It had proved yet one more awkward moment in a whole series of them and in Hollie’s opinion, that was far too much information to take on board, in the circumstances. Berating her naïve stupidity and hiding her sudden blush by leaping to her feet, she had escaped upstairs and run herself a bath—more to get warm than anything else. But when she had returned to her room she had found a T-shirt lying on top of the velvet heap of bedcovers, which Maximo must have left there for her. A black T-shirt with the word Legend inscribed across the front. Pulling it on, she had momentarily revelled in the feel of the soft material against her clean skin—even though the garment had swamped her. And wasn’t she aware—on some fundamental level—that she got a kick out of wearing it because he had worn it, too?
She tossed and turned as the minutes continued to tick slowly by. She looked at her watch to note that midnight had become one o’clock and she was as restless as before and so, wrapping one of the velvet throws around herself, she went to the window and gazed outside. And despite everything, she couldn’t hold back the sigh of wonder which escaped from her lips because outside was the most perfect scene she could imagine—like an illustration from a book about winter.
The snow had stopped falling and the moon was huge in the sky, bathing the milky landscape in a bright and silvery light. Against the frosty stillness of the landscape, the tall shapes of the trees rose ghostly and beautiful and for a moment Holly just drank it all in until the dryness in her throat reminded her that she was thirsty. Why hadn’t she thought to bring a drink to bed with her?
She stood very still and listened but could hear nothing and surely Maximo must be fast asleep by now. Carefully opening the door to avoid making any noise, she crept along the corridor, clutching her makeshift cloak around her. The whisper of velvet brushing against the stone steps was the only sound she could hear and quietly she made her way to the kitchen, turning the switch on so that it flooded with light. It was neat and clean, all the debris from dinner tidied away. Maximo had obviously cleared up after she went to bed. He really was independent she thought, scrolling back through those rare memories of her father to realise that not once had he ever lifted a finger to help her mother.
She poured herself a glass of water and thirstily gulped it down before pouring another and switching off the light. And although the castle was dark and very quiet, Hollie wasn’t in the least bit spooked—because the walls felt friendly. She wondered if other women, like her, had wandered these stone corridors in the dead of night and wondered how they were going to cope with an unknown future.
Lost in thought, she had almost reached the end of the passageway when a figure suddenly emerged from the shadows and Hollie jumped. Water arced and splashed against the stone wall and as the glass slipped from her fingers Maximo lunged forward to catch it—cradling the intact vessel in the palm of his hand like a professional cricketer who had just made a sensational catch.
‘You scared the life out of me!’ she accused, aware that his hair was ruffled as if he’d hurriedly dragged his sweater over his head and that the top button of his jeans was undone.
‘I didn’t mean to alarm you. I couldn’t sleep and I heard something moving downstairs, or rather someone, so I threw on some clothes and came down to investigate.’ His shuttered gaze flicked over her. ‘You’d better get back upstairs,’ he added, and suddenly his voice was tinged with harshness. ‘It’s cold.’
Hollie nodded but she didn’t move. She couldn’t move. It was as if she had suddenly forgotten how to use her legs.
‘It’s cold everywhere,’ she whispered. ‘I’ve been awake for hours.’
His eyes narrowed and a look of intense calculation darkened his already shadowed features. He looked as if he were fighting some silent inner battle and when he nodded his head, Hollie couldn’t decide whether he had won, or lost.
‘Maybe we should try and do something about that,’ he said. ‘What do you think?’
His soft question slid over her skin, snaring her with threads of silk. And he was studying her with that absorbed and shadowed gaze, which was making her grow weak. And all the time, raw desire was pulsing around them, like a living being. Hollie felt breathless. Poised on the edge of something—but she didn’t know the rules of this game. She didn’t know how to play. ‘That depends what you had in mind,’ she stumbled.
He smiled. A slow and speculative smile. A smile no sane woman could have resisted. ‘There are any number of options. We could go upstairs and I could lend you another T-shirt. We could see if we can find any more of those velvet wraps you seem so fond of. Or you could share my bed and get warm that way. It’s up to you. It’s your call, Hollie.’
Maybe if he’d asked that same question during daylight hours when he’d made it plain she was an unwelcome guest, then Hollie might have refused. But the darkness had added a strange layer of anonymity, as well as enhancing her already aroused senses. And it was Christmas morning, wasn’t it? A time of magic and secret wishes, when anything could happen. She sensed he wouldn’t judge her if she said yes, because this was a time out of life and she wanted it. She wanted it very badly.
‘Yes, please,’ she said simply.
‘Which?’
‘You know which.’
He made a low growling noise beneath his breath, as if her easy capitulation had pleased him. Then he put the empty glass down on the stone floor, very carefully, and took her in his arms. He brushed her hair from her cheeks, looking down at her for a moment, his gaze crystalline and hard. She’d thought he might kiss her, but he didn’t. Instead, he laced his fingers through hers and led her towards the stairs. It felt very grown-up but...it also felt very disappointing and it wasn’t until they had reached the upstairs floor that Hollie raised her face to his in question. Because hadn’t she secretly been longing for the ultimate castle fantasy of Maximo sweeping her up into his arms and carrying her to his lair?
‘You want to know why I didn’t carry you this time?’ he guessed.
‘Yes.’ Hollie nodded, marvelling at his perception even as she resented it. Just how many women had he carried to his bed over the years? she wondered.
‘Because you’re pregnant,’ he admitted. ‘And I’m terrified of dropping you.’
It was a surprisingly tender admission and Hollie felt her skin grow warm. ‘You’re way too strong to drop me—and I’m not made of glass, Maximo.’
‘I wouldn’t bring up the subject of glass right now if I were you.’
His teasing broke a little of the tension until he stared down at her again, his expression dark and unfathomable, and she could see a pulse beating wildly at his temple. ‘But since we’re on the flat again...’
And this time he did pick her up, striding along the corridor to a room just beyond her own, kicking open the door and giving rampant life to her foolish fantasies. It was a room a little larger than her own and just as sparsely furnished, though the bed was much bigger. But Hollie barely noticed the equally haphazard bedclothes, or the thick paperback which was lying open on the locker. All she could see was the man who was lowering her onto the mattress, his aristocratic features dark and shuttered as he made sure she was covered by a feather-soft eiderdown, before stripping his clothes off.