The Mediterranean Prince's Passion (The Royal House 0f Cacciatore Book 1)
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The new gallery was to be opened in the village by the new Princess before a wildly enthusiastic local population, grateful that a share of the island’s tourism was now putting them firmly on the map. Architects and town planners had been flown in to oversee the gentle expansion, which was designed to blend into the scenery, not bleed it of all its natural simplicity.
Gianferro had asked for an audience with her soon after their engagement had been announced and she had flown out to the island to prepare for the wedding. Her stomach had been churning as she had walked along the gilded corridor towards his suite of offices. He had given them his approval, yes, but what if secretly he had doubts about her ability to make a good wife and princess?
But Ella needn’t have had any fears. His hard face had softened on seeing the look of anxiety in hers, and he had patted a space on the brocade sofa beside him.
‘Come, Gabriella,’ he had murmured. ‘And tell me what magic you have worked on Nico.’
‘No magic,’ she had responded shyly. ‘Just love.’
The black eyes, so like his brother’s, had gleamed. ‘I had intended to ask whether you really do love him,’ he said. ‘But I can see now that the question is superfluous—for it shines like the sun at noon from your eyes.’
‘Ooh, Gianferro is my kind of man,’ Celia had whispered adoringly on the morning of the ceremony, as she’d tugged at the pale pink lawn of her bridesmaid dress. ‘Any chance you could do a bit of match-making?’
But Ella had shaken her head. ‘I don’t think so. He’s a loner,’ she’d said. Gianferro would soon be King, for their father’s health was ailing fast—and to be King was a lonely destiny. Princes abounded, but Kings were few. Nico had been able to dispense with a certain amount of expectation by marrying her, a commoner, simply because he was the youngest son—with a lessened burden of responsibility riding on his shoulders.
But Gianferro’s destiny was mapped out. When he took a bride she would have to be suitable. And when Ella looked at his sensual yet restless face, she wondered just how he would cope with the reality of having to marry a virgin bride.
Prince Guido had flown in at the very last moment, and Ella had witnessed an extraordinary phenomenon, as every female in his vicinity had taken on a look of longing that bordered on the incandescent. He was a remarkably good-looking man, she acknowledged, but his black eyes were bored, almost jaded.
‘So you have beaten me to the altar, Nico,’ he had drawled at the pre-nuptial ball.
‘No surprise there!’ his brother had responded drily. ‘You have a wish to be married, Guido?’ he’d added curiously.
‘No wish at all,’ had come the mocking response. ‘I’m happy as I am.’
‘Are you?’ Ella had asked suddenly, and both brothers had turned to her. Nico had not mirrored Guido’s surprise—but then he was growing used to her candid way of saying what she really thought!
Guido’s eyes had narrowed. ‘Of course,’ he’d said lightly. ‘I enjoy my life of self-imposed exile, for there is none of the expectation which surrounds me here. No damned matrons clucking and introducing me to their darling daughters.’ And he’d given a rather bitter laugh as one of the said matrons had begun bearing down on him, her diamonds almost blinding them, a look of grim determination on her face. ‘Forgive me,’ he’d murmured. ‘But it’s time I wasn’t here.’
‘I’m afraid that Guido is a bit of a cynic where women are concerned,’ Nico had confided to her later. Their guests had gone and they were standing side by side on the terrace, gazing up at the stars and a crescent moon.
She had turned to him with an expression of mock surprise. ‘Never!’
Nico had laughed.
They did a lot of laughing. They held each other tight at night and thanked God they had found one another.
Ella had left an old life behind, but so had Nico, and the one they had found together was better than their wildest dreams.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6369-1
THE MEDITERRANEAN PRINCE’S PASSION
First North American Publication 2005.
Copyright © 2004 by Sharon Kendrick.
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