Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses

All his faith, personal influence, professional know-how and wealth had served him to no avail that terrible day, and by the time he’d received the news that his wife and baby had not survived the emergency operation that had been undertaken to save them Cristiano had felt as if he had been driven to his knees by the most vicious, merciless storm imaginable.

The pain of it was as fresh now as it had been that day, despite the platitudes he had spoken earlier. Gritting his teeth, he lengthened his stride and began to head down a path that he saw led to a large wintry lake flocked by squawking birds, and with a determined upsurge of strength he managed to ride the crest of the terrible emotion that had so cruelly racked him. Eventually sensing it subside, he renewed his vow never to leave himself so vulnerable again.

Knowing they were going to the park, Dominique had hoped they would go by the lake, so she’d brought with her a paper bag full of stale crusts of bread to feed to the birds. Cristiano seemed quite happy to go along with this idea and, despite being dressed more appropriately for lunch at the Ritz than to take a casual stroll through the park, he walked alongside Matilde’s pushchair closely enough to look as if he belonged there. It gave Dominique quite an odd feeling. And even odder was the fact that she realised she couldn’t really imagine Ramón undertaking the same ordinary action and taking pleasure in it. He would have been too impatient to go on and do something far more exciting, and would probably have spoiled the outing with a sulk.

Guiltily Dominique pulled herself up short. Was she being disloyal to the father of her baby by thinking such an uncharitable thing? Disturbed, she pushed the thought away and glanced sidelong at Cristiano instead. This morning she’d woken with a strange fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach and had realised it was excitement at the idea of going to Spain. Somehow this man walking beside her had persuaded her it would be a very good idea for her to go, and for some reason Dominique had started to believe him.

Whether it was the thought of spending a Christmas like the one he had so vividly described, amongst people who genuinely cared about her daughter’s wellbeing, or just the opportunity to consider starting life afresh in a new country with a ‘clean slate,’ she couldn’t have said for sure, but she knew she had to give it a try. There was certainly nothing holding her in the UK if she decided to move there permanently, and that included her mother. Talking of which …

‘By the way, I spoke to my mother this morning and told her I was going to Spain with you for Christmas.’

‘And how did she take the news?’

‘She was strangely quiet, actually. Not the reaction I expected at all. She said we should talk when I get back.’

‘Perhaps she has finally realised how selfish of her it is to leave you to your own devices during the holiday?’

‘Why should she think that?’ Shrugging, Dominique countered the sting of her mother’s rejection of both her and her baby with a fresh spurt of anger. ‘It’s what she usually does! It would be a bit late in the day for her to develop a conscience!’

‘You have never mentioned your father?’ Interestedly, Cristiano glanced at her. ‘I am presuming he is not in the picture any more?’

‘He left when I was two. God knows where he is now! He never kept in touch, and I doubt whether my mother would have even wanted him to. She’s been furious with him for most of my life! It’s her main motivation for getting up every day … just so she can be mad at him all over again!’

Not commenting, Cristiano merely looked thoughtful, and Dominique concluded that he was obviously thinking what a screwed up family she came from!

Biting her lip, she tightened her hands a little round the handlebars of the pushchair.

Reaching the lakeside, Dominique carefully positioned Matilde where she had the best view and, checking that the cheerful knitted blanket to safeguard her from the cold was securely in place, she crouched down low beside her and laughingly threw the crusts to the accumulated feathered throng.

‘Look, Tilly! Look at the lovely birds, darling! How happy they are to see you!’

Watching them both with growing fascination, and a secret pleasure he could not deny, Cristiano stood protectively by, his gaze moving now and again to the other small groups of families dotted round the perimeter of the lake, also feeding the birds. His connection to the young woman beside him was for once allowing him entry to an experience that they perhaps took for granted. He valiantly steered his mind away from the distressing recollection that had assailed him yesterday and concentrated instead on this new memory that Dominique and her sweet child were helping to create.

‘Make yourself useful!’ she chided him suddenly, passing him a handful of crusts and gazing up at him with teasing mirth in her brilliant blue eyes. ‘I’ve literally got enough here to feed the five thousand!’

‘If you ask me’ Cristiano responded drolly, ‘those birds already look overfed. Any more food and they will not be able to take off!’

‘A sense of humour, Señor Cordova? I didn’t expect that!’

‘You think I am too serious?’ he asked, frowning, not quite knowing how to take her criticism.

‘Perhaps … I don’t really know. It’s just that you seemed like you were miles away, that’s all.’

‘I was merely observing the other people doing what you are doing and wondering how it is that a simple pastime such as throwing some bread to birds can bring so much pleasure.’

‘When you do it with your children it’s the best thing in the world!’ Dominique announced, leaning into Matilde’s pushchair to plant a sound kiss on her daughter’s plump pink cheek. ‘Isn’t it, Tilly?’

Cristiano remained silent in bittersweet agreement, but as his gaze locked with Dominique’s a palpable sensation of warmth seemed to flood his insides. His previous disquiet vanished and he knew he was staring. The icy wind that was blowing had stung her cheeks into two bright pink spots of colour, and some fine strands of honey-brown hair, freed from her plait, danced wildly across them.

She glanced quickly away, clearly discomfited by his intense regard. ‘When we’ve got rid of all the bread, do you think we could go and eat?’ she asked him, her gaze now firmly on the lake and the diving birds as they braved the near-frozen surface to reach the semi-submerged crusts.

Concerned that he had neglected his duties, Cristiano agreed straight away. ‘Of course! Do you like Indian food?’ he asked her. ‘There is an exceptionally good Indian restaurant nearby, where I have reserved a table for us. If you do not like that particular cuisine then we can go somewhere you’d like better.’

‘Indian is great … as long as you think I’m dressed okay? It’s not somewhere really posh, is it?’

‘No … it is not “posh”.’ His lips curved into an amused smile. ‘It has an authentic Indian ambience, and you can go dressed casually—as we are.’

‘What you’re wearing is casual?’ Now it was Dominique’s turn to be amused.

Glancing down at his smart chinos, handmade Italian shoes, black cashmere sweater and three-quarter-length black leather jacket, Cristiano was genuinely perplexed by the question. ‘My outfit is certainly not formal, if that is what you are suggesting!’

‘No … perhaps it isn’t formal, but it still looks expensive and classy. Whereas what I’m wearing definitely doesn’t! Perhaps we ought to just go for a burger somewhere? I don’t want to embarrass you.’

She was wearing denim jeans, boots, a bottle-green polo-necked sweater and the slightly oversized tweed coat she’d had on yesterday. Very little make-up adorned her features, and she looked fresh-faced, young and beautiful. Why she imagined he would be remotely embarrassed to be seen with her appearing as she was Cristiano could not begin to fathom. He did not like the sense that her parents’ emotional neglect of her—as well as his cousin’s abandonment—had made such a harsh dent in her self-esteem.

‘That is an entirely ridiculous notion, Dominique! You look perfectly acceptable to me. All I want you to do is enjoy the food and hopefully the company too.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Put your worries aside for a while.’

‘And they won’t mind at the restaurant if I feed the baby while I’m there?’

‘You are feeding her yourself?’ For a moment Cristiano sensed an intense tingling heat throb low in his stomach at the idea of Dominique breastfeeding, and he was furious with himself for feeling aroused when it was the most natural thing in the world for a mother to feed her baby that way. He noticed the colour in her cheeks bloomed even pinker at his question.

‘No. I tried to feed her myself but I had to give up in the end. I wasn’t very good at it.’

‘But she takes a bottle quite happily?’

Dominique nodded.

‘Then where is the problem? As long as she is able to take nourishment that is the main thing, is it not?’

Glancing towards the lake, Cristiano threw a handful of bread in the direction of a rather dejected-looking duck that was isolated from the rest, He shivered as a particularly icy breeze seared into his face just then. As pleasurable as this little outing with Dominique and the baby was, he was seriously missing the far friendlier climes of his own country. He was also concerned that it was too much for the child to be out in such hostile weather.

‘We should go now,’ he announced, swiping the remainder of the crumbs from his leather gloves. ‘It is really far too bitter for Matilde. We should get her inside into the warmth.’

‘You’re probably right. Say bye-bye to the birds, Tilly! We’ll come and visit them again another day.’

Rising to her feet, Dominique gave Cristiano a fleeting smile, and as she turned the pushchair round and started back up the path that had led them to the lake he automatically put his hand at her back, as if to guide and protect her …

CHAPTER FIVE

IT WAS going to be the last night Dominique spent in her bedsit for a while—at least until after Christmas, and maybe longer than that if she decided to take the monumental step of settling in Spain. She’d had a farewell drink with a couple of close friends, and Katie from across the landing, and now all she had to do was finish her packing. Thankfully Matilde was being an absolute angel and sleeping peacefully—tired out, Dominique was sure, from being cuddled and petted by the three girls who’d dropped in to say goodbye to them.

Tomorrow was the big day. She and Matilde were flying out to Madrid with Cristiano, and when they arrived his personal driver was going to meet them and transport them the seventy kilometres to the town where he lived. The thought was exciting, but somewhat overwhelming too. Cristiano kept telling her not to be daunted—that everything would work out perfectly—but Dominique could not help fearing it might not, and then where would she be? Back in this too-small bedsit with a growing infant and barely enough money coming in to make ends meet.

Pausing as she turned to the half-filled suitcase she’d hefted onto the foldaway bed that doubled up as a couch during the day, Dominique sighed heavily as she gazed critically round her. As optimistic as she’d tried to be when she’d first set eyes on the place, she’d be a liar if she didn’t admit the rundown décor and general living conditions weren’t depressing. If she hadn’t had a baby to look after and a job to go to five nights a week perhaps she might have got round to doing some redecoration to freshen it up a little …

No … she was glad to be leaving this bleak, dreary environment to go somewhere warmer and more welcoming. The only thing that was really making her stomach roll over time and time again was the idea of going with Cristiano. Seeing him on and off over the past few days, for lunch or coffee, and walks in the park whenever she could grab an hour or two away from the demands of her week, had not lessened her heightened awareness of the man one jot. She had learned that he definitely liked to take charge, that he had certain old-fashioned views about men taking care of women, and that he could be brusque one minute then absolutely charming the next. With Matilde he’d assumed the role of a very fond uncle, and he loved to make a fuss of her and buy her little gifts—pretty dresses and baby toys that had clearly been purchased from the more upmarket department stores.

All in all, he did the things that most women would love their children’s fathers to do for them, and Dominique sensed that her vow to distance herself from men in general after what had happened with Ramón was being seriously compromised by his appealing attentions. However, she knew that once back in Spain Cristiano would have his own very independent life to lead, and although he would be close at hand, she and Matilde would not command his attention half so much as they did here.

That was good, she told herself. She absolutely did not want to need or depend on him—She had learned too well how no one could be relied upon. But it would be very hard when she had become so used to his presence as well as his reassurance and advice. Somewhere deep inside Dominique sensed a warning that she knew she should seriously heed. She’d already been abandoned by her father, and the father of her child. Did she want to risk making the same catastrophic mistake again by becoming too attached to Cristiano? He was merely acting as a sort of guardian for her and Matilde until he got them safely back to Spain, and that was all. After that his life would resume as normal, and Dominique would be busy getting used to a completely new situation—as well as a whole new set of people on her own. The thought gave her serious butterflies.

The phone rang, startling her, and she scrubbed a hand round her face to help focus. Her tone had an unknowingly husky cadence as she spoke into the receiver. ‘Hello?’

‘Dominique?’

The sensually commanding Spanish voice that answered had become compellingly familiar, and an involuntary shiver rushed through her at the sound of it.

‘I was wondering if you might ring,’ she replied, shocked that the word she had actually been going to use was hoping. Feeling mild irritation at her foolishness, she was glad that Cristiano wasn’t there in person to witness her telling blush.

‘How is the packing coming along?’ he asked, and she heard the smile in his voice.

Glancing down at the only half-full suitcase, Dominique grimaced. ‘Actually, I had to take a break from it for a while. I had some friends round this evening to wish me bon voyage, and I’ve only just got Matilde off to sleep after all the excitement. I’m just about to carry on.’

‘Do you need any help? I could be there in about half an hour.’

‘No! There really isn’t any need … thanks.’

Her hand was shaking as she threaded it through her hair. Right now she didn’t need the added distraction of his presence, and besides, she was sure he had seen enough of her depressing bedsit. No, she would be far more relaxed packing her meagre belongings on her own rather than have Cristiano helping her.

‘It won’t take me long, and then when I’m done I’m going straight to bed. We have an early start in the morning, right?’

‘I will be there to collect you at around eight-thirty. Our flight is at eleven. I hope the baby won’t disturb you too much tonight … you will need your rest with all the travelling we have ahead of us.’

‘I have a feeling she’ll sleep through.’

‘Good. I rang my family earlier, and they will definitely not be sleeping through,’ he said ironically. ‘They are overwhelmed at the idea that you are coming and they are going to see Ramón’s daughter at last.’

‘No more overwhelmed than I am at the thought of meeting them.’

‘You have nothing to worry about.’

‘So you keep telling me!’

‘And what I am telling you is the truth. Anyway … I think I should let you go now and finish your packing. Buenas noches, Dominique. Sleep well.’

‘Goodnight …’

Suddenly saying his name seemed too intimate, so she chose to exclude it, but as she replaced the receiver on its rest it came to her that she was holding her breath …

Matilde had won over the airline staff as soon as they boarded, and during the flight in the first class cabin the steward and stewardess assigned to look after them took every opportunity to stop and make a fuss of the beautiful infant. In turn, her huge brown eyes and happy dimpled smile declared her definite approval of being the centre of so much attention. Cristiano could not help but feel a strong wave of pride that the irresistible little girl had Cordova blood running in her veins, and he knew that when she was grown she would be a magnet for all the young men in the vicinity. He frowned, surprised by the worry this thought produced. Already protective towards her, he also sensed a definite possessiveness where her mother was concerned, and that perturbed him. Dominique was young and beautiful. Some day she would marry, and another man would assume the role of guardian and protector to her and her child. And that was just as it should be. Cristiano would be relegated to a far less important role in their lives and he would simply have to learn to accept it. His jaw tightened.

Glancing at Dominique now, as she stared out of the window at the clouds—just as he himself had been doing only a week ago on his way to meet her—he silently observed her classic, flawless profile and knew great pleasure in doing so. Matilde had fallen asleep on her lap, and the baby’s head was snuggled into the groove of her arm. Together they made the most beguiling tableau.

‘What do you see out there amongst the clouds?’ he asked softly, leaning towards her.

Her dreamy blue-eyed gaze settled on his face in surprise. ‘It’s compelling, isn’t it? It makes me wish I could fly … get away from everything troubling that’s going on down there on the ground and escape up here into the silence and solitude. That would be amazing!’

A frisson of concern rippled through Cristiano. ‘This world makes you wish to escape it?’

‘Doesn’t everybody feel like that from time to time? What’s the matter? Have I said something wrong?’

‘No. Of course not.’ Determinedly releasing the tension that had gathered between his shoulderblades, Cristiano put aside the distressing notion concerning his cousin’s death that sometimes plagued his mind and focused on the lovely face before him instead. ‘It is just that I want you to know that you have everything to live for, Dominique. Life has been a challenge sometimes, yes … but now you are coming to Spain it will get much easier for you … trust me.’

‘I do. I have to—or else I wouldn’t have come, would I?’ Her glance was brief but intense.

As she pulled her gaze away Cristiano almost wanted to command her to look back again. He touched her arm. ‘You look tired,’ he observed. ‘Give me the little one and take a nap for a while.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Of course.’

Carefully Dominique lifted the still sleeping Matilde into his arms and, feeling the slight but warm and pliable weight of the infant sag against him, Cristiano was again struck by how protective he felt towards the child. Settling back into his padded reclining seat with the baby held firmly against his chest, he sensed the kind of peace that he had not experienced in a very long while steal over him. And the truth was he found it almost too seductive for words …

The impressive edifice loomed up before Dominique like some intimidating Moorish citadel from the ancient past, and her blue eyes widened in surprise. When she’d thought about what Cristiano’s home might be like she hadn’t really known what to expect, and hadn’t asked. But in her wildest dreams she would never have imagined something on the scale of grandeur and beauty she was seeing now!

Cristiano’s driver—who had introduced himself at the airport as Valentín—smoothly drove the luxuriously upholstered black sedan up the twisting walled road that led straight to the entrance, and, craning to see out of the window, Dominique saw three women standing outside in the courtyard, in front of a huge double-fronted doorway. It was coming on to late afternoon, but the sun was still a banner of fierce brightness in the sky and she shielded her gaze with her hand from the stunning glare.

Sensing movement beside her, she turned as Cristiano’s depthless sable eyes sought hers. ‘We are here. And, as you can see, your eager reception committee is waiting.’

He smiled and there was something else in his glance besides satisfaction in reaching their journey’s end that Dominique couldn’t readily identify. Something that made her feel as though she was falling, with no glimpse of where or how she would land …

Her stomach turned hollow.

‘Gaaa!’ Wriggling in her baby seat, a now wide-eyed Matilde reached out to Cristiano with a gummy grin.

Catching the tiny plump hand that waved wildly in the air, he raised it to his lips and kissed it. ‘The same to you, my little princess! Now, let us go and see who is waiting to meet you. May I?’ he asked Dominique, and when she nodded agreement he carefully lifted the baby into his arms once more.

To tell the truth, Dominique was glad he had offered to take her daughter, because now it came to it she realised just how acutely anxious she really was about this meeting. Out on the gravelled courtyard the sun was still beating down with surprising force for December—and Dominique moved towards the little group that was waiting to greet them with Cristiano and Matilde just ahead of her, her heart galloping and her stomach turning uneasy cartwheels.

She prayed that any impending awkwardness that might surface would soon be behind her, so that she could at least try and relax a little, but her mind was racing with fear and doubt. What if Ramón’s mother believed that Dominique had somehow driven her son away? What if she blamed her or felt resentful that she lived while he had died? She knew her wild speculation made no sense, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.

In the group that was gathered there were two older women and one perhaps a little bit older than Dominique herself, and she saw that one of the older women was wearing black. For Ramón? she speculated. This, then, must be his mother. All the women were strikingly attractive, with the same midnight-dark hair as Cristiano, but in the two older women it was threaded with pure silver.

The woman dressed in black moved towards Cristiano and the baby with tears streaming freely down her face. Most of what followed speech-wise Dominique could not understand, not being familiar yet with the language, but she did hear ‘Ramón’ and ‘la niña’ several times, and the emotion in the other woman’s voice acted as a catalyst for her own. She swallowed hard to try and contain it, her heart full to overflowing as she watched the woman who must be Ramón’s mother lift a curious-looking Matilde eagerly but lovingly into her arms. Then tears turned quickly to beaming smiles, and the baby was showered with kisses and more loving attention—not just from the woman who held her, but from the other two women as well.

Feeling somewhat redundant, yet strangely happy as she viewed the highly emotional scene, she glanced up in surprise as Cristiano stretched his hand out, indicating she should go to him.

‘Dominique …’ The pale, slender palm she slid into his was given a reassuring and firm squeeze that sent immediate goosebumps flying across the surface of her skin. ‘Come and meet my family. This is my mother, Luisa.’

Warm eyes with the gloss of silky dark chocolate beamed back at her. Then, without further ado, she found herself being kissed soundly on both cheeks and pulled urgently against the other woman’s ample bosom for a fierce, affectionate hug.

‘Dominique!’ she heard, in Luisa’s halting, deeply accented voice. ‘Words cannot describe what we are all feeling today. The baby—she is … she is so—so important to us, we cannot tell you! Cristiano … Please, my son, explain.’