Her Christmas Prince. Catherine Mann

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ from spilling over. Beneath her cheek, Nicolas’s chest rose and fell with his easy breathing.

      This was bad. So bad. An affair was one thing. But how was she supposed to leave for home with a smile on her face if her heart was left behind, broken and bleeding?

      How was she supposed to pretend that what had passed between them was just a holiday fling, when it had become so much more than that to her?

      Nicolas shifted slightly in his sleep, causing her breath to catch. When he didn’t wake up, she relaxed, feeling a bit steadier.

      Since she knew she was merely a temporary distraction for him, and that he didn’t share her newfound sentiments in the least, she would simply have to deal with the situation as best she could. Hide her feelings. And then, when the time came, she would walk away.

      Closing her eyes, she began to drift off, telling herself to get used to the pain squeezing her heart. It was going to be with her for a long time to come.

      They returned to the other side of the island the following morning, Christmas Eve, with many hours to spare before the family’s annual holiday party. Nicolas had made certain Alandra knew she was to attend, though she wasn’t entirely looking forward to it.

      Stepping off the plane, they were accosted by a large group of reporters, all snapping pictures and screaming out questions. She had trouble making out the exact words, and Nicolas bustled her into the back of the waiting limousine before she could decipher them.

      “What was that about?” she asked breathlessly as the car shifted into gear and headed toward the palace.

      He shook his head. “The press probably caught wind of our travels and are trying to see if it’s worthy of front page news.”

      The media attention still seemed odd to her, since the trip had been business-related and the palace likely would have already delivered a press release outlining the prince’s plans. But she pushed aside her misgivings and relaxed in the comfortable, stuffed leather seat.

      When they arrived at the palace, the queen was waiting for them in the main foyer. Her face was pinched, her mouth set in a flat, angry line. Though she didn’t raise her voice, the disapproval in her tone was clear as glass.

      “In the library,” she snapped. “Now.”

      Nicolas and Alandra exchanged a questioning glance, then slowly followed in the queen’s rapid-fire footsteps.

      As soon as they stepped into the library and closed the door behind them, Eleanor spun back around, holding a newspaper in her shaking hands. “What,” she demanded through clenched teeth, “is the meaning of this?”

      Alandra stood perfectly still, stunned by the queen’s obvious displeasure, but unsure of the cause. As hard as she tried, she couldn’t make out the headline of the article being waved between them.

      Seemingly unfazed by his mother’s mood, Nicolas reached for the paper. There, taking up nearly all of the top half of the front page was a close-up photo of Nicolas and Alandra. They were standing on the balcony of the hotel suite, caught in an unmistakable embrace.

      The photo had to have been taken after they had made love, then gone out on the balcony for a breath of fresh air…only to end up kissing for long, stolen moments before drifting back inside to make love again.

      Alandra’s cheeks flamed at both the memory and the knowledge that someone had been out there, snapping pictures of a very private moment.

      Above the photo, sending a wave of nausea through her stomach, was a bold, glaring headline that declared her Prince Nicolas’s American Tart.

      Nicolas muttered a dark curse beneath his breath and lowered the newspaper.

      Still vibrating with anger, the queen said, “You and your little…American are on the front page of every newspaper in Glendovia. I told you, Nicolas. I told you not to get involved with her, that she would only bring shame and embarrassment to our family.”

      The sick sensation clawing at Alandra’s insides grew worse. She’d come to Glendovia to get away from one scandal, only to find herself smack in the middle of another.

      And this one was even worse, because now it was true. She hadn’t had an affair with Blake Winters, as the American press had claimed, but she had been sleeping with Nicolas.

      “Mother,” Nicolas growled.

      His jaw was clenched, and the single word was clearly a warning. One the queen chose to ignore.

      “Princess Lisette arrived less than an hour ago—in tears. She’s crushed, and her parents are furious. Do you have any idea how this indignity will affect your upcoming nuptials? If she backs out of the engagement, our family’s ties with hers will be fractured. The political future of Glendovia could be in peril.”

      “I think you’re overreacting,” Nicolas remarked, but it was obvious from his expression that the entire situation had him concerned.

      Alandra’s brain had gotten stuck on two words that made her heart feel as though it were being squeezed in a vise.

      She turned her head toward Nicolas. “You’re engaged?” she asked.

      “It’s not what you think,” he said shortly. “I can explain.”

      But she didn’t want to hear explanations, excuses, lies or more of the persuasive and creative arguments he seemed only too talented at spinning.

      It was her turn to shake her head as she backed away.

      “I’m sorry,” she murmured shakily, directing her apology to the queen, not Nicolas. She had nothing to apologize to him for.

      “I’m sorry,” she said again, “I didn’t know he was betrothed. I certainly didn’t come here with the intention of getting involved with Nicolas. I would never have knowingly brought any embarrassment or undue attention to your family. I hope you can believe that.”

      The queen’s pinched expression did not change as she turned to look at her son. “I’ll expect the two of you to keep your distance from now on. You will conduct yourselves with the utmost decorum and stay as far from each other as possible while we rectify this situation. Is that understood?”

      Nicolas looked as though he wanted to argue, but Alandra was already nodding. She blinked to hold back tears of humiliation, even as she licked her dry, parched lips.

      “You may go,” Eleanor told her, clearly dismissing her. “And you,” she said to Nicolas, “will speak with Lisette immediately, and do your best to repair whatever damage has been done. Is that understood?”

      Alandra slipped out of the office, closing the doors behind her without waiting to hear Nicolas’s reply, and hurried across the parquet floor for the stairs. All she wanted was to get away, get back to her rooms, where she could be alone. What a fool she’d been. Again.

      Standing in the doorway of her suite, Alandra took one last look around to be sure she hadn’t left anything behind. All had been erased.

      Closing the door quietly behind her, she walked down the hall, pulling her wheeled carry-on behind her. Instead of heading for the front of the palace, where guests СКАЧАТЬ