His to Command: the Housekeeper: The Prince's Chambermaid / The Billionaire's Housekeeper Mistress / The Tuscan Tycoon's Pregnant Housekeeper

Cathy gasped as, in an instant, all those new feelings he had ignited earlier came flooding back in a thick, sweet wave and she clung to his broad shoulders as if she could never bear to let him go. Pressing her body closer, she heard his shuddered little groan and that felt like some kind of small victory.

But if it was Cathy who initiated the kiss, it was Xaviero who demonstrated his mastery by terminating it, gently prising her fingers from his shoulders and placing them firmly in her lap, leaving her breathless and aching as she stared up at him in mute disappointment.

‘You must learn to control your appetite, my eager young pupil,’ he chided softly, though he felt the wild thunder of his heart as he steadied his breath. ‘There is a time and a place for greed, and that time is not now.’

In an effort to distract himself, Xaviero turned to glance out of the window as the car passed through wide gates and up a long gravelled drive. At its end stood an imposing brightly lit and colonnaded white house with a whole fleet of top-of-the-range cars and several chauffeurs standing in a little huddle beside them. He saw one of them glance up and spot the car approaching and it was as if they were all suddenly galvanised into action. Inside the illuminated building he could see figures beginning to hurry around and mentally he prepared to deliver the image of himself the public always expected.

‘We’re here,’ he said, raking his fingers back through his hair. ‘And they’ve seen us.’

Cathy glanced at the sudden cool mask which had replaced the dark passion on his face. ‘You don’t sound very…keen.’

He should have been irritated by her intrusive observation—but the appeal in her wide blue eyes meant that he was momentarily disarmed. Couldn’t he relax his guard for once, just a little? This little chambermaid would never make the error of attaching any significance to any confidences he might share with her—and if she tried, he would merely point out her error so that she would not repeat it. ‘I’d much rather be making love to you,’he admitted softly.

And that one murmured comment, along with the sizzling golden look which accompanied it, was enough to make Cathy feel as if she were walking on air as the car door was opened for them.

‘And so would I,’ she whispered shyly, but her momentary pleasure was eclipsed by nerves as she saw the glamorous women who were assembling to meet them. They were decked in glittering jewels, their skin faintly tanned, pampered and massaged—she felt anxiety flood through her. How could she possibly compete in her cheap little chain-store dress when they all looked like expensive birds of paradise?

Uncomfortably, Cathy followed Xaviero into the banqueting hall, where every table setting seemed to contain a whole canteen of cutlery—but at least she’d helped out at enough formal banquets at the hotel to know which was the correct knife and fork to use.

Picking at her meal, Cathy noticed that everyone waited until Xaviero had begun to eat before they, too, followed suit. How wearing that must get, she thought. She found herself seated in between two very wealthy landowners who wouldn’t have given her a second glance if she’d been changing their duvet cover.

But Xaviero had, hadn’t he?

Cathy swallowed. He might be arrogant, and proud. He might have taken her to bed and she might have foolishly let him—but nothing could detract from the fact that he had wanted her, just the way she was. And she had wanted him. In fact, if only he really were that man in denim and not a prince, then they wouldn’t have to be sitting here, having to endure these stilted conversations. They could have been snuggled up under their own duvet—making love and maybe making some kind of future together.

‘I’m sure I’ve seen you somewhere before, Cathy,’ one of the landowners was saying to her.

Cathy felt her heart begin to pound with trepidation. ‘I… I don’t think so—’

‘Good heavens—you’re not…’ The man pushed his scarlet face closer and frowned. ‘You don’t by any chance work at Rupert Sanderson’s hotel, do you?’

Cathy froze and looked across the table in alarm—to find a pair of curious golden eyes fixed on her. Obviously Xaviero had heard every word and was watching her, waiting to hear what she would say.

For one tempting moment she thought about the reaction she’d get if she told the truth. That she was the chambermaid at the hotel he was currently buying and that she’d tugged Egyptian cotton sheets over the Prince’s king-sized bed before letting him make love to her on it?

She realised that the landowner was still waiting for her answer and she looked into Xaviero’s eyes as if seeking an answer there and, to her astonishment, he gave her a slow smile.

‘Yes, Cathy works locally at the hotel—and has kindly agreed to be my guide while I’m here. Aren’t I lucky?’ he murmured, noticing that the redhead who had been flirting with him all evening was now flicking the little chambermaid a superior glance. Thoughtfully, his eyes narrowed, as he realised that he had not done Cathy justice. ‘It helps that she’s very beautiful, of course,’ he added softly.

Cathy felt the rush of colour to her cheeks at the faint ripple of surprise this remark produced—before the chatter resumed around the table. And although she was pleased that Xaviero had come to her rescue, she wished he hadn’t felt the need to tell a blatant lie like that.

Under his mocking stare she noticed the fractional dilation of his eyes. Saw the way the tip of his tongue had touched one corner of his lips as if deliberately reminding her of the sweet delight those same lips had brought to her earlier. And suddenly she didn’t care if he’d lied about her being beautiful. When he looked at her like that, she actually felt beautiful. Just as she’d felt when he’d gazed down at her naked body as if he couldn’t quite believe his eyes.

Was she alone in feeling the tension which fizzed across the table between them? Was he aware that every time his lips curved into a slow and speculative smile she experienced the warm pooling of desire at the pit of her stomach? The impatience to be alone with him and away with these people who fawned over every word he said. The women on either side of him might have been flirting outrageously—but she was the woman he had chosen to be his lover!

Her pulse skittered as he stood up and made a brief speech, telling the enthralled audience how delighted he was to have purchased such a prestigious club and his plans to create a world-class polo school there. But Cathy watched the faces of the other diners as they listened to him and laughed conspicuously loudly at his jokes. Rapt and rapacious—the women surveyed him with open hunger while the men regarded him with a kind of grudging envy. What a strange world this was, she thought. One where everyone wants something from him.

And don’t you? taunted the voice of her conscience. Don’t you want most of all?

No. She was modest by nature and modest in her expectations. All she wanted was to feel his arms around her again. To feel the warmth of his skin and the thunder of his heart against her heart. She felt her mouth drying as he finished his speech and looked straight into her eyes as the applause rang out through the vast room.

Needing the washroom, she rose to her feet and saw that Xaviero had mirrored her movement—which in turn caused the entire table to stand up! How awful, she thought. You could never just sneak out if you were a royal. In the restroom, she splashed some cold water over her heated cheeks, battled a brush through the thick hair, and when she emerged it was to find Xaviero standing by the entrance to the ballroom. It took a moment or two before she registered that he was waiting for her.

In that moment she felt nervous and slightly out of her depth—but she had to say something. ‘Thank you for coming to my rescue back there,’ she said quietly.

He shrugged and gave a dismissive wave of his hand. ‘No thanks are required. The man was nothing but a crashing snob and I’m sorry you had to be subjected to him.’

Cathy glowed with pleasure at his kindness, wanting to compliment him—just as he had complimented her. ‘And I… I really liked your speech,’ she ventured softly.

It was the most straightforward thing anyone had said to him in a long time and she sounded as if she really meant it. For a moment Xaviero looked down into her upturned face, thinking how simple her life must be. How unlike those glittering and bejewelled women with their bony shoulders who had vied shamelessly for his attention all evening. And suddenly, the memory of her smile the first time she’d seen him stirred in him a distant memory. Sunny and uncomplicated and full of innocent promise.

‘Come on, we’re leaving,’ he said suddenly.

She glanced down the corridor into the still-packed ballroom and thought about their two glaringly empty chairs. ‘But won’t…won’t people mind?’

‘Mind? I don’t care if they do,’ he murmured, meeting her wide-eyed question with a smile. ‘It is time for your next lesson, my beauty. It’s going to be a very long and extensive lesson—and I, for one, can’t wait for it to begin.’

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_59fc13a6-fae6-5fcd-b687-ee6e6779ec88)

‘GOING out somewhere tonight, are you, Cathy?’

Momentarily, Cathy froze in the act of picking up her handbag as Rupert’s words stopped her in her tracks. Composing her face, she turned around, preparing to face him—remembering what Xaviero had told her when she’d worried aloud about people finding out that they were lovers.

‘So what? You have nothing to hide, cara,’ he had murmured casually. ‘And neither do I. Every man is entitled to a mistress.’

It had made her briefly wonder why he had used the term ‘mistress’ instead of ‘girlfriend’, when he wasn’t even married. But maybe that was what princes did when they acquired a lover who was also a commoner. They erected boundaries—so that the lover wouldn’t ever make the mistake of thinking that there might be some kind of future in their affair.

Trying to hide her nerves, she gave a slightly wobbly smile because Rupert was still standing in front of her, blocking her way and clearly expecting some kind of answer to his question.

‘Actually, I’m staying home tonight,’ she said, noticing her boss’s eyes straying to the bulging carrier bags at her feet. She’d rushed down to the village at lunchtime and had bought crusty wholemeal bread and some thick slices of ham from the butcher.

‘Cooking dinner for lover-boy, are we?’ he sneered.

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.’