His Vienna Christmas Bride Page 7

  Accessories. She’d need gloves, shoes, a strapless bra. Maybe some earrings…how much time did she have? It was then that she noticed the envelope on the exceptional Baroque writing desk. Of course, he would think with her love of antiques that she would have looked there first, but the whole suite was full of such treasures. She slid a single heavy page from the envelope. Handwritten, brief:

  Your carriage will be waiting downstairs at 7:00 p.m. I’ll see you by the Grand Staircase. A.

  Jasmine checked her watch and got moving.

  A couple of hours later, she staggered into the suite, laden with bags. Shower, makeup, hair…no time for an appointment with a ballfrisuren, the hotel hairdresser specializing in ball hairdos.

  She’d have to make do herself. Humming Die Fledermaus, she threw herself into her preparations.

  At five minutes before seven she left the suite, walked out of the hotel and was guided into a horse-drawn carriage. Of course…

  They moved slowly down the Ringstrasse toward the Hofburg Palace. A light snow fell, and the city glittered. Everything was so perfect, Jasmine felt she might die with happiness. And the first nerves were starting to bite at the thought of seeing him again. He had been so angry with her.

  She hadn’t expected him to be so thoughtful. Or generous. She’d heard Adam was well off, but this excursion must have cost a small fortune. How could she ever repay him?

  Unease slipped below the mantle of joy cloaking her, just for a moment. She knew exactly what he expected for payment. But surely he knew that all this trouble and expense wasn’t necessary. Her acquiescence to Adam Thorne came as cheap as one touch, one look into his eyes.

  Then the lights of the palace showed through the snow and her nerves evaporated. The fairy tale continued. They slowly approached the great palace, from which it seemed a thousand windows glowed. Jasmine floated toward the entrance, along with hundreds of others in their beautiful clothes, and finally she was inside.

  Lord, how would she ever find him? There must have been a couple of thousand people milling around, all craning their necks, waiting with a muted air of expectancy.

  She looked for the staircase and took stock. The men were all in black or white tails or dinner suits. Jasmine moved in the direction of the great marble staircase and then, wonder of wonders, there he was, head and shoulders above everyone else, even though he leaned against a wall. His dark good looks magnetized her eyes. Perfect—except there were still about a thousand bodies between them.

  Luckily the Imperial Guards chose that moment to conduct their changing of the guard ceremony and the crowd mostly stilled so she was able to push her way through, looking up every so often to check on his location. Her apprehension grew as she neared. Would he like the gown on her? Was he still angry? But she couldn’t believe he would go to all this trouble and expense if he did not intend her to enjoy it.

  She paused about ten feet away to admire him. The elegant black dinner suit draped his tall, lean body, caressing his broad shoulders and slim hips. With his trendy haircut and trademark stubble, he hardly fit the mold of one of the imperial family, but he stood out like an emperor with his presence and vitality. A perfectly tied bow tie completed the package. She drank the sight in and tucked it away to last her the rest of her life.

  As if on cue, he half turned. His head raised, as if scenting the air, and then his eyes found hers and sucked the breath from her lungs. He straightened but did not walk forward to meet her. A commanding presence in a sea of people. The crowds and the opulence, even the orchestra faded away and to Jasmine, they were the only two people here. Holding his gaze, her confidence surging, she moved toward her prince as if in a dream. They stared at each other, his stern demeanor softening into admiration. Finally Jasmine could breathe again.

  She felt more beautiful than she had ever felt in her life. In that one long look, he’d given her back her pride, her self-confidence, her belief in herself as a desirable woman. All the things she’d lost years ago. He took both her gloved hands and just looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

  A fanfare rang out and there was a hush while everyone waited for the official welcome by the actors playing Emperor Franz Josef and Empress Sisi. The spell was broken. Adam inclined his head and offered her his arm. They made their way up the marble staircase to the state chambers, Jasmine’s eyes devouring every detail: myriad twinkling lights, beautifully set tables, huge urns of carnations everywhere. A silk-liveried waiter showed them to their table and finally, she could sit, take off her cape and say hello to the man who had made this all possible.

  He passed her a glass of champagne.

  “I’m—speechless,” she said, and then, because she wanted to clear the air so they could enjoy themselves, she asked if he was still angry.

  He shook his head, his eyes on her face. “It’s your night, for now.”

  The implication was clear but Jasmine didn’t mind. She was too happy to mind that she was here because she owed him. “Don’t worry,” she smiled. “I promise not to turn into a pumpkin at the stroke of midnight.”

  He gazed at her, his eyes rich with approval.

  “Adam, all of this—” she raised her gloved hand, indicating the sumptuous surroundings “—it’s too much. This—” her hand swept down the front of her, and his eyes followed “—and the hotel. It’s like a dream. I can’t believe I’m here.”

  He turned in his seat to face her, his hands clasped in front of him. “Tonight we’re going to indulge our every whim.”

  A bubble of desire popped in her veins. Every muscle tightened and warmed. Adam noticed, she knew, because his eyes sharpened and again roamed slowly down her body. Her arms ached to wrap around him, to feel the burn of his beard on her face, the strength of his arms around her.

  “Don’t think about it,” he said softly. “Just enjoy.”

  “It’s perfect, Adam.” She leaned close and touched her lips to his. “Thank you.”

  He gave a short laugh. “You won’t thank me when I step on your toes.”

  They served themselves from the sumptuous buffet and watched the opening polonaise where beautiful girls in white gowns and boys in tails strutted and stepped expertly in formation. “It’s a sort of debutantes’ dance,” she explained to Adam. “I was reading about this ritual before the major balls in Vienna that turned me on to ballroom, when my friends were all into pop or sports. Now it’s my only social life.”

  “Poor lonely little dancer.” He smiled. “Perhaps you should take up surfing or watching rugby.”

  “Typical Kiwi bloke. I don’t dance to meet men. It just gets me out of the house.”

  “Perhaps you haven’t danced with the right men,” Adam said enigmatically.

  As she wondered what he meant, the dance master called out the words that everyone was waiting for—“Alles Waltzer!”

  Adam stood and offered his hand. “Shall we?”

  Jasmine’s smile stretched wide. “I would be honored, sir.”

  In between courses, they danced to Strauss and Mozart in each of the seven ballrooms. A Viennese waltz was much faster than other waltzes, and once it was learned, every other waltz seemed pedestrian.

  From the moment Adam took her into his arms, Jasmine realized that this would be a dance like no other. He wasn’t quite the best dance partner she’d ever had, and anyway, the finer points of the waltz were somewhat lost in the crush of people. But dancing with him was like making love with him. He was all she could see and feel. His eyes never left her face, bathing her in such intensity that she moved on autopilot, which, thankfully, she was proficient enough to do. She forgot about her feet and concentrated on feeling the music on the inside and absorbing his presence on the outside. His hands under her palm and on the small of her back were warm and dry and as they moved together, so did his hands, causing starbursts of delicious friction on her skin that effervesced to every nerve ending.

  She remembered how she felt after they’d made love for t
he first time. Sensitized, energized, pulsing in small bursts of sensation that she never wanted to end. She felt his breath on her face, his muscles bunched under her fingertips and the length of his legs when they brushed hers occasionally. Her body became his instrument, to lead and spin and twirl at will, an extension of his own.

  Her anticipation grew as one dance flowed into another and another. Adam Thorne exuded sexuality and could turn her on even in the midst of thousands of people. And if that was his intention, he was exacting his payment early in the evening but strangely enough, it wasn’t more than she wanted to give.

  Seven

  A dam could not take his eyes off her. The pleasure he took from her enjoyment of the evening was unsurpassed by anything he had known, which perplexed him because of his selfish reasons for doing it. He crushed it down in case the feeling became addictive, and then where would it all end?

  Her enchantment was to be expected. What was unexpected was how enthralled he was watching her eyes sparkle—no sign of sadness now—her lovely mouth curve in yet another delighted smile as each new image or dance or bar of music registered and gave her joy.

  His instincts about the color and style of the gown were spot-on. Her pale skin and dark hair and brows lent the delicate shade of fabric a richness that anyone else would have overpowered. Dusky gray eyes and her hair pulled back in a classic, elegant chignon completed a picture that would stay with him for a long time.

  And yet what arrogance he’d displayed to choose her clothes. What vanity to set the scene as he had. But what pleasure to see her happiness, especially knowing that this woman did not usually allow herself to get carried away.

  What anticipation he had of the night to come…she looked amazing in that dress, but he wanted her out of it more with every minute that passed. His body had been reminding him of that all night.

  Just before midnight, the orchestras faded away to the chimes of the giant bell of St. Stephen’s as it rang the old year away. Adam stood behind her at the stroke of twelve and as the crowd erupted into applause, his hands dropped onto her bare shoulders and Jasmine turned and smiled at him. Everyone was smiling, some were kissing and hugging and shaking hands, some had moved between the tables and began to dance to the first strains of The Blue Danube waltz, heralding the New Year in.

  He and Jasmine stared at each other and he saw his desire glow in her eyes, darkening them to a shade deeper than her gown. He knew now why he’d bought it. He stepped closer and bent his head, keeping his eyes open.

  “Happy New Year, Jasmine.”

  She raised up to meet him, whispering something, her lips soft and fragrant and perfect. He tasted her upper lip with the tip of his tongue, tracing the outline of her mouth, and she leaned even closer, sighing, her mouth moving under his. His hand on the small of her back tightened, drawing her close, and they kissed until they were breathless.

  When Adam drew back, he felt on a more even keel, even though his breath was ragged and he was as hard as rock. Normal service had been resumed. She wanted him. He wanted her. She would go where he led, just like on the dance floor.

  They stayed to watch the New Year operetta and the Fledermaus Quadrille, a highlight for Jasmine. It was late and the ball would go on for hours yet, but Adam was suddenly tired of people. They left the Imperial Palace. The night was cold but clear and they decided to walk along the busy Ringstrasse back to the hotel.

  Jasmine was hungry since she’d professed to be too excited to eat much of the buffet at the ball, so they stopped at a Wurstelstand for the Viennese equivalent of hot dogs. The streets were packed with party hounds. She almost skipped along, tipsy on champagne and excitement, humming at patchy intervals. Adam held her arm tightly, mindful of the earlier snow, the uneven paving stones and the spiky high heels she insisted on wearing.

  The drinking establishments were mostly overflowing but not far from the hotel, they were drawn by a beautiful voice. Jasmine headed down a cobbled alleyway and they stopped by a tiny bar where inside, a black woman crooned a Tina Turner ballad very credibly.

  Jasmine pulled on his arm, facing him. “Let’s go in,”

  “With that smudge of mustard on your mouth?” He reached his thumb out, but thinking better of it, bent his head and licked the spot with the tip of his tongue.

  In the freezing chill under a rusting old street lamp, Jasmine shifted restlessly, inhaled a ragged breath, and magic of a new kind entered her face.

  Adam stilled, instantly, viciously aroused by the sudden flood of awareness darkening her eyes. All his senses clamored for more and he bent his head again, caging her face with both hands, sipping now at her lips. He tasted the piquant mustard she’d eaten, garlic and spices from the sausage, a crisp fruity hit of champagne. It all fed his hunger and he deepened the kiss.

  Jasmine’s eyes closed while her lips parted. She was still now, but he sensed her blood, her muscles, her very cells reaching for him, as palpable as if she’d raised her arms and pulled him close. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, holding her cheeks firmly, exulting at her response as the tip of her tongue played with his.

  “Let’s not.” His eventual response to her question about going inside the club sounded hoarse and raw. A desperate need swamped him and he couldn’t wait another minute. He pressed against her, his thighs bumping hers as he turned and pushed her toward the hotel.

  Another couple entered the Hotel Imperial’s elevator with them and they exchanged New Year wishes. Adam’s eyes bored into her as he discreetly tugged at the fingers of one of her gloves, easing it all the way off. Jasmine leaned against the wall, unable to look away and shivering with anticipation and nerves.

  For a moment on the street, she’d wished they didn’t have to go back to the hotel. Not because she didn’t want him—she did, desperately. But that meant the fairy tale was over. They were now leading up to the real reason they were here. Payback. She had done a deal with the king of deals.

  She knew she’d be compensated handsomely. She’d already enjoyed his prowess in the bedroom, her body’s response to him. But for a few hours, she’d chosen to believe she was living this dream because he really felt something for her, rather than collecting on a contract she had failed to honor.

  She hid a smile behind her hand when he wrapped the glove around his neck; the spoils of war. She was really in trouble here. She liked him, enjoyed him so much. The anticipation when he looked at her, held her face in his hands…payback never felt so good, even though she should be running for her life.

  He opened the suite door and stood back while she entered, stiff-backed, her stomach tight with nerves. Adam cast an interested glance at the bags from her shopping expedition still strewn around. Flustered, she began scooping them up, but he caught her hand and the bags stayed where they were.

  He lifted her hand by the finger of her glove and without breaking eye contact, he tugged until the silk slid smoothly down her forearm, making her tingle.

  “Shall I call the butler to help you off with your gown?” he asked, his eyes glinting.

  “I think we can manage.” And then she smiled sweetly. “Did he help with your tie?”

  Adam bared his white teeth and hooked a finger in her cape, tugging until she bumped against his front. “My lips are sealed, but I gave him a very good tip.”

  He cupped her face and bent his head to feather her lips with kisses, undoing the clasp of her cape as he did. He slid his hands inside the fur and skimmed up her back, stroking over her shoulder blades. Then he settled in for a deeper, soul-touching kiss she felt all the way to her toes.

  Jasmine loved the way he kissed. A complex mix of tease and command. Of pleasing himself and invitation. His kiss invited her to be passive, free to enjoy and be taken. But it also incited her to hum blissfully in her throat, to allow her impatience to come to the fore, tearing off the cape and tossing it blindly at a sofa a few feet away. She would shudder about that tomorrow but right now, she just wanted one less obstruction between
them.

  Again he used his thighs to walk her backward toward the bedroom, still with his mouth locked on hers. His fingers ran down her bare arm and clasped hers and he danced her into the room, spinning her once, twice, three times, closer to the bed every time. The ball continued, only to a much more private composition than Herr Strauss ever devised.

  When the backs of her legs bumped the edge of the bed, Adam drew back and switched one bedside lamp on. His face fell, he sighed, looking at her hair, and then he began to take down her hair, pin by pin.

  A guilty laugh escaped her. “Sorry.” Why hadn’t she left it down? Thank heaven the dress had a zipper and not a hundred buttons!

  He smiled distractedly, intent on his work. “Don’t ever apologize for making an effort to please me.”

  Ditto, she wanted to say, but she reached for him instead, knowing she, too, had her work cut out. Black tie involved far too many clothes—and buttons. The tie was easy but there was still the waistcoat, braces and the stiff-fronted white shirt whose buttons were not cooperative with her fumbling fingers. His hands left her hair and landed on hers to assist in guiding the buttons through the damnably unyielding holes, while he somehow managed to shrug out of his jacket and take the waistcoat with it.

  He finished with her hair. It spilled around his hands and he ran his fingers through it, smoothing it down over her neck and shoulders and cleavage. Her skin burned wherever he touched. She sucked in a breath and tried to ground herself, feeling her knees dangerously close to buckling. Not only that, but her tight breasts were dangerously close to pushing out the bodice of the dress. It didn’t help when he bent his head and took her mouth again in a deep, carnal kiss, igniting a storm inside. And when he moved his mouth lower, nuzzling her earlobe, down the slope of her shoulder and across the front of her cleavage, she swayed a little, almost afraid to breathe.

  “Breathe,” he commanded softly.