The Earl's Snow-Kissed Proposal

‘But that isn’t why Cora married him. She married him because she loves him. You can see how much they love each other.’ She’d seen it at the Cavershams’ Advent Ball—it was the same connection Ruby and Ethan had.

Gabe shrugged. ‘His money will endure and grow. Rafael Martinez is a billionaire, with an incredibly astute grasp of business opportunities. His connections are handy. I assume Cora thinks love is a bonus.’

‘No! You’re missing the point. Cora probably thinks the money and connections are a bonus. She loves him regardless of those and she would have married him if he were penniless.’

‘He wouldn’t be Rafael Martinez if he were penniless.’ He shrugged. ‘I see what you’re saying, Etta, but I think they’d have been wiser to leave love out of the equation.’

‘So you believe they’re kidding themselves? That in reality they have married each other for money and titles and connection but they won’t admit it?’

Why was he so anti-love? So sure every relationship was based on barter or an exchange of assets?

‘Yes. And I think one or both of them will be hurt when the bubble bursts.’

‘And you think it will be Cora?’

‘Yes.’

‘So what are you going to do about it?’

‘Ram Rafael Martinez’s teeth down his throat if he messes with my sister. Is that supportive enough for you?’

‘Actually, I was thinking you should spend some time with them, and then you’d see that they actually love each other.’

The pilot’s voice came over the intercom, smooth and clear. ‘About to start the descent into Vienna.’

Relief touched Gabe’s face—clearly this conversation wasn’t something he felt comfortable with. Etta knew she should leave it—knew it was none of her business—but as she looked across at him she felt an urge to know why he was so resistant to closeness, what made him tick.

Stop, Etta. The old adage that curiosity killed the cat had some truth in it. Best she leave well alone and focus on Vienna and more immediate concerns. Such as how to face four days as Gabriel Derwent’s Christmas girlfriend.

Yup, she must have been insane to agree to this—and yet as she gazed out the window of the jet anticipation swirled within the tumult of panic.

CHAPTER TWELVE

HOLY MOLY, MACARONI! Etta gazed round the suite, sure that her eyes must have bugged out. ‘This is...’ Words failed her.

The suite was even more impressive than the hotel’s lobby—a vast, glittering golden parquet enclosure with stucco ceilings, enormous chandeliers and mirrored surfaces that refracted and shone.

But this... ‘You could fit my entire apartment in here three times over.’

‘Courtesy of April,’ Gabe said. ‘She pulled some strings and managed to get us this.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know, but I have my suspicions. No doubt she’ll have a source here keeping an eye on us.’

‘Oh.’

Etta looked around the sumptuous room, decked out with renaissance lavishness. Gold curtains and tassels and brocade all combined to display elegance and luxury, and more chandeliers abounded. The panelled domed ceiling and intricate plaster cherubs spoke of the hotel’s origin as a Viennese palace, but the main feature of the suite, seen through two enormous mirrored sliding doors, was the bed. Ornate and splendid, its carved headboard was a work of art in itself, and thick, sumptuous bejewelled curtains were draped around the super-king-sized bed.

Bed. In the singular. Yes, it was big enough to house a family, but it was still one bed.

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; As if he read her thoughts Gabe’s lips upturned in a mixture of amusement and rue. ‘We’ll need to share it. If April has a source the last thing we want is a story questioning why one of us is sleeping on the sofa.’

He had a point, so she needed to focus on the size of the bed... No, she needed to forget about the bed. Because all of a sudden the memory of The Kiss fermented in her brain, her pulse racked up a notch, and her skin heated.

Wrenching her gaze from the four-poster, she headed towards the window and gave a cry of delight. ‘Look, Gabe! It’s snowing.’