Holiday Royale. Christine Rimmer

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      Chapter Three

      Kissing Luce.

      And not on the cheek. Not a swift brush across the mouth in passing. Not on the forehead or the tip of her cute nose.

      Kissing Luce in the real way.

      Damien hadn’t actually planned to do that.

      But her sweet pink lips were tipped up to him and her bright brown eyes were halfway shut and she managed to look so very inviting in her adorable clean-scrubbed, cheerfully angelic sort of way.

      Plus there had been the joy of the day with her—and really, there was no other word for it. Joy. Lucy Cordell was a joy. The world through her eyes was a magical place. A good and generous place, a place of endless wonder and simple, perfect pleasures. To see the world with her, through her eyes, was a fine and satisfying experience indeed.

      But he’d already known that. Every time he saw her, it was like that. The world was fresh and new again and he would do anything to hear her laugh, to watch her smile.

      However, the kiss?

      No. The kiss had not been in his clever plan to enjoy the weekend with her, to offer her his company and a large helping of Montedoran tradition and then send her back to New York as innocent as ever.

      Kisses, real kisses, didn’t fit in the plan.

      But in the end, how could he resist?

      His mouth touched hers and she let out the tiniest, most tender of sighs. Her sweetness flowed into him.

      And it was...

      More.

      Much more than he had expected. Far beyond the boundaries of what he’d intended.

      It was a light kiss, a gentle kiss. His mouth against hers, but chastely. Not in any way a soul kiss.

      And yet, still, a revelation.

      He breathed in the scent of cherries and he saw, all at once, what he had been able to keep from himself before. He saw that she was sweet and innocent, yes.

      But she was not a child.

      And now that he’d done it, now that he’d felt her lips against his, breathed in her breath, listened to her tiny sigh, he wasn’t going to be able to unring that bell. The spilled milk would not flow back into the bottle. The cat was out and was prowling around now, thoroughly unwilling to go back in the bag.

      Henceforth and forever, when he looked at Lucy, he would see a grown woman. A grown woman he could so easily desire.

      The temptation tugged at him to reach out and gather her closer, to deepen the kiss, to explore this new Lucy, the one he hadn’t let himself see before. And why not? He’d never been a man who put much store in resisting temptation. What was the point? Better to give in. Life was too short and pleasure too...pleasurable.

      But somehow and for some reason he didn’t even understand, he kept his hands to himself. He lifted his head and she opened her eyes and he felt absurdly, ridiculously proud of himself.

      “Oh, Dami,” she whispered happily, searching his face.

      He touched her neat little chin again, because he could. Her skin was poreless, creamy, fresh. “It was only a kiss,” he shamelessly lied.

      She corrected him with a glowing smile, “An absolutely perfect kiss.”

      He offered his arm. She took it. Together they turned for the car that waited to take them back to the palace.

      * * *

      Thanksgiving dinner at the Prince’s Palace was a family affair. A very large family affair. Large enough to be held in the ornate formal dining room of the State Apartments. It was to be dressy but not formal.

      Lucy wore a plum-colored lace creation of her own with little satin straps over the shoulders and a skirt that came to just above her knees. Her deep purple satin pumps had big satin bows at the heels. The dress showed enough skin that she didn’t look too innocent, but the cut was more youthful than clingy and that made it nice for a family affair.

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