Prince's Arranged Bride

by Susan Stephens

  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 me more,’ Emily encouraged, forgetting everything else as she surrendered to Alessandro’s voice, and his touch…but most of all to the sudden realisation that she wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.

  ‘I know it isn’t the usual huge and very valuable stone,’ he began, ‘and perhaps it isn’t the type of thing you might have been expecting. But this ring has a provenance that no other piece of jewellery can boast.’

  It might have been made for her, Emily realised as he settled it on her finger. Dainty ropes of rubies and pearls wound around the circumference with a ruby heart as the centrepiece of the design. ‘Tell me about it,’ she repeated.

  ‘There was a Prince of Ferara named Rodrigo,’ Alessandro began. ‘He fell in love with a beautiful young girl called Caterina. Rodrigo had this ring made for her…’

  As his voice stroked her senses Emily tried to remain detached and remind herself that Alessandro was only telling her a story. But it wasn’t easy when her mind was awash with alternative images.

  ‘On his way to ask for Caterina’s hand in marriage, Rodrigo’s horse shied, throwing him unconscious into the lake. Robbed of her one true love, Caterina decided to join a religious order.’

  Emily tensed as Alessandro switched his attention abruptly to her face. ‘What happened to her?’ she asked quickly, full of the irrational fear that he could read her mind and know it was full of him rather than the characters he was telling her about.

  ‘Caterina’s horse shied on the way to the convent,’ he said casually, the expression in his eyes concealed beneath a fringe of black lashes. ‘When she recovered consciousness this ring was right there by her side.’

  The ruby heart seemed to flare a response, making Emily gasp involuntarily.

  ‘So, did she join the religious order?’

  ‘She couldn’t.’

  ‘Couldn’t?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I should take you home now, if
you are to have an early night before your flight to Ferara tomorrow,’ he said restlessly, as if he wished he had never started the story. ‘I have another business meeting in about—’ He frowned as he glanced at his wristwatch. ‘About ten minutes ago.’

  All the romance…all the tenderness…had vanished from his voice as if it had never been. Of course it had never been, Emily thought, angry for allowing herself to get carried away. Alessandro’s fairy story was just part of the play-acting they were both forced to endure…and the ring was just another prop.

  ‘I’ll take good care of it,’ she said, closing her fist around the jewel-encrusted band.

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ he murmured as he straightened up. ‘Shall we go?’

  It was an instruction, not a question, Emily realised. ‘You don’t have to see me home,’ she said quickly. ‘I’ve made you late enough already.’

  ‘I’m taking you back,’ he insisted in the same quiet determined tone that made it impossible to argue with him.

  Alessandro left her at the door to her apartment, refusing yet another invitation to cross the threshold. ‘Li vedro in Ferara, Emily,’ he said, waiting until she had closed the door.

  ‘Yes. See you in Ferara, Alessandro,’ Emily confirmed softly, turning away from him to face the empty room.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  IT SEEMED to Emily that everyone in Ferara had cause to celebrate apart from the main characters in the drama that was about to unfold.

  From one of the windows in the turret of the huge suite she had been given for her few remaining days as a single woman she had a good view of the cobbled thoroughfare outside the palace walls. Bunting and banners in the distinctive Feraran colours of crimson, blue and gold hung in colourful swathes across the street, along with numerous posters of the soon to be married couple…Emily Weston and Prince Alessandro Bussoni Ferara. Es and As, intertwined.

  For once Emily was forced to agree with her mother. It hardly seemed possible!

  She had been awake since dawn, when all the unfamiliar sounds of a new day in Ferara had intruded upon her slumbers. Only then had she begun to drink in the unaccustomed luxury of her new surroundings—and with something closer to dread than exhilaration. The setting was everything she might have dreamed about—if she’d been a dreamer. One thing she had not anticipated was how it might feel to be set adrift in a palace that, however fabulous, was full of endless echoing corridors where everyone but she seemed to know exactly what was expected of them.

  Ferara, at least, was far lovelier than she had ever dared to expect. On the drive from the airport the countryside that had unrolled before her had been picture-postcard perfect. A landscape of lilac hills shrouded in mist, some crowned with quaint medieval villages shielding fields cloaked in vines, and clusters of cypress trees standing on sentry duty against a flawless azure sky.

  The Palace of Ferara was constructed around a sixth century Byzantine tower, and seemed from a distance to be balanced perilously on the very edge of a towering chalky-white cliff face. Rising out of the low cloud cover as they had approached by road, both palace and cliff had appeared to be suspended magically in the air. But as they’d drawn closer Emily had seen that the stone palace was both vast and set firm on towering foundations.

  No wonder a Princess of Ferara needed so many clothes, she mused as she retraced in her mind those parts of the palace she had already been shown. The sheer number of rooms was overwhelming.

  Tossing back the crisp, lavender-scented sheets, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and headed towards the glass-paned doors leading onto her balcony. Even in the early-morning sunshine the mellow stone already felt warm beneath her naked feet. Staring out across the city, she felt like an excited child, monitoring the progress of some promised treat…Except that she wasn’t a child any longer, Emily reminded herself, pulling back. She would have to be totally insensitive not to realise that the people of Ferara had high hopes for this marriage, and all she had to offer them was a sham.

  She dragged her thoughts from harsh reality and they turned inevitably to Alessandro, and how long his business would keep him from Ferara. The best she could expect was that he would turn up for their wedding. Then they would get on with their own lives—separately. She would stay on in Ferara, of course, and act out her part as promised. But what did Alessandro have planned? Would she see him at all?

  Shaking her head, as if to rid herself of pointless speculation, she reached for the telephone and dialled an internal line. After several rings she remembered that Miranda and her parents would probably have already left for their promised tour of Ferara.

  So, what did a ‘soon to be’ princess do in her spare time? Ring the office, she told herself, trying another number.

  ‘Force of habit,’ she explained to the uncharacteristically bewildered Clerk of Chambers who normally organised her working life with unfailing efficiency. ‘Yes, OK, Billy. See you at the wedding then.’

  She tried to hang on to the familiar voice in her mind, but when she replaced the receiver the room seemed to have grown larger and even emptier than before she placed the call.

  Shower, dress, and draw up a plan, she decided, trying to ignore the stab of tears behind her eyes as she headed purposefully towards the lavish marble bathroom. She would have to pull herself together and find a meaningful role for herself if the next couple of years weren’t going to be the longest of her life.

  She felt better when she came out of the bathroom, hair partly dried and hanging wild about her shoulders, and with a fluffy white towel secured loosely round her hips. She had waltzed herself halfway across the ballroom-sized bedroom, humming her own version of Strauss, before she realised she was not alone. As her hands flew to tug up the towel and cover her breasts she realised there wasn’t enough material to cover everything—

  ‘Calm down. I’ll turn my back,’ Alessandro murmured reassuringly.

  It wasn’t easy to stay calm when your heart was spinning in your chest!

  ‘Who let you in?’ she said, backing up towards the door of her dressing room.

  ‘I apologise for arriving unannounced.’

  He could try a little harder to sound contrite, Emily thought, conscious that her nipples had turned into bullets. ‘I thought you had business to conclude in London.’

  So did I, Alessandro mused wryly. But thanks to you, Emily, I couldn’t stay away. ‘Can I help you with that?’ he offered, moving towards her as she debated whether to simply brazen it out and turn to open the dressing room door, or try to manoeuvre the handle with her elbow whilst clinging on to the towel and preserving what little remained of her dignity.

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ she said, choosing the latter option.

  ‘Oh, come now, Emily,’ Alessandro murmured, moving closer. ‘I have seen a woman’s body before…’

  That was all the encouragement she needed to try and bludgeon the handle into submission with an increasingly tender arm.

  ‘It’s not as if anything’s going to happen,’ he added sardonically, ‘remember that “no sex” clause?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, I do remember,’ Emily said, conscious that every tiny hair on her body was standing to attention.

  ‘See? I’m not even looking,’ he insisted, leaning across her to open the door. ‘Your modesty is utterly preserved, signorina.’

  Launching herself into the dressing room, Emily slammed the door shut and leaned heavily against it as she struggled to catch her breath.

  ‘Don’t be long,’ Alessandro warned from the other side. ‘I’ve got something to show you…something I think you might like.’

  Emily’s gaze tacked frantically around the room as she tried to decide what to do next. Dropping the towel, she sprinted naked to examine her daunting collection of new clothes.

  Everything was cloaked in protective covers and there were photographs of each outfit on labels attached to the hangers; labels that came complete with directions as to where matching accessorie
s might be found. But her investigations were hampered by too much choice. And just what was the appropriate outfit for after you’d stepped out of the shower only to be discovered naked by possibly the most delicious male on the planet? A male, furthermore, with whom you could anticipate no hanky-panky whatsoever!

  Modest enough to prove you weren’t the least bit interested in him, she decided, and casual enough to put them both at their ease.

  Decision made, Emily dived into the bottom of the wardrobe and tugged out her trusty jeans and tee shirt.

  ‘I hope you slept well?’

  ‘Very well, thank you,’ she replied politely, giving Alessandro a wide berth on her way back across the room. ‘I had no idea you had arrived home.’ Reaching the massive fireplace, she intended to rest one trembling arm on the mantelpiece, but missed when she found she couldn’t reach. Acting nonchalant, she leaned against the wall instead, and levelled a bogus confident stare on Alessandro’s face.

  ‘Come over here,’ he said softly, indicating the cushion next to his own on the cream damask sofa.

  As one corner of his mouth tugged up in a smile Emily’s battered confidence took a further plunge into the depths, while her heart seemed capable of yet more crazy antics. ‘Why?’ she said suspiciously.

  ‘Because there’s something that I’d like you to see,’ he said patiently.

  Emily took care to measure each step, so as not to appear too keen.

  ‘Sit down,’ he invited, standing briefly until she was comfortably settled on the sofa.

  Maintaining space between them, Emily folded her hands out of harm’s way in her lap and waited.

  Reaching down to the floor at his feet, Alessandro brought up an ancient brown leather casket and set it down on the table in front of her. Releasing the brass catches, he lifted the lid. ‘For you,’ he said, tipping it up so that she could easily see the contents.