The Mills & Boon Ultimate Christmas Collection. Kate Hardy

know.’ He ran a hand through his hair, pretending not to notice that the light she stood under had the effect of making her nightdress almost transparent. ‘I’ll be here but working again.’

      Her lips tightened a touch but she gave the graceful nod he’d been fascinated by for years. It was a nod that could mean anything and nothing. It gave away nothing of her thoughts.

      Breathing had become a struggle. The outline of her breasts was clearly visible beneath the fabric.

      A seemingly modest, old-fashioned nightdress had kick-started his libido better than any overtly sexy lingerie ever could. Because he knew what lay beneath it and the ecstasy he had found in her arms.

      She couldn’t be aware of how exposed she was; not when she could be seen by any member of his staff. Catalina was no exhibitionist.

      He shouldn’t be staring. He wasn’t a lusty teenager...but, he had to admit, being within three feet of her made him feel like one. She was walking temptation, a danger to him as great as the biggest temptation he had ever known, which had ruined his life all those years ago, making him an outcast from what remained of his family.

      His seduction of Catalina had almost made her an outcast from her family. It still could.

      There had been no quell in his desire for her. None at all. He’d spent the past three days catching up on paperwork but had only accomplished a tenth of what he’d set out to do. The rest of the time he’d spent gazing at the office door wondering what she was doing at that precise moment.

      He could tell himself it was concern for a princess yanked from her palace to live amongst commoners that had him constantly thinking about her. But lying to himself was something he hadn’t tolerated since he was seventeen, when he’d lied to himself that his libido was stronger than his morals. The truth was he had spent the days thinking of Catalina because her living under the same roof as him had increased the vividness of his memories of their night together. He could see her as clearly with his eyes open as when they were shut.

      He might have successfully avoided her by locking himself away in his office but her presence had been with him nonetheless.

      And here she was now, her eyes piercing him, her scent tantalising him, her body visibly naked beneath her thin...

      ‘You should think about wearing a robe with that nightdress,’ he snapped with an unintended brusqueness.

      Her pretty brows drew together. ‘Why?’ Then she looked down, looked up at the light, looked down again, and turned the colour of a radish.

      This was the moment he should retire to his bedroom. He should be far away from her, not fighting the urge to pin her to the passageway wall and strip that nightdress off her.

      ‘I think you must use brighter light bulbs than we use in the palace,’ she whispered after moments of painful silence. Strangely, she made no effort to cover herself or step out from under the light and her eyes held his.

      It was only Clotilde appearing from the left, a bone china cup and saucer in hand—someone in his household must have bought them in especially for the Princess because, as far as he was aware, everyone in his household drank from mugs, himself included—that broke the tension between them.

      Catalina stepped immediately out of the light bulb’s glare and, with only the smallest of catches in her voice, thanked Clotilde.

      Clotilde, blissfully unaware that she had walked into anything—nothing, he reprimanded himself sharply; she hadn’t interrupted anything—beamed and turned to Nathaniel. ‘Can I get you a hot chocolate too? Or fix you a nightcap?’

      ‘I’ll fix my own when I’m ready.’ Nodding at them both without making eye contact, he bid them goodnight and disappeared to his bedroom.

      * * *

      Catalina sat in her bed, flicking through one of the magazines that Clotilde had left after sitting in the bedroom while Catalina had had a bath. Starting from tomorrow she was going to start easing Clotilde’s attempts to win a Companion of the Year Award and start learning to do things for herself. So far, any attempt at independence other than brushing her own hair had been neatly sidestepped.

      While she read, she tried to focus her mind on things she could do to fill her time. As her royal engagements were cancelled until after the baby was born, she would need to find something to keep her occupied. The long days stretched ahead of her interminably. She needed to broach the subject with Nathaniel. But not in her nightdress.

      Heat flamed her cheeks as she remembered standing before him and the stark realisation the passageway’s lighting had caused her nightdress to become see-through. Then heat flamed a more intimate part of her as she remembered the look in his eyes. That had been hunger there. She’d recognised it. She’d seen it the night they’d conceived their child.

      It was that hunger that kept her eyes flickering to the door and her senses alert for any approaching footstep.

      Would this be the night he came to her? Would he knock on her door, intent on the consummation of their marriage?

      Would she let him or would she say no? Royal wives of Monte Cleure were not supposed to deny their husbands. She might have married a commoner but she was still a royal princess. Legally, she was Nathaniel’s property and would remain so until their divorce was finalised. Unless her father actively cast her out and stripped her of her HRH title, she remained bound by her palace’s constitutional laws...

      It occurred to her that the constitutional laws only applied while she was on Monte Cleure...

      She heard a noise and stopped breathing, her heart setting off at a canter.

      After long seconds of silence she lay back against the headboard and closed her eyes, willing her pulse to slow.

      No, she couldn’t swear that if he came into her room and climbed into her bed she wouldn’t open her arms and welcome him.

      And neither could she swear that she wouldn’t freeze him out and demand he leave.

      She never got the chance to find out what she would do.

      Three hours later when midnight was but a distant memory, her tired brain finally switched off and went to sleep.

      Her weary but aching heart still hurt when she awoke the next morning.