His to Command: the Housekeeper: The Prince's Chambermaid / The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress / The Tuscan Tycoon's Pregnant Housekeeper. Christina Hollis
she was the woman he had chosen to be his lover!
Her pulse skittered as he stood up and made a brief speech, telling the enthralled audience how delighted he was to have purchased such a prestigious club and his plans to create a world-class polo school there. But Cathy watched the faces of the other diners as they listened to him and laughed conspicuously loudly at his jokes. Rapt and rapacious—the women surveyed him with open hunger while the men regarded him with a kind of grudging envy. What a strange world this was, she thought. One where everyone wants something from him.
And don’t you? taunted the voice of her conscience. Don’t you want most of all?
No. She was modest by nature and modest in her expectations. All she wanted was to feel his arms around her again. To feel the warmth of his skin and the thunder of his heart against her heart. She felt her mouth drying as he finished his speech and looked straight into her eyes as the applause rang out through the vast room.
Needing the washroom, she rose to her feet and saw that Xaviero had mirrored her movement—which in turn caused the entire table to stand up! How awful, she thought. You could never just sneak out if you were a royal. In the restroom, she splashed some cold water over her heated cheeks, battled a brush through the thick hair, and when she emerged it was to find Xaviero standing by the entrance to the ballroom. It took a moment or two before she registered that he was waiting for her.
In that moment she felt nervous and slightly out of her depth—but she had to say something. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue back there,’ she said quietly.
He shrugged and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘No thanks are required. The man was nothing but a crashing snob and I’m sorry you had to be subjected to him.’
Cathy glowed with pleasure at his kindness, wanting to compliment him—just as he had complimented her. ‘And I… I really liked your speech,’ she ventured softly.
It was the most straightforward thing anyone had said to him in a long time and she sounded as if she really meant it. For a moment Xaviero looked down into her upturned face, thinking how simple her life must be. How unlike those glittering and bejewelled women with their bony shoulders who had vied shamelessly for his attention all evening. And suddenly, the memory of her smile the first time she’d seen him stirred in him a distant memory. Sunny and uncomplicated and full of innocent promise.
‘Come on, we’re leaving,’ he said suddenly.
She glanced down the corridor into the still-packed ballroom and thought about their two glaringly empty chairs. ‘But won’t…won’t people mind?’
‘Mind? I don’t care if they do,’ he murmured, meeting her wide-eyed question with a smile. ‘It is time for your next lesson, my beauty. It’s going to be a very long and extensive lesson—and I, for one, can’t wait for it to begin.’
‘GOING out somewhere tonight, are you, Cathy?’
Momentarily, Cathy froze in the act of picking up her handbag as Rupert’s words stopped her in her tracks. Composing her face, she turned around, preparing to face him—remembering what Xaviero had told her when she’d worried aloud about people finding out that they were lovers.
‘So what? You have nothing to hide, cara,’ he had murmured casually. ‘And neither do I. Every man is entitled to a mistress.’
It had made her briefly wonder why he had used the term ‘mistress’ instead of ‘girlfriend’, when he wasn’t even married. But maybe that was what princes did when they acquired a lover who was also a commoner. They erected boundaries—so that the lover wouldn’t ever make the mistake of thinking that there might be some kind of future in their affair.
Trying to hide her nerves, she gave a slightly wobbly smile because Rupert was still standing in front of her, blocking her way and clearly expecting some kind of answer to his question.
‘Actually, I’m staying home tonight,’ she said, noticing her boss’s eyes straying to the bulging carrier bags at her feet. She’d rushed down to the village at lunchtime and had bought crusty wholemeal bread and some thick slices of ham from the butcher.
‘Cooking dinner for lover-boy, are we?’ he sneered.
Cathy swallowed and then drew her shoulders back. If Xaviero liked her enough to want to spend time with her, then there was no way she was going to let Rupert Sanderson look down his nose at her! ‘No, we’re having salad tonight,’ she answered calmly.
Rupert looked irritated. ‘He could have a silver-service dinner any night of the week right here and yet he seems to prefer slumming it with you! And we all know why that is, don’t we?’ His petulant voice lowered to a kind of hiss. ‘But better not get too used to it. You may have managed to entice a prince into your bed, Cathy—but he’ll drop you like a hot potato once the novelty has worn off.’
Cathy froze—because wasn’t her boss only articulating thoughts she’d had a hundred times herself since she’d become Xaviero’s lover? Heart pounding, she lifted up her chin and looked him directly in the eye. ‘May I please pass?’ she questioned politely.
‘Feel free.’ He fixed his gaze on her breasts. ‘Nice blouse, Cathy—is it new?’
As she passed by Cathy blushed—because yes, it was a nice blouse. In fact, it was an extremely beautiful blouse—made out of the softest silk chiffon imaginable, and covered in lots of tiny little flowers so that it resembled a summer meadow. And Xaviero had bought it for her.
It had arrived in a fancy box, which she’d had to collect from the village post office. Cathy had no experience of costly clothes, but even with her untutored eye she immediately sensed that the blouse was worth a small fortune. It transformed an old pair of jeans into an eye-catching outfit and had made Xaviero’s eyes narrow with appreciation.
Next, a large box of fine French lingerie had been delivered—and the Prince had waved her protests aside with a careless gesture of his hand. He didn’t care that she was reluctant to accept gifts from him, he told her—he wanted to give them to her, and his wishes were paramount.
‘I don’t want you in cheap underwear,’ he had murmured as he’d slowly peeled off a pair of sheer lace cami-knickers and watched her squirm with delight. ‘My mistress must be clothed in silk and satin.’
It had made her feel rather odd. A bit like an object. But then his expert lips and seeking fingers would get to work and dissolve any lingering doubts—replacing them with a sense of wonder that he should desire her as much as he did.
As she walked down the flower-banked path to her cottage Cathy reflected that her weeks with the Prince had been everything that any woman could ever have wished for.
Well, maybe some women might have objected to the fact that they didn’t go out very much—though he had certainly offered to take her. The trouble was that going out with a prince was beset with difficulties. A supposedly incognito visit to the cinema had been spoiled when word had got out that a European royal was present. Maybe it had been the attendance of his bodyguards who had given the game away, no matter how discreet they had tried to be. And consequently, the staff had made a fawning kind of fuss of him.
Cathy had noticed how much he hated being recognised; she hated it, too—and not just because she was thrust aside into the shadows. Understandably Xaviero was much more uptight when he was being observed by other people. So she had suggested that they stay at home, in her little cottage. They could eat supper outside if the weather was fine—in the seclusion of the small garden. And if it rained, then they could watch DVDs while cuddled up on the sofa, just like any other couple.
To her surprise, he had agreed—and to her even greater surprise, he hadn’t grown bored with the arrangement. On the contrary, Xaviero seemed to love the simple life, which was all she