A Diamond for Del Rio's Housekeeper Read online

  Xavier cut her off with an impatient gesture. ‘A Del Rio child will have everything it needs. And the ring?’ he prompted, moving on from one subject to the next as if they held equal importance. He looked for it on her hand.

  ‘Here—’ The diamond had swung around again. She righted it, and put out her hand so he could see it. ‘Take it and put it away somewhere safe. Return it to the jeweller, if you can. It’s served its purpose.’ She tried to pull the ring off her finger, but the band was so tight she couldn’t get it over her knuckle.

  ‘Leave it where it is,’ he said. ‘There’s no going back. You made a promise.’

  ‘And I will keep that promise, with or without this ring.’

  Leaving him, she went to the bathroom to find some shampoo to ease the ring off her finger.

  ‘Here,’ she said, going back into the room and holding it out to him.

  ‘You’re sure about this?’ he said, hesitating before taking it back.

  ‘I’m absolutely certain.’ What purpose would a flashy ring serve on the island? She wouldn’t wear anything that might put distance between her and the people she cared about.

  As he took the ring their hands touched, and she felt the same heat and the same longing she always felt when he was close. Her gaze flew to his, and, of course, he was watching her. His grip on her hand slowly moved to her wrist, and from there to her sensitive upper arm, until he was bringing her close and dipping his head and kissing her, and she was clinging to him, with need and want, and tears were stinging the backs of her eyes.

  This was insane. She was asking to be hurt.

  ‘I haven’t slept all night, thanks to you,’ he growled.

  ‘You must have a guilty conscience,’ she said, burying her growing feelings for him beneath another joke. ‘I slept like a baby.’

  ‘Liar,’ he murmured against her kiss-bruised mouth. He caged her against the wall with one hand planted above her head and his other caressing her cheek. ‘I know this isn’t easy for you—’

  ‘But it’s the best—the only solution,’ she insisted, trying to convince herself. She’d come up with the solution out of sheer desperation, and now it was up to her to shut her mind to the hurt waiting in the wings.

  ‘I’ve never made allowances for another person’s feelings before,’ Xavier admitted, his dark stare blazing into hers. ‘Maybe I’m clumsy at it.’

  ‘You’re terrible at it,’ she assured him, curving a smile. ‘But that’s only because you’ve never allowed yourself to care for anyone.’

  ‘Are you calling me a coward?’ he challenged softly.

  ‘Where feelings are concerned? Yes. I am.’

  ‘You have the same problem,’ he argued. ‘You’ve never risked your heart.’

  ‘Which is why I understand you.’ She met the challenge in his eyes with a level stare.

  ‘Do you understand me?’ Xavier queried. He looped his arms around her waist and stared down at her. ‘If you do, you must know that the ring was a showstopper, designed for that purpose. I asked for something striking and I got it.’

  ‘You didn’t go to a store, then?’

  He frowned. ‘I commissioned it from the royal jewellers, of course.’

  ‘Of course you did.’ She began to laugh.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ he queried, but warmth was beginning to glow in his eyes.

  ‘You,’ she said. ‘You’re funny.’

  He stared at her for a moment, and then brushed a gentle kiss across her lips. He always made her heart ache for so much more and that was dangerous. Understanding what made someone tick was the first step to growing close.

  ‘I always knew billionaires didn’t shop on the High Street like everyone else,’ she said, trying to avoid the risk to her heart with some humour.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  ‘I’M SORRY YOU don’t like the ring, but, as ours was never supposed to be a genuine engagement, I thought it didn’t matter.’

  He was right, but each of his words was like a stab to her heart. ‘Even if ours had been a real engagement, I don’t need jewellery like that,’ she said. ‘I’d have no use for it,’ she added with a shrug. ‘I’m just as happy threading daisies for a crown.’

  ‘You can’t make a ring out of daisies,’ Xavier pointed out.

  ‘A piece of string, then.’ She laughed. ‘But, please, no more diamonds the size of duck eggs. Okay?’

  ‘The ring was just a prop for the drama we’re engaged in,’ Xavier said, shrugging it off. ‘It had to make an impact, and look convincing in print, and I think it did that.’

  ‘My piece of string would have caused more of a stir,’ Rosie argued, slanting one of her grins at him.

  ‘And been far more you,’ Xavier agreed, his dark eyes dancing with laughter. ‘But that wasn’t what last night was about,’ he said, turning serious. ‘It was about convincing everyone that this is real, so you get the credibility you want, and I get the one thing money can’t buy.’

  A child. Xavier’s heir.

  ‘But now I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news for you.’

  Her heart lurched with dread.

  ‘I’m going away on business for a few days.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Her relief was obvious. ‘That’s good news for me, surely?’ she teased, determined to keep things light between them. ‘So, what have you come here for? To get the ring and make sure I don’t bolt while you’re away?’ She could see she had hit the mark from the expression in his eyes. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll be here when you get back, and I’ll be at your side for the wedding. We will be married, and we will see this through.’

  ‘And I promise you won’t have anything to worry about.’

  She wanted to laugh hysterically at that comment.

  ‘Everything’s in hand,’ Xavier assured her. ‘Our wedding will be held in the cathedral, with a reception at my mansion afterwards. Transport has been organised, so all you have to do is put on the dress and turn up.’

  ‘Right.’ She nodded her head as if she were accepting directions to a café in town, and had to remind herself that theirs was a marriage of convenience, and that that was how such things played out. Theirs was not a meeting of two hearts.

  She might have thought up this idea, but she couldn’t help wishing their wedding day could be something more than this meticulously planned arrangement.

  ‘It will be a grand affair,’ Xavier told her without apology.

  Fabulously lavish, she translated.

  ‘I hope you’re all right with that?’

  And if she wasn’t?

  ‘I’m fine with that,’ she lied.

  ‘No expense will be spared. I’ll make it a day for you to remember.’

  Was that a promise or a threat? She had no doubt their wedding would be a spectacularly extravagant day. Without intimacy. Without meaning. Without love.

  ‘You will stay on at the hotel,’ Xavier went on, as if she had any choice. ‘The designer will return for a last fitting of the dress, while make-up artists and hairdressers will attend you on the day. It will be easier for you to stay here than to go back to the island. Don’t look so worried. I guarantee I’ll be back for the wedding.’

  ‘It would be a half-hearted affair without you,’ she joked weakly.

  ‘Does nothing get you down, Rosie Clifton?’

  Plenty. The lack of love in their arrangement got her down. She had never expected any, and so she couldn’t admit to being disappointed in that direction. Her concern for a child not yet born got her down even more. She had done what she had thought was for the best, and was now left with the growing suspicion that she’d only made things worse. Was this what Doña Anna had intended?

  ‘If anything gets me down, I’ll bounce back up again,’ she said in an attempt to convince herself as much as Xavier. Exactly how she was going to do that, she didn’t have a clue.

  ‘This is a difficult situation for both of us,’ Xavier remarked. ‘Doña Anna was always tricky to handle, but her
swan song takes some beating. And you definitely don’t want the ring? You can keep it if you want to,’ he offered.

  ‘I definitely don’t want it,’ Rosie confirmed with a wry smile. ‘Honestly, it’s absolutely unnecessary.’

  Something like admiration crossed Xavier’s face, and then he stowed the ring away in the back pocket of his jeans as if it were a penny sweet. ‘What are you thinking about now?’ he prompted with interest when she frowned and chewed her lip.

  ‘I was thinking back to the orphanage,’ she admitted.

  ‘Look forward instead,’ Xavier advised.

  Rosie had been remembering when she used to sit on a scraggy patch of grass with her chin on her knees, dreaming about her wedding day. The day would be all misty white, and she would be dressed in a billowing gown. There would be crowds of guests and loads of flowers, and a fabulously handsome husband would be waiting to take her away from the colourless institution.

  ‘I was just dreaming about happily-ever-after,’ she admitted recklessly. ‘I know it won’t come to that for us, because ours is an arrangement, but maybe it won’t be all bad?’

  ‘I hope not,’ he said with feeling. ‘And dreams are free, Rosie Clifton, so you can dream all you like.’

  In less than a week her dream would be dust.

  ‘Your life has changed now,’ Xavier told her, ‘so no more talk of the orphanage.’

  She still felt as if she were on the outside looking in.

  ‘Rosie?’ Xavier prompted, seeing her abstraction. ‘I think we should lay this ghost once and for all,’ he said in a voice she couldn’t ignore. ‘I want you to tell me about your worst time in the orphanage.’

  ‘Do you really want to know?’

  ‘I really do,’ he said.

  She wouldn’t tell him about her wedding day fantasy. He’d think her soft. ‘Christmas was the worst time,’ she said after a moment’s thought.

  ‘Why?’ He frowned.

  ‘Because well-intentioned people arrived with gifts, and that gave us children a tantalising glimpse of the outside world.’

  ‘But surely you’d rather have those people come to visit at Christmas than not?’

  ‘Of course, and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.’ But she had felt like an animal in the zoo, to be cooed over, petted and fed a titbit before the visitors went away again. She had always imagined the visitors returning to their warm and cosy homes to open their presents beneath a massive Christmas tree, before stuffing themselves with food until they couldn’t stand up. But what had given her the biggest pang of all was the thought of them sharing the happiness of a family united over the holiday season. How she’d envied that, until she’d found the same warmth and welcome waiting for her on the island. ‘I’m frightened our wedding’s going to be like that,’ she admitted.

  ‘Like what?’ Xavier pulled back his head with surprise. ‘What’s wrong with Christmas?’

  ‘Absolutely nothing. I’m just afraid that I’ll be put on show at our wedding, and then whisked away to be impregnated with the Del Rio heir.’

  ‘For goodness’ sake,’ Xavier exclaimed. ‘What a thing to say. And now you’re shivering.’ He drew her close. ‘I didn’t realise you were so upset about it. Why didn’t you say?’

  ‘I’m dreading it,’ she admitted.

  ‘The impregnation, or the wedding?’

  His delivery was so deadpan she couldn’t help but laugh.

  ‘That’s better,’ Xavier said softly.

  Rosie’s laugh sounded brittle to him. It made him want to take her in his arms and reassure her, and only his desire to keep her safe from him was stopping him. ‘What has my aunt done?’ he murmured, speaking his thoughts out loud.

  ‘Brought us together to torment us, I think,’ Rosie observed in her usual down-to-earth way. ‘And for better or for worse, this time.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly,’ he agreed. Bringing her into his arms, he gave her a hug. What harm could one hug do? ‘Whatever this is or isn’t between us,’ he said, pulling his head back to stare at her, ‘I promise I’ll make it easy for you. You don’t have anything to be frightened of—in bed, or out of it. And as for the rest, you’ll have Margaret’s support all the way. Better?’ he murmured when she seemed to relax.

  Worse. Far, far worse. She wanted the fantasy she’d dreamed of so much it hurt. She didn’t need Xavier’s money, or his name, but she did need this warm, caring man, the man who lay deep beneath the armour Xavier had built so successfully around his heart.

  * * *

  Seducing Rosie would be all too easy. She had a touching eagerness to experience everything life had to offer. She had shocked him disappearing at midnight without warning, but her unpredictability was one of the qualities he liked best about her. Yes, it annoyed the hell out of him, but doormats bored him, and gold-diggers were ten a penny. He doubted anyone could cage this wild bird. The thought that anyone might try to do so enraged him. No one would take away Rosie Clifton’s freedom, if he had anything to say about it, not even him.

  ‘You look grim,’ she said, pulling back to stare at him.

  ‘Do I?’ He shrugged. He should be smiling at the thought that Rosie had proved he had some small shred of humanity left. She had made him care what happened to her, when he’d thought he was incapable of feeling, and she’d made him care for the island all over again.

  ‘I hope you’re not looking grim because you’re thinking about our wedding,’ she said.

  He had been thinking about their wedding, but not in the way Rosie imagined. They would marry, and he hoped an heir would follow, but instead of him breaking it off then, he would set her free as she deserved, and with her bright face right in front of him he was suddenly dreading the thought of doing that. ‘I’ve got a plane to catch,’ he said, reluctantly easing away from her. ‘So I’ll see you at the altar—’

  ‘With a modest ring, I hope,’ she teased.

  They shared a smile. His was cynical, hers was guileless. ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he promised.

  ‘Safe journey,’ she called out as he made for the door.

  He turned around. She was still smiling, still employing the eternal optimism that had kept her upbeat throughout her years in the orphanage. He hoped it would continue to help her now.

  * * *

  Rosie’s wedding day dawned as every bride hoped it would, with sunshine and birdsong outside the window.

  But every bride hoped for company to share her happy day, and she didn’t expect to face the start of that day alone in her hotel room.

  She’d always been alone, and she’d always got through, Rosie reassured herself. Margaret had been with her for most of the week and Margaret couldn’t be expected to be around 24/7. She would have her own preparations to make. Margaret was a guest of honour at the ceremony; the ceremony the press was calling the wedding of the year.

  This wasn’t a marriage in the real sense, Rosie told herself firmly as she jumped out of bed, so she had nothing to worry about.

  Their wedding night would be real enough.

  Yes, well, she’d handle that too. She didn’t have time to think about it now. She had other things to do—a shower to take, and her courage to buckle on, along with the blue garter the designer had insisted she must wear high up on her thigh under her dress...where only Rosie’s husband would see it.

  What did the woman imagine? That theirs was a love match?

  Why wouldn’t she, when the whole world thought that was exactly what it was?

  Pausing on her way to take a shower, she trailed her fingertips reverently across the exquisite Swiss lace skirt of her gown. Her wedding dress was everything a fantasy wedding dress should be. An entire workroom had spent the limited time available working through the night to make sure it was ready in time, and Rosie couldn’t have loved it more. She had promised herself that at least for the few short hours of the ceremony, she would believe in the dream. It wouldn’t hurt anyone if she did so.

  Her heart beg
an to flutter as she thought about Xavier, and what he would be doing now. She was missing him. She hadn’t seen him since he went away, and, however much of a charade this was, she was certain they were drawing closer. If she teased him he took it well, instead of standing on his dignity. She only wished they could both unwind the past and start over, with no hang-ups standing in their way, but she suspected no one entered a marriage completely clean in that sense.

  She turned at a knock on the door. Breakfast. She raced to open the door to her suite, not wanting to keep the server waiting.

  ‘Margaret!’ She’d never been more relieved to see anyone in her life.

  ‘I thought I should pop in.’ Margaret darted a quick glance around the room. ‘I’m not intruding, am I?’

  ‘Not at all—I’m alone. Please come in! It’s good of you to spare the time when I know you must be busy.’

  ‘Nonsense,’ Margaret declared. ‘Who’s busier than the bride? All I need to do is to put on a dab of lipstick and a suit that isn’t tweed, and I’m done. I was wondering if you’d got something old to wear,’ Margaret continued on as she shrugged off her sensible mac and cast it aside on a chair. ‘You know the old saying, Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue— Ah, I see you have that.’ Margaret’s shrewd eyes twinkled as she surveyed the dress and the garter hanging around the neck of the padded hanger. ‘The dress is new, the garter is blue, and I’ve brought my tiny beaded reticule for you to borrow for the reception, and I’ve brought something that belonged to my mother for you—a small gift from me to wish you well. They can be your something old,’ she said.

  ‘I can’t possibly accept a gift like this,’ Rosie breathed as Margaret showed her the small pearl stud earrings. They were the perfect finishing touch for the dress, but she was overwhelmed by the gift, by the thought, and by the kindness behind it.

  ‘Of course you can accept them,’ Margaret insisted with a warm smile as she closed Rosie’s hand around her present. ‘Now, come on,’ she chivvied. ‘We don’t want to be anything more than fashionably late. We’ll have breakfast together, and then I’ll help you to dress.’