Royal Holiday Bride. Brenda HarlenЧитать онлайн книгу.
he was. But that wasn’t just a futile wish, it was a dangerous one. It was the assurance of anonymity that had given her the courage to follow through with her plan. She couldn’t let him discover her identity now.
“But you’re angry,” she said again.
“At myself.”
“I don’t understand,” she admitted.
“I should have realized.” Sighing, he thrust a hand through his hair. “If I’d known, I would have been more careful.”
“You didn’t hurt me.”
But Dante knew that he had. Every muscle in her body had tensed when he’d pushed through the barrier of her virginity. He’d been stunned by the knowledge, and appalled that even when his brain had finally registered that she’d been an innocent, he hadn’t been able to stop.
He’d wanted her with such desperation that even knowing she’d been untouched hadn’t tempered his desire. In fact, discovering that he was her first had somehow stoked the burning need to take, to claim, to possess. One thought had echoed in his mind: mine.
Of course, she couldn’t be. Not for more than this one night.
It was something they both knew, though neither had spoken aloud of the fact. The anonymity had served his own purposes—he’d thought this night would be one final fling without the heavy cloak of royal responsibilities that had settled around his shoulders. But now he was ashamed, knowing that he’d taken the innocence of a woman and he didn’t even know her name.
He brushed his knuckles gently down her cheek. “Actually, if I’d known you were untouched, I would have made sure you stayed that way.”
“Why?”
“Because your first time shouldn’t have been with a stranger.”
“It was what I wanted,” she insisted.
“You deserved better. You deserved more. And I can’t give you anything more than this night.” His words were heavy with genuine regret.
She lifted her chin. “All of this night?”
It was more of a challenge than a question, and he fought against a smile. She had spirit and spunk and a willingness to go after what she wanted, and he felt both honored and humbled that she’d wanted him.
“Did you think I was going to turn you out of my room now that I’ve had my way with you?” he asked lightly.
“How would I know? This is new territory for me,” she reminded him.
He took the gown that she’d twisted into a ball and set it aside. “I would very much like you to stay.”
Marissa thought those words meant that he wanted to take her back to bed. Instead, he excused himself and disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. A few minutes later, he was leading her toward a deep tub filled with fragrant bubbles and surrounded by dozens of flickering candles.
“I thought a bath might help ease some of the soreness in your muscles,” he told her.
“I won’t be sorry to have aches to remind me of this night,” she said, and meant it. “But how can I refuse when you went to so much trouble?”
He smiled and brushed a soft kiss over her lips. “Take as much time as you want.”
She didn’t plan to be long. She didn’t want to waste a single minute of the short time they would have together, but the bath was too tempting to resist. There was a robe on the back of the door, and she used the belt from it to tie the heavy length of hair up off of her neck. She didn’t dare take off the wig or her mask. Though she kept a fairly low profile, there was always the possibility that she might be recognized, and that was a chance she couldn’t take. Not tonight.
Pushing the worry aside, she stepped into the tub, sighing as she sank into the warm, scented water. She hadn’t realized she was tense until she felt the stiffness seep out of her muscles. But while her body relaxed, her mind raced.
She’d lucked out tonight, she realized that. In retrospect, she could appreciate that her plan to go to bed with a stranger had been not just desperate but reckless. And she had absolutely no regrets. Maybe she did wish that she knew something about the man who had been such an attentive and considerate lover, but there was no point in getting to know a man whose presence in her life couldn’t be anything more than temporary.
Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she rose from the tub and briskly rubbed a thick towel over her body. Then she released the tie that was holding her hair, tucked it through the loops of the robe she’d wrapped around herself and stepped back into the bedroom.
He’d lit more candles in here, too, she realized, and folded back the covers on the bed. An antique serving cart had been rolled into the room, on top of which sat an assortment of bowls and platters offering fresh fruits and an assortment of crackers and meats and cheeses. There was also a bottle of champagne in a silver bucket filled with ice beside two crystal flutes waiting to be filled.
“I thought we might have that champagne now,” he said.
She was as surprised as she was flattered that he’d gone to so much trouble, but the wild pounding of her heart made her wary. Was she a complete sucker for romantic gestures? Or was it somehow possible that she could be falling in love with a man she didn’t even know—a man that she wouldn’t ever see again after this night?
She wasn’t sure she could answer those questions, or that she wanted to, so she responded to his suggestion instead.
“Champagne sounds wonderful.” Then she went to him and linked her hands behind his neck, urging his head down so that she could meet his lips with her own. “Later.”
Her heart gave another sigh when he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed. She had never dreamed that such romance could be found anywhere outside of the pages of a Victorian novel, and knowing that she was unlikely to experience anything like it again, she savored every moment.
She promised herself that she would remember each stroke of his hands, every touch of his lips, and she knew that she would treasure the memories forever. Whatever happened tomorrow, whatever trials and tribulations she might face in the future, she would always have her recollection of this incredible night. No one could ever take that from her.
He lowered her gently onto the mattress and sank down beside her. He’d shown her pleasure already—so much more than she’d expected. But now, with every brush of his fingertips, there was even more. With every caress, he showed her that she wasn’t just desired but revered. With every kiss, he proved that she wasn’t just wanted but cherished. And when he finally joined his body with hers again, she felt not just connected but complete.
It was hours later before Marissa finally slipped from his bed.
She hadn’t intended to stay so long. Truthfully, her plan for the evening had been remarkably sparse on details beyond finding a willing lover. She knew that she’d been fortunate to find one not just willing but eager to please, and she’d been reluctant to leave the warm comfort of his arms. But she did so, anyway, understanding that she had no other choice.
If anyone was to see her leaving his room—well, she didn’t even want to imagine what kind of scandal that would cause. Definitely enough of a scandal that Anthony Volpini would have to accept she would never be his virgin bride. That thought made her smile, and for a brief moment she actually considered stomping her feet as she made her way down the hall so that she would be discovered.
But aside from an arranged marriage to the Duke of Bellemoro, there was nothing Marissa dreaded more than the possibility of finding herself at the center of a media circus. So instead of stomping, she carried her sandals in her hand to ensure a quiet escape as she slipped away from Jupiter’s room.
Although she’d stayed longer than she’d intended, it was still early enough that Marissa didn’t expect to encounter any servants moving through the halls just yet. So