Waking Up In His Royal Bed
Page 16
Her lips quivered as she looked up at him, drinking in the details of his marvellous face. ‘I love you, Dante.’
He bent his head, the ferocious hunger of his kiss leaving her limp and ludicrously happy as he trailed a finger down the curve of her cheek. ‘I adore you. I am half a man without you but—’
She pressed a finger to his lips; she was not interested in buts. She had heard all she needed to. ‘I love you, Dante. I always have and I always will.’
He caught her hand, his eyes not leaving her face as he pressed it to his lips. ‘I love you, Beatrice. I thought loving you meant letting you go free, but now I know that I can’t make that choice for you. It is yours to make.’
Raising herself on tiptoes, she took his face between her hands. ‘I choose love.’ She kissed him. ‘I choose you.’ She kissed him. ‘I choose staying…say that again,’ she said fiercely.
‘What part?’
‘The only part that matters, idiot. Say you love me!’
‘I love you, Beatrice!’
She wound her arms around his neck, her feet leaving the floor as he kissed her back.
The kisses took them to the bed where, when they finally came up for air, they lay face to face, thigh to thigh, gazing into each other’s eyes.
‘I love your mouth,’ she husked, exploring the individual dust-engrained lines on his face slowly, as if memorising them.
‘Did Carl catch his flight?’
Dante nodded, unable to take his eyes off her face.
‘And you two, are you okay?’
She was relieved when he nodded again.
‘I’m glad.’
‘So am I.’
‘So what time is your parents’ flight back?’
‘They’ve delayed until tomorrow.’ A sardonic smile twisted his lips. ‘So the dust will literally have settled.’ He slid a hand down her thigh and pulled it up and across his waist, dragging her in closer.
‘This would be much better with no clothes.’
‘It will be, but there is no hurry.’
She sighed and gave a sinuous wriggle closer, loving the hard lines of his body.
‘I have a message for you from them.’
‘Oh, don’t spoil it!’
‘They have asked me to inform you that it makes them very happy that you’ve returned. They are talking about a renewal of our vows.’
She felt her jaw drop. ‘Is that some sort of joke?’
‘No joke, they tell me you are trending…’
Her eyes flew wide. ‘What?’
‘A photo of you has gone viral.’
He rolled far enough away to pull his phone from his pocket and scrolled to the photo that showed a golden-haired, jeans-clad Beatrice against a background of billowing dust, surrounded by a group of children who were all caught in the moment, looking up at her, while two of the smallest ones were thrown one over each shoulder. Dust particles caught by a ray of light made it seem as though she were surrounded by a shimmering golden glow.
After a slight hesitation she rolled forward, anchoring her hair from her face with her forearm. It afforded him a view of her face while she scanned the image that was the sort guaranteed to make a photographer’s career.
It was no surprise to him that online fame did not seem to thrill her.
‘Oh, God!’
‘You don’t look thrilled at the fame—hashtag heroineprincess.’
It took her a moment to recognise the moment someone had captured in an idealised version. The reality had involved dust and noise and a gut-wrenching sense of urgency as, afraid she would lose one of her charges, she’d tried to get them out of the exclusion zone around the unstable wall.
‘It’s embarrassing,’ she countered, ‘and I was not being brave. I was at my wits’ end. It was like herding cats.’
‘My parents are very impressed. They believe that you are an asset to the family, and, yes, that is a direct quote.’
Suddenly she was so angry she could barely breathe, let alone speak. When she finally made her vocal cords work, what her voice lacked in force it made up for in throbbing, furious sincerity. ‘It really has nothing to do with them!’
‘This is something I pointed out.’
She huffed out a tiny breath. ‘Good!’
‘They then informed me that it was my duty to save my marriage.’
‘I hope you told them to stuff their duty!’ she exploded.
‘I did not use those words precisely, but that was the sentiment behind my response. I hate my life without you in it. It’s a life with no heartbeat, no soul. I love you.’ His gaze sank to the pulse pumping at the base of her throat. Her neck extended as he bent to kiss the pulse spot, his mouth moist against her hot skin.
‘Because I’m an asset? Did they really say that? Should we tell them about the baby, do you think?’
The tentative question was lost on Dante. She was smiling into his eyes and he had never seen anything so beautiful in his life.
‘I can’t tell if I can hear your heartbeat or mine.’
‘We have one, we are one. I love you, Beatrice. Being without you made me realise how much. Life without you is not a whole life. I’m not whole. I have a Beatrice-sized empty space inside me. When we married, I didn’t know what love was,’ he admitted. ‘But you taught me how to love, and I know I will never love another woman. It isn’t possible—we are two halves that make a whole.’
There were tears glimmering like diamonds in her eyes by the time he finished. ‘I choose, I choose to be with you, always.’
‘I love you, Beatrice. Stay with me, be my wife and let me be me with you, even if I have to be royal for the world.’
She flung her arms around his neck, grinning as tears streamed down her face. ‘You’ll never get rid of me, Dante, not now, not ever.’
Several moments later a maid walked in; her eyes flew wide as she saw the couple locked in a passionate embrace.
Within thirty minutes the entire palace knew the Princess they loved was home for good; there was a collective sigh of relief. They knew the couple was their future.
EPILOGUE
‘CAN I HOLD HER?’ Rachel Monk whispered.
Standing beside the open French doors that led onto a flower-filled balcony, Beatrice smiled at her mother, who stood there looking too young to be a grandmother in her bold emerald green dress coat, a jaunty hat and heels that showed off her great legs.
Carefully she gave the sleeping baby to her mother.
‘Not much point being quiet with that lot down there.’ The christening party was still in full swing.
‘You know I am so proud of you, don’t you… Bea?’
‘And I’m proud of you.’ Her mum’s work with the charity for women in abusive relationships had won more than her own admiration.
They had both moved on from the past.
‘I wish your father was here.’
‘Oh, I think he is—have you seen that chin, the dimple?’ she said, looking down fondly at her daughter’s face. Everything else about Sabina Elsa was pure Dante. Her daughter was going to be a beauty.
‘She is a miracle.’
Beatrice turned her head. ‘What are you doing, creeping up on us like that?’ she asked, looking up at her tall, gorgeous husband with smiling eyes. ‘She is a miracle,’ she added softly.
They would always grieve for their lost baby, but it was balanced by the joy that his or her sister had brought into their lives. They both knew how lucky they were; they told each other so every day.
‘Say cheese!’
They both turned as Maya, dressed in a bright orange minidress, appeared, camera in hand. ‘Wow,’ she said, looking at the results on her phone screen. ‘That kid, sorry, my god-daughter, is a natural. Your mum takes a good photo too, Dante. This one of her pinching one
of the waiters’ bottoms is classic.’
‘Oh, God, Maya, delete that right now,’ Beatrice gasped.
Her sister twisted away as Beatrice went to grab her phone.
‘We said no phones.’
‘I’m exempt, and, anyway, Carl made me do it and he’s royal.’
‘You’re impossible.’
Dante came up behind her and slid his arms around her waist, pulling her into him until he could rest his chin on the top of her glossy head. ‘This is my family and all that I need. A tabloid would pay good money for that snap, Maya.’
‘Now he tells me.’
Grinning, Dante bent and whispered something in his wife’s ear.
He laughed, loving that she could blush…loving her.
‘You know, I used to think this place was a prison, but you opened the doors, let in the light that made me love you and set me free.’
‘Oh, get a room!’ Carl exclaimed, walking in.
It was a palace—they had a lot to choose from!
Coming next month
PRIDE & THE ITALIAN’S PROPOSAL
Kate Hewitt
‘I judge on what I see,’ Fausto allowed as he captured her queen easily. She looked unfazed by the move, as if she’d expected it, although to Fausto’s eye it had seemed a most inexpert choice. ‘Doesn’t everyone do the same?’
‘Some people are more accepting than others.’
‘Is that a criticism?’
‘You seem cynical,’ Liza allowed.
‘I consider myself a realist,’ Fausto returned, and she laughed, a crystal-clear sound that seemed to reverberate through him like the ringing of a bell.
‘Isn’t that what every cynic says?’
‘And what are you? An optimist?’ He imbued the word with the necessary scepticism.
‘I’m a realist. I’ve learned to be.’ For a second she looked bleak, and Fausto realised he was curious.
‘And where did you learn that lesson?’
She gave him a pert look, although he still saw a shadow of that unsettling bleakness in her eyes. ‘From people such as yourself.’ She moved her knight—really, what was she thinking there? ‘Your move.’
Fausto’s gaze quickly swept the board and he moved a pawn. ‘I don’t think you know me well enough to have learned such a lesson,’ he remarked.
‘I’ve learned it before, and in any case I’m a quick study.’ She looked up at him with glinting eyes, a coy smile flirting about her mouth. A mouth Fausto had a sudden, serious urge to kiss. The notion took him so forcefully and unexpectedly that he leaned forward a little over the game, and Liza’s eyes widened in response, her breath hitching audibly as surprise flashed across her features.
For a second, no more, the very air between them felt tautened, vibrating with sexual tension and expectation. It would be so very easy to close the space between their mouths. So very easy to taste her sweetness, drink deep from that lovely, luscious well.
Of course he was going to do no such thing. He could never consider a serious relationship with Liza Benton; she was not at all the sort of person he was expected to marry and, in any case, he’d been burned once before, when he’d been led by something so consuming and changeable as desire.
As for a cheap affair…the idea had its tempting merits, but he knew he had neither the time nor inclination to act on it. An affair would be complicated and distracting, a reminder he needed far too much in this moment.
Fausto leaned back, thankfully breaking the tension, and Liza’s smile turned cat-like, surprising him. She looked so knowing, as if she’d been party to every thought in his head, which thankfully she hadn’t been, and was smugly informing him of that fact.
‘Checkmate,’ she said softly and, jolted, Fausto stared at her blankly before glancing down at the board.
‘That’s impossible,’ he declared as his gaze moved over the pieces and, with another jolt, he realised it wasn’t. She’d put him in checkmate and he hadn’t even realised his king had been under threat. He’d indifferently moved a pawn while she’d neatly spun her web. Disbelief warred with a scorching shame as well as a reluctant admiration. All the while he’d assumed she’d been playing an amateurish, inexperienced game, she’d been neatly and slyly laying a trap.
‘You snookered me.’
Her eyes widened with laughing innocence. ‘I did no such thing. You just assumed I wasn’t a worthy opponent.’ She cocked her head, her gaze turning flirtatious—unless he was imagining that? Feeling it? ‘But, of course, you judge on what you see.’
The tension twanged back again, even more electric than before. Slowly, deliberately, Fausto knocked over his king to declare his defeat. The sound of the marble clattering against the board was loud in the stillness of the room, the only other sound their suddenly laboured breathing.
He had to kiss her. He would. Fausto leaned forward, his gaze turning sleepy and hooded as he fastened it on her lush mouth. Liza’s eyes flared again and she drew an unsteady breath, as loud as a shout in the still, silent room. Then, slowly, deliberately, she leaned forward too, her dress pulling against her body so he could see quite perfectly the outline of her breasts.
There were only a few scant inches between their mouths, hardly any space at all. Fausto could already imagine the feel of her lips against his, the honeyed slide of them, her sweet, breathy surrender as she gave herself up to their kiss. Her eyes fluttered closed. He leaned forward another inch, and then another. Only centimetres between them now…
‘Here you are!’
The door to the study flung open hard enough to bang against the wall, and Fausto and Liza sprang apart. Chaz gave them a beaming smile, his arm around a rather woebegone-looking Jenna. Fausto forced a courteous smile back, as both disappointment and a very necessary relief coursed through him.
That had been close. Far, far too close.
Continue reading
PRIDE & THE ITALIAN’S PROPOSAL
Kate Hewitt
Available next month
Copyright ©2021 by Kate Hewitt
About the Publisher
Australia
HarperCollins Publishers (Australia) Pty. Ltd.
Level 13, 201 Elizabeth Street
Sydney, NSW 2000, Australia
http://www.harpercollins.com.au
Canada
HarperCollins Canada
Bay Adelaide Centre, East Tower
22 Adelaide Street West, 41st Floor
Toronto, ON, M5H 4E3, Canada
http://www.harpercollins.ca
India
HarperCollins India
A 75, Sector 57
Noida, Uttar Pradesh 201 301, India
http://www.harpercollins.co.in
New Zealand
HarperCollins Publishers (New Zealand) Limited
P.O. Box 1
Auckland, New Zealand
http://www.harpercollins.co.nz
United Kingdom
HarperCollins Publishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
United States
HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
195 Broadway
New York, NY 10007
http://www.harpercollins.com
Dublin
HarperCollinsPublishers
1st Floor, Watermarque Building, Ringsend Road
Dublin 4, Ireland
http://www.harpercollins.co.uk
v>