The Prince's Housekeeper Bride

by Carol Marinelli

  “I need to talk with you about our arrangement.” Benito said.

  “I thought we would be too busy for talking?”

  “Alisa, don’t…” His eyes implored her to listen, his arms wrapped around her as they danced. “I am the same—one night is not enough for me.”

  The pause between dances was suddenly welcome. Tears flashing in her eyes, Alisa walked off a touch too quickly.

  “You do not walk away from me!” Benito met her at the edge of the dance floor as she accepted a glass of champagne.

  “I’ll try to remember my place,” Alisa snapped. “But you’ll have to remind me where it is, Benito. Am I supposed to be making your bed or lying in it?”

  “Don’t talk like a tart!”

  “But that’s what you make me!” Her face was white beneath her makeup. “You dictate the terms, you tell me how much you are prepared to give and I am supposed to demurely accept—”

  “Benito! Come sta?” Prince Luca Fierezza, a pretty blonde thing on his arm, either didn’t notice or didn’t care that his cousin was clearly having words with his date—no doubt it was par for the course with this pair.

  “Signora Moretti, I am sorry to intrude,” Giovanni, one of the waiters, a man Alisa had worked alongside for years, was wooden and formal now when he approached her, as unsure of her new status as Alisa was.

  “What’s wrong, Giovanni?” Alisa asked.

  “There is a call for you…” He gave a small cough, and Alisa’s world stopped when she saw his expression. “It is your neighbor calling from the hospital. She knows she should not disturb you tonight—she says she is aware how important it is that you stay—but she thinks it is only right that you know. Marietta has just been hospitalized.”

  Alisa’s only thought was to get to her.

  It didn’t matter that she was at a grand ball; it didn’t matter that this was her ticket to a better future.

  Without Marietta there was no future.

  The last piece of her family, the one person she had in the world, was ill and scared and needed her.

  As Alisa fled out of the ballroom, for a moment it did enter her head to tell Benito where she was going, but what was the point?

  His face blurred as she dashed past. She could see him talking with Luca—two rogues, two playboys, together. What did they care about the real world? Benito wanted her body, not her problems.

  He’d made that perfectly clear.

  “She seems upset!” Luca drawled as Alisa ran from the ballroom. “Very careless, Benito. Usually you wait till morning to tell them it is finished.”

  “I was trying to tell her otherwise.” Benito took a deep breath. “Unfortunately for me, I choose to fall in love with the one woman in Niroli who fails to be impressed with my title.”

  “She will soon come around.” Luca shrugged. “Being a prince’s mistress has its perks.”

  “I don’t want her as my mistress.” Benito gave a wry smile at his cousin’s shocked expression, but Luca soon recovered, and with acquired skill, palmed off his date and collected a glass of champagne as Benito braced himself for the scorn.

  It never came.

  “Why are you still here?” Luca asked.

  “I have never run after a woman.”

  “You’ve never needed to.”

  Need. There was that word again. What was it Alisa had said? Need was about obligation, fulfilling one’s duties. He had no obligation to her. Her duty was supposedly to him…and yet…he’d expected contempt from Luca, a derisive laugh. Luca, who should be the last to understand how he felt, actually was the first.

  “I’m sorry, Your Highness!” Giovanni apologized profusely as he approached to the two princes. “I would never normally interrupt on such an occasion, however, when I heard the child’s health was so critical, I felt I had no choice—”

  “The child!” Benito’s face was as pale as his shirt. “Marietta?”

  “She stopped breathing.”

  Benito knew the hospital well.

  Even though he lived in Contarini, many events had seen him rush along these corridors: his sister’s horrific boating accident, royal births, deaths… Yes, Benito knew the polished floors of the hospital too well…

  Or he thought he did.

  The incredulous face of the nurse as he swung into the dimly lit children’s ward would stay in his mind forever.

  His dark eyes scanned the two rows of beds as the contrite nurse scuttled behind him.

  “I thought she had stopped breathing, that she…”

  “She did.” Alisa held the pale hand of her sister’s more tightly. “But she is better now.”

  “Where’s the doctor?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What did he say?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you mean?” He raked a hand through his hair, struggled to keep his voice and breathing regular. Where the hell was everyone? “He must have said something?”

  “Not to me!” Her worried jade eyes met his, bitterness soaking her words. “We’re not in the royal wing. The nurse says that Marietta is to rest. She needs to have medicine through a drip. Had I bought her here sooner…”

  “It’s not your fault.” For the first time Benito noticed the elderly lady sitting quietly in a chair. Saw her face turn unseeing to Alisa’s. “I was the one who said to wait.”

  “And I was the one out dancing and…” Alisa didn’t finish—couldn’t—her eyes closing in regret as elusive doctors, administrative staff and porters all scrambled like fighter pilots toward Marietta’s bed. Now that royalty was here, she didn’t have to wait. And for Benito, utter realization hit. The disparity Alisa had eluded to had never been more apparent than it was now.

  Staring down at little Marietta, the strain and effort in her tired face as she struggled to just breathe, he asked himself, Why was this small life less precious?

  Chapter Eight

  Living off Benito’s scraps mightn’t be so bad.

  Seeing Marietta’s usually pale face rosy and laughing as she sat up in bed in her private room, playing with the doll Benito had bought her, Alisa knew, not for the first time, she’d been too hasty declining his offer to be his mistress. Even if her heart bled for the other twenty-nine children lying in the children’s ward, even if the injustice enraged her, Alisa knew she couldn’t change the world.

  But she could change Marietta’s.

  “Come back to the villa,” Benito suggested. “Have a bath and lie down…”

  “I don’t want to leave her.”

  “Prince Benito is right.” Bella’s voice was insistent. “You have sat by her bed for two days now. You need a little rest.”

  Rest! Alisa managed a wry smile at Bella’s innocent statement. Benito’s eyes had been on her all morning. Unshaven, dressed in black jeans and a black T-shirt, he looked so sleek and brooding, so taut with tension she could feel the restless male energy that filled the room. Bed maybe on his agenda for her but sleeping certainly wasn’t!

  It felt surreal having the front door opened for her. A butler she didn’t recognize led her straight to the royal bedroom.

  “Alberto is spending time with his wife,” Benito explained.

  Bizarre, too, to sit shivering on the edge of his chaise lounge as Bianca ran her a long, hot bath.

  “I thought she had been fired.”

  “I had her reinstated.” Benito answered.

  “You seem to have taken on a lot of charity cases.” Alisa’s smile was tight.

  “There is much to put right.”

  Alisa didn’t dwell on his statement as she headed for the bathroom. Grateful to peel off the rags Bella had bought her to change into, she was not too tired to be mortified at her own reflection—her hair was still stiff with lacquer from Saturday’s ball, and her eyes were two black circles of exhaustion and old makeup.

  The oiled, scented water was blissful on her tired, aching body—too soothing, though, Alisa thought wearily. She w
as nowhere near ready for the sexual marathon Benito clearly had in mind. She wished she could recapture the fervor that had gripped her on the boat, reminding herself over and over that, in a few moments, she would be in the arms of the man she loved.

  Levering herself out of the bath and bypassing the vast bath sheet and robe that had carefully been laid out for her, she instead wrapped herself in a small towel. Combing her hair, squirting scent on her neck and bosom, Alisa took a deep breath and prayed that today her goods were, for Benito, good enough.

  “Thank you.” He was still standing where she had left him, his eyes looking somewhere over her shoulder as she crossed the room toward him. “Thank you for taking such good care of Marietta…” Nervously she stood in front of him, wishing he would take the lead and take her in his arms, but knowing it was probably her turn to now. “For taking such good care of me.”

  On tiptoes, she pressed her lips to his, closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, wishing he would reciprocate, wishing he wouldn’t make this so dammed hard. Drawing on ten minutes’ experience, she tried to duplicate their past kiss, her tongue probing his lips, trying to part his rigid mouth.

  “Stop!” His voice was sharp. Two hands grabbed at her wrists and pulled them down to her side. “The guest room is being prepared, clothes are being bought for you now. Put on your robe, and I will summon the butler.”

  “I don’t understand…” Alisa said. “I thought you wanted—”

  “I don’t want duty.” He was practically shouting, his hands on her shoulders literally shaking her with frustration. “This is no way for a prince’s bride to behave….”

  “Bride?” She laughed, actually laughed, at the impossibility of it.

  “I told you I wanted to talk, I told you—”

  “You were going to ask me to be your wife?”

  “What did you think I was going to ask?” He shook his head in exasperation. “I know I have been a selfish. I know I am spoiled and careless with people. I understand your doubt. All I can promise is that I will change, that I see now that I have ignored the true duties in being royal. I want you beside me, Alisa. I want you to show me what is wrong and right—to make things better. I will move to Niroli if that is your concern…I will arrange Marietta’s care, Bella’s surgery…“

  She could scarcely take it in. Benito wasn’t offering her his dregs. He didn’t want just a bride, but a partnership… If it wasn’t so impossible, if it wasn’t so unfeasible, she could almost believe that he…

  “I love you, Alisa.” His words were like a welcome kiss, a warm blanket engulfing her as she fled from a storm. “I love you because you are you, because you would give everything you have to make other’s lives better, because you make me laugh and you make me see sense…“

  She looked up at him. “I can’t.”

  When he closed his eyes in regret, Benito missed out on her tiny smile. “As you know, I don’t care much for duty and for what’s expected, so I hope you’ll understand when I say I can’t possibly go to the guest room now!”

  He loved her.

  Hands that were still shaking, but for entirely different reasons now, worked their way to his beautiful, haughty face. The sexual energy she had found almost impossible to summon earlier flowed through her veins readily, making loving him so much easier when it was all that was wanted.

  “It is not the right thing…” He closed his eyes as she rained butterfly kisses on his face. She heard his low growl of frustration as he struggled to resist. “As my future wife you should stay in the guest room…”

  Who was this woman? Alisa wondered as her fingers slid beneath his top to the taut planes of his chest. Who was this daring, wanton being, who had Prince Benito pleading for mercy? Rather than dutifully leaving, she insisted they arrive.

  “Can’t a princess like it, too?”

  “You’re going to love it.” He halted her amazing progress with demands of his own. His throaty promise leaving her trembling, the skimpy towel a white puddle on the floor as he sank to his knees and repeated his proposal this time. Then, with every stroke of his tongue, every measured touch of his hands ensuring that this time when gently he slid just a little inside her, Alisa was not only willing but pleadingly ready, his caution unnecessary but delicious.

  “I’ve missed you.” With a deeper thrust, he entered her body and her soul felt healed. “All my life I have missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you, too…” She had missed, without ever knowing, the importance of being important in another’s life.

  With every tender thrust he completed her. The heady balms of their orgasm shared but somehow private.

  Both entering home for the first time.

  ISBN: 978-1-4268-1201-9

  Copyright © 2007 Harlequin Books S.A.

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