Christmas Encounter with a Prince Read online

  ‘I’m going to a party after I shower and change; why don’t you come with me...’ he paused, his lips curled up into an even more seductive smile ‘...to the party, I mean?’

  What would it be like to watch him undress? Watch him step into the shower? Follow him into the warmth of the water? Get to know his body?

  She jerked away from him. What on earth was the matter with her? She had a schedule to keep. A word-count to maintain. She had ten days to get her PhD thesis under control. Ten days of hiding away from the world, ten days of thankfully being able to avoid the silly season that was otherwise known as Christmas. Ten days before she would have to return to work and the erratic temperament of her boss at the coffee shop. And two weeks until her next meeting with her university supervisor, who, given the tone of their last catch-up, was seriously starting to question Alice’s ability to complete her thesis. And no PhD would mean she could kiss goodbye to any hope of securing a full-time lecturing position. She shouldn’t be wasting time having schoolgirl fantasies about her cousin’s brother-in-law. A real-life Prince Charming who was born to break women’s hearts. ‘Sorry, but I’m busy. I have to focus on my thesis.’

  His head tilted. ‘That’s a shame...it’s Christmas, after all. You should be enjoying yourself.’ The teasing disappearing from his eyes, he added, ‘I’ll feel bad leaving you here all on your own. Are you sure you won’t come?’

  For a moment she actually thought he was being sincere. The tone of his voice, the gentleness in his expression almost fooled her. She had to give it to him, he was a seriously good actor. But she trusted Prince Luis just about as far as she could throw him—and, given that he must be close to six feet four, and therefore had a seven-inch advantage over her, she wouldn’t be able to throw him far. He was trying to charm her. Why was beyond her, as they had nothing in common and it wasn’t as if there was a shortage of woman keen to date him if media reports were anything to go by. But she didn’t have the time or interest in working that particular puzzle out. Not with a PhD to complete.

  And the idea of attending a Christmas party frankly left her feeling cold. All that forced and pretend gaiety. When in truth for many Christmas was about bickering and arguing, the unleashing of simmering tension and anger. She grabbed Luis’s empty beer bottle and rinsed it at the sink, before wiping it dry. Dropping it into the recycling, she answered, ‘I have a schedule I have to keep.’

  Opening the fridge door, he considered its contents. ‘It’s Christmas. Everyone should forget about schedules and work at Christmas.’

  ‘Not me. I don’t do Christmas.’

  He shut the door with a frown. ‘So I gathered.’ Spotting the tin of chocolates on the counter beside the fridge, he prised the lid open. Alice winced. He rifled through it, his frown deepening. ‘Who eats all of the chocolates and leaves the wrappers behind?’

  Earlier, after she had deleted all her day’s pathetic word-count, she had tossed herself into the tin of Christmas chocolates her mother had sneakily hidden in her luggage. There was no way a professional sportsman would understand how a grown adult could devour an entire tin of chocolates in one afternoon thanks to bored frustration, so she wasn’t even going to bother trying. So instead she backed towards the kitchen door and said, ‘If I don’t see you tomorrow before you leave for Monrosa...well, it’s been nice seeing you again. Enjoy your time with your family. Give my love to Kara.’

  Unwrapping a chocolate in a purple foil wrapper that he must have found at the bottom of the tin, he gave a resigned shrug and said, ‘If you change your mind then you can join me at the Stewart Club. I’ll leave your name at the door.’

  About to head up the stairs, she paused. His party was at the Stewart Club? Where it was said that Lady Radford had frequented. She’d love to have the opportunity to see the interior of one of London’s oldest and most exclusive private clubs. She eyed Luis. But to do so would mean accepting his invite. She moved back into the kitchen. Watched as he popped the dark chocolate into his mouth, his eyes lighting up with delight as he savoured the praline inside.

  She should turn around. Go back up to the library. But instead she heard herself say, ‘My thesis is on the writer Lady Maud Radford. She used to dine frequently in the Stewart Club—in fact, it’s said that it was there she found the opportunity to influence those in government at the time with her political and social-reform ideas. So in the name of research I would like to join you tonight. But only for a short while. And strictly on a work basis.’

  He laughed at that. ‘Do you ever chill out, Alice?’

  She gave him a death stare. ‘I’ll change and be working in the library when you’ve finished your beauty regime.’ Climbing the stairs to his laughter, she groaned. Hating just how prickly she became at Christmas. Hating how prickly she was when life took an unexpected turn.

  CHAPTER TWO

  ‘SO, YOUR THESIS, tell me...’ Luis had no sooner returned to his seat beside her when he was interrupted once more. Standing up, he gave her an apologetic smile before kissing both women in the group on the cheek and back-slapping the three men, laughter and chatter dancing between them.

  Sitting back into her chair, Alice decided a Christmas party at the Stewart Club would make for a great social anthropology study. Somehow, without any formal organisation, those attending understood where they stood in the social hierarchy. Those on the lower social rungs were the ones who were expected to travel the thronged room, greeting those higher up the ladder, who stayed put in the vicinity of their table. And, of course, Prince Luis of Monrosa was the prize person to talk to tonight. Within minutes of their arrival at the club, Luis had been drawn into an unending cycle of greeting acquaintances and friends. Not once had he failed to recall a name, and his keen attention on everyone he spoke to only seemed to up the excitement and general air of goodwill and celebration in the room.

  How easily people fell for the affirmation of attention. What was it in us humans that needed the acknowledgement of others? Even when it was to our detriment? After her parents’ divorce, even when she had known for years the ugly side to her father, she had craved his attention. Believed that this time things might be different. How many times had he not turned up to meet her? Or turned up steaming drunk? How many times had she forgiven him when he told her he was sorry and that he would never let her down again? He had been so charming and funny and warm. A born entertainer. In his good moments he’d made life seem magical. But then he would drink and become bitter and belligerent and blame her for not understanding him.

  Now she smiled as a waiter placed a pot of tea and teacup on the table. With Luis otherwise occupied she had earlier explored the club, taking in the historic rooms upstairs, the gallery and library, taken photos of the grand dining room with its heavy chandeliers and dark wood panelling, imagining Lady Radford dining there.

  When she had finished her tour of the club she had dithered in the hallway before eventually deciding to join the party, the guilt of not meeting her writing milestones losing out to the temptation of spending more time in the place where Lady Radford had socialised in the vain hope it might just provide her with the inspiration she desperately needed to get over her writing slump.

  Around her champagne and laughter flowed. Out on the dancefloor guests danced to the DJ’s Christmas playlist. When she had returned to the main party, which was taking place in the reading room of the club, Luis had gestured for her to join him and he had introduced her to the people he was talking to with great enthusiasm. Several times he had sat beside her and begun a conversation but time and time again he had been interrupted. Watching him now, gesturing wildly, those around him wide-eyed at whatever story he was telling them, she marvelled at the fact that earlier, on their way to the party, he had admitted to being jet lagged. But nobody would guess that now. For a moment she wondered what it must be like to be so carefree, so open to others, but then she remembered that the outer persona
so often masked the truth of the inner person.

  Dressed in black tie like all of the other male guests, Luis had assured her that her choice of a knee-length black dress was perfect for the party...which was a good thing, as that and a leather skirt were the only half-decent items she had brought with her to London. Unfortunately, however, all the other female guests were dressed in festive golds and silvers and reds and she had been stopped several times in her tour of the club and given a drinks order. She didn’t belong here amongst all the glitz and glamour and bonhomie.

  His story over, Luis turned to a woman standing to his right. Bowing his head, he whispered something into her ear. The woman nodded and then, curving into him, flung her arms around his neck. They embraced well beyond what was socially polite.

  She placed her teacup down on the saucer. It was time she left.

  Standing, she grabbed her bag.

  ‘I’m not being a good host, am I?’

  She shrugged, looking away from Luis’s apologetic smile. Hating how easily he could make her heart leap with just a smile. ‘I didn’t expect you to play host. I only came to see the inside of the club. And now it’s time for me to go home.’

  His hand touched against her arm. ‘Stay and dance with me. I do want to hear about your thesis.’

  With a grin he removed his tuxedo jacket and threw it on his chair. She wanted to say no. This was not how she had planned out her trip to London. And something way too giddy was stirring in her blood at the gorgeous shape of his torso beneath his shirt—incredibly broad shoulders tapering down to a narrow waist. For a person with embarrassingly limited experience when it came to men, the effect Prince Luis of Monrosa was having on her was baffling beyond all measure. She should leave. But she was staying in his family’s home. Wouldn’t it be impolite for her to refuse to dance with him?

  She nodded and he held out his hand to her. Inhaling deeply, she took it and allowed him to lead her out onto the dance floor, trying to resist the urge to grab her hand back out of his grasp, the heat, the strength, the callused skin of his hand disturbing reminders of the raw maleness that lay just below his outward display of the equable Royal Prince.

  On the dance floor she groaned when Luis began to dance. Damn it, but he could move. Whereas she, as her friend Toni liked to joke, danced like a giraffe on acid. Luis’s hips swayed, his arms moved in time with the beat, his eyes fixed on hers, inviting her to join him. She gave her hips a tiny sway. He nodded encouragingly. She moved her hips in a wider circle, trying to smile and pretend it all came naturally. She lifted her arms and shuffled her feet, bumping into Luis in the process. He placed a steadying hand on her waist, his eyes dancing with amusement. Was he aware that her breast was squashed against his arm?

  ‘I’m starting to think that this is going to be a particularly good Christmas.’

  She arched her neck away from the warmth of his breath, her pulse whooshing in her ears at the huskiness of his voice. His hands shifted ever so slightly, his thumbs fixing on the points of her hips. His scent was like a mixture of freshly washed cotton and earthiness...with a pinch of goodness.

  She stared at the crisp whiteness of his dress shirt, thrown by just how wrong it was that someone so dangerous could smell so...pure and right. He weakened her. Something about him stirred a chemistry inside her that she seemed incapable of controlling. Now, for the first time in her life, she understood why people took reckless decisions that went against everything they strove for.

  She shifted her gaze upwards, knowing it was time to stay goodnight, when a commotion to the side of the room had her shift her attention in that direction instead.

  A group of middle-aged men were making their way into the room, calling out to a friend who was standing at the bar. She gasped. Pulled herself away from Luis. At the centre of the group, his arms thrown around his companions on either side, was her father. She knew by the gleam in his eye, the high colour in his cheeks, that he was drunk.

  This could not be happening. She needed to run...but her feet felt as though they were glued to the floor. The DJ played a new track, killing the men’s overbearing voices. She was vaguely aware of Luis asking her if she was okay.

  And then her father looked in her direction.

  She twisted away, crouching over. A service entrance was in front of her. She stumbled towards it, panic pounding in her ears.

  * * *

  Dio! Didn’t she realise he was only flirting with her? Luis watched Alice run from the room, pushing past startled partygoers, heard their surprised laughter at her desperation to leave. For a moment he considered just letting her go. Alice O’Connor unsettled him. She was impossible to read. Up to a minute ago she had seemed to be enjoying the night...in her own quiet way. But now she was bolting away—just as she had done at the wedding. But he couldn’t let her go without at least seeing her to the safety of a taxi.

  Chasing after her, he raced through an empty service corridor and then the club’s kitchen, and outside the kitchen’s double swing doors he saw Alice in the distance at the main entrance door.

  He called out her name, but she disappeared outside.

  It was raining hard. Raindrops bounced off the footpath. He cursed as a passing black cab sprayed him. Shoes soaked, he stared after Alice, who was sprinting down the street. Couldn’t she at least have collected her coat before rushing away?

  ‘Alice!’

  Passing traffic and the heavy rain meant she probably couldn’t hear him. He broke into a run, a car horn blaring when he crossed a side street without looking. Ahead Alice was slowing as she waved frantically for a cab to stop, but they all rushed by, already occupied.

  He was fast gaining on her when she turned a corner into a pedestrian side street. He followed her, the rain pinning his dress shirt to his skin. He cursed and stopped. The street was empty. Where had she disappeared to?

  ‘Alice!’ His call echoed down the narrow shopping street, the blue and white overhead Christmas lights swaying in the breeze.

  He shouted her name again. ‘Alice!’ This time more angrily, panic taking hold. What if something happened to her? How well did she know London? He broke into a jog. There were several arcades and narrow lanes leading off the street. She could have gone down any of them.

  He bellowed her name again, frustration adding to his panic.

  And then he saw her. Pushed into the furthest reaches of a darkened doorway, shivering, her eyes that of a hunted animal.

  He came to a stop. Waited for her to come out. But instead she cowered even more into the darkest recesses of the store. She was terrified. Of him? Had he triggered something in her?

  ‘Please don’t shout.’

  He flinched at the desperation in her voice.

  He took a step backwards, holding his hands up.

  I won’t do you any harm.

  ‘I was worried—that’s why I was shouting.’

  For long seconds she considered him. He waited for her to speak, to explain what was going on. But it seemed as though she was incapable of speech.

  ‘You need to be indoors.’ He held out a hand, wanting to lead her out of that dark and cold place she was hiding in, but she didn’t react. He took the smallest of steps forward, lowered his voice. ‘I’ll take you wherever you want to go—a friend’s house or a hotel if you don’t want to return home with me.’ He let out a long exhale. ‘I’m sorry, Alice; I’ve upset you. Let me make this right.’

  She shook her head. ‘It wasn’t you.’

  Then what? He wanted to ask a hundred questions but knew he had to wait until she was ready to talk.

  She stepped out of the doorway, wrapping her arms tight against her waist. ‘Can you find me a cab?’ Her hair was soaked through, its heavy weight emphasising the height of her cheekbones, the almond shape of her eyes. Her long, narrow frame seemed so fragile he longed to pull her into a hug, to make
things right for her. Which, of course, was the last thing he should do right now. She nodded in the direction of the club, and added, ‘You must return to the party...’ Her eyes flicking over him and lingering for a moment on his rain-saturated shirt, she grimaced. ‘I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean for you to follow me out. I’ve ruined the night for you.’

  He shook his head and gestured that they should walk back in the direction they had come from. He waited until they were out in the main street, where there were people walking by, wanting her to have the security of having other people nearby before he said, ‘I don’t understand what has just happened, but I do want to help.’

  Her eyes flickered towards him, studied him for a few seconds and then moved away. A shudder ran through her body. ‘I saw someone... I thought he was chasing me.’ Those grey eyes of hers that were so wary and cautious met his again, an apologetic smile trembling on her lips. ‘I didn’t realise it was you...and now you’re soaked through.’

  He wanted to know who she had seen. Who had terrified her so much? He wanted to go back to the club and thump whoever had caused this fear in her. But instead he waited until a black cab appeared down the street and, stepping out into the road, he forced it to stop. The driver wound down his window and started to hurl a barrage of abuse in his direction. Luis interrupted him by pulling out his wallet and withdrawing a large number of notes. Calmly he explained that it was an emergency, and on the offer of a substantial sum of money both the driver and two male occupants happily agreed to Alice and him taking the cab, the two men heading in the direction of a nearby pub.

  He instructed the cab driver to drive around the block while he phoned ahead to the club. As they pulled up to the door, Jana, the general manager at the Stewart, ran down the steps with both of their overcoats.