Sharon Kendrick - His to Command - the Housekeeper

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 could offer him. And it gave Cathy almost as much pleasure as his love-making—to see her prince relax in the relative anonymity of her little home.

He’s not your prince , she reminded herself fiercely as she dumped the two carrier bags on the kitchen table and went out into the garden to pull some potatoes from the ground.

She was so busy tugging at the tiny little vegetables that she didn’t hear anyone come into the garden. In fact, the first she knew that Xaviero was present was the touch of his hands at her waist. Such an innocent touch and yet it had the power to make her feel weak with wanting.

‘Xaviero,’ she breathed.

‘You were expecting someone else?’ came his wry reply as he turned her round to face him.

‘I’m all muddy!’

He stared down into her flushed and healthy-looking cheeks—at the bright aquamarine eyes which sparkled like blue stars. She was…enchanting. Completely without guile or affectation. ‘Who cares?’ he murmured as he lowered his head to kiss her.

The kiss became breathless—and the potatoes scattered around their feet. Inside, she quickly washed the mud from her hands and then her lover carried her to bed, where they made love with an urgent kind of fervour which suggested that they might have been apart for weeks, rather than mere hours.

And afterwards he pulled her up to lie against his warm body, kissing the top of her head and breathing in the silky scent of her hair.

‘That was…amazing,’ he murmured, his fingers settling over one soft breast. ‘Who taught you to do that?’

‘You did,’ she whispered. Just as he had taught her everything. Tightening her arms around him, Cathy felt the powerful body relax against hers and wished that the world outside this cottage didn’t exist. That they could stay marooned in here in a world of make-believe, where she could pretend that he was simply Xaviero—the man whose golden-eyed beauty had grown to dominate her world.

He began to drift off to sleep beside her and she could hear nothing but the steadying of his breathing, and the ticking of her bedside clock. Oh, how she hated that little clock which ruthlessly whittled away the minutes they spent with each other. Hands which crept round so agonisingly slowly when Xaviero was absent that they seemed almost stationary. But when he was here…well, that was when time would play cruel tricks—greedily running away with itself until the alarm on his cell phone reminded him that it was time to leave.

Then, in the early hours he would prise himself from her warm embrace, pulling on his clothes to slip out into the balmy summer air where his chauffeur was waiting patiently at the end of the lane, ready to drive him the short distance to the hotel.

‘Why don’t you…stay?’ she had ventured, on that blissful first night in his arms—when she had lain there dazed in the sweet aftermath of his love-making.

‘I can never stay the night with you, Cathy,’ he had stated, his voice suddenly hard and resolute.

Too full of emotion and pleasure to heed the unmistakable caution which smouldered at the depths of his golden eyes, she had looked up into his face with innocent bewilderment. ‘Why not?’

‘Because staying a whole night is a statement. It implies a commitment which is not present—and to do so will compromise both of us.’ He had lifted her chin then. Stared hard into her eyes. ‘And you know that this is nothing but a very temporary affair, don’t you—because I made that clear from the beginning?’

‘Yes. Yes, of course I do,’ she’d said, trying to keep her voice from trembling. Telling herself that at least he wasn’t lying to her—or keeping false hopes alive by pretending that there might be some kind of future in it. Because she had known from the outset that there wasn’t. Far better to simply revel in every glorious and unbelievable moment than try to hang onto a hopeless dream.

Beside her, Xaviero stirred from his brief sleep. ‘Cathy?’

She rolled over to face him, their gazes meeting in the confined space of her bed, and her heart turned over with longing. ‘What?’