by Sarah Morgan
She lifted her eyes from the notebook. ‘So you’re officially mending.’
‘Apparently.’
Their eyes met and he knew what she was thinking because he was thinking the same thing. That this was the end.
They were both moving on.
As someone who did ‘moving on’ better than most, Alessandro waited for the rush of relief that inevitably followed the demise of a relationship.
It didn’t come.
‘They’re pleased with the rate of healing.’ He maintained the conversation, even though his mind was elsewhere.
‘So—that’s that, then. You’re not going to need a nurse for much longer.’
A nurse? No. He didn’t need a nurse.
But that didn’t mean—
Making a decision, Alessandro took a deep breath. ‘There’s something I need to say to you.’
‘It’s perfect timing.’ Her smile was dazzling and she interrupted before he could say what he wanted to say. ‘I have an interview on Friday. The job looks really interesting and apparently it’s a very progressive department so they might even be able to cope with me.’
The news that she had an interview landed like a thud in his stomach. ‘Tasha—’
‘How honest do you think I should be about why I left my last job? My natural instinct is to tell the truth, but I have to admit that my natural instinct sometimes gets me into trouble—Oh!’ Her flow of speech was cut off as Alessandro crushed his mouth down on hers.
Her lips were warm and sweet and what had begun as a silencing exercise fast turned into a sensual feast. ‘God, you taste fantastic.’
‘Sandro …’ She moaned his name and slid her arms around his neck. As the kiss heated up Alessandro found it hard to remember what he’d wanted to say.
‘Wait.’ He dragged his mouth from hers, trying to focus through the burn of raw lust that heated his body. ‘We have to talk.’ He felt the tension ripple through her and wondered why she would react like that when she didn’t even know what he was going to ask.
‘No, we don’t. You don’t need to say anything.’ Eyes closed, she muttered the words against his mouth. ‘We always knew this was just for now. You’re moving on. I’m moving on. No worries—although I have to admit I’m going to miss the sex …’
Alessandro pulled his mouth from hers. Her words should have brought him nothing but relief. Instead, tension spread across his shoulders. ‘I’m not ready to move on. That’s what I’m trying to tell you.’
Her eyes opened slowly. ‘You’re not?’
‘No.’
He stroked his thumbs over her cheeks, thinking that she had the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen. ‘At the weekend I have a high-profile wedding to attend. The Earl of Cornwall’s daughter.’
‘Is this in an official capacity?’
‘Yes. And I want you to come.’
She stared at him for a long moment. ‘Me?’
‘Yes.’
‘You want me to come?’
Alessandro stared at her in exasperation. ‘Why are you repeating everything? Yes, I want you to come. What’s so strange about that? We’ve spent the past six weeks together.’
‘Oh—yes.’ She cleared her throat and glanced around selfconsciously, apparently only now realising that they could easily be overheard. ‘So you’re taking me for my medical abilities?’
‘No. I’m taking you because I want to take you. I can’t stand the formality of these occasions. I particularly hate weddings. I’d love your company.’
‘But if it’s an official appearance, shouldn’t you be taking a princess with blonde hair and a haughty expression?’
‘I’m taking you.’
Her eyes were wary. ‘Am I expected to call you Your Highness in public?’
‘No.’
‘Are you going to be mobbed by adoring women?’
‘It’s a wedding,’ he drawled, ‘so hopefully not.’
She bit her lip and tilted her head to one side. ‘So what would I have to wear?’
Alessandro smiled. If they’d reached the point where she was asking what to wear, it meant that she was definitely coming. ‘It will be dressy. It’s being held in a castle. Wear something glamorous.’
‘A wedding in a castle?’ Tasha pursed her lips but couldn’t hold back the twinkle in her eyes. ‘Sounds pretty downmarket. Might be boring.’
‘It will be boring.’ He sighed. ‘All weddings are boring, so kill that shine in your eyes right now.’
‘Are they madly in love? How did they meet? Was it romantic?’
‘Tasha—’
‘Sorry. Just asking. Good. Fine. Boring old wedding.’ She gave a tiny shrug. ‘I’ll find something boring to wear, then.’
‘I can’t believe he’s taking you to the Earl of Cornwall’s wedding.’ Megan gave a disbelieving laugh. ‘That’s … huge.’
‘I’m the one who’s huge compared to all those breedy aristocrats.’ Tasha stared down at herself in dismay. ‘Can I lose a stone by Saturday?’
‘You don’t need to lose a stone. You look fantastic.’ Excited, Megan hugged her. ‘I’m so pleased for you. I know how much you like him.’
‘I hear a “but” in your tone.’ Tasha extracted herself. ‘You think he’s going to hurt me.’
‘No.’ Megan bit her lip. ‘But any man as rich and gorgeous as him is bound to attract non-stop female attention. And he does have a reputation.’
‘It’s someone else’s wedding, not ours,’ Tasha said blithely, ‘so his reputation isn’t an issue.’ Not for anything would she admit how she felt about him. Not even to Megan, who had become a real friend over the past few weeks.
The only subject they never discussed was Josh. Whenever her brother’s name was mentioned, Megan instantly changed the subject.
‘Well, he certainly isn’t hiding you away. Every time I open a newspaper I see another article about that wedding. It’s very high profile and by taking you he’s making a statement about your relationship.’
Tasha felt her heart bump against her ribs. ‘You think he’s making a statement?’
‘Of course. You’ve been living in this little cocoon together, but now he’s taking you out in public.’
‘As his nurse.’
‘Nurses don’t usually wear glamorous dresses and have sex with their patients.’
Tasha choked. ‘When I first met you, I thought you were dignified and delicate.’
‘I’m practical,’ Megan said dryly, grabbing Tasha by the arm. ‘Come on. We’re supposed to be finding you something to wear.’ Without giving her the chance to argue, Megan dragged her towards St Piran’s most exclusive boutique.
‘You have to be kidding. I can’t afford this place.’ Tasha dug her heels in like a horse. ‘I don’t have a job, remember?’ She’d told Megan everything that had happened at her last hospital and had been relieved when the other doctor had stoutly declared that she would have done the same thing in the same situation.
‘Isn’t he paying?’ Megan paused in front of the heavy glass doors. ‘Tasha, he’s a prince. He’s loaded and he’s the one who invited you to this wedding. If he expects you to dress up in something glamorous and photogenic, he should pay.’
‘He wanted to pay. I refused.’
‘He offered to buy you an outfit and you refused? Are you mad?’
‘No, I’m independent.’ Tasha scowled at her. ‘Do you know how many women fling themselves at him? Loads. And most of them just do it because he’s a prince and rich and—well, you know. I don’t want him ever to think our relationship has anything to do with who he is.’
Megan stared at her for a long moment. ‘Tasha, he is a prince. You can’t get away from that.’
‘No, he’s a man,’ Tasha said firmly. ‘These last few weeks—it’s been so normal. He’s just a regular guy. Well, maybe not a regular guy exactly because he’s super good looking and devilishly charming and most of the regular guys I meet are complete no-hopers. But he doesn’t
act like a prince. To me he’s just Sandro.’
Megan looked as though she wanted to say something else but in the end gave a brief smile and shook her head. ‘Yes. Of course. I’m the last person to give advice to anyone on anything of a romantic nature.’ It was the closest she’d ever come to admitting that her relationship with Josh was a disaster.
Tasha didn’t even know if Megan was aware of Rebecca’s pregnancy and she felt torn, knowing something about her brother that she couldn’t share with her friend.
But she decided that it wasn’t her place to say anything.
It was up to Josh to deal with it the way he believed was best.
Megan was smiling at her. ‘I can completely understand why you want to buy your own dress and be independent. So let’s do it.’ Without giving Tasha a chance to argue, she pushed open the doors that led into the boutique, leaving Tasha no option but to follow.
Deciding that Megan wasn’t as fragile as she looked, Tasha slunk in after her. ‘I hate this sort of shop—they always look at you as though you have no right to be here.’
Megan lifted her head and smiled at the frosty-faced assistant. ‘My friend is going to the wedding of the Earl of Cornwall’s daughter. She needs something special. The photographs will be everywhere so it’s a super opportunity to publicise the boutique.’ She drew breath. ‘Which is why you’re going to give us a generous discount.’
Tasha cringed, but the sales assistant hurried over, as did her colleague.
‘You are in absolutely the right place. We have several things that would be perfect for you.’
‘Excellent.’ Megan smiled. ‘Let’s get started. Tasha, go and take off those jeans.’
CHAPTER NINE
‘SO THE Earl of Cornwall’s daughter obviously doesn’t believe in keeping a low profile.’ Tasha blinked as another flashbulb exploded in her face. ‘Whatever happened to quiet, intimate weddings?’
‘Arabella describes herself as a socialite. She believes she has a duty to be seen.’
‘Except that everyone here seems to want to see you.’ Tasha flinched as a photographer leaned forward over the barriers and pointed his camera towards her. ‘Whoa—unless you’re airbrushing, that’s too close. Please pull back to the next county. Remind me why I didn’t specialise in plastic surgery rather than paediatrics?’ She kept her tone light, but it was impossible not to feel self-conscious surrounded by an endless stream of beautiful women who seemed completely at home in front of the cameras. It was also impossible not to be aware that the crowd was chanting Alessandro’s name.
‘Is this why you were invited?’ Hating herself for feeling daunted by the crowds, Tasha moved closer to his side. ‘Does having you here get her more publicity?’
‘Yes.’
‘Don’t you hate that?’
‘Being the star attraction?’ A sardonic smile touched his mouth. ‘Of course not. Much more entertaining than being on the polo field.’
‘Don’t be sarcastic. This is exciting.’ She slipped her hand into his and he looked down at her, his eyes glittering dark and dangerous.
‘You look beautiful. If I throw you over my shoulder and take you behind the nearest large bush, what do you think will happen?’
Her stomach tumbled. ‘I’ll black your eye and the press will get some interesting photos. Forget it, Sandro. I’m all dressed up. I want to stay dressed up for a while at least. I want to enjoy the party.’
‘Dr O’Hara—can you look this way? Can you tell us who your dress is by?’ a photographer shouted across to them and Tasha froze.
‘How do they know my name?’
‘Arabella will have provided them with a guest list.’
‘They want to know who my dress is by.’
He lifted his broad shoulders in a dismissive gesture. ‘So tell them.’
Tasha leaned closer to him. ‘I would if I knew,’ she muttered. ‘You’re going to have to look in the back and see if there’s a label or something.’
Alessandro looked at her in astonishment and then started to laugh. ‘You don’t know who designed your dress? Why did you buy it?’
‘Because it’s pretty and it looks nice on me. Why else?’ Tasha glared at him, affronted. ‘And I don’t see what’s so funny about that. Why are you laughing?’
‘Because you, Dr O’Hara, are an original.’ Cupping her face in his hands, he kissed her slowly and deliberately, ignoring the multiple flashes that lit the sky like a firework display. ‘That’s tomorrow’s picture.’
‘What? The back of my head? Now you’ve smudged my make-up,’ Tasha grumbled, but her heart was racing as she saw the look in his eyes. Behind the flare of desire there was something else. Warmth. Intimacy. Love? ‘I have a feeling that kiss is going to stimulate interest in more than the designer of my dress.’
‘I have a feeling you could be right.’
Remembering the chill in his mother’s voice, Tasha shivered. ‘Are people going to mind that you’ve brought me?’
He took her hand in a firm grip. ‘I don’t care what other people think. Come and meet the bride.’
The day passed in a haze. Tasha was introduced to what felt like a million people, but the only person she was aware of was Alessandro, who didn’t leave her side. Whenever anyone called him for a photograph, he hauled her with him, as if they were surgically attached. He acted as if they were a couple.
Something shifted inside her.
Hope sprang through her natural defences.
If their relationship were just about sex, she wouldn’t be here, would she? He wouldn’t be holding her hand in full view of the wedding guests and smiling down at her with warmth in his eyes.
By choosing to bring her he was making a public declaration about their relationship.
Feeling ridiculously happy, Tasha floated through the ceremony and the speeches, barely hearing a word. Instead her brain was racing forward and she conjured a picture of herself in a wedding dress.
Princess Tasha.
In a dream, she greeted the guests eager to be introduced to her, but her real focus was Alessandro, who looked spectacularly handsome in an Italian suit.
By late evening she’d grown so used to the sound of helicopters arriving and taking off that she barely glanced up when another arrived. It wasn’t until she saw the change in body language of the guests that she looked over her shoulder to see who was attracting such attention.
Spying more suited security men, she glanced at Alessandro. ‘Someone important?’
‘You could say that,’ he drawled. ‘It’s my mother.’
Tasha stilled as she watched the elegant woman move across the perfectly manicured lawn, flanked by security guards. ‘Did you know she was coming?’
‘Yes.’ His tone was flat and Tasha stared at him in exasperation.
‘And you didn’t think it was worth mentioning?’ Suddenly she felt grubby and self-conscious. ‘If I’d known … I don’t think your mother exactly approves of me—’
‘Who I choose to spend time with is none of her business.’ Still holding her hand tightly, he stepped forward as Princess Eleanor approached him. ‘Mother.’
Mother.
Tasha winced. It was so formal.
‘Alessandro.’
Still holding Tasha’s hand firmly, Alessandro drew her forward. ‘I’d like to introduce you to—’
‘We’ll talk indoors.’ His mother’s tone was colder than the champagne and she turned to the bride, who was almost swooning with delight that she had royalty in attendance at her wedding. ‘Arabella. You look beautiful. Alessandro, I want to talk to you. Alone.’
‘I want to talk to you, too. But Tasha comes with me.’
Without sparing Tasha a glance, his mother transferred her chilly gaze from his face to his leg. ‘Do you still need a nurse?’
‘She isn’t here in her capacity as nurse.’
‘I know why she’s here, Alessandro. I’m not stupid. And neither is Miranda.’ The woman spoke in a l
ow voice that couldn’t be heard by anyone around them, the gentle smile on her face giving no hints to the observer that the situation was anything but completely harmonious. ‘And your little plan has worked, so there’s no need to overplay your hand. Now, let’s go inside so that we can work on damage limitation. Natasha, I’d like you to come too. I think it’s best if you hear what I have to say.’
Tasha threw a bemused look at Alessandro but he was staring at his mother. His face might have been carved from marble. ‘I agree. We’ll go inside.’ Without waiting for her agreement, he strode towards the wing of the castle that had been allocated for the use of guests.
‘Ow—you’re hurting me.’ Tasha twisted her hand in his and he released his grip slightly.
‘Sorry.’
‘Look, maybe you should have this conversation with your mother without me there.’
‘You need to be there.’
‘Yes, she does.’ They entered a wood-panelled library and two security men closed the doors so that they were alone. Princess Eleanor delicately removed her silk gloves. ‘Natasha, isn’t it? And you’re his nurse.’
‘Actually I’m a—’
‘It doesn’t matter. Did he tell you why he invited you here today?’
Tasha frowned, thinking that it was an obvious question. ‘He needed to take someone to the wedding. This sort of event isn’t much fun on your own.’
‘Indeed.’ The older woman’s smile was chilly. ‘But Alessandro doesn’t attend these events to have “fun”.’ She spoke the word as if it were a disease. ‘He attends because that’s his job—to be seen. He’s here to represent San Savarre. And the person by his side should also be representing San Savarre—’
‘Tasha is my guest.’ Alessandro interrupted in a cold, hard voice that made Tasha look towards him in astonishment. She’d never heard him use that tone before. He sounded … regal? Very much the one in charge. ‘Unless you want me to walk out of that door and not look back, do not insult my guest. Tasha, would you give us a few moments, please? I’ve decided I do need to talk to my mother on my own.’
‘Sure. No problem.’ Feeling about as welcome as a virus in an operating theatre, Tasha made a rapid exit. The two stonyfaced security men were standing guard outside the door and she slid past them and made her way to the ladies’ room, hoping to avoid the inevitable gossip and speculation.