Secret Heirs: Royal Appointment. Carol Marinelli

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      ‘Room service...’

      She turned and hurried across the room to answer the door. ‘Sorry I took so long. I slept in today.’

      ‘I can come back,’ the young maid offered.

      ‘No. Please,’ Callie exclaimed. ‘Your English is very good. Can I ask you something before you go?’

      ‘Of course. My name is Maria,’ the young woman supplied in answer to Callie’s enquiring look. ‘If I can help you, I will.’

      Maria wasn’t much older than Callie. Her long dark hair was neatly drawn back, but her black eyes were mischievous, and she had the warmth of Italy about her that Callie was fast becoming used to. ‘If you wanted to work outside in the sunshine, Maria—we don’t get very much where I come from,’ Callie explained ruefully. ‘Where would you look for a job?’

      ‘Oh, that’s easy.’ Maria’s face brightened. ‘This is the start of the lemon-picking season when the demand for casual labour is at its highest. There’s a big estate belonging to the Prince just outside town. They’re always looking for temporary staff at this time of year.’

      ‘The Prince’s estate?’ Callie exclaimed. ‘That sounds grand.’

      ‘It’s very friendly,’ Maria assured her. ‘It must be for the same people to come back year after year.’

      ‘Do you think I could get a job there?’

      ‘Why not?’ Maria frowned. ‘But why would you want to work as a picker?’

      Callie could see that it must seem odd for her to be staying at a five-star hotel, yet jumping at the chance to work in the fields. ‘I need a change,’ she admitted, ‘and I’d love to work in the open air.’

      ‘I can understand that,’ Maria agreed. ‘I’d go today if I were you, so you don’t miss the party.’

      ‘The party?’ Callie queried.

      ‘There’s always a party at the beginning of the season,’ Maria explained, ‘as well as at the end. Apart from exporting lemons around the world, they make the famous liquor Limoncello on the Prince’s estate, and his parties are always the best.’

      ‘Is the Prince very old?’

      Maria snorted a laugh. ‘Old? He’s the hottest man around.’

      Two of the best-looking men in one town seemed impossible, but as she wasn’t likely to bump into the Prince, and was determined to avoid Luca, her heart could slow down and take a rest. ‘I can’t thank you enough for this information,’ she told Maria.

      ‘If there’s anything else you need, anything at all, Signorina—’

      ‘Call me Callie. You never know when we’ll meet again,’ Callie added, thrilled at the prospect of having a real goal to aim for.

      ‘In the lemon groves, maybe,’ Maria suggested.

      ‘In the lemon groves,’ Callie agreed, feeling excited already at the thought of working in lemon groves that she’d only seen in a photograph before.

      She was excited and couldn’t wait to embark on her new plan, Callie mused as she took her shower. She wouldn’t be Callie from the docks for much longer, she’d be Callie from the lemon groves, and that had a much better ring to it.

      * * *

      This was his favourite place in the world, Luca concluded as he swung a stack of crates onto the back of a truck. Hard, physical labour beneath a blazing sun, surrounded by people he loved, who couldn’t have cared less if he were a prince or a pauper. Max had been dealt with for now, and was cooling off after his drunken rampage in the local jail, Luca’s royal council had informed him. He should take this last chance to celebrate at the party tonight, his most trusted aide Michel had insisted. ‘I’ll come back right away, if you need me,’ he’d told Michel. Luca had never resented the shackles of royal duty. He felt humbled by them, and honoured that the late Prince had trusted him with the responsibility of caring for a country and its people. The only downside was picking a princess to sit at his side, when so far none of the candidates had appealed to him.

      To lie at his side, to lie beneath him, to give him children.

      He ground his jaw and thought about Callista. She could lie at his side and lie beneath him, though he doubted she’d remain calm or accepting for long. If he were any judge, she’d want to ride him as vigorously as he thought about riding her, with pleasurable thoroughness and for the longest possible time. Callista had more spirit in her little finger than all the available princesses put together possessed in their limp and unappealing bodies. But the fact remained: he had to choose a wife soon. His father’s elderly retainer, Michel, had point-blank refused to retire until Luca took a wife. ‘I promised your father I’d watch over you,’ Michel had said. ‘What this country needs is a young family to inject life and vitality into Fabrizio, to lead the country forward into the future.’

      He’d sort it, Luca concluded. He always did. The buzz of interest surrounding him at his father’s funeral suggested suitable breeding stock wouldn’t be too hard to find. A very agreeable image of Callista chose that moment to flash into his mind. Callista naked. Giving as good as she got, verbally, as well as in every other way. She might be young and inexperienced, but her down-to-earth manner promised the type of robust pleasure that an insipid princess would be incapable of providing.

      And how does this advance my hunt for a wife?

      Loading the last crate of lemons, he groaned as he remembered Michel’s words: ‘Yours will be a bountiful reign with a harvest of children as abundant as the lemons on your estate,’ Michel had assured him. Right now it was Luca’s face that looked as if he’d sucked a lemon when he contemplated the current selection of brides.

      Work over, he tucked his hands into the back pockets of his jeans and eased his shoulders, grimacing as he thought about the stack of neglected folders on his desk. Leafing through them had confirmed his worst fears. All the princesses were excellent contenders for the role of his wife, but not one of them excited him.

      What would Callista be doing now? She’d better not be sitting at that bar. He’d drag her out, and—

      Really? He grinned, imagining her reaction to that. There was nothing insipid about Callista. She wouldn’t fall into line, or be content to bask mindlessly in luxury while working dutifully on creating an heir and a spare. Even Michel would find Callista difficult to lure into the royal fold.

      Grazie a Dio! The last thing he needed was a headstrong woman fighting him every step of the way!

      But a bolt of pure lust crashed through him as he imagined her in his arms. Finding a suitable princess could wait a few days.

      * * *

      Callie stared up in wonder at the royal gates marking the boundary of the Prince’s estate. They were everything she’d expected and more. They were regal and imposing with gilt-tipped spears crowning their impressive height, while lions, teeth bared, grinned down at her. ‘Hello,’ she murmured, giving them a wink. The lions scowled back.

      ‘Very welcoming,’ she managed on a dry throat. Should СКАЧАТЬ