Holiday Royale. Christine Rimmer
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But then she got worried that Noah might see her and wave at her to join them. She did love her big brother, but the last thing she needed was him hovering over her. He could be like some fussy old mother hen with her.
Objectively, she couldn’t blame him for wanting to look after her. They’d lost both their parents way too soon and he had a deep-rooted fear that something awful would happen to her. She’d been ill so much growing up that his fear only intensified. Any number of times, Noah had found just the right specialist to save her at the last minute when she was at death’s door. She loved him, she did. He was the best big brother in the world. And he kept promising he understood that she was ready to run her own life now. Sometimes she believed him. And sometimes she wondered if he was ever going to get off her case.
She circled away to another side of the room, putting a large gold-veined Ionic column between her and Noah. Perfect. Now she was completely out of his line of sight.
“Your dress is adorable and your shoes are very naughty.” The deep, smooth voice came from directly behind her.
She turned. “Dami. There you are.” He wore a beautiful dark suit and he was hands down the best-looking man in the room, which was really saying something, since all the Bravo-Calabretti princes were totally sigh-worthy, including Dami’s father, Evan, the prince consort.
He handed her a crystal flute. “Champagne?”
She took it. They raised their glasses and she took a fizzy sip. “Yum.”
“Happy Thanksgiving.”
She watched his mouth move and a little shiver slid through her. Her lips kind of tingled. It might have been a few leftover bubbles from the champagne—or it might have been that she couldn’t help remembering the kiss that afternoon.
How could a simple soft press of his mouth to hers be so very exciting? She might not be all that experienced, but everyone knew that an intimate, sexy kiss was wet and usually involved tongues. The kiss by the Promenade had been nothing like that.
And yet, somehow, everything like that.
She had to keep reminding herself not to get her hopes up, that Damien’s kindness and generosity to her during this special weekend meant he cherished her friendship—and nothing more.
“Come.” He took her bare arm, causing havoc beneath her skin, a sensation equally exquisite and disorienting. “I must introduce you to my parents, who will soon be your brother’s in-laws.”
She ordered her feet in their high satin heels to go where he took her.
Her Sovereign Highness Adrienne of Montedoro and her prince consort, Evan, were every bit as gracious and friendly as Dami and Alice. Adrienne, who had to be at least in her mid-fifties but looked forty at the most, said she’d heard so much about Noah’s sister and was pleased to get to meet her at last. She knew of Lucy’s ambition to work in fashion and she complimented Lucy’s dress and got her to confess that, yes, it was her own design. Evan asked about when her first semester at the Fashion Institute of New York would begin.
“Right after New Year’s,” she said. Her feet hardly seemed to touch the inlaid marble floor as Dami led her into the dining room. “They’re amazing, your parents.”
“I’m afraid I have to agree with you.”
“I can’t believe they knew so much about me—let alone remembered what they’d heard.”
“Luce. They’re not young, but they’re hardly to the age where the memory starts to fail.”
“Oh, stop. You know what I mean. Your mother rules this country and has nine children and their spouses and their children to keep up with. And yet she still manages to recall that her future son-in-law’s little sister, whom she’s never met, wants to be a fashion designer.”
“Yes, she’s a marvel,” he agreed matter-of-factly. “Everyone says so—and here we are.” He pulled back a gilded chair with a blue damask seat.
She sat down and he took the chair beside her. There were place cards, creamy white, lettered in flowing black script. “It’s so nice that we somehow ended up seated together.”
He took the chair beside her and leaned close. “I’m on excellent terms with the staff.”
She faked a disapproving glance. “You got someone to mess with the seating chart.”
“I requested a slight rearrangement.”
With a laugh, she leaned closer. “And I’m so glad you did.”
The woman seated on his other side spoke to him and he turned to answer her. Lucy took that moment to soak up the wonders around her. The dining room was as beautiful as the Blue Room. The walls here were scrolled and sculpted in plaster, blue and white, with more of those gold-veined Ionic pillars marching down one wall, interspersed with mirrors. The floor was gold-and-white inlaid marble in star and sun patterns, the coffered ceiling a wonder in gold and brown, turquoise and cream. Giant turquoise, gold and crystal Empire-style chandeliers cast a magical light over everything.
The long dining table with its endless snowy cloth, gold candlesticks and gold-rimmed monogrammed china seated thirty. Every seat was occupied.
Including the one five seats down across the table, where her brother, Noah, sat next to Alice.
Of course, Noah was looking right at Lucy. And frowning. When he saw that she’d noticed him, he slid a glance at Dami and then back to her, making it all too clear he didn’t like her choice of a dinner companion.
Which was totally crappy and hypocritical of him. After all, he and Dami had been friends first, bonding a little more than two years ago now over their mutual interest in spectacular cars and fabulous women. Noah seemed to have some idea that Dami wasn’t really her friend, that Dami was only out to make her another notch on his bedpost.
Which just made her want to laugh. Because hadn’t she tried to convince Dami to do just what Noah was so afraid he would do? And hadn’t Dami been a complete sweetheart about it, letting her down so easy she was still floating several inches above the inlaid floor?
The older gentleman on Lucy’s other side spoke to her. “What a positively charming frock.”
She put Noah firmly from her mind and turned to the old guy with a friendly smile and a soft, “Thank you.”
He had thick white hair, wore a smoking jacket and sported a Colonel Sanders goatee. “Count Dietrich VonDelft,” he said. “Her Highness Adrienne is my second cousin once removed.”
She gave the old fellow her name, explained her relationship to the Bravo-Calabretti family and told him how much she was enjoying her holiday weekend in Montedoro. He said she was very lovely, a breath of fresh air—at which point she started suspecting he might be putting a move on her.
On her other side, Dami chuckled. That gave her an excuse to turn to him. The gleam in his eyes told her he knew exactly what the count had been up to.