She tilted her head. ‘We could swap. I think I’d love following royal protocol.’ She laughed. ‘It would suit me perfectly to be surrounded by centuries of history, and there isn’t a rebellious bone in my body.’
He ran a hand along his neck. ‘Don’t say that within earshot of my father at the New Year’s Eve ball or he’ll try setting you up with me or Ivo—he’s keen for us to marry too.’
‘Of course I wouldn’t! I wasn’t implying...’ She paused, her forehead puckering. ‘Wait, I haven’t said that I will go with you to the ball anyway. And there’s no way I’m ever marrying, so you’re safe on that front. I still can’t believe Kara agreed to it in the first place.’
Picking up his phone, he opened up the photo gallery and showed the photograph Edwin had sent to him that morning, of him and Kara happily surrounded by the group of local children who as per tradition visited the palace on Christmas Eve to receive Christmas gifts. ‘And look at how happy they are now.’
She studied the photo in silence. ‘They really are in love, aren’t they?’
He nodded. ‘It looks that way...maybe starting as friends is a good place to begin a relationship.’
She gave him an uncertain look. And no wonder. He wasn’t even sure himself why he had said that. He needed to lighten the mood. Rapidly. ‘Come to the ball with me. It’s always a spectacular event but this year it will be even more incredible because Kara is organising it and the proceeds will be going to her charity. She has doubled the numbers attending, and there will not only be the ball, but also an amusement fair, an aerial acrobatics team, a casino... She wants to make it into a huge fundraising event with guests coming from all over the world. Who knows, even you might enjoy it?’
She gave him an evil stare. ‘Are you implying that I can be a grumpy pants?’
He laughed. ‘Now, why would I ever have reason to think that?’
She studied him closely, as though trying to work him out. ‘Tell me the real reason you want me to go to the ball with you—you know that it will raise eyebrows with your family and the media. Why risk endless and incorrect speculation?’
Because I want to dance with you. I want to hear your laughter when I drag you onto an amusement ride. I want your calmness. I want to be with you.
What was happening to him? Why was he feeling all these things?
He went to make a quip, intending to say that she could be his decoy around his father, but instead he answered, ‘Because it’s time that I started creating new memories in Monrosa.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
ALICE RAN OUT of the bathroom and scrambled through her suitcase. Underwear. Make-up bag. She scrambled even more. Where was her roll-up bag of make-up and hairbrushes? Oh, somebody please tell her she hadn’t left them sitting on the bathroom counter of her bedroom in Verbier.
She checked her phone. She had forty minutes to get ready. Forty minutes! Her hair alone took nearly that long to dry...so not for the first time she cursed its thick length. She was going to look an absolute mess. At the New Year’s Eve ball that the whole of Europe was talking about...according to her mum anyway. But it must be a big deal, given the amount of media parked outside the main gates.
She winced, remembering her mother’s shock when she had rung and told her that she was going to the ball, but thankfully she seemed to believe her explanation that Kara wanted some support.
She felt so far out of her depth it wasn’t funny. And Luis’s father’s reproachful look when they had rushed into the palace only fifteen minutes ago hadn’t helped.
Giving up on her search for the make-up bag, she ran back into the dressing room to check that she hadn’t imagined things when she had briefly looked in there before her rushed shower. The five exquisite ballgowns were still there, hanging on the rail—waiting for her to decide which one to wear tonight. Despite her protests that it was unnecessary, Luis had insisted on ordering a selection of gowns for her to choose from. She lifted a sleek beaded turquoise dress from the rail and placed it against her. It was beautiful...and tiny. Would she even fit into it? Had Luis given the designer the wrong measurements? Or maybe it was she who had got the measurements wrong in the first place. Which was no wonder, given her distraction thanks to Luis standing behind her, his hands on her hips and his lips on her neck, whispering a long list of things he wanted to find out about her body as she had struggled to write down her measurements. They had spent the last five days snowboarding...and making out. On the slopes, in the pool, in the sauna, on the sofa. Just about everywhere, to be frank. It had been exhilarating. Passionate. All-consuming. Unstoppable. She simply couldn’t get enough of him. She craved his touch, the pressure of his body against hers.
Every morning when they met for breakfast he pulled her into a bear hug, and as his arms wrapped around her and she inhaled the citrus smell from his recently showered skin she’d place her head against his chest and hear the thump of his heart and a sense of peace would wash over her. And then he would kiss her. And that peace would be replaced with heat. A heat that would only grow throughout the day until in the darkness of the night, as he stood outside her bedroom door, which he insisted on walking her to every single night, they would make out like teenagers. Hot, lusty kisses. Intimate touches. He gave her the teenage passion she had been too scared to experience when she’d actually been a teenager.
‘What is the matter with you?’
She could still hear the disdain in Rory’s voice the one time they had come close to making love. The implication that she was damaged. She had panicked at the last moment and had leapt away from him, pulling her jeans and top back on as Rory stared at her with impatient and angry disbelief. Her dad’s abuse had been too raw and recent. She had been too bruised to let anyone get close to her.
The passage of time and Luis’s kindness, not to mention the chemistry between them, were all lowering the defences she had put around herself, and every night when she reluctantly shut her bedroom door to him she had battled with the urge to swing the door open again and beg him to sleep with her. Mostly pride holding her back. But also, just about enough sense to realise that in essence what was happening between them was nothing other than a short holiday fling.
Reckoning the turquoise dress wouldn’t fit her, she checked each of the other dresses. The silver dress was equally tiny, the white sheath with a gold belt not her colour. Which left a full-skirted red dress and a jade-green fishtail dress. The red dress looked the most likely to fit her.
Back in the bedroom she pulled the towel from around her head, her wet hair falling around her shoulders. She jumped at a knock on the door. Gingerly opening it, she gave a cry of relief. ‘Kara!’
Kara swept into the room, carrying the long train of her gold sequinned dress. Kara went to hug her, but Alice ducked out of the way. ‘No! I’ll ruin your hair and make-up.’ Stepping back, she shook her head. ‘You look like a million dollars.’
Kara grinned. ‘My hair and make-up team are miracle-workers.’ Then, pulling Alice into a hug, despite her protests, she added, ‘It’s so good to see you. I was really worried your flight wouldn’t be able to take off because of the snowstorm.’
Extracting herself from the hug, Alice pointed to her hair. ‘I need to get this dry. And do my make-up... I’d like to say that I’m not panicking but I am.’
‘My team should still be in the palace—I’ll call them.’
Alice sighed in relief. ‘That would be amazing, thank you.’
‘Deal—but you have to tell me first, though, what’s going on between you and Luis.’
‘There’s nothing going on between us.’ Seeing Kara’s disbelieving expression, Alice went and opened one of the shoeboxes sitting on the ottoman at the bottom of her bed. ‘He got it into his head that I needed minding over Christmas. We get on. But that’s all. We’re complete opposites. Now seriously, can you go and call your team? I’m never going to be ready at this
rate.’
‘I’d never have put the two of you together, but the more Edwin and I discussed it, the more I realised that you are really suited. You balance each other out perfectly and you’re actually not that different.’
Lifting a red sandal from the box, which must have been sent to match the red gown, she waved it at Kara. ‘I have my make-up to do, I have to squeeze myself into a dress and hope that these sandals fit me... I don’t have time to be chatting about a hypothetical relationship with Luis that’s never going to happen. And for the record, he’s an extroverted risk-taking prince and I’m a history student who struggles in a room with more than ten people.’
‘Yes, but you are both incredibly intelligent, kind and compassionate.’ Pausing, Kara considered her for a moment. ‘Luis called Edwin yesterday to schedule a meeting tomorrow between him, Edwin and their father to discuss what his role will be when he returns to Monrosa. It’s the first time that he’s been willing to discuss his return. Edwin needs his support, so it’s a huge relief for us—and I can’t help but think that you’ve played a role in him taking this step. So isn’t it any wonder that I reckon that there’s a whole lot more going on between you two than either of you are letting on?’
Alice grabbed her phone and checked the time. ‘I have half an hour to get ready. Can you please go and find your team?’ Seeing that Kara wasn’t about to budge, she added as way of a bribe, ‘If you do, I promise that I’ll take part in your mud-run fundraiser next year.’
‘As long as you promise to persuade Luis to also take part,’ Kara replied with a cheeky smile before disappearing out of the door.
Tugging off her towel, Alice pulled on a white lace thong and the dressing gown she had found in the bathroom. The red sandals consisted of endless rows of tiny straps, so, sitting on the ottoman, she undid the top five straps of each sandal before stepping into them, and cursed at how tricky it was to tie them back up.
Wrangling with the straps, she called, ‘Come in,’ when there was another knock on the door. ‘That was quick...’ She stopped, her heart missing a beat. Standing at the doorway, freshly showered and dressed in black tie, Luis let his gaze drop down to her sandals.
‘Need some help?’
Before she was able to decline his offer he was already kneeling before her, his hand reaching for an ankle. He tied the straps in silence. A heated charge filled the room. She had sworn to herself this very morning that once they were in Monrosa everything would change—that she would stop being so aware of him, stop falling to pieces whenever they were in the same room.
His hands ran up the length of her calves, his eyes meeting hers. ‘Great sandals.’
Such simple words but said with such heat and meaning, and they were followed up with him kissing her briefly but passionately on the mouth. And when he pulled back the intimacy in his eyes sent flutters of exhilaration and panic through her.
She was getting way too addicted to him. She knew it. She really, really was trying to fight it. But she might as well have been trying to hold back the tide.
‘I’m supposed to be getting ready.’
‘I think you look pretty great as you are.’
Yeah, right. Wet hair. No make-up. A fluffy dressing gown that made her look like a polar bear. But... Luis looked as though he truly meant it.
He reached into his inner pocket. ‘I have a surprise for you.’
She groaned. ‘Not another one.’ Last night he had taken her to a local outdoor ice rink that was rather embarrassingly holding a date night. Not only had she had to endure the humiliation of having to cling to Luis for the night, but their slow movements around the ice had been accompanied by the most romantic playlist known to mankind.
From his pocket he pulled out a yellow and green ointment tube and held it out to her.
Puzzled, she picked it up.
‘For all of your bruises—it’s produced on the island and is famed for its healing properties.’
‘Is this an apology for showing off on the ice last night and tripping me up in the process?’
He took the tube from her with a wry smile. Undoing the cap, he smeared some of the cream onto his finger and rubbed it onto the bruise on her knee. And then he parted her dressing gown, exposing more of her thighs. She knew she should protest, grab the ointment from him, but instead she watched with hypnotic fascination as he gently worked the ointment into every visible bruise, most of them a result of her poor attempts to learn to snowboard. Her heart dipped and soared, tongues of fire licked her insides and her poor brain tried its best to be heard amongst all that chaos, warning her that things were really getting out of control.
His thumb flicked over the lace panel of her thong. The tongues of fire burnt even more brightly. His head dropped down, his tongue trailing against her inner thigh. She threw her head back, all thought closing down as she became consumed with the sensation of his tongue, flicking against the fabric of her underwear. She grappled for some coherent thoughts. ‘I need...to get ready...this isn’t fair.’
He gently bit into the inner skin of her thigh. She yelped, not in pain but because it felt so good.
With a self-satisfied smile he popped the top back on the ointment and reached inside his pocket again. This time he pulled out another white velvet box from Jarrad Jewellers.
She eyed it warily.
‘I’d like you to wear them tonight.’ When she didn’t take the box he added softly, ‘It’s a thank-you for coming to Monrosa with me...it’s made the journey home easier.’
Her heart tightened. She blinked against a stinging sensation at the backs of her eyes. ‘I’m glad.’
Opening the box, she inhaled sharply at the exquisite beauty of what lay within. ‘Earrings to match the necklace you gave me on Christmas Day.’
‘Jarrad’s couriered it here today.’
Taking the box from her, he came and sat beside her and, taking one of the earrings out, pulled back the clasp and gently placed it on her earlobe.
‘You noticed that I don’t have my ears pierced.’ Why was that fact so important, so bittersweet?
He placed the other earring on her other lobe, the soft wool of his dress jacket rubbing against her cheek. And then, holding her head so tenderly that she barely felt the pressure of his hands, he placed a kiss on each earlobe. ‘I have to go and receive our guests with the rest of my family. I’ve asked a friend, Henri, to escort you to the ball. He will be waiting for you in the Blue Room downstairs.’
She nodded, and after one final kiss goodbye he left. She needed to get up, make sure she could walk in the sandals. But instead she collapsed back onto the bed behind the ottoman, exhausted by sexual frustration and by the knowledge that tomorrow she had to say goodbye to this Christmas tale. A tale, like all other Christmas tales, that was full of marvels and miracles but had no place in the real world.
* * *
Luis entered the ballroom and scanned the room for a red dress. He circled the room, waving to friends and associates but moving on, not stopping to chat, his eyes darting across the crowded dance floor. He came to a stop. A man was holding a woman in a red dress way too closely. He cursed as the man’s hands ran over the pale skin of her bare back. He moved towards them but then the crowd parted, and he realised it wasn’t Alice after all.
He left the ballroom, thrown by his jealousy and how desperately he wanted to track Alice down. He wanted to be with her. They hadn’t spoken all evening. They had been seated at different tables during dinner and he had spent the entire meal juggling entertaining a sports-obsessed multinational CEO while trying to ignore the frostiness of his father, who had been seated next to him, and keeping an eye on Alice, seated to the side of the room.
By the end of the meal he had managed to convince the CEO that he should consider using the conference and sporting facilities on Monrosa for corporate events...and had developed an irritating c
rick in his neck from checking on Alice.
She had sat at her table, her reserve, the quiet way she occupied a space, so endearing, so positively Alice that he had wanted to stroll over to her and tell her just how amazing she truly was. Watching her from afar, he had wanted to turn to his father and tell him about the incredible person he had spent the last few days with. He had wanted to tell him about her determination to learn to snowboard, how at times tears of frustration had misted her eyes, but she had refused to give up. He had wanted to tell him of his pride in watching her complete a run. He had wanted to tell him about how they had talked about his future, how she had helped him move closer to identifying a new purpose in life, her intelligent questions, her constant positivity and belief in him enabling him to begin the process of deciding on what he wanted to achieve. He had wanted to tell his father how they had spent hours talking over their meals, something he had never been capable of before, always too restless, too uncomfortable in his own skin.
Now, out in the corridor, moving away from the sound of the orchestra in the ballroom, he took out his phone and began to dial Alice’s number, but outside the library he came to a stop. Her back to him, Alice was pulling a book from a high-up shelf. Her hair was tied up into a loose bun. The strapless dress was cut low at the back, exposing the delicate workings of her shoulder blades and the neat, fragile bumps of her spine. The skirt of the gown, embellished with crystals, glittered in the low lights of the library.
He stepped inside. ‘I’m glad you’re continuing to take my advice to wear red,’ he growled, remembering her cry earlier, how her legs had trembled uncontrollably as he had kissed and caressed her thighs. He pushed away the thought that what they were doing, the constant kisses and touches, the endless caressing and teasing, were almost more intimate than actually sleeping together.
She whipped around, blushing. ‘I look like a Christmas decoration.’
Somebody chuckled behind him. With a start he spun around to find his father sitting on a sofa. Alice went and sat on the sofa opposite him. Both Alice and his father looked to him, waiting for him to say something.
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