Claiming His Christmas Consequence

by Michelle Smart

  For anyone else, today’s events would seem a wedding to be proud of. For Catalina, it would be seen as another punishment.

  He had to hand it to the King—he was playing an excellent hand. A wedding such as this showed the world his support for his daughter but also his subtle disapproval of his new son-in-law. When the marriage was dissolved a year from now, the King would be perceived as a wise, loving father who had put his daughter’s happiness above his own doubts.

  What would the King do, Nathaniel wondered idly, if he refused to divorce her? What would Dominic do? Imagining their apoplectic rage amused him for a few seconds before he dismissed the notion.

  Whatever his personal feelings towards the House of Fernandez, this was Catalina’s life and she was a willing participant in her family’s future plans for her. He’d screwed her life up enough without destroying it completely, and he’d already destroyed enough lives for any person to have on their conscience.

  His job, as he saw it, was to get Catalina through the pregnancy, keeping both her and the baby safe. Nothing more. And if the vivid memory of being inside her didn’t fade away, he would just have to live with it.

  It had pleased him to see the crowds of people lining the palace’s perimeter. At least her people loved her. And so they should. Catalina was an excellent ambassador for her country, celebrated the world over for her ethereal loveliness and gracious manner of dealing with people.

  While he recognised most of the guests in attendance, he personally knew only a handful, which suited him perfectly. Who wanted to make false vows in front of people who really mattered? Not him.

  Not that there was anyone left in his life who did matter.

  He tried to imagine the child forming in Catalina’s womb. His child. A fragile life that would need his love and protection. The vows he was about to make would enable that.

  In the back of the chapel, a photographer fiddled with his camera’s tripod. La Belle magazine was publishing a special wedding edition documenting the day. Nathaniel had made it clear that he would not be involved with it in any regard other than the official photographs.

  ‘Not long now,’ Sebastien Duchamp murmured beside him.

  Sebastien, a security expert, had married Catalina’s younger sister Isabella earlier the previous year and was acting as Nathaniel’s best man. The King had insisted that he have one. As Nathaniel had already won a number of significant victories over the King and his heir, on this one point he had been prepared to concede ground. Sebastien had seemed as good a choice as any, and Nathaniel didn’t need to lie to him. Being a member of the House of Fernandez—albeit in a peripheral sense—he knew exactly why the marriage was taking place.

  As he turned to look at Dominic, Nathaniel caught the malevolence on the Prince’s face and was again reminded of Catalina’s warning. For all his outward dismissal of the threat, he had thought it prudent to increase his security and had employed Sebastien the day after the torturous opera visit to do a thorough check of his Monte Cleure home and business premises for any potential weaknesses. Sebastien had declared it all in good order.

  On a personal level, there was little Nathaniel detested more than the sight of fully grown men parading themselves with a gaggle of bodyguards in tow. It was nothing more than a status symbol. They might as well have signs on their heads reading ‘Man of wealth. Come and get me.’ However, with Catalina moving in with him and her father truculently refusing to allow her previous bodyguards to move with her, Nathaniel had employed four of Sebastien’s men for the duration of their marriage and extra security for his apartment building.

  Nathaniel might not be deemed good enough for the King’s daughter but his money was deemed good enough to keep her.

  He checked his watch.

  Two minutes to go. With any luck, this would all be over within the hour.

  Although it was fashionable for a bride to be late, he’d made a bet with himself that Catalina would arrive at the chapel exactly on time.

  A tall man with the shiniest bald head he’d ever seen hurried into the church, taking a seat in the back row. Nathaniel had to bite the inside of his cheek to hide his amusement. Did the man polish his pate? Hot on his heels was a woman wearing a bright pink dress and a matching hat wide enough to hit the lady in the seat in front of her.

  Then, right on cue, Catalina arrived.

  The guests rose to their feet as one, craning their necks for the first glimpse of the bride.

  As she stepped over the threshold, her right hand enfolded in her father’s arm, Nathaniel found a lump forming in his throat that no amount of swallowing could dislodge. All his amusement, cynicism and detachment vanished.

  The rain outside had turned into a full-blown storm in the time he’d been in the chapel and gusts blew at the train of her ivory dress, which had a rounded neckline that skimmed her creamy breasts and tapered to her waist. It was as if she had a wind machine behind her.

  A veil covered her face but as she walked slowly up the aisle it struck him that she resembled a walking statue. Nothing in her body language suggested any kind of emotion. The only person with less animation was the King. If her father’s jaw clenched any tighter Nathaniel was sure his face would crack.

  When she reached his side, the King took a step back, not even deigning to look at Nathaniel.

  With a tightness inside he hadn’t felt in decades, he lifted her veil.

  She wasn’t quick enough to hide the truth he saw in her eyes.

  Catalina was furious.

  Then she blinked and the fury vanished, leaving only the porcelain mask of her beautiful face.

  When it was her turn to recite their vows, her voice was nothing but a flat monotone.

  * * *

  Catalina picked at her food without appetite. They were on the dessert course of mille-feuille and she couldn’t even remember what had been served for any of the other courses. She couldn’t blame it on the morning sickness. Ironically, today was the first day in weeks she hadn’t felt nauseous. Her stomach was too empty to feel anything.

  Their wedding feast was being held in the smallest of the palace staterooms. She was surprised her father and brother hadn’t held it in one of the greenhouses.

  She hadn’t had the chance to question her father about the inventory. He’d deliberately waited until the last minute to join her at the chapel entrance and the doors had been opened for them before she’d had a chance to open her mouth.

  When she contrasted it with his behaviour during Isabella’s wedding, when he’d personally collected her sister from her rooms and escorted her in a horse-drawn carriage to the cathedral, his face beaming with pride...

  Even Isabella, as self-absorbed as she generally was—and she’d only made it to the palace with minutes to spare—had been upset by the way Catalina had been treated. Her little sister had held her hand the whole way to the chapel.

  Lucky, lucky Isabella. She’d fallen madly in love with a commoner and been allowed to marry him with both their father and brother’s blessings.

  Isabella and Sebastien were besotted with each other. Catalina’s heart ached to see the tenderness between them; true love in all its glory. Marriages in the House of Fernandez were generally arranged like business deals and her parents’ marriage had been no exception. Catalina’s marriage to Helios would have been the same.

  To witness with her own eyes how a true marriage could be...

  It would never happen for her. She wished she hadn’t seen it because now she had witnessed everything she would never have.

  The affection between Isabella and Sebastien only heightened the contrast between Catalina and her new husband. Throughout the meal, conversation between her and Nathaniel had been pointedly polite.

  She hadn’t expected any overt displays of affection but he’d acted as if they were hav
ing an ordinary meal and she were an ordinary person he’d been sitting next to. There wasn’t intimacy in his eyes when he looked at her. There was nothing there, not even the sparkle that had always resonated from them in the past.

  The kiss that had sealed their vows in the chapel had been nothing but a fleeting brush of his lips against hers. It had contained less meaning than a goodnight kiss from a relative.

  The ache in her heart was growing by the second. It was ridiculous. She knew the score.

  ‘Who’s here from your side?’ she asked. She’d searched the faces of their guests a dozen times wondering who Nathaniel’s guests were.

  ‘No one.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because this is a farce.’

  ‘Yes,’ she agreed, taking a sip of orange juice. She wished it were wine. ‘I just thought you might have your family here for support.’ She knew he’d lost his parents at a young age but surely everyone had some family?

  ‘There aren’t many of us.’ He gave a short smile and took a bite of his mille-feuille. Tiny flakes of pastry fell onto his chin and he wiped them away with his thumb.

  His tone suggested this wasn’t a conversation he wanted to take forward.

  ‘Did you invite them?’

  ‘No.’ He stared pointedly at her full plate. ‘You need to eat something.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’ How could anyone eat with a room full of eyes upon them? Catalina was used to her every move being scrutinised but this felt much more intrusive. Nothing had been confirmed publicly about her pregnancy, and nor would it be for a number of months, but everyone present either knew of it or suspected it.

  It didn’t matter what people believed.

  In a few short hours she would be moving out of the only home she had ever known and into the home of a man who saw her as an encumbrance.

  There would be no happy ending for either of them.

  * * *

  The storm had died down by the time the celebrations were over.

  When Nathaniel suggested they leave shortly before eleven, Catalina smiled and got to her feet without comment.

  She had performed beautifully throughout the reception; a princess in every sense of the word. Her lack of appetite had been the only outward sign of anything being amiss. That, and her eyes containing all the emotion of a porcelain doll. The only real emotion he’d seen had been that flash of fury when he’d lifted her veil.

  It was impossible to know what was going on in her head.

  ‘Are we not going to wait for my cases?’ she asked when his driver turned the engine on.

  ‘They’ve already been sent to my apartment.’

  She gave a nod and looked out of the window.

  After many minutes of silence, he said, ‘Is there something on your mind, Catalina?’

  She took a long, quiet breath before answering. ‘My father sent his assistant and her team into my rooms earlier to do an inventory of my possessions.’

  ‘When you say your possessions, what are we talking about?’

  ‘Everything. My clothes and jewellery, my books...everything. I’m concerned about the timing. It was deliberately timed for when I was preparing for our marriage. And I’m concerned about what he wants it for.’

  ‘What do you think he’s going to do with the inventory?’ he asked carefully, recalling his conversation with Dominic and the Prince’s threats to make Catalina homeless and penniless.

  ‘I don’t know. That’s what’s so frightening. It was definitely a warning of some kind. A power thing. I don’t know.’ She tilted her head back and closed her eyes. ‘Another punishment for the situation I’ve put us all in.’

  Nathaniel balled his hands into fists.

  It infuriated him that the King allowed Dominic’s prejudice to influence him so much. He quite understood why the King didn’t think him good enough for his daughter—with his reputation he could hardly blame him—but to treat her in such a manner was unforgivable.

  Family dynamics were a strange and complex thing but this was her own flesh and blood acting so cruelly towards her.

  And then he remembered what he’d done to his own flesh and blood. It had been unforgivable, and no amount of repentance could ever change that.

  ‘I’m sure you have nothing to worry about,’ he lied smoothly. When it came to her father and brother, he would put nothing past them.

  From the corner of his eye he saw her chest rise, and those gloriously heavy breasts lifting with the motion. The desire he’d spent the whole day suppressing suddenly came to the fore, a stab of lust piercing him, so powerful not even the mightiest of willpower could keep it contained.

  He was thrown back to when she’d lain beneath him, naked, the echo of her heartbeat pulsing through her chest.

  He’d reluctantly—reluctant only because at that point he hadn’t wanted to let go of her—moved to get a condom when she’d gripped his wrist. ‘Do you always use protection?’ she’d whispered.

  ‘Always.’

  She’d swallowed and palmed his cheek. ‘If this is the only chance I get to make love with someone I desire then I want to experience all of it. I want to feel you inside me as you are.’

  He’d stared into those sultry eyes a man could sink into and known she was serious. And known he wanted nothing more than to experience all of it too, as he had never wanted to before.

  ‘Please,’ she’d said, her voice so low he’d had to strain to hear it. ‘Just for this one moment.’

  Nathaniel had had many lovers in his life. Several had been on the pill or used other forms of contraception and had told him he didn’t need the condoms. It had never been something he would even contemplate.

  With Catalina...

  He’d taken her that first time completely bare. He’d taken it slowly, using all his experience and willpower to stop himself from getting carried away before he’d withdrawn and sheathed himself.

  The thought came into his mind that now she was his wife and their moment of wilful madness had resulted in pregnancy, he could make love to her whenever and wherever he liked and be able to feel every part of it.

  He pushed the thought away, angry with himself for letting his mind wander in directions it shouldn’t go.

  This marriage was to secure his rights to his child, protect Catalina from her family’s vindictiveness and protect his huge investment in this country. It could never be more than that.

  The silence between them lasted until his driver parked in the underground garage beneath the building.

  Right in front of his designated spaces was the private elevator, manned by a security guard.

  Nathaniel punched in the code and the doors opened.

  ‘This elevator is for our private use,’ he explained as they stepped inside. ‘It only goes to my apartment.’

  When they reached the top floor he stood aside to let her in.

  Wherever he happened to be based, Nathaniel liked to surround himself in comfort. He owned property all over the world. He wanted for nothing. He need not work another day in his life and still he would never want for anything.

  Catalina, though, was a princess. She had been raised in a palace of one of the oldest, most famous families in the world. Luxury was nothing new to her. The luxury Nathaniel lived in was of a very different, more modern kind.

  ‘This is not what I expected,’ she said as she trailed him into the main living area of the large, open space. Nathaniel’s apartment, with its high ceilings and tall windows, covered the entire top floor. She stared with definite interest at the expensive furniture and adornments.

  ‘What were you expecting?’

  One elegant shoulder raised into a shrug. ‘Something showy. It’s bigger than I thought it would be. It reminds me of those loft conversions you see in Ne
w York.’

  ‘You’ve been to New York?’

  A wistful smile. ‘No. La Belle often interviews famous New Yorkers in their homes. I like to look at pictures of other people’s homes.’

  ‘You have travelled though,’ he stated casually, not liking the tug her wistfulness had evoked in him.

  ‘Extensively. After my mother died I became my father’s official consort and accompanied him on many of his overseas state visits. We always stayed in official residences, never informal homes.’ Both her shoulders rose this time. ‘Living somewhere like this...it will be new for me.’

  Like pulling a swan out of its lake and placing it in a pond.

  Another tug pulled at his guts.

  ‘I’ll introduce you to Frederic,’ he said. ‘He will make the transition easier for you.’

  Seconds later, his butler appeared. Frederic took Catalina’s hand and bowed. ‘It is an honour to have you here, Your Highness.’

  She gave Frederic her first genuine smile of the day. ‘If I’m going to be living here, you must call me Catalina.’

  He looked almost offended. ‘I could never be so informal.’

  ‘Only in private,’ she said kindly. ‘When there are guests you can be as formal as you wish.’

  ‘Nicely done,’ Nathaniel said when Frederic had disappeared to the staff quarters. ‘You had him eating out of your hand in thirty seconds flat.’

  In one short conversation, Catalina had dispelled the notion that she was some kind of mythical creature from a fairy tale and had put Frederic at his ease too.

  ‘People are always scared when they meet me,’ she replied. ‘They don’t think I’m human.’

  ‘When they get to know you their preconceptions will change.’

  She nodded, before asking quietly, ‘Can I ask when my companions will be joining me?’

  ‘Didn’t your father tell you? Your companions are to stay at the palace.’

  Her eyes widened a fraction.

  ‘It’s to minimise disruption,’ he lied. ‘When our marriage is over and you return to the palace, they will be ready to resume their duties. In the meantime, I have staff here who will take care of your every need.’