The Prince's Forbidden Bride. Rebecca Winters

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СКАЧАТЬ be staying at the Hotel Cezanne, where you are staying. I’ll ring your room.

       We’ll spend as much time together as we can while I’m there. I’m longing to see you again. All the letters and photos have kept me going, but it’s been a century since I kissed you.

       Enrico

      After reading the book from cover to cover, Donetta kissed Enrico’s letter. It traveled to her purse, her pocket and her pillow. She had it with her when she entered the hotel. This time her staff stayed at a different hotel. So did Lorenzo, who’d flown here with her but had come only to watch her perform, not keep tabs on her.

      Once she was in her room, her pulse raced and wouldn’t subside, because she knew she’d be seeing Enrico shortly. She had brought several outfits with her, not knowing what to wear. After much indecision she chose to wear a filmy short-sleeved dress in champagne color and bone-colored sandals.

      To please him Donetta left her hair long and flowing from a side part. After applying pink, frosted lipstick, she put on hoop earrings of the same light green color as her eyes. She wanted him to take one look at her and never let her go.

      When the room phone rang, she literally jumped before picking up.

      “H-Hello?” she stammered.

      “Thank heaven your voice hasn’t changed.”

      His had grown even deeper. “Neither has yours.”

      “Are you ready?”

      “Yes,” she answered, almost out of breath.

      “Meet me in the lobby in five minutes. I’ve rented a car. We’re going to take off and find a charming spot away from the world where we can be alone.”

      Donetta came close to fainting when she saw the man of her dreams standing near the entrance, wearing a tan suit and sports shirt. No man came close to her picture of Enrico, who was the personification of every woman’s dream of a dark-haired prince. At almost twenty-two, he was truly breathtaking and sensuously male.

      “Bellissima,” he murmured. His black eyes played over her hungrily before he grasped her hand. They walked to the parking area and got in his car. He drove them out of the city to the suburbs and pulled up to a place called the Patio.

      “Before we get out, I have to do this.”

      “Enrico—” she cried as he reached for her and his mouth closed over hers. It didn’t seem possible that she was in his arms again and they were giving each other kiss for kiss, unable to get enough.

      Evening turned into night as they tried to make up for the years when they hadn’t been able to be together. The letters and photos hadn’t been enough.

      “If you’re dying for dinner, we’ll get out of the car, but I don’t want to let you go.”

      She shook her head. “I’m only dying for you. After your letter and gift, which I love, I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything. All I want is to be with you.”

      “We’re safer here than back at the hotel, where everyone knows us. But this is no way for us to have a relationship. One more year of schooling for both of us and then we can make plans to be together. What if we take a trip after we graduate? How about two weeks to the South Seas or a Caribbean island?”

      “I’d give anything to go away with you. Anything!”

      “Then we’ll do it. You’re so beautiful, Donetta, I think I’m hallucinating. Kiss me again.”

      After another half hour they ended up driving to a store for fruit and some quiche. “I need to get us back to the hotel. You’re performing in the morning and need your sleep.”

      “No, I don’t. I only need you.”

      The car was their sanctuary. They didn’t go into the hotel until after one. “I’d come to your room, but then you’d never get rid of me and we’d be the target of every eye. I’ll be at the stands in the morning to watch you on Blaze.”

      They rode the elevator to the second floor, where he had to get out, but they clung to each other.

      “Enrico? How soon do you have to get back to Cambridge?”

      “Tomorrow night.”

      “Why don’t we just drive away right now until you have to be at the airport. I’ll skip the competition.”

      He pressed his forehead against hers. “You can’t do that. I can’t let you. But we’ll be together all day tomorrow.” Enrico let her go and stepped out into the hall. He looked back. “Meet me in the lobby at seven and we’ll go somewhere for breakfast before you have to report to the stands.”

      “Don’t go, Enrico. I’m afraid.”

      He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

      “Because I’m too happy.”

      “You don’t know the meaning of the word yet. Buona notte e sogni d’ oro, Donetta.”

      Golden dreams. She’d been living in one since they’d met in the lobby. “Buona notte, Enrico.”

      The elevator door closed and carried her to the third floor. When she reached her room, the phone was ringing. She rushed to answer it. “Enrico?”

      “Good. You’re home safe and sound for tonight. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

      “I dream of you every night,” she confessed.

      “One of these days we won’t have to do that anymore.”

      He clicked off.

      She was slower to hang up. If he meant what she thought he’d meant, he wasn’t just talking about a two-week vacation. Filled with elation, she whirled around the room before settling down long enough to undress and get to bed.

       CHAPTER ONE

      THERE WAS NO sight more beautiful to Crown Prince Enrico da Francesca di Montedoro than the island country of Vallefiore. In the early morning light, the sun’s first rays appeared like fingers over the magnificent vertiginous mountains and sparkling waterfalls.

      From his vantage point atop the highest peak, he could see his country was surrounded by the deep blue waters of the Ionian Sea splashing against rocky shoreline cliffs and hidden grottoes.

      He’d always likened his country to a dazzling blue-green jewel whose lakes and villages made up its many facets, including the plains where the wild Sanfratellano horses ran free.

      His eyes followed the lay of the land over rolling hills and orchards to palm-studded sand. Everything could grow here in its subtropical climate. But as his father, King Nuncio, had told Enrico when he was a boy, without more fresh water to irrigate, it couldn’t flourish as it should.

      From СКАЧАТЬ