“I will after I’ve shown you your new home.”
Donetta had known his luxurious apartment would be fabulous. She loved it immediately, especially the view of the lake. He carried her around to every bedroom, the sitting room, study, dining room and kitchen.
“What do you think?”
“I know I’m going to be ecstatically happy here.”
He let out a triumphant sound as his mouth closed over hers. They clung as if they’d never kissed before. When he eventually let her go he said, “I fear it’s a man’s domain, so I want you to decorate it any way you want.”
“I love the light blue décor. The ambience is so you. The only thing I might change is to showcase all your riding trophies and pictures in a prominent place rather than a walk-in closet in one of the bedrooms. I remember your winning all of them.”
“I’ll agree to find a special spot as long as we ship your trophies here and display them together. They represent a big part of our lives.”
She grasped his shoulders as she looked up at him. “Am I dreaming, or are we really standing in our own home?”
He lowered his mouth to kiss her again, but she finally pulled away from him. “You need to go.”
“I promise I’ll be back soon.”
Donetta blew him a kiss, knowing he’d be gone a long time. By now the queen would know they’d returned.
She took the suitcases to Enrico’s bedroom, which also had a spectacular view of the lake. Taking advantage of the time, she took a long shower and washed her hair. While she dried it, she phoned her family to let them know she was back and happier than she’d ever been in her life. Fausta had gone to town. Donetta would call her later.
She found jeans and a short-sleeved soft orange top to wear and then walked back to the living room. Donetta was drawn to the three framed oil paintings of his horses artistically arranged on part of one wall. Their names had been engraved on brass plaques below each one.
Donetta immediately recognized Malik and Rajah, the two horses that had garnered Enrico international championships. But she didn’t know about the third one, which was a pony named Osman. All were black and came from the Sanfratellano breed.
“Osman means warrior in Arabic.”
She turned around to see Enrico had come into the bedroom. “Darling—”
He put an arm around her waist. “My father gave me that pony when I was five years old. I felt like a warrior riding him around until my tenth birthday. At that point I’d outgrown him and was presented with Malik.”
At the concorso in England, Enrico had told Donetta that the name Malik meant king in Arabic.
“The artist of these magnificent oils has captured their living, breathing essence. I wish I’d had paintings done of my horses.”
“It’s not too late. You have pictures. We could hire an artist.”
“You’re right, but it’s not like painting them from real life. These are treasures.”
“You’re my real, live treasure.”
She hugged him. “How’s your father?”
“It’s difficult to tell. He’s been given pain medication and has to keep his arm in a sling.”
“Poor thing. I bet your mother is happy you’re back.”
“She is, but she’s insistent that I send a letter to Valentina and her parents right away. I told her I’d already planned to do it.” He drew Donetta to the bedroom and sat down on the bed with her. “Now enough said about that.”
“I agree. It would have been wrong for both of us to marry people we don’t love, but all that is in the past.”
“Tonight you and I have been asked to join Mamma and Papà for dinner at six thirty. But if—”
She put a finger to his lips. “Of course we’ll go. I intend to do everything I can to win her trust.”
“Donetta—” He crushed her to him.