Winter Wedding for the Prince(14)

“You had nothing to be ashamed about.”

Didn’t she? “Do you know how hard it is to admit you spent nearly a decade allowing someone to strip you of your self-respect because you thought you deserved it?” Even now, the regret choked her like bile when she thought of the power Fredo had held over her. Power she’d given him. A tear slipped from the corner of her eye. She moved to swipe the moisture away only to have Armando’s thumb pass across her skin first. When he was finished, his hand remained, his palm cupping her cheek. “No one ever deserves to be abused,” he said.

“I told you, Fredo never struck me.”

“You know as well as I do abuse doesn’t always come from a fist.”

So her counselor always told her. Words could cut deep, too.

Armando’s touch was warm and comforting, calling to her to lean in and absorb its promised strength. “Took me a long time to learn that,” she said. “I figured as long as I wasn’t sporting a black eye, I didn’t have a right to complain. Besides, when it was happening...” Her voice caught. How she hated talking about those years out loud. Admitting she thought she deserved everything Fredo did and said.

Armando’s fingers slid from her cheek to her jaw, lifting her face so their eyes would stay connected. The smile he gave her was gentle and understanding. It told her that he wouldn’t ask for details.

Knowing she had a choice gave her the strength to say more.

“It catches you by surprise, you know? At first, it’s subtle. Constructive criticism. An outburst over something you did that doesn’t seem worth fighting about, because, well, maybe you didn’t communicate well enough. Meanwhile, your parents are telling you how lucky you are that such a successful, handsome man wanted to be with you, and you start to think, he’s so charming and agreeable with everyone else—it has to be my fault. That you are the one letting him down by being inferior.”

Armando squeezed her knee. “You are not—”

“I am also not Christina,” she said, anticipating his protest.

The feel of his touch against her skin was too enticing, so she turned her face away. As his hand dropped, a chill rushed in to fill its absence. She stared at the Christmas lights. “Life is not always easy when your baby sister is a great beauty,” she told him. “Soon as she walked in the room, I ceased to exist.”

“That is not true.”

“Isn’t it?” She had to smile, weak as it was, at Armando’s protest. He, the man who fell in love with Christina the moment he laid eyes on her. “The day you met her, at the reception, did you know I was standing with her?”

He stiffened. “That was different.”

No, it wasn’t. “You were not the first person to lose their heart at first sight, ’Mando. Just the first one whose feelings she reciprocated.”

They fell silent again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Armando studying his hands, a scowl marring his profile. “Do not feel bad. It was just the way things were. Christina was extraordinary.” Whereas Rosa was merely average, a fact she was only now starting to realize was a perfectly fine thing to be. Not everyone could be Christina. To hold a grudge against her sister for being special would have been a waste of energy.

For some reason, talk of her sister’s superiority made her think of Mona, another winner in the beauty and character lotto. Someone else with whom Rosa couldn’t compete. Not that there was a competition.

Next to her, Armando shifted his weight on the stone step. “You really believed Fredo was the best you could do?”

“Silly, I know.” Shameful was more like it. That a bully like Fredo was able to chip away at her self-esteem the way he did. “But Fredo had me convinced I would be a lonely nothing without him. Not only was he doing me a favor by being my husband, but I had no other options. Everything I had—money, a home—were because of him. If I left, I would have nothing.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“Strange as it sounds, it was Christina’s accident,” she told him. “I was sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, thinking how unfair it was that someone like her, whose life was wonderful, should die when there were so many like me who could go in her place, and suddenly, I heard her voice in my head. You know that voice she used when she got exasperated.”

Armando gave a soft chuckle. “I certainly do.”

“Well, that voice told me life was too short and unpredictable to waste time being miserable, so take back control. So I divorced Fredo as soon as I could.”

His hand found hers again. “I’m glad,” he whispered.

“Me, too.” Who knew where she would be if she had not? Certainly not sitting on the steps in a lace ball gown surrounded by an enchanted palace wonderland. Armando would be but a distant part of her life. Her insides started to ache. The idea of a life without Armando was...was...

Right around the corner. The thought struck her, hard. Mona would be taking him away forever.

Before she realized, there was moisture rimming her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said, sniffing the tears back. “Here you are trying to end the evening on a happy note, and I go and spoil it by acting maudlin.”

“You didn’t spoil anything. I’m honored you trusted me enough to finally tell me.”

“Trust was never the issue, Armando. I told you, I was ashamed. And afraid,” she added in a small voice.

“Afraid? Of me?”

She closed to her eyes. “Of seeing pity in your eyes.” That last thing she wanted was Armando looking at her like a victim. She couldn’t bear it.

“Never in a million years,” she heard him say. A wonderful promise, but... She squeezed her eyes tighter.

“Rosa, look at me.” Rosa couldn’t. She didn’t want to know what she might see.

But Armando was persistent. Capturing her face in his hands, he forced her out of hiding. “Rosa, look at me,” he urged. “Look me in the eye. Do you see pity?”

Slowly, she lifted her lids. Armando was gazing at her with eyes blue and nonjudgmental. “I would sooner cut them out than look at you with anything less than admiration.”

“Little dramatic, don’t you think?”

“Not in this case. What you did took courage, Rosa. Courage and strength. If anyone needs to fear judging, it’s me for not being worthy of your friendship.”

“You’ll always be worthy,” she whispered. This time, it was she who reached across the space to touch his face. His cheeks were rough with the start of an early beard. For some reason, the sensation aroused her, as if the whiskers were scratching inside her and not her skin. She wondered if her touch had shifted something inside him as well, because the blue began to take on different shades. What had been light was slowly growing dark and hooded.

“You’re wrong.”

Focused on the shifting of his eyes, Rosa nearly missed his words. “Wrong?”

“Thinking you’re not special. You couldn’t be more wrong. You’re smart, strong. Beautiful.” It’d been too long since someone had said such lovely words to her, and the way Armando said them was so sincere that Rosa melted with pleasure.

“I wasn’t looking for compliments,” she said.

“Not compliments. Truth.”

Rosa nearly sighed aloud at his answer. The moment must going to her head, she decided. Why else would she think Armando’s gaze had dropped to her mouth? Or long for him to move closer?

“We—” She started to say that they should say good-night, but her mind was distracted by the way Armando’s lips curled into a smile. He whispered something. It sounded like Fredo was an idiot, but she couldn’t be sure. Next thing she knew, those beautiful curved lips were pressed against hers.

Rosa’s breath caught.

Her heart stopped.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and her hand slid to the curls at the back of his head. Sweet and lingering, it was a kiss worthy of a fairy tale. Only it was Armando whose lips were gently coaxing a response. Armando whose fingers trailed down her neck to caress the base of her throat.

A moment later, he pulled away, leaving her dazed and confused. What...?

“Mistletoe,” he said, pointing upward. “Be a shame to ignore tradition.”

Dazed and mute, Rosa simply nodded. Looking up, she saw nothing. If the mistletoe was there, it was hidden in shadows.

Armando lifted her hair off her shoulder, tucking it neatly to the base of her neck. His smile was enigmatic. There was emotion playing in the depths of his gaze, but what it was, Rosa couldn’t tell. She wasn’t used to seeing anything but sadness in his eyes, so perhaps it too was the shadows playing tricks.

In a way, she felt like the whole evening had been one giant illusion from the moment Armando knocked on her door. Everything had been too romantic, too close to perfect to be anything else. For five wonderful hours, he’d made her feel desirable and special. Like a princess. There was no way those feelings could last. As soon as she said good-night, reality would return.

The question was, would their relationship return to normal as well? Or would this newfound awareness continue to simmer inside her?

“It’s getting late,” Armando said. “We should get you home.”