Christmas in His Royal Bed / Rossellini's Revenge Affair: Christmas in His Royal Bed / Rossellini's Revenge Affair

At first, he thought she’d gone to cover herself in battle armor. But she reappeared a moment later, still wearing the same nightgown and robe, and not a stitch more. She was also carrying a legal pad and small stack of folders.

She took a seat and pulled her chair closer to the table, acting as though she was sitting down to a business lunch in a full business suit. But he certainly wasn’t going to complain now that he had her exactly where he wanted her.

Following her lead, he lifted the silver covers from both plates and set them aside, then took his own seat across from her. He uncorked the bottle of wine, from one of Glendovia’s own vineyards, and poured a healthy portion for each of them.

Nicolas made small talk while they ate. And though Alandra’s side of the conversation was stilted at first, eventually she relaxed and spoke to him as easily as she would anyone else.

They’d just begun discussing the plans for the children’s home when a knock sounded at the sitting room door.

“That will be dessert,” Nicolas announced. Rising to his feet, he slung his jacket over his arm. “Let’s move things into the other room, shall we?”

He strolled in that direction, leaving her to follow with her stack of files.

Before the waiting servant had a chance to knock a second time, Nicolas pulled the door open, gestured for him to enter and instructed him to serve the coffee and dessert at the low, square table in front of the fireplace.

While that was being taken care of, Nicolas lowered the lights, then proceeded to build a small fire in the hearth.

Alandra watched from the bedroom doorway, chagrined to find herself admiring the broad expanse of the prince’s back. The narrow span of his waist. The ripple of muscles beneath his crisp white shirt and dark trousers as he moved.

She swallowed hard, feeling a flush of heat flow over her chest, up her neck and into her cheeks.

Noticing Nicolas’s considerable physical attributes was the last thing she should be doing. Finding him attractive at all, in any way, would be the kiss of death. A risk she could not afford.

And yet she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away from him.

“Isn’t it a little warm for a fire?” she asked as the servant finished his task and slipped silently from the room.

“I thought you might be chilly,” the prince replied, turning from the flickering flames and glancing in her direction.

His attention lingered on her bare legs, she noticed, and it took all her willpower not to shift uncomfortably or attempt to cover herself. The only thing that kept her from doing either was the knowledge that he’d noticed the tiny goose bumps beginning to break out on her arms and legs earlier. She was unaccountably touched by his consideration, which was not what she wanted to be feeling.

“We won’t get too close,” he said, dragging the table back from the hearth a few more inches before taking two cushions from the sofa. “Come, have a seat.”

He lowered himself onto one of the cushions on the floor and sat cross-legged, leaving the other for her. Instead of sitting across from each other, they would now be much closer, with only one small corner of a rather small table between them.

It wasn’t the typical setup for a business meeting. But then, her attire wasn’t exactly typical, either. None of this was.

Striding across the room in her bare feet, she set her files aside and curled her legs beneath her as she sat down.

Nicolas poured coffee from a brightly polished silver carafe while Alandra studied the dessert. A fluffy, golden pastry was sliced into layers and filled with large, juicy strawberries and a decadent amount of rich cream. Her mouth watered just looking at it.

Because this situation could easily begin to take on a romantic feel, Alandra immediately started back on the topic of Christmas at the orphanage, and didn’t stop until they’d made it through the pastries and a cup of coffee each. To his credit, Nicolas stuck with the conversation, never trying to change the subject or insert a level of intimacy that didn’t belong.

His enthusiasm and participation delighted her. She’d expected him to put in only a minimum amount of effort, to convince her he’d brought her to his country for legitimate reasons rather than simply to become the latest in what she was sure was a string of lovers.

But he was taking their conversations and the business of organizing these fund-raisers seriously. Taking her seriously.

It was a welcome change after being made the butt of any number of jokes and cruel jibes back home once the rumors had spread that she’d been sleeping with a married man.

Despite the cup of coffee she’d just consumed, Alandra found herself blinking tired eyes and covering her mouth to stifle a yawn. And maybe she was off her game, maybe her defenses were down, because it seemed sensible, almost natural, to join Nicolas when he moved closer to the fire.

She reclined beside him, letting the flickering flames and the opulence of her surroundings lull her. Keeping company with a gorgeous prince didn’t hurt, either, even if she had to steel herself against his charms, his looks, the spicy scent of his cologne.

And he was about as handsome as a man could be. If he weren’t already a prince, she would think he should be. A prince or perhaps a movie star.

“What are you thinking?” he asked softly from only inches away.

He had a nice voice, too. Low and slightly husky, it rumbled up from his chest and straight down her spine, causing her bare toes to curl.

If he wasn’t a royal, constantly being followed by paparazzi, and if she hadn’t recently been slandered and torn apart by vicious rumor and innuendo, she might just be willing to throw caution to the wind and sleep with him, after all. Not become his mistress—that was a bit beyond even her—but spend one passionate, sure-to-be-glorious evening making love with a man who had the power to turn her knees to jelly.

Thank goodness he didn’t know that. Thank goodness he couldn’t tell exactly what she was thinking. Otherwise all her good intentions, her insistence that her presence here was purely business, with no possibility of pleasure being thrown into the mix, would drift away like a wisp of fog on the ocean breeze.

Thank goodness.

“Only that this is nice,” she replied. “Relaxing. I should still be working, but I think I’m too tired.”

He turned, and she found her own shimmery image reflected in his pupils.

“Would you like to go to bed?”

It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Yes, very much,” before her hazy brain identified the danger his question posed.

“Clever,” she said with a chuckle, feeling just tranquil enough to find his attempt to trap her amusing. “But while I would like to go to bed… eventually…I won’t be doing it with you.”

“What a shame. Although there’s always tomorrow.”

There it was again, that calm, cajoling tone. The voice that thickened her blood and sent warm, tingling sensations to areas she’d rather not have tingling in his presence.

“I didn’t come here for that,” she replied quietly.

He was only an inch away now, his heated breath dancing over her cheeks and eyelashes. His mouth looked incredibly inviting, sexy and about seven kinds of sinful.

Surely one little kiss wouldn’t hurt anything. One tiny peck to satisfy an overwhelming curiosity.

It wasn’t smart. Was, in fact, ludicrous.

Before she had a chance to decide if she could afford a momentary lapse of sanity, Nicolas made the decision for her.

Seven

Oh, my.

He tasted of wine and the strawberries and cream that had been part of their dessert, with a hint of the coffee he’d sipped afterward. Sweet and tart and smoky all at the same time.

It was a heady mixture, but nothing compared to the feel of his tongue sweeping into her mouth, tasting, stroking, claiming.

His hands gripped her shoulder and the side of her face, gently pulling her up. She wasn’t sure how it happened, had no conscious memory of moving, but suddenly she was on her knees, pressed chest to chest with Nicolas and kissing him back with equal vigor.

While his hands kneaded and caressed her upper arms, hers clutched at his shirt, desperately holding on and pulling him closer. Her breasts were squashed between them, but she could still feel her nipples beading. Heat gathered and pooled low in her belly, and her heartbeat was a thunderbolt blasting in her ears.

She’d been wrong about keeping her distance, wrong about trying to convince herself she wasn’t interested in this man. He was hard and strong and self-assured, and brought to life emotions she’d never felt before, at least not to this degree.

Her fingers trailed upward to tangle in the short strands of his silky hair. The two of them were already mouth to mouth, body to body, as close as they could be while still clothed, but that didn’t keep her from exerting a small amount of pressure at the back of his skull and—if it was possible—taking the kiss even deeper.

With a groan, Nicolas moved his hands to skim the undersides of her breasts. He cupped them in his palms, measuring their fullness and weight before letting his thumbs slide up and over the tight peaks of her nipples.

The caress, made even more erotic by the thin layer of cool, slick material between her flesh and his fingers, gave her shivers.

As she wriggled in his grasp, her knee bumped into the coffee cup she’d set aside earlier. The rattle of the porcelain on the saucer startled her out of the haze of passion and arousal she’d been lost in.

She pulled back slightly, breaking the kiss even though her body cried out for more. Her lungs heaved, straining for breath. Her arms and legs quivered, overcome with a lassitude she couldn’t remember ever feeling before.

Good Lord, what had she almost done? How could she have gotten so wrapped up, so swept away by a single kiss?

His hands remained at her breasts, his fingers lightly brushing the rigid peaks. His eyes blazed a deep, dark sapphire in the firelight, no less heated than a moment ago.

Did he not realize she’d pulled away, or was he as blinded by desire as she’d been?

Regardless, she had to stop this, had to make it clear to him that what had just taken place between them was a mistake. A mistake of monumental proportions that could not, would not happen again.

“Stop,” she gasped.

“What’s wrong?” he asked in a ragged voice. Though he dropped his arms to his sides, he clenched his hands, betraying the tension vibrating through him.

“This is not going to happen,” she said, though her tone was less firm than she’d have liked. Still on her knees, she inched away, afraid that he might reach for her again and she wouldn’t have the conviction to fend him off.

One dark eyebrow hitched upward. “I thought we were off to a fairly adequate start,” he replied.

Without looking at Nicolas, she rose to her feet. “I told you before that I didn’t come to Glendovia to become your latest conquest. I’m here strictly for business purposes. That kiss was a mistake. It never should have happened, and it won’t happen again. Things only got as far as they did because I’m tired and let my guard down.”

But Nicolas wasn’t ready to walk away, not quite yet.

He also got to his feet, then touched her elbow, stroking the satin fabric of her sleeve. “I could stay,” he whispered smoothly, seductively. “Make sure the rest of your evening is both restful and enjoyable. Infinitely enjoyable.”

The spark in her eyes let him know he’d overstepped his bounds. She shrugged out of his hold and moved passed him. Wrenching open the door, she stood back, body rigid, and glared.

“Good night, Your Highness,” she said, her tone only a shade shy of disrespectful.

If he weren’t such a patient man, intent on his goal, he might have taken exception.

But he was a patient man, and he knew that pushing Alandra was not the way to win her over, not the way to lure her into his bed. Better to take things slowly, to woo and seduce her properly.

“I’ll see you in the morning, then,” he said politely, moving to stand before her, giving no indication that her attitude or demands disturbed him in the least.

Though she remained stiff, he took her hand and lifted it to his mouth, pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

“Thank you for being such a lovely dinner companion, and for all of your hard work on behalf of the children’s home. I knew bringing you here was the right thing to do.”

With a swift grin, he left the room and strode casually down the hall. A few seconds later, he heard her door close with a slam, and his smile widened.

Alandra Sanchez was a fiery, passionate woman with a temper to match. She thought she was brushing him off, holding him at bay, but her reluctance merely intrigued him all the more.

For the next two weeks, Alandra did her best to avoid Nicolas whenever she could, and treat him with cool professionalism whenever she couldn’t.

Nicolas, meanwhile, did his best to get her alone as often as possible, to touch her hand, her arm, her cheek on a regular basis, and to romance her into letting down her guard and inviting him into her bed.

So far, she’d remained firm in her commitment not to be seduced. But she had to admit, at least to herself, that it had been no simple feat.

Nicolas was nearly irresistible. He was attractive and charming, and if he hadn’t approached her to sleep with him before getting to know her—which she found gallingly arrogant—she very well might have fallen into bed with him by now.

Sad but true, and rather ironic. If he’d gone about courting her in a more traditional manner, he’d have likely gotten lucky.

Alandra might be considered beautiful by many—a fact of life that was sometimes a blessing and sometimes a curse for her—but she was anything but compliant.

And then there was the continued guilt and humiliation over the scandal that still clung to her name back in Texas.

She’d phoned home numerous times since arriving in Glendovia, and each time she’d asked her sister about the scandal she’d been running away from. Elena had admitted that people were still talking, but the reporters had finally stopped camping out at the house.

But even though the attention had died down, Alandra knew she’d been right to leave town when she had. She was also even more determined never to leave herself open to disgrace again.

She reminded herself of this, firmly and repeatedly, as she made her way down to the foyer.

In the time she’d been a guest of the royal family, the palace’s decor had gone from tidily opulent to brimming with holiday cheer.

The banister had been strung with long, twisting garlands of holly and ivy. Giant wreaths hung on both the outside and inside of all the main doors. And in the center of the foyer was a towering evergreen tree, covered with gold ornaments. A golden angel perched gloriously at the very top.

The holiday decorations were helping Alandra feel more at home. She missed her family terribly, and it broke her heart to think that she wouldn’t be spending Christmas with them. But she found it soothing to be surrounded by all this cheer.

She was smiling when she reached the front door, where Nicolas was waiting. Tonight was the Evening with Santa event at the children’s home, and he had insisted on accompanying her, despite the fact that she had to be there early. The rest of the royal family would arrive later.

Even Nicolas’s mother, Queen Eleanor, had reluctantly approved of Alandra’s efforts to aid the local orphanage. She hadn’t come right out and complimented her on all of her hard work, or changed her attitude, but the few remarks she’d made about tonight’s event had been mainly positive.

Alandra didn’t let it go to her head. She knew the queen still disapproved of her.

As soon as she drew close, Nicolas took her elbow, offering a small smile. He was dressed in his princely finery, complete with a red sash running from shoulder to hip, and a number of important-looking medals pinned to his chest.

Alandra’s dress was a sumptuous red velvet gown that hugged her curves and left her shoulders and arms bare. She wore classic, understated diamonds at her ears and throat.

“Shall we go?” Nicolas asked, and escorted her out of the palace into the slightly chilly evening air. It wasn’t yet dark, but the sun was setting and dusk was well under way.

She had purposely scheduled tonight’s affair so that it could be both a fun party for the children and an opportunity for the adult guests to mingle. Especially since she had invited some very wealthy, influential individuals, whom she hoped would make generous donations.

When Alandra and Nicolas arrived, a crowd of photographers was already gathered outside the orphanage, snapping pictures. Inside, the home was decorated festively. There was a tree in the main entranceway, covered with ornaments handmade by the children. Holiday music filled the air.

After Alandra settled a few last-minute issues, she started mingling with the arriving guests.

The appearance of the rest of the royal family caused quite a stir. Voices hushed, heads turned and people stood frozen as they watched the king and queen.

Leaving Nicolas with his family, Alandra made her way to the other rooms. She began wandering around, double-checking that everything was running properly.

All in all, it looked as though the evening was progressing perfectly. She released a sigh, praying no accidents or crises cropped up to mar an otherwise successful occasion.

Turning back to survey the reception area, she immediately spotted Nicolas striding toward her. Tall and imposing, he seemed to tower over the crowd.

The air caught in her chest. She would have liked to blame her sudden inability to breathe on the tightness of her form-fitting dress, but knew it was all due to Nicolas.

Nicolas, who could stop her heart with a glance.

Nicolas, who made her palms damp and her stomach quiver.

Nicolas, who made her want to rethink her decision not to get any closer to him than necessary during her stay.

Be strong, she told herself, swallowing hard and making a concerted effort to keep her knees from quaking as he came closer.

When he reached her, he gave a small bow and took her hand, his eyes holding hers the entire time.

“Dance with me,” he murmured softly.

His tone and princely manner made it more of a command than a request, but she did her best to argue. “I don’t think Christmas music is exactly conducive to dancing,” she said, glancing about the room. Although there were several couples taking the floor.

“Of course it is.”

He tipped his head, as though paying extra attention to the slow strains of a holiday classic. Tightening his grasp, he tugged her behind him as he headed to the clear space at the center.

“Besides, it’s my royal duty to set a good example for others, and we want everyone to enjoy themselves, don’t we? Isn’t that your goal, so that guests will feel more generous when it comes time to start writing checks?”

She could tell from his expression that he was taking pleasure in teasing her, tossing her own ambition back at her in an attempt to get what he wanted. His lips twitched and the corners of his eyes crinkled as he tried to keep his amusement in check.

She might have continued protesting, but it was too late. They had reached a small empty stretch of the hardwood floor, and Nicolas had his arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

He splayed his fingers at the small of her back, holding her in place and guiding her as they swayed in small circles. And just as he’d predicted, others began to follow their lead and joined them, dancing to the holiday carols being piped through the building.

This hadn’t been part of her plans for the evening, but it did seem to be having a positive effect. Alandra hoped Nicolas didn’t notice, or she might have to swallow her pride and tell him he’d been right.

The song came to an end and they stopped moving, but instead of releasing her, he continued to hold her, staring down into her eyes until her mouth went dry and butterflies decided to take up tap dancing in her belly. Her chest was too tight to draw a full breath, which made her head begin to spin.

She thought, for a brief moment, that he was going to kiss her. Right there, in the middle of a roomful of people.

And she was chagrined to realize that her mouth had opened slightly, that she was both anticipating the kiss and looking forward to it. Yearning for it, even.

With his gaze still locked on hers, he leaned in another inch, until she could feel his warm breath dancing across her skin.

“I can’t kiss you here and now, the way I’d like, but I promise to rectify that before the night is through.” His voice was low and mesmerizing, washing over her.

Dropping his hand from her waist, he smiled, gave a small bow and then turned and walked away, as though he hadn’t just set every nerve ending in her body on high alert.

She watched him go, trying to regain control of her senses. And control of her limbs, which seemed incapable of movement, even as she struggled to get her brain to send the correct signals.

It wasn’t until she noticed people beginning to stare that she shook off whatever spell had overtaken her, and was able to take step after measured step to the refreshment table. She poured herself a glass of punch and drank it down in nearly a single gulp.

This was bad, so very bad. He was wearing her down, eroding the last of her defenses.

She was very much afraid that she wouldn’t be able to evade him for much longer.

Eight

It was late by the time the evening wound to a close, but as Alandra watched the guests filing out, she was delighted to see that the majority of them had smiles on their faces. Better yet, Mrs. Vincenza had happily reported that she’d received several generous contributions throughout the night, with promises of more to come.

Watching Santa Claus hand out presents to the children had obviously turned a number of hearts—exactly what Alandra had been hoping for. She’d seen more than a few eyes turn misty during the gift-giving ceremony, and many follow the children out of the room and up the stairs at bedtime.

While it hadn’t been her main goal, Alandra hoped that tonight’s event would result in some much-needed adoptions, as well as added donations.

Stifling a yawn behind her small clutch purse, she watched the door close behind the last guest a moment before she felt Nicolas come to stand beside her.

Although she wasn’t surprised that she could sense his presence even before she saw him, it did disturb her. She didn’t want to sense him. Didn’t want to believe that they might be growing that close in such a short time, especially when she’d spent most of the last three weeks avoiding him.

Not that she’d been terribly successful. Nicolas, she was learning, had a way of being everywhere she was, whether she wanted him there or not.

She had to admit, though, that he’d been a definite asset this evening. Not only had he gotten everyone in the room to relax enough to dance to Christmas music, but he’d spent the rest of the night circulating through the crowd to shake hands, kiss cheeks and talk up the orphanage as an extremely worthy charity—or write-off, depending on who he was conversing with.

And she admired him for it. For caring about the children’s home and about what he could do to make the fund-raiser a success.

Glendovia was his country, and she had been hired to do a job for it. But he seemed to know that she took her work of organizing charitable events and raising funds for worthy causes very, very seriously. Seemed to know…and in his own way, care.