A Proposal from the Crown Prince Read online

  His face whitened. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Forgive me.’ He nodded, turned. And she knew if he went she would lose him for ever.

  ‘No! Nico, don’t go.’ She grabbed his shoulder. ‘Please. It wasn’t that I didn’t want you to kiss me. I did. I do. But there’s something you need to know. I was going to say yes.’

  He didn’t move, his shoulders set, back rigid. ‘I know. You have the chance to become a soloist. Congratulations, Posy, I know you’ll be magnificent.’

  ‘No,’ she said again, feeling a little like a foolish parrot. ‘I mean, yes, Bruno has asked me to return and offered me the opportunity to dance solo roles but I haven’t answered him yet. I was going to say yes to you. To staying. To marrying you.’

  He quivered then, a movement so slight that if she weren’t so finely attuned to him she might have missed it. Slowly, slowly he turned back to face her. The alcove was small, almost oppressive, the thick velvet curtain shielding them from the ballroom. They were in a world of their own.

  ‘Why? Bruno offered you everything you want. Everything you’ve worked for. Why throw that away?’

  It was time. Posy took a deep breath, hands clenched, her nails biting into her palms. ‘Not quite everything. He didn’t offer me you.’

  The silence stretched around them. Nico’s gaze was intent on hers, his eyes darker than the sea at midnight. ‘Me?’

  ‘Three months ago all I wanted was a solo. I didn’t want anyone or anything else. But then I met you.’

  He didn’t respond. She took a small step closer.

  ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. That first night on the beach. I told myself it was because I was lonely—and I was—and lost. I was that too but that’s not why. I did it because you were the most beautiful man I’d ever seen and I was so tired of being afraid, of not reaching out, of not living. And so I did, and the consequences were catastrophic. I embarrassed my family, your family, turned your life upside down. But you never blamed me. Didn’t leave me to deal with the consequences I brought on myself. You were honourable and kind and protected me. Just like you protect the island and everyone on it. Putting yourself last.’

  Another step. They were almost back in waltz position, barely a millimetre between them. ‘I knew what you were offering, Nico, and it seemed fair. I didn’t expect to fall in love with you. I’ve never been in love before, you see. But I did. I am. And that’s why I was going to say yes and stay. I don’t expect you to love me back. I know that’s not the deal. But I needed you to know that. Before I leave. You’re a good man, Nico. My heart is safe with you.’

  His expression was shuttered. ‘I’m not good or honourable. I let Alessandro down. I let you down. I should have swum away that night, not dragged you into this life.’

  ‘No, no you didn’t let me down and you certainly didn’t let Alessandro down. Your cousin never expected you to give up your life and dreams for him. Talk to Guido—listen to him. Alessandro would never have abdicated even if you had offered to take over. He was always ready to do his duty no matter what the cost. As for me. You didn’t let me down, you saved me.’

  She scanned his face. Had she got through? Was he going to walk away, horrified by the emotion? She could barely breathe as he just looked at her.

  And then he touched her. One fleeting caress, a hand on her cheek, his finger brushing her mouth. Her skin sizzled where he touched. ‘That night I was facing up to the reality of my life here. I’d managed to bury it, the last two years, pouring everything into my MBA, not grieving Alessandro, not allowing myself to think about what being Crown Prince really entailed. And then I found myself back here with a diary full of engagements, an earful of admonishments from my uncle, a realisation that all control over my life had gone. I gave myself one last evening, away from my bodyguards, away from the palace. It was a farewell to my life. And then I saw you... I thought I had conjured you up, a naiad from beneath the waves.’

  Posy smiled then, knowing her heart was in her eyes. ‘I’m all too real.’

  ‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely. ‘You are. And you’re too good for me. I can’t allow you to give up your dreams for me, Posy.’

  ‘Nico, do you love me?’

  She couldn’t breathe while she waited for him to answer. And then he bowed his head so their foreheads touched, his hands light on her shoulders. ‘Yes. I really do. Madly. So much I tried to let you go.’

  Tears ran down Posy’s cheeks; she hadn’t even noticed her eyes filling, the lump in her throat. ‘For an intelligent man, Nico Del Castro, you can be very stupid.’

  ‘You’re sure, Posy? It’s a lot, this life of mine. As Crown Princess, as Queen, you’ll always have to put L’Isola dei Fiori first, never have a life that’s truly your own. Can you cope with that?’

  ‘If you’re with me, then yes. I can cope with anything.’

  He smiled then, suddenly younger, carefree, once more the dangerously sexy man on the beach. ‘In that case, Posy Marlowe...’ he reached into his pocket and brought out a small, dark blue leather box ‘...would you do me the very great honour of being my Princess, my future Queen, but, most importantly, my wife?’

  Epilogue

  Ten months later

  ‘READY, POSY? HER father fiddled nervously with his collar. King Vincenzo had invested him with an honorary military title and he was uncomfortably wearing the uniform to match. Her parents had also been granted titles and were now the Conte and Contessa of Baia de Rose, to their slight embarrassment.

  ‘Ready,’ she confirmed, looking at herself in the mirror. This was the last time she would be simply Posy Marlowe. In an hour’s time she would be Rosalind Del Castro, Crown Princess of L’Isola dei Fiori. She would be a wife. ‘I don’t think I can add anything else, do you?’

  Her dress was probably a little more ornate than she would have personally chosen. She’d been aware that she needed to stand out in the old medieval cathedral, that her wedding wasn’t a personal ceremony but a way of putting L’Isola dei Fiori on the map. Posy had decided on a sweetheart neckline, the skirt swelling out just a little, enough to give her some presence, the whole dress covered with delicate pearls. A lacy overdress covered her shoulders for the ceremony and then cascaded down her back and into a train long enough for her six bridesmaids to carry—and crucially she could remove it during the reception so she would be able to dance unencumbered. The Del Castro diamonds adorned her neck, earlobes and wrists and a magnificent tiara held her long veil in place.

  ‘You look so beautiful,’ her father told her. ‘Even more beautiful than you looked in Giselle.’

  Posy squeezed his hand. Nico had insisted that she went back to London for one last year to seize her opportunity to dance some solos and featured roles. A steady winter dancing bit parts had led to the opportunity to dance bigger roles over the spring and early summer, culminating in several matinee performances as the coveted lead including Giselle. She was leaving the stage behind with no regrets, no dreams left unfulfilled.

  Ahead of her lay the excitement of introducing dance and drama to the island, into the schools and the newly restored theatre. Their engagement and wedding had pulled tourists to the island in their thousands and she knew she and Nico had an important role in ensuring that they returned and brought their friends and families with them. From next week the first few lucky guests would be staying at the luxuriously renovated Villa Rosa—but for the next few days the cliff-top house would be home to her and Nico alone. Their very own idyll. After all, it was thanks to her godmother’s legacy that they had met on that moonlit night nearly one year ago...

  ‘Okay then, let’s do this.’

  She turned and smiled at her sisters and mother. They were all in blue, the colour of the sea that had brought her Nico, her mother smart in a dress and matching jacket, a huge hat balanced on her head, her sisters in l
ong straight gowns. Her other bridesmaids, including Daria, were already in the first of the three horse-drawn carriages that would convey her and her entourage to the cathedral.

  Immi held a beautiful bouquet, but Miranda and Portia were holding bundles far more precious: Miranda’s eight-month-old daughter, Daisy, in a gorgeous blue and white dress, ballet slippers on her chubby feet, while Portia cradled her tiny little girl. Just a few weeks old, Isabelle was maybe a little young to be a bridesmaid but there was no way Posy was leaving her newest niece out of the wedding party. Her father looked at his family, his heart in his eyes. For all he joked about being horribly outnumbered by the womenfolk, Posy knew he wouldn’t have it any other way. Besides, as Immi pointed out, he wasn’t alone any more with three—soon to be four—sons-in-law.

  Immi was smiling softly at the babies. She and Matt had decided that they would give IVF a chance and she would be starting treatment soon. Posy hoped it would be successful, but she knew their relationship was strong enough to weather any storm and disappointment.

  ‘We’d better get going,’ Portia said a little gruffly, wiping away a tear. ‘A bride doesn’t get to be fashionably late when there’s TV cameras involved.’

  ‘Okay.’ Posy embraced her mother and sisters one more time and then she allowed her father to hand her up into the open carriage. The journey passed like a dream, the waving and cheering crowds lining the streets a mirage, and soon she was standing at the back of the long cathedral aisle, her skirt shaken out and adjusted, her train in one perfect line, her father solemn as they began their procession to the altar—and to Nico.

  Her heart turned as she saw him, grave and handsome in his own military uniform, the medals glittering on his chest. They were both so dressed up, more like characters in a film than real people. But as he caught her eye, as his own eyes widened in appreciation and a smile spread over his face, he winked. Just a small wink, a reminder that, at the end of the day, they were just two people who loved each other. And as Posy began to recite the vows that would make her his wife she knew that that was all that mattered.

  * * * * *

  If you loved this book, make sure you catch the rest of the SUMMER AT VILLA ROSA quartet!

  HER PREGNANCY BOMBSHELL

  by Liz Fielding

  THE MYSTERIOUS ITALIAN HOUSEGUEST

  by Scarlet Wilson

  THE RUNAWAY BRIDE AND THE BILLIONAIRE

  by Kate Hardy

  Available now!

  Keep reading for an excerpt from SARAH AND THE SECRET SHEIKH by Michelle Douglas.

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  Sarah and the Secret Sheikh

  by Michelle Douglas

  CHAPTER ONE

  SARAH SLID ONTO a stool and held her hand up for a high five as Majed passed on the other side of the bar. The palm-on-palm contact from the sexy barman sent heat ricocheting up her arm.

  His raised eyebrow told her he was intrigued and she had to tamp down a laugh of pure, ridiculous exhilaration. His briefly raised finger told her to give him a moment while he served someone down the other end of the bar.

  She settled onto the stool. She’d happily wait a hundred moments to share her news with him.

  A hundred moments?

  She rolled her shoulders and shook out her arms and legs. Maybe not a hundred moments. It wasn’t as though she thought of Majed in that way. Even if he was sexy as all-get-out, with his dark hair, tawny skin, and eyes as dark as a desert at midnight. She bit back a dreamy sigh. Eyes that were edged with long, dark lashes that should be wasted on a man but weren’t in this case as they only made him look more exotic.

  But no. It wasn’t because Majed was hot with a capital H that she’d quite happily wait until closing time to tell him her news but because she knew he’d understand. An easy-going friendship had sprung up between them over the past year when she’d barely been paying attention and she gave thanks for it now.

  He prepared the order for the three women at the far end of the bar—mojitos—with a casual elegance Sarah envied. The women all flirted with him—flashing smiles and cleavage with a good-natured abandon that had Sarah biting back a grin. He said something that made them laugh, looking for all intents and purposes completely at ease, yet she sensed he held some part of himself back.

  Majed: man of mystery, man of contrasts. He managed this bar but he didn’t drink. He attracted women in droves—and some men—and was equally pleasant and courteous to all. He could have his pick from the beautiful people who frequented this inner-city Melbourne bar but she’d never seen him go home with anyone.

  Mike, her best friend’s older brother and the owner of the bar, had asked her to keep an eye on Majed, to give him a hand if need be. As he was letting her crash at his swanky inner-city apartment for the six months of his current overseas sabbatical, it had seemed little enough to promise in return. Mike called her his house-sitter but, as he had no cat to feed or houseplants to water, Sarah had secretly dubbed herself his charity case. Mike had simply taken pity on her.

  Pity or not, she’d jumped at the chance to cut forty-five minutes each way from her daily commute.

  And keeping an eye on Majed had proved no hardship at all.

  Mike had mentioned that he and Majed had gone to university together. She knew where Mike had gone to university. Majed should be a banker or a businessman or some hotshot lawyer. Like Mike, he should have a whole chain of bars, restaurants and resorts across the world—or at least be working towards it. What he shouldn’t be doing was twiddling his thumbs behind some bar in Melbourne.

  Oh, right, and you think you’re qualified to be dispensing vocational advice, right?

  She winced.

  Good point.

  She knew all about treading water in a job that was going nowhere. She knew all about not living up to her potential. She ought to. Her mother reminded her of it every single time they spoke.

  Majed moved back down the bar towards her and she resolutely shoved her mother’s voice out of her head.

  ‘Your usual?’

  Her usual was a glass of house white. She straightened and rubbed her hands together. ‘I’ll have bubbles, please.’

  That eyebrow rose higher. ‘Celebrating something?’

  She laughed because she couldn’t help it. ‘I can’t drink alone tonight. Let me buy you a drink.’ He opened his mouth but she cut hi
m off. ‘Be a devil and have a lemon squash on me.’

  Shaking his head, he did as she bid, and she noticed that at her end of the bar his smile was more relaxed and his shoulders swung a little freer. The fact he relaxed around her loosened the hard knots that the working day had wound up tight inside her.

  He slid a glass of bubbles in front of her and she promptly clinked it to his glass of squash. ‘To the fact that I am now officially a single woman again.’

  Stunned midnight eyes met hers and his smile, when it came, was low and long and sent a spiral of heat circling through her belly.

  He leaned towards her. ‘You did it? You broke up with Superior Sebastian?’

  Ah...not exactly. Sebastian had been the one to dump her. But it came to the same thing—she was single and rid of the awful boyfriend. And Majed looked so happy for her...he looked proud of her. It had been an age since anyone had looked at her like that, so she didn’t have it in her to correct him.

  She pointed to herself. ‘Free woman.’ That, after all, was the material point. She then waved her hand through the air, assuming supreme indifference. ‘I’ve kicked his sorry ass to the kerb. Never again, I tell you.’ And she meant it. She was having no more of Sebastian’s on-again, off-again mind games. She couldn’t even remember why she’d put up with it all in the first place.

  Majed took a long pull on his drink and she couldn’t help but notice the lean, tanned column of his throat and the implicit strength in the broad expanse of his shoulders. He set his glass down. ‘Never again?’

  She shook her head. ‘Never.’

  ‘Cross your heart?’

  She crossed her heart. In one smooth movement Majed leaned across the bar, cupped her face in big, warm hands and then his lips slammed down on hers in a brief but blistering kiss.

  When he eased back all she could do was stare.

  He frowned. ‘I shouldn’t have done that.’