Sharon Kendrick - His to Command - the Housekeeper

‘That was…that was Rupert’s idea,’ she blurted out.

‘Oh, was it?’ he questioned thoughtfully as he studied the too-sooty eyes and suddenly her tarty transformation began to make sense. What a creep the Englishman was! ‘Well, from now on—you will take instruction only from me in the best way to present yourself as my mistress. You show great potential for the position, cara mia . I should never have taken your virginity—indeed, you are the only virgin I have ever bedded—and that cannot now be undone. But perhaps I can in some way redress the balance.’

Cathy stared at him, her heart pounding wildly, her mouth drying. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Why, in return for having robbed you of your innocence, I intend teaching you everything I know about the art of love-making.’ He gave a slow and provocative smile. ‘And that way, we can call it quits.’

THE violet shadows of evening were lengthening and the fading light seemed to pick out the brightness of the flowers which were packed so tightly into the small garden. Xaviero paused, his eyes narrowing as he took in the unexpected kaleidoscope of colour which appeared before him.

The path leading to Cathy’s cottage was lined on either side by the purple haze of lavender and tall delphiniums which stood like cobalt arrows against the grey flint of the garden wall. Creamy-pink roses scrambled over a trellis—while blooms which looked like bells and others which resembled stars all jostled and billowed for space in the flowerbeds. And everywhere there were drifts of scent—some subtle, some powerful but all of them beguiling to his senses. It was a place of real beauty, and of calm.

For a moment he lingered there, his senses drinking in the extraordinary peace of the place as he realised that his expectations had been confounded. Hadn’t he thought that the little chambermaid might live in some faceless and featureless little apartment in the nearby village? A humble abode whose very modesty would reinforce her subservience to him.

Yet this place was nothing like that.

At that moment the front door opened—she must have been watching him from inside—and there she stood, framed in the doorway and staring at him, as if she couldn’t quite believe he was there. Truth to tell, he couldn’t quite believe it himself.

But the fire Cathy had lit within him still burned. It had been burning all day, all during the dull, dry lawyers’ meetings and his subsequent sessions with a local horse-breeder. He hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind, remembering with painfully acute clarity just how good it had felt to thrust into that hot, virgin tightness of hers. Maybe he had underestimated the primeval pleasure that her innocence had given him.

Subduing the aching response to his thoughts, he raised his black eyebrows. ‘Ready?’

Although she registered the fact that it wasn’t the most affectionate of greetings, Cathy’s smile was nonetheless wide and genuine—because hadn’t she been dreading that he might have had second thoughts and changed his mind about taking her out? But no, he was here to take her to some fancy polo-club do and it hadn’t been some kind of wild and crazy dream, after all. Prince Xaviero of Zaffirinthos really had taken her bed and then announced that she was to be a royal mistress and he was to instruct her in the things which pleased him!

Could she have said no?

She thought of his cold-blooded reasoning. That way , we can call it quits . In view of that, then shouldn’t she have said no? But the truth of the matter was that her heart felt a bursting kind of happiness that he was here at all—and wasn’t her body eager for more of his expert touch?

She looked up at him uncertainly, fingers fluttering over the black dress which skimmed her hips. ‘Is this…okay? They say you can’t go wrong with black but I wasn’t sure if it would be suitable for a polo club? You see, well—I’ve…well, I’ve never actually been to one before.’

Golden eyes swept over her. The dress was unremarkable—a cheap creation which neither emphasised nor concealed her figure, while the glorious sun-ripe hair was tied back in some sort of ribbon. But at least she had heeded his words about not plastering her face with make up—the lightest touch of mascara and lipstick now emphasised her subtle beauty rather than parodying it.

‘The dress is fine—although in future I may buy you dresses more pleasing to the eye. But there is one thing about your appearance which jars.’ He walked towards her and, without warning, reached for the band which constrained her hair, slithering it off with an impatient jerk so that her hair tumbled wildly all over her shoulders. For a moment, he stared down into aquamarine eyes so wide and so deep that he felt as if he might drown in them. ‘Don’t ever wear your hair like that when you’re with me,’ he said unevenly. ‘I like it loose. Understand?’

Cathy felt the tendrils falling around her face, acknowledging the dark mastery of his command even while a squeak of protest demanded to make itself heard. It was outrageous that he should come out with something as old-fashioned and bossy as that, she thought weakly. Prince he might be, but did he have the right to speak to her in that way?

‘Understand?’ he repeated.

Yet, dazed by his proximity and the sensual recall of his touch, all she could do was nod. ‘Yes,’she whispered.

For a moment the sight of her wide eyes and trembling lips tempted him into ringing up the club and telling them he’d changed his mind. But something was stopping him and he wasn’t sure what it was. Perhaps the faint air of insecurity about her which, infuriatingly, made him feel that he ought to spoil her. Take her out and give her a taste of the high life—as if in that way he could repay her for what he had already taken and would later take from her again.

His mouth hardened, because the last thing he wanted to feel was any kind of conscience about her. She had wanted him just as badly—and every woman had to lose her virginity some day. So why not lose it to the best? ‘My car is parked at the end of the lane,’ he said.

It felt odd to be walking down a dusty summer lane with the golden-eyed Prince and odder still to remember what had taken place between them. Cathy was conscious of the chauffeur’s curious looks as he held the door open for her. Was he wondering what the Prince was playing at? Or maybe this was the kind of thing he did all the time and she was only one in a long series of women who had climbed so meekly into the back of the luxury limousine.

That thought sat uncomfortably with her and she waited for—and wanted—Xaviero to take her in his arms once they were enclosed within the tinted luxury of the car. To blot out all her misgivings with the power of his kiss. But he didn’t. Instead, he simply leaned back against the soft leather seat, his long legs spread out in front of him while he surveyed her from between the narrowed golden eyes.

‘Your house is not what I was…expecting,’ he observed slowly.

It sounded more like a question than a compliment and Cathy knew exactly what he meant. ‘On a chambermaid’s salary, you mean?’

He shrugged. ‘How the hell should I know? I have no idea what chambermaids earn.’

No, of course he wouldn’t. Princes didn’t draw salaries like ordinary folk, did they? What must it be like to exist inside a great, privileged bubble which separated you from the rest of the world? she wondered. ‘My great-aunt left it to me. She brought me up when my parents died. It’s…’ Her words trailed off. Wasn’t he , as the Prince, supposed to initiate all conversation—so maybe that meant just answering his questions and not bothering to elaborate on them. She clamped her lips shut.