‘This is just a start,’ Dante insisted, ‘We can’t change who we are, and it would be wrong to try and change each other.’
‘But how will I fit in to your glamorous life?’
‘You’ll fit in perfectly. We fit together perfectly,’ he added, though as he’d moved over her to prove his point, Jess kept her opinion to herself. Providing therapy for injured athletes was her life’s work. Riding the horses she loved was her passion. That was the world where she belonged.
Was it? Was it really?
How could she live without Dante? How would she feel if she saw him with other women, knowing she hadn’t even put up a fight for the best thing in her life? Were her dreams dust? Was it even possible to hold on to her familiar world while sharing his? ‘You’re at the top of your field in the tech world, and on the polo circuit,’ she mused when they were quiet again. ‘And although I could happily fit into your equine world, I belong backstage, not out front with the beautiful people.’
‘Is that a fact?’ Dante queried with a long sideways look as he set about repeating what he did so very well.
‘In my opinion,’ he added much much later, ‘you outshine anyone I’ve ever met. When men on the polo circuit are as dazzled by your beauty as I am I’ll have to flatten them. Is that good enough for you? There’s no question of you being backstage. You’ll be at my side and for ever, I hope.’
‘Dante—’
‘What?’
She gave a long sigh of pleasure.
‘I hear you,’ he reassured as he brushed her mouth with lingering kisses. ‘You don’t want to talk now. You want this, you need this, so please don’t ever stop?’
‘For ever is a long time,’ she reminded him in between hectic gasps of breath.
Dante shrugged as he moved firmly towards the inevitable conclusion. ‘That’s one thing over which we’ll have to agree to disagree. For ever with you can never be long enough for me. Merry Christmas, Jess.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
MORE THAN A week later, when Jess had spent quality time with her father and Dante had spent earthy, intimate, getting to know her every which-way time with Jess, they boarded his private jet to return to Spain. He was happy to think Jess was doubly reassured—not just by the news that the arrangement for the farm suited her father, but by something even better than that.
‘It’s never too late to fall in love,’ Jim Slatehome had explained to both of them, saying he’d been struck by lightning when he had the opportunity to get to know his neighbour Ella again.
Confident that her father was not only financially secure but was happy and well looked after, Jess was ready to embark on her new life. Everyone, including the animals, was on tenterhooks at the thought of her return to what Maria described as Jess’s home.
Dante owned numerous properties across the world. Jess could take her pick. He imagined she might choose his simple shack on a Pacific island, judging by the way she’d held on to the wisp of hay he’d tied around her wedding finger.
That was Jess. That was the Jess he loved. The woman who had insisted she needed no other ring. He’d taken her at her word. For now.
It had taken him a short time or a little over ten years, depending on how he looked at it, to win Jess’s trust and now she could have whatever she wanted. Nothing could corrupt her moral compass and, with their lives ahead of them, she’d have plenty of opportunity to counter his riches with hay bales and sound common sense. They were like two pieces of a jigsaw that fitted together perfectly and he could never repay her for what she’d given him.
They’d slept at the pub each night after Christmas, and each night before she slept he told Jess how much he loved her, and how much he owed her, not just for healing him but for teaching him how to trust, and to give his heart deeply and completely. Those quiet times alone had allowed him to reassure her that she would never have to give up her career. His proposal was that Jess headed up a travelling clinic, so they could be together wherever he played polo. She had instantly approved the idea and was excited to make a start. He was confident she’d soon build up a regular practice, especially with him around as visible proof of Jess’s excellence as a therapist.
She was playing with the hay wisp, he noticed, turning it round and round her finger. ‘I can’t believe you managed to hold on to that,’ he admitted. ‘You can have a ring of your choice as soon as we land in Spain. You can design your own, if you like.’
She gave him a teasing smile. ‘It would have to look exactly like this one.’
‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’
She remained silent for a while and then she said, ‘Could we have a Christmas wedding?’
‘You can have a wedding whenever and wherever you like. We don’t have to get married at all.’
‘Is that your get-out?’ she half scolded, half teased him. ‘Are you tired of me already?’
‘I will never tire of you.’ His heart had found its home and wanted no other.
‘Then next Christmas it is,’ she declared happily, clearly brim-full of excitement. ‘There’s something special about the holiday season, don’t you think?’
‘It won’t be snowing in Spain,’ he cautioned.
‘Not where you live,’ she agreed.
He thought of his ski chalet, high in the Sierra Nevada, and conceded, ‘Snow can be arranged.’
Jess laughed. ‘Is there anything you can’t do?’
He huffed a sigh as he thought about this for the time it took to kiss her neck and then her lips. ‘Resist you?’ he suggested. ‘But remember, if you’re set on this idea of a Christmas wedding, there’s almost a year to wait.’
‘For the veil and the dress,’ she pointed out.
He laughed as he got the picture. ‘You are a shameless hussy.’
‘You made me so.’
‘I plead innocent,’ he fired back with amusement. ‘It must have been Skylar who led me astray.’
‘Can she do so again?’ Jess suggested as the aircraft levelled off.
‘There are several bedrooms in the back—take your pick.’
‘Lead the way,’ she whispered.
A little less than one year later
Christmas Day was approaching fast. Since moving to Spain to live on Dante’s estancia, Jess had travelled the world. Watching Dante play polo and dispensing necessary therapy, both to his polo-playing associates and to Dante under rather more intimate circumstances, had given her a new insight into the lives of the super-rich.
They had the same worries and the same ailments as everyone else, but some were so remote and removed from the realities of everyday life she felt sorry for them. Rather than envy their so-called gilded existence, she thought of them, locked in their ivory towers with their sights set on some far-off horizon, missing the little things down on the ground that, in Jess’s opinion, made life worth living.
Dante’s sister Sofia was a glaring exception. They thought alike, and Sofia had become Jess closest friend. Sofia had persuaded Jess that she could navigate the role of star player’s wife, and billionaire’s soulmate, with the same grace with which Jess handled her job at the mobile clinic. ‘You love him. That’s all that matters,’ Sofia had pointed out. ‘And my brother adores you. I love you because you brought him back to us. I’ve never seen Dante like this before. He wants to be with his family. He wants to share us with you. You’ve healed him in more ways than one.’
Both Jess and Sofia were excited that Maria and her relatives had agreed to play a major role in Jess’s wedding ceremony, providing music and dance. Jess wanted a real party and for everyone to join in. As Dante had promised, their marriage would be celebrated high on the Sierra Nevada mountain range, where snow and fiery passion went hand in hand.
Sofia’s wedding gift for Jess couldn’t have pleased her more. It was a new horse blanket for Moon. The mare had f
retted for Jess, Dante had explained, and so the pony she’d loved since the day Moon was born was his wedding gift to Jess.
Sofia had insisted on giving Jess a few more small presents—or ‘thingamajigs’ as Sofia liked to call them.
‘I want to spoil you with bits of nonsense,’ she’d said.
‘Not nonsense,’ Jess had protested as she opened the boxes of accessories—hairbands, bracelets that jingled and Spanish mantilla combs with filmy, lacy veils. ‘These are lovely, thoughtful gifts.’
She only wished Sofia could find the same happiness she had.
‘Here comes the groom. He’s going to be late,’ Sofia announced tensely.
Looking out of the window, Jess saw Dante and his brothers skiing up to the door of his magnificent chalet. Her heart sang at the sight of Dante, as skilful on snow as he was on Zeus, his mighty black stallion. He had to do something first thing in the morning, Dante had told her last night, or he wouldn’t be capable of staying away from his bride before their wedding.
The year leading up to this moment had been packed full of polo and patients and horses and Dante, which was pretty much everything Jess could ask of life. Dante hadn’t forced the issue when he asked her to marry him and, predictably, that had made her want him all the more. The ring she would wear when they were married remained the only bone of contention between them.
‘A plain gold band will do me,’ she’d insisted, while Dante had countered by assuring her that the first time they made love as man and wife Jess would be wearing nothing but diamonds.
‘The first time?’ Jess had queried with amusement.
‘The first time as husband and wife,’ Dante had countered before taking her in the most delicious way.
Would she ever get enough of him? Not a chance, Jess concluded as she watched him shoulder his skis. There was a sense of purpose and a particular speed to his actions she recognised. Dante wouldn’t be late for his wedding, because he was already thinking about taking her to bed.
‘Jess? Your gown,’ Sofia prompted.
Jess turned to see the sparkling lace and chiffon dream of a dress Dante had insisted must come from Paris. It was a restrained and beautiful creation, a fairy tale dress, as Sofia described it, and one that made dreams come true.
Arranging the gown reverently on the bed, Sofia stood back. ‘I can’t wait to have you as a sister,’ she admitted, glowing with pent-up excitement.
‘I’m already your sister,’ Jess insisted as they exchanged the warmest of hugs. ‘Skylar too?’ Sofia teased as they broke apart.
‘Of course. We can’t leave her out, can we?’
‘And now this dream of a dress,’ Sofia said as she lifted it carefully from the bed.
Jess had dreamed of this moment since that first encounter with Dante in her father’s stable ten years ago and now, quite incredibly, those dreams were about to come true.
‘Not incredible,’ Sofia argued when Jess voiced these thoughts. ‘My brother is lucky to have found you. A woman less likely to be cast about by the winds of fate, I have yet to meet. You are a strong, determined woman who will bloom wherever you’re planted, and I’m proud to be your friend.’
* * *
Jess was so popular on the estancia everyone had made a special effort to travel to the mountains to attend her wedding ceremony, which was as relaxed and authentic as Jess had always dreamed it would be. to make things easier for their guests, Dante had laid on two of his aircraft to bring them in from far and wide. Sofia had dipped into her billions too, to ensure the most magical scene.
A huge pavilion had been erected in the deep snow in the garden of Dante’s chalet overlooking the dramatic mountain range. Fairy lights were strung lavishly around, while a pathway of pink rose petals, edged by sweet-smelling country flowers flown in from Yorkshire, filled the air with delicate scent. The ambient temperature inside the pavilion was cosy, thanks to heaters hidden in the roof, and the guests agreed they had never been more comfortable at a wedding than they were on the deeply upholstered white seats. Haunting music from a single acoustic guitar set the romantic mood, while candles glowed on the altar and jewel-coloured lanterns cast a magical glow across the excited congregation.
Peeping through the entrance, Jess saw her father seated with Ella on the front row. They looked so happy together and, never one to miss a business trick, her father had flown in from England on one of Dante’s specially adapted jets accompanied by not just his lively and down-to-earth partner but by several promising ponies as well.
There was a Christmas tree in the entrance covered with small gifts for their guests. Dante had told Jess that her gift was the small brown paper-covered box at the top of the tree and that she must claim it and open it before she came down the aisle.
One of the taller attendants got it down for her, and when she opened it she gasped. It was a perfect replica of Jess’s hay twist ring, but crafted in pure rose gold.
Her wedding ring was perfect and so was the groom, Jess thought when Dante turned at the moment she appeared and their eyes met.
* * *
Every seat was taken by Dante’s family and staff, and by a select number of guests. Maria had settled into the chalet weeks ago to prepare food and the mix of delicious cooking smells had stayed with him, making him hungry, and hungry for Jess. Dios, where was she? When could they get away from here?
At last!
His heart filled with love as he caught sight of his bride, who looked beyond ravishingly beautiful as she walked up the petal-strewn aisle.
‘Thank you for my ring,’ Jess whispered when she reached his side. ‘It’s absolutely perfect. I have something for you...’
‘What?’ he demanded as Jess turned to hand over her bouquet to Sofia, thinking of all the small, thoughtful gifts Jess had bought him in the lead up to the wedding. Her answer was to take hold of his hand and rest it gently against her stomach. A lightning bolt of excitement struck him as Jess stared up with eyes full of trust.
‘You...?’ He was stunned into silence, and not just because the celebrant had indicated that the ceremony was about to begin.
‘Yes,’ Jess confirmed. ‘We’re having a baby. We’re going to be adding to the Acosta clan soon.’
‘Oh, Dios!’ he exclaimed on a hectic rush of breath. ‘Thank you! Thank you!’
‘You may not yet kiss your bride,’ the priest scolded them with a twinkle in his eyes.
But Dante Acosta had always broken the rules, as had Skylar, so they kissed passionately and everyone applauded until at last, with love surrounding them on every side, Jess and Dante were married.
* * *
Adored One Scandalous Christmas Eve? Why not explore these other Susan Stephens stories?
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A Baby on the Greek’s Doorstep
by Lynne Graham
CHAPTER ONE
TOR SARANTOS IGNORED his security head’s frown at the news that he would require neither his car nor his usual bodyguards that evening.
‘You know what day this is,’ Tor said simply. ‘I go out... I go alone.’
‘With all due respect,’ the older man began heavily, ‘in your position, it is not safe.’
‘Duly noted,’ Tor breathed very drily. ‘But it is
what I do, as you well know.’
Every year without fail for the past five years, Tor had gone out alone on this particular date. It was an anniversary but not one to celebrate. It was the anniversary of his wife’s and daughter’s deaths. He considered himself to be neither an emotional nor sentimental man. No, he chose to remember what had happened to Katerina and Sofia because their sad fate was his worst-ever failure. His ferocious anger, injured pride and bitterness had led to that ultimate tragedy, which could not, in conscience, ever be forgotten. Out of respect for the family he had lost, he chose to remember them one wretched day a year and wallow in his shamed self-loathing. It was little enough, and it chastened him, kept him grounded, he acknowledged grimly. After all, he had screwed up, he had screwed up so badly that it had cost two human lives that could have been saved had he only been a more forgiving and compassionate man.
Tragically, the traits of compassion and forgiveness had never run strong in Alastor, known as Tor, Sarantos. Although he came from a kind and loving family, he was tough, inflexible and fierce in nature as befitted a billionaire banker, celebrated for his ruthless reputation, financial acumen and foresight, his advice as much sought by governments as by rich private investors. In business, he was a very high flyer. In his private life, he was appallingly aware that he had proved to be a loser. However, that was a secret he was determined to take to his grave with him, as was the truth that he would never remarry.
That was why he rarely went home now to his family in Greece. Not only did he have an understandable wish to avoid meetings with his Italian half-brother, Sevastiano, but he also didn’t want to listen to his relatives talking with increasingly evangelical fervour about him ‘moving on.’ On his visits, a parade of suitable young women was served up at parties and dinners even though he had done everything possible to make it brutally obvious that he had no desire to find another wife and settle down again.
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