Men In Uniform: Captivated By The Prince. Lynn Raye Harris

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      As the day of departure drew closer, the speed of change in Emily’s life began gathering pace at a rate she couldn’t control. It felt as if the carefully crafted existence she had built for herself was being steadily unpicked, stitch by intricate stitch. The first warning sign was when a young couple arrived unannounced to take her measurements and speak in reverent terms of Brussels lace and Shantung silk, Swiss embroidery and pearls. At that point Emily realised that if she didn’t put her foot down she would have little to say even about the style of her own wedding dress. As if to confirm her suspicions, just a couple of days later clothes began arriving at her apartment—without anything being ordered as far as she was aware—as well as boxes of shoes by the trunkload.

      Feeling presumptuous, almost as if she was attempting to contact someone she hardly knew, she picked up the telephone to call Alessandro at his London office.

      She was so surprised when his secretary put her straight through that for a few moments she could hardly think straight.

      ‘I know it’s a bit crude,’ he admitted, covering for her sudden shyness with his easy manner. ‘But time has been condensed for us, Emily, and I wanted you to feel comfortable—’

      ‘Comfortable?’ Emily heard herself exclaim. ‘With clothes labelled “Breakfast, lunch, dinner: al fresco; breakfast, lunch, dinner: formal”! And that’s only two of the categories. There must be at least a dozen more—’

      ‘You don’t like them?’ Alessandro said, sounding genuinely concerned.

      ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful.’

      ‘Should we meet and discuss it, do you think?’

      ‘Yes.’ She should have pretended to think about his offer for a moment or two, she realised.

      ‘Shall I come for you now?’ There was a note of amusement in his voice.

      ‘That would be nice,’ she managed huskily.

      Alessandro took her to lunch at one of the city’s most exclusive restaurants. Somewhere so discreet that even a prince and his beautiful young companion could pass a comfortable hour or two consuming delicious food in a private booth well away from prying eyes.

      Laying down her napkin after the most light millefeuille of plump strawberries, bursting with juice, sweetened with icing sugar and whipped cream, Emily wondered how she was going to refuse Alessandro’s fabulous gifts without offending him.

      ‘Is something troubling you?’ he pressed, signalling to the waiter that he was ready to sign the bill. ‘You surely can’t still be worrying about those clothes?’

      ‘I don’t know what to think about them,’ Emily admitted frankly, hiding her confusion behind the guise of practicality. ‘There are just so many outfits—it would take me the best part of a year just to try them all on.’

      ‘So leave it for now,’ he suggested casually. ‘Grab a few things you like, and I’ll have the rest delivered to the palace. You can take your time over them in Ferara. I just thought as we were in London it was too good an opportunity to miss.’

      ‘You’re very kind…too kind,’ Emily said impulsively. Her heart was hammering painfully in her chest, while Alessandro’s gaze warmed her face, demanding that she look at him.

      ‘I just want you to be happy,’ he murmured.

      A muscle flexed in his jaw, as if he was struggling with the situation almost as much as she was. ‘For the duration of the contract,’ Emily said, as if trying to set things straight in both their minds.

      Inclining his head towards her, Alessandro gave a brief nod of agreement. ‘Talking of which—’ Reaching inside the breast pocket of his lightweight jacket, he brought something out, then seemed to think better of it and put it back again.

      ‘Are you ready to go?’ he said, standing up. ‘I thought we might take a stroll around the park before I take you back.’

      As they left the restaurant Emily was aware that the same men who had followed them discreetly from her apartment were just a few footsteps behind them now.

      ‘Don’t worry,’ Alessandro said, linking her arm through his, seeing her turn. ‘They’re the good guys.’

      ‘Your bodyguards?’

      ‘Yours, too, now that you are to be my wife,’ he reminded her.

      The thought that she was to be Alessandro’s wife excited her, in spite of everything, but the thought that she would never go anywhere again without bodyguards was the flipside of the coin. She needed Alessandro to guide her through this confusing new world, Emily realised. There were so many things she had to ask him…

      ‘Would you like to come back to my place for coffee?’

      The few seconds before he replied felt like hours. So long, in fact, that Emily began to feel foolish—as if she had made some clumsy approach to a man she’d only just met.

      ‘Better not,’ he replied with a quick smile.

      ‘Don’t worry—I just thought—’

      Alessandro could have kicked himself. Emily’s invitation had been irresistible—almost. But if they went back to her apartment there could only be one outcome and, to his continued surprise, Emily Weston had awoken a whole gamut of masculine instincts within him—prime amongst which, at this moment, was his desire to protect her. To protect her, to woo her, and then make her his wife. And he had already accepted that the timing of that last part of his plan might not coincide exactly with their wedding day.

      ‘There’s still time for that walk in the park.’

      They were sheltering from rain beneath a bandstand when he said, ‘You’d better have this.’

      ‘What is it?’ Emily said curiously, watching as again he dipped his hand inside the breast pocket of his jacket. She frowned when she saw the ring he was holding out to her.

      ‘It would cause quite a stir in Ferara if you weren’t seen wearing this particular piece of jewellery,’ Alessandro explained, as coolly as if it was a laptop that came with the job.

      Of course there would be a ring…she should have known. And it was a very beautiful ring. But shouldn’t an engagement ring be given with love…and with tenderness?

      ‘Don’t you like it?’

      It really mattered to him, Emily realised, taking in the fact that the ring was obviously very old and must have been worn by Alessandro’s ancestors for generations—possibly even by his late mother.

      ‘If you prefer you could just wear it on public occasions.’

      ‘I love it,’ she said firmly. And I can see how much it means to you, her eyes told him. ‘It’s just with all these fabulous clothes, and now this…’ The words dried up as he took hold of her hand. His expression was lighter, as if a great burden had been removed from his shoulders.

      ‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘I was hoping you’d like it. It has been passed down through my family.’

      ‘Tell СКАЧАТЬ