build bridges
between them, Emily realised, before the moment was lost for ever…

  ‘I don’t know,’ she said, determined to find something that would bring them close again. ‘Tell each other stories?’

  His gaze narrowed thoughtfully, and then, to her relief, softened a little.

  ‘For instance?’

  ‘How about the one you never finished…the one about this ring,’ she suggested, holding out her hand so that the central stone in the beautiful old piece of jewellery glowed like a drop of crimson blood in the firelight.

  Their relationship was like a ball of wool that had become hopelessly tangled, Emily thought as he came to sit down on the sofa while she chose a spot on the rug. Telling each other stories wouldn’t have been her first choice for Christmas Eve activities, but it was somewhere to start teasing out the knots.

  ‘You reached the point where Caterina found the ring and believed it was a sign from Rodrigo,’ she prompted.

  ‘OK,’ Alessandro said, settling back. ‘So Caterina was forced to accept that her lover had drowned. But she decided she couldn’t lock herself away in a religious community after all, and would live her life as Rodrigo would have wanted her to.’

  ‘How could she know what he wanted?’

  ‘Because that was the moment she realised she was pregnant with his child.’

  Emily’s glance flashed up, but there was no separate agenda, she saw thankfully—he was only recounting a much-loved story.

  ‘Caterina put Rodrigo’s ring on her finger and returned to Ferara to fulfil her destiny. And every Princess of Ferara has worn the ring you have on your finger since that day.’

  ‘That’s the most romantic thing I ever heard,’ Emily admitted, turning the ring around her finger so that the flames from the fire seemed to imbue it with life…or with challenge, maybe…And now it was her turn to come up with an equivalent tale. How would she begin? Alessandro, I’m going to tell you the story of a baby?

  ‘I’m sure the history of that ring has been embellished over the years until it’s little more than a fairytale,’ Alessandro said, misreading the questions in her mind.’ Emily? Where are you going?’