Christmas Kisses: The Spanish Billionaire's Christmas Bride / Christmas Bride-To-Be / Christmas Wishes, Mistletoe Kisses. Alison Roberts
she had to give it a try. There was certainly nothing holding her in the UK if she decided to move there permanently, and that included her mother. Talking of which …
‘By the way, I spoke to my mother this morning and told her I was going to Spain with you for Christmas.’
‘And how did she take the news?’
‘She was strangely quiet, actually. Not the reaction I expected at all. She said we should talk when I get back.’
‘Perhaps she has finally realised how selfish of her it is to leave you to your own devices during the holiday?’
‘Why should she think that?’ Shrugging, Dominique countered the sting of her mother’s rejection of both her and her baby with a fresh spurt of anger. ‘It’s what she usually does! It would be a bit late in the day for her to develop a conscience!’
‘You have never mentioned your father?’ Interestedly, Cristiano glanced at her. ‘I am presuming he is not in the picture any more?’
‘He left when I was two. God knows where he is now! He never kept in touch, and I doubt whether my mother would have even wanted him to. She’s been furious with him for most of my life! It’s her main motivation for getting up every day … just so she can be mad at him all over again!’
Not commenting, Cristiano merely looked thoughtful, and Dominique concluded that he was obviously thinking what a screwed up family she came from!
Biting her lip, she tightened her hands a little round the handlebars of the pushchair.
Reaching the lakeside, Dominique carefully positioned Matilde where she had the best view and, checking that the cheerful knitted blanket to safeguard her from the cold was securely in place, she crouched down low beside her and laughingly threw the crusts to the accumulated feathered throng.
‘Look, Tilly! Look at the lovely birds, darling! How happy they are to see you!’
Watching them both with growing fascination, and a secret pleasure he could not deny, Cristiano stood protectively by, his gaze moving now and again to the other small groups of families dotted round the perimeter of the lake, also feeding the birds. His connection to the young woman beside him was for once allowing him entry to an experience that they perhaps took for granted. He valiantly steered his mind away from the distressing recollection that had assailed him yesterday and concentrated instead on this new memory that Dominique and her sweet child were helping to create.
‘Make yourself useful!’ she chided him suddenly, passing him a handful of crusts and gazing up at him with teasing mirth in her brilliant blue eyes. ‘I’ve literally got enough here to feed the five thousand!’
‘If you ask me’ Cristiano responded drolly, ‘those birds already look overfed. Any more food and they will not be able to take off!’
‘A sense of humour, Señor Cordova? I didn’t expect that!’
‘You think I am too serious?’ he asked, frowning, not quite knowing how to take her criticism.
‘Perhaps … I don’t really know. It’s just that you seemed like you were miles away, that’s all.’
‘I was merely observing the other people doing what you are doing and wondering how it is that a simple pastime such as throwing some bread to birds can bring so much pleasure.’
‘When you do it with your children it’s the best thing in the world!’ Dominique announced, leaning into Matilde’s pushchair to plant a sound kiss on her daughter’s plump pink cheek. ‘Isn’t it, Tilly?’
Cristiano remained silent in bittersweet agreement, but as his gaze locked with Dominique’s a palpable sensation of warmth seemed to flood his insides. His previous disquiet vanished and he knew he was staring. The icy wind that was blowing had stung her cheeks into two bright pink spots of colour, and some fine strands of honey-brown hair, freed from her plait, danced wildly across them.
She glanced quickly away, clearly discomfited by his intense regard. ‘When we’ve got rid of all the bread, do you think we could go and eat?’ she asked him, her gaze now firmly on the lake and the diving birds as they braved the near-frozen surface to reach the semi-submerged crusts.
Concerned that he had neglected his duties, Cristiano agreed straight away. ‘Of course! Do you like Indian food?’ he asked her. ‘There is an exceptionally good Indian restaurant nearby, where I have reserved a table for us. If you do not like that particular cuisine then we can go somewhere you’d like better.’
‘Indian is great … as long as you think I’m dressed okay? It’s not somewhere really posh, is it?’
‘No … it is not “posh”.’ His lips curved into an amused smile. ‘It has an authentic Indian ambience, and you can go dressed casually—as we are.’
‘What you’re wearing is casual?’ Now it was Dominique’s turn to be amused.
Glancing down at his smart chinos, handmade Italian shoes, black cashmere sweater and three-quarter-length black leather jacket, Cristiano was genuinely perplexed by the question. ‘My outfit is certainly not formal, if that is what you are suggesting!’
‘No … perhaps it isn’t formal, but it still looks expensive and classy. Whereas what I’m wearing definitely doesn’t! Perhaps we ought to just go for a burger somewhere? I don’t want to embarrass you.’
She was wearing denim jeans, boots, a bottle-green polo-necked sweater and the slightly oversized tweed coat she’d had on yesterday. Very little make-up adorned her features, and she looked fresh-faced, young and beautiful. Why she imagined he would be remotely embarrassed to be seen with her appearing as she was Cristiano could not begin to fathom. He did not like the sense that her parents’ emotional neglect of her—as well as his cousin’s abandonment—had made such a harsh dent in her self-esteem.
‘That is an entirely ridiculous notion, Dominique! You look perfectly acceptable to me. All I want you to do is enjoy the food and hopefully the company too.’ He smiled wryly. ‘Put your worries aside for a while.’
‘And they won’t mind at the restaurant if I feed the baby while I’m there?’
‘You are feeding her yourself?’ For a moment Cristiano sensed an intense tingling heat throb low in his stomach at the idea of Dominique breastfeeding, and he was furious with himself for feeling aroused when it was the most natural thing in the world for a mother to feed her baby that way. He noticed the colour in her cheeks bloomed even pinker at his question.
‘No. I tried to feed her myself but I had to give up in the end. I wasn’t very good at it.’
‘But she takes a bottle quite happily?’
Dominique nodded.
‘Then where is the problem? As long as she is able to take nourishment that is the main thing, is it not?’
Glancing towards the lake, Cristiano threw a handful of bread in the direction of a rather dejected-looking duck that was isolated from the rest, He shivered as a particularly icy breeze seared into his face just then. As pleasurable as this little outing with Dominique and the baby was, he was seriously missing the far friendlier climes of his own country. He was also concerned that it was too much for the child to be out in such hostile weather.
‘We should go now,’ he announced, swiping the remainder of the crumbs from his leather gloves. ‘It is really far too bitter for Matilde. We should get her inside into the warmth.’
‘You’re probably right. Say bye-bye to the birds, Tilly! We’ll come and visit them again another day.’
Rising to her feet, Dominique gave Cristiano a fleeting smile, and as she turned the pushchair round and started back up the path that had led them to the lake he automatically put his hand at her back, as if to guide and protect her …
CHAPTER FIVE
IT