The Brides of Bella Rosa: Beauty and the Reclusive Prince. Rebecca Winters

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      “Yes,” she told him earnestly.

      “But luckily Max came along in time to…to rescue you.”

      She turned and looked at where the prince was standing back in the shadows just in time to see him turn away as though angry at what his cousin had just said. She frowned. Why would he do that? Did he realize what a part he’d played in creating her unfortunate incident? Maybe he needed a reminder.

      “Is that the way he tells the story?”

      Marcello grinned at her. “How do you tell it?”

      She gave Max an arch look sideways. “Here’s how I remember it. I was strolling along on the hillside when suddenly something that looked like a dark avenging angel came galloping down on me and I ran for my life. My foot slipped. I tumbled into the river.” She shrugged. “A simple tale, really,” she said.

      “And all Max’s fault,” Marcello said with a knowing look.

      Her eyes widened in mock innocence. “Of course.” She glanced back at where Max was pacing, but she couldn’t see his face.

      “Here’s what I don’t quite get,” Marcello was saying as he looked through his black bag for supplies. “What was it about Max that terrified you enough to start running?” He looked up at her. “Instead of just holding your ground and stating your case, I mean.” He gave his cousin a mocking look. “He doesn’t seem all that scary to me.”

      Yes, that was the slightly embarrassing element in all this, she had to admit. Should she tell him the truth? Would he laugh? Or think her a little looney? She glanced at Max again and his haughty reserve gave her the spark she needed to go on.

      “I’m sure you know about the legends attached to this castle,” she said. “I’ve heard them all my life.”

      Max stopped, though still in shadows. “What sort of legends?” he asked gruffly.

      She hesitated, knowing he was going to scoff. “Well, the usual,” she began, starting to wish she hadn’t brought it up.

      “I know what she’s talking about,” Marcello offered. “Village people love to think of their local prince as a modern day Casanova, seducing women and humiliating men.” He gave his cousin a quick grin. “And you’ve got to admit we’ve got a few rakes and degenerates in the older branches of our family tree.”

      Max shrugged and turned away, and Isabella bit her lip, then added something in a very soft voice.

      “Vampires,” she said.

      They both turned back to her. “What?”

      Her chin came up and her eyes sparked. “Vampires,” she said more forcefully.

      They gaped at her and she went on quickly, before they could begin to laugh.

      “There are plenty of rumors that your family has included vampires. I know it’s crazy. I’m just saying…”

      Max turned away again, shaking his head.

      “It was partly the way you came crashing at me in the middle of a storm,” she continued, raising her voice so that he couldn’t ignore her. “Like something dropped from a thundercloud. And on horseback!” She shook her head. “I thought…I thought…” She bit her lip and wondered if she really should tell them this.

      “Yes?” Marcello leaned forward, unmistakably interested. “What was it you thought?”

      She narrowed her gaze and put steel in her spine. “I…I thought Max was a vampire. Just for a second or two.”

      There. She’d said it. She looked up at where Max was standing and wished she could see what his eyes were revealing at this very moment. It was difficult to tell his reactions and that was driving her crazy.

      “Are you serious?” Marcello was another matter. His response was no mystery. “A vampire?”

      She tossed her hair back and tried to explain, addressing Max directly, even if he wouldn’t do the same to her.

      “Well, it was a logical conclusion to draw. After all, you came galloping out of the forest, dressed all in black with that cape and everything. The setting was perfect for it with the moon hidden behind clouds over your shoulder. From where I was standing, it was like something right out of a vampire movie.”

      Max didn’t move.

      Marcello’s mouth was holding steady but his gaze was rife with amusement.

      “Isabella, I think you’ve got it wrong,” he said carefully, as though teaching a lesson. “This is the Italian countryside, you know. As I understand it, vampires live in Transylvania. Am I right?”

      Of course he was right, but she wasn’t going to admit it so easily. “Oh, so you think an Italian can’t be a vampire?” she demanded.

      He shrugged grandly and almost rolled his eyes. “What do you think, Max? I’d say chances are slim.”

      Max didn’t answer, but she wasn’t giving up. She shook her head and threw out her arms. “They say there are vampires everywhere.”

      “I see.” Marcello was laughing at her again. “How many have you met yourself?”

      She gave him a quick, sideways look. “Well…not many, I will admit.”

      He nodded wisely. “Interesting.”

      His attitude was really beginning to annoy her, but even worse was the way the prince stayed silent through it all. She wanted some reply, some indication as to how he felt about the things she was saying, and she was getting nothing at all.

      “So you actually haven’t had a lot of experience with vampires.”

      “Max is the only one so far,” she said tartly.

      And that got the reaction she was after. Max swung around and came in front of her very much like the man who had swooped down upon her on horseback, bringing with him all the sense of power he seemed to carry with him, very much like that cape he’d worn.

      “Miss Casali,” he said icily, staring down at her, his full scars exposed. “I may be many things, but I am not now, nor have I ever been, a vampire. If I start feeling a sudden craving for human blood, you’ll be the first to know. Until then, drop this nonsense.”

      She swallowed hard, looking up at him. “Okay,” she said in a small, soft voice. His gaze held hers for only seconds, but it made its mark. She felt as though she’d just had a wild ride on a roller coaster and her insides were still in flight.

      “Marcello?” he said pointedly, then turned back to pace the shadows.

      His cousin moved in to start his examination of the patient and, for now, all bantering ceased. He started with a look at her black eye, and what he saw had him shaking his head in dismay. “Ice will help the swelling,” he told her after he’d checked to make sure there were no cuts or outright abrasions involved. “But the bruising will seem to go on forever. And there’s really not much you can do about that.”

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