Now her throat moved in an obvious swallow. ‘My brother told me to stay away from you.’
He’d just bet he had. ‘Do you always do what your brother tells you?’
‘Yes.’
He raised a brow and murmured, ‘And do you always want to do as you’re told?’
There was the slightest shake of her head.
The duke was only paces away from their table.
Suddenly, her hand shot out to take Nathaniel’s and in one graceful movement, she rose to her feet.
Her eyes darted to the dance floor as if she were searching for someone, before she looked at him and said, ‘One dance.’
He bowed his head. ‘If you insist.’
Her lips twitched. ‘It has to be just one dance. I have to think of my reputation. There are spies everywhere.’
One dance was good enough for him. Not giving her time to change her mind, Nathaniel led her to the dance floor, leaving the duke staring at their retreating backs with a scratch of his balding head.
When he found a spot for them, he kept her hand entwined in his, pulled her close and snaked his free arm around her waist, resting his hand above the lining of her dress so it lay against her bare back. Her skin had the texture of creamy silk.
She fitted into his arms perfectly.
The added height from her heels meant her head rested perfectly in the crook of his neck. He could smell the expensive scent of her shampoo, mingling so deliciously with the sultry perfume that drove his senses wild.
He pressed himself a little closer, close enough that she would be able to feel his racing heart.
‘Relax,’ he murmured, stroking her rigid back. ‘I don’t bite.’
But I think I want you to...
During Catalina’s short courtship to Helios and their even shorter engagement, they had danced together many times. She had never felt anything like this. Her heart had never beaten so fast that she could feel it clamouring against her ribs.
The heat that had steadily built in her most intimate area that day under Nathaniel’s relentless attention spread through her pores, a tingling desire that thrilled and terrified her in equal measure.
She’d seen desire for herself when she’d been an impressionable fifteen-year-old. The beauty of the moment had eventually counteracted the horror of who she had found in desire’s throes, awakening something inside her; a yearning...a wish...
Oh, how she had hoped she would feel it with Helios but the chemistry between them had been non-existent. The chemistry between herself and the duke was even less.
The skin on her back whirred under Nathaniel’s touch. She could feel every bump of his hand, the pads of his fingers. That yearning...that wish...heavens, she was feeling it.
But all too soon their one dance was over.
Catalina took a deep breath and made to step away but his hold tightened.
‘I am staying in the palace tonight in the same wing as you,’ he said quietly, the words whispering against the sensitive lobe of her ear.
‘How...?’ It was a fight to breathe, let alone talk. ‘How do you know which wing I’m in?’
‘Because I made it my business to know.’ He inhaled deeply and she knew it was her scent he breathed in so greedily.
He kept his hold on her hand as he stepped back and gazed down at her.
At thirty-five Nathaniel’s face was a craggy cast of crinkles and lines, his impossibly tall body hard and rangy, testament to a man who enjoyed a varied outdoor life. His nose was strong and bumpy, his eyes that always seemed to spark with amusement were a pale green and he had a generous mouth that smiled often to create a dimple in his left cheek. Topping it all off was short brown hair that seemed to fight any attempt to be neat.
He had a magnetism which she had felt from their first introduction all those years ago.
He was the only man she had ever wondered about...
‘At one o’clock I will come to your door.’ He pressed a kiss to her knuckles. ‘I know your companion has the adjoining room so I will not knock. I will be there but I will leave our fate in your hands. If you don’t open the door I will go back to my room and you can pretend I was never there. But before you make the decision of whether or not to open it, ask yourself this—when was the last time you did something solely for yourself that wasn’t bound up in duty? You’re a princess, Catalina, but tonight I can teach you how to be a woman too.’
And with those words, he let go of her hand, bowed, and left the dance floor.
Three weeks later.
The stick with the pink line stared at Princess Catalina Fernandez mockingly.
Merry Christmas, Catalina. Here’s your surprise present.
All the poise she had spent twenty-five years perfecting had gone. All she felt now was a rabid terror eating her from the inside out.
Two blissful minutes when Nathaniel had entered her for the first time without protection before he’d withdrawn and sheathed himself. Two minutes of madness.
What was she going to do?
The nausea swelled up again and she retched, but her stomach was now so empty all that came out was bile. She didn’t know if it was the terror causing it or the new hormones taking over her body.
She brushed her teeth for the third time that morning but could still taste the acid on her tongue. She patted her face dry and stared at her reflection, trying desperately to force a smile to her pale face. In six hours she would sit down with her family for their Christmas feast. Aunts, uncles, cousins; those who worked at the palace and those that didn’t. They would all be there.
She breathed deeply, the exhalation coming out in ragged movements from lungs that seemed to have closed in shock.
A knock on her bedroom door brought her to her senses.
That would be Marion, her cousin and chief companion. Marion had brought Catalina’s breakfast to her earlier—the tray still remained untouched—and now would be ready to draw her bath.
She couldn’t confide in her. Marion had a sly side that Catalina had never warmed to. When she’d come of age and had been permitted to appoint her own ‘companions’, a House of Fernandez euphemism for personal staff, she’d been obligated to take Marion on. In a palace full of servants, personal staff always came from family, and Marion’s mother was sister to Catalina’s father.
She counted to five in her head and composed herself. Not with a single whisper of body language would she show that anything was amiss.
Stepping back into her room, she called out ‘Come in,’ and sat down at her dresser.
Except it wasn’t Marion who opened the door. It was her brother, Dominic.
There was nothing festive about the look on his face.
‘So...’ he said silkily, closing the door behind him. ‘It’s true. You’re pregnant.’
