Page 38 of Husband for the Holidays

It felt heavier this time. Firmer. More real. It made her heart still, but in a good way. As though it came to rest after a long, long journey.

He looped his arms behind her.

Her hands went to his lapels, still nervous, but quivering with delight at having the right to touch him.

She looked up at him, expecting him to kiss her, but he only caressed the edge of her jaw with his bent finger.

“I’ve just been cautioned not to ruin your makeup.” He dipped his head into her throat and nuzzled his lips against her skin.

She gasped and shivered. Her nipples stung and her knees grew weak.

“I like this height.” His breath pooled near her ear, fanning the arousal taking hold in her. “But I don’t like these earrings.”

“No? Why not?” They were oversized gold hoops that she’d chosen so they wouldn’t detract from her gown or engagement ring.

“I didn’t buy them for you.”

“You did actually—oh.”

He had another box in his hand. This one held pear-shaped yellow sapphires dangling from round diamond studs.

“Now I just feel spoiled,” she admonished.

“Good. That’s what I’m aiming for.”

She didn’t know what to make of that. Her hand shook as she changed out the earrings.

“Thank you,” she murmured as she moved to the mirror and touched the weight of each one, ensuring they were secure. “They’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

This was surreal. Too perfect. Like a Christmas miracle.

Not that she believed in such things, but maybe, just for tonight, she could.

A hush fell over the crowd as they entered the party. The wall between the front parlor and the great room had been opened and the furniture moved to the sides, creating a ballroom. While her mother and Antoine greeted them at the entrance, everyone paused to smiled and offer a polite round of applause.

“I’ve shared your exciting news with our guests,” her mother said cheerily. “Oh, you look beautifully festive, darling.” She stepped back from pressing their cheeks to admire her gown. “And, Konstantin. You’ve made me the happiest woman in the world.”

“I could have sworn I did that,ma chère,” Antoine said smoothly, but Eloise heard the edge in his tone. He caught Eloise’s hand, bringing it up so he could inspect the ring with a cynical curl to his lip. His gaze touched her earlobe before drilling into hers. “Buttering all sides of your bread, I see.”

“I thought you’d be pleased to see me make such an advantageous match. For the family,” she added with a saccharine smile and subtly tried to extricate her hand from his grip.

His hold tightened, not painful, but to show her that he would decide when to let her go, not her. After a charged second of warning, he released her and shook Konstantin’s hand before turning his attention to whoever was coming in behind them.

Fresh nerves attacked when they moved into the heart of the party.

As the daughter of Lilja Drakos and the sister of Ilias Drakos, Eloise had always been accepted—maybetoleratedwas a better word—by her mother’s peers. She was illegitimate and only a half sister to the heir of the Drakos fortune, not in line for any money of her own, so she’d never deserved much attention, good or bad. Which suited her. She wasn’t built for notoriety.

Konstantin was very well-known, of course. He hadn’t been kidding when he had claimed she would have influence as his wife, either. Even as his just-announced intended, she had more cache than she’d ever imagined. People who would, in the past, expect her to come to them, were suddenly coming forward to congratulate them, vying for her attention and an introduction to her powerful husband.

They circulated for well over an hour, making small talk and deflecting prying questions. It was a relief when her mother and Antoine finally started the dancing, taking the attention off them.

Then Konstantin took her in his arms and Eloise was aware of only him and the music, nothing else. His hands were sure on her, his steps smooth and perfectly on tempo. The solidness of his shoulder and the brush of his thighs and the fading spice of his aftershave all put her into a spell where she let herself believe, just for a moment, that her life was turning out exactly as she had always wanted it to.

“Are you going to play?” Konstantin asked.

“Hmm?” She lifted her gaze to see he was looking toward the piano where a serious young man in wire-rimmed glasses and a suit vest over striped trousers was mastering the instrument. “No.” The ensemble of five was expertly moving from background classical to waltzes and contemporary instrumentals, interspersing them with a few Christmas carols. “Having an audience was always my stumbling block. I had ten years of classical lessons so I can get through a performance if I have to, but I don’t enjoy playing for crowds. I do it for me. If someone wants to sit down and listen, that’s their business.”

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