The Prince's Forbidden Bride (The Princess Brides 2)

That was the idea.

* * *

Donetta’s eyes widened as they came in sight of the fabulous Montedoro palace, which was reflective of the Mudejar and Renaissance décors of former times. An enchanting garden and pools lined in beautiful azulejos tiles took her breath away. The Moors and Romans had left traces of their cultures behind.

Enrico accompanied her up the steps into the south wing and walked her to her apartment on the second floor, where her luggage had been placed. He left her at the door. “There’s a tray of food for you if you’re hungry. I’ll be back for you in twenty minutes and we’ll leave for the stand at the exhibition grounds.”

“Thank you, Enrico.”

When he left, she rested against the closed door, trying to get a grip on her emotions. Hearing some of the details of his life s

ince college had told her how wrong she’d been in her thinking about him, and it had left her shaken.

She looked up at the intricate fretwork ceiling reminiscent of those at the Alhambra in Spain, where she’d been recently. Awestruck by such beauty, she wandered over to the arched Moorish windows that overlooked a pool in the inner courtyard. This was Enrico’s home.

Seeing such a gorgeous man standing at the foot of the stairs outside her plane a little while ago, dressed in royal whites, had almost given her a heart attack. When she’d decided to come to Vallefiore, she hadn’t been sure she would even see him.

From the moment she’d caught sight of his black hair and tall, fit physique, nothing had unfolded the way she’d imagined. For one thing, she’d learned he was acting king now. All the power and authority rested on his shoulders, but if anyone could handle it, he could.

To think he’d spent the last five years supporting his father and family at a time of great sorrow for all of them had changed her thinking.

Confused and conflicted by some of her earlier negative thoughts about him not being sincere, she freshened up and then walked into the Moorish-inspired sitting room to eat. There was juice, coffee, mint tea, rolls and pastries, sugared almonds, anything you could want.

Enrico had gone all out for her. Why would he do this now and stage a concorso to see her? Did he think she was so angry that only an invitation like this could bring her here? But to go to so much trouble didn’t make sense. In truth, she didn’t understand his motives.

A knock on the outer door caused her to jump. She finished her last bite of roll, reached for her purse and hurried to let him in.

His black eyes played over her in the same way they’d done before, when they’d stayed in the rental car, wanting to hold on to each other the night before having to say goodbye. It had sent heat through her body then, too. “Are you ready, or do you need more time?”

Donetta couldn’t get over how devastatingly attractive he was. It was hard to breathe. “I’d like to go so we won’t be late for the entrants in the ten-year-olds’ division. I’ll never forget my first performance and how nervous I was.”

“I watched your outstanding performance and would never have guessed you had a nervous bone in your body.”

“A lot you know.” His flattery was getting to her.

He helped her down the magnificent staircase to the doors of the south entrance. The bright sun was warming the air by the second as they walked to the limo and climbed in. After a short ride they came to a huge park.

A canopied stand filled with invited spectators from the royal family had been erected midway to another canopy where tables with tablecloths and flower centerpieces had been set up for lunch.

Once the limo stopped, Enrico escorted her up the few steps to the dais reserved for the royal family. In one glance Donetta saw that he had a stunning brunette mother and brunette sisters who sat with their husbands. Naturally, his father was missing.

Enrico cupped her elbow. “Donetta? May I present my mother, Queen Teodora?”

“Your Majesty.” Donetta curtsied to her.

“Mamma. Please meet Princess Donetta Rossiano of Domodossola.”

His mother put out a hand to shake Donetta’s. “I’m pleased to meet you, my dear. I’ve heard you’re a great equestrian and a beauty. Now at least I can see you live up to your reputation for the latter.”

But there was frost in her voice. Something was definitely wrong. Was she incensed that Donetta, from an enemy country, had been invited and had come to the concorso when the queen was expecting her son to marry Valentina?

Donetta smiled into his mother’s dark brown eyes, but the queen didn’t smile back. With that last comment, Donetta had got the feeling his mother was in shock. It went beyond the natural aversion from the queen over the feud that had separated their two countries for so many years.

“Thank you. I want you to know I’m the one who’s honored to meet you, Your Majesty. My parents have asked me to convey their greetings to you and King Nuncio. I’m sorry to hear he isn’t feeling well today.”

The queen ignored Donetta’s comment. “We hope to host the first of many concorsos in the future.”

“Mamma?” Enrico interjected. Obviously he’d noticed his mother’s deliberate snub. “If you’ll excuse us, I want Donetta to meet Lia and Catarina and their husbands.”