his grasp, Armando tugged her toward the fountain edge, where he took a seat on the marble wall. “I think we should talk,” he said, pulling her down next to him. “I know why you’re upset, and I understand.”
“You do?” Rosa doubted his did. How could he, when she wasn’t 100 percent sure why she was reacting so strongly herself.
What she did notice was how the marble beneath them made her more aware of their close position than usual. She could feel Armando’s body warmth radiating against her leg, even though the only parts of them touching were his wrist on her hand. And, she realized, looking down, that was no longer true.
Looking up again, she came eye to eye with Armando’s gentle expression.
“Christina’s Home,” he said. “You’re worried what will happen if Mona gets involved with the program.”
Perhaps he understood after all. “It’s just that you and I worked so hard to build something together...”
“Which is why I want you to know that I understand, and I promise—” Rosa gasped as he reached up to cradle her face between his hands “—I will never let anything, or anybody, take away your sister’s legacy.”
Christina, of course. What had she been thinking? She gave him a smile anyway, since his reassurance was well intentioned.
When he smiled back, an odd squiggling sensation passed through her.
“Good,” he said. “I’m glad, because you know how much I would hate for you to be upset.”
Smile softening even more, he fanned his thumbs across her cheekbones. “I would be lost without you, you know.”
He held her cheeks a beat longer before getting to his feet. “Now that we’ve settled that, do you feel up to driving?” he asked.
“Absolutely,” she replied.
As soon as Armando started toward the front door, however, she pressed her hand to her stomach to quell the odd quivering sensation that had sprung up.
WHEN ROSA AND ARMANDO first conceived of Christina’s Home, they wanted to build a place that the late princess would have built herself. Therefore, the home was a sprawling stone villa set at the end of a gated access road. State-of-the-art security assured residents the privacy and safety they needed to rebuild their lives, while acres of grass and gardens gave their children the chance to be children.
For this year’s Christmas party, thanks to local businesses and designers eager to earn a royal blessing, the central dining room had been transformed into a winter wonderland. In addition to the traditional Corinthian red and green window boxes, there were “snow”-covered evergreens lining the walls and animated snowmen with motion detectors that brought them to life. There was even an indoor jungle gym modeled after the ice castle from a famous children’s movie. All afternoon long, kids had been laughing as they hurled themselves down the indoor “ice” slide into a pile of fake snow.
Rosa stood at the back of the room, near the partition that blocked the corridor and kept the chaos contained to the single room. Near to her, a giant window looked out on snow-covered mountains, including Mount Cornier, whose winding roads had been Christina’s final destination. During his dedication speech, Armando said that the view guaranteed the princess would be forever looking down on her legacy.
Rosa wondered what Christina would think if she knew her older sister had spent the last several days fighting a disturbing awareness when it came to Armando. All of a sudden, it seemed, someone had flipped a switch and she was noticing things about him she’d never noticed before, such as how elegant his fingers looked when gripping a pen or the how the bow in his upper lip made a perfect V. What’s worse, each detail came with an intense collection of flutters deep inside her, the source of which was a place long dormant. Why, after all this time, she would suddenly and inexplicably be attracted to the man, she didn’t know, but there it was. Nature’s way of ensuring her self-esteem didn’t get too strong, probably. No worries there. Not with Fredo’s voice renting space.
“Next year, we are hiring an actor.” The object of her thoughts poked his head around the barricade. Rosa tried not to notice he was clad only in a white T-shirt. “I am making it a royal decree.”
“You realize you said the same thing last year,” she replied.
“Yes, but this year I mean it.”
“You said that last year as well.” Along with the year before that, when the official shelter was still being built and they housed families at the Corinthian Arms hotel. “You love playing Babbo Natale and you know it.” Interacting with the children under the Christmas tree was one of the few times she saw him truly relax. Not to mention it kept them both from feeling maudlin on a day that was supposed to be joyful.
Armando mumbled something unintelligible. “What?” she whispered.
“I said, then at least get me a better beard next year. This one makes my skin itch.”
“Yes, Your Highness.”
“Be careful. Mock me and Babbo will put you on the naughty list.”
“Oh, goody. Naughty girls get all the good gifts.”
“How would you know? Is there something you’re not telling me, Signora Rosa?”
“I’ll never tell.” Rosa immediately clamped her jaw shut. She didn’t know what horrified her more, the flutters that took flight at his question or her flirty response. To cover, she made a point of studying her watch dial. “Are you almost ready? I think the natives are getting restless.”
“I thought Arianna and Max had them under control.” The party was serving as the couple’s first official appearance. Currently, the princess was playing carols on the shelter piano while her fiancé led the crowd in a sing-along. He was already proving a people’s favorite with his movie-idol looks and exuberant off-key singing.
“They are,” she told Armando, “but you know children’s attention spans. Especially children who have been gorging on cake and gelato.”
“The Christmas cake was delicious, was it not?”
“Mouthwatering,” she replied, hoping he didn’t notice the catch in her voice. Truth was, she had been more transfixed by the way Armando licked the frosting from his fork.
Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of the future Prince Max. “I have been asked when Santa might be arriving,” he said. “We’re running out of Christmas songs. If he doesn’t arrive soon, I may have to break out the 1940s standards.”
“Please no, not that,” Rosa replied. She leaned back to look behind the screen only to find herself inches away from Armando’s bearded face.
“Never fear, Babbo Natale is here.” He grinned. “Ready to see who has been naughty or nice. Should I start with you, Signora Rosa, since you seem to think the naughty list is the place to be?”
Too bad she wasn’t wearing a beard, if only to hide her warm cheeks. She had to settle for looking down and adjusting
