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

“You look like Cinderella at the ball.”

The reference to Cinderella made her smile, reminding her of a certain conversation with Giovanni. “Do you have any idea how much I envy you? You look adorable pregnant. I bet Stefano can’t keep his hands off you.”

“Donetta—”

Fausta laughed. “I was just about to say the same thing. This is one exciting day.” She turned to Donetta. “You do look incredible, sister dear. Enrico will be speechless when he sees you. Only a woman with your coloring and figure could possibly carry it off. Forgive me if I say you look like a queen?”

They all laughed at the insider joke. “Thank you, but I’m the one who’ll lose it when we walk down the aisle and Enrico is crowned king. Honestly, he’s so gorgeous in his ceremonial suit I die every time I look at him. I’m just thankful his mother decided the coronation could take place.”

Lanza eyed her with concern. “Is his father worse?”

“He’s slowly failing physically, but I believe she’s trying to make up for the way she treated Enrico when we first got married.”

Fausta smiled. “I take it all is well now.”

“Things couldn’t be better. Guess what? Giovanni told me a secret. He said Enrico made another speech to his cabinet that he was so in love with me that he’d wanted to impress me and give me power I didn’t have. They all laughed, thinking it was a great joke. They’ll never know what we’ve been through, but that’s all right because everything is running beautifully.”

Lanza opened the door of the apartment for her. “We’d better go downstairs to the limo, Donetta. Your husband will be waiting for you at the cathedral.”

As the three of them left, Fausta said, “To think there was a time when you didn’t want to get married.”

“Don’t remind me. I can’t believe I was ever that stupid. While this subject is under discussion, maybe you should reexamine your desire to marry a commoner.”

“Why did you just say that?”

“I don’t know. Remember the old adage? Be careful what you wish for.”

“Donetta—”

“Don’t mind me. I’m so happy I don’t know what I’m saying.”

“Shall we go?”

Within minutes the limo whisked them away to the cathedral.

Donetta was stunned by its beauty. She could hear the organ and choir as they entered the doors. While her sisters joined their mother inside, Donetta joined her father.

He wore his ceremonial dress suit and sash, looking kingly and splendid as always. She was afraid he was worn out, but he seemed to be handling all the festivities very well.

They walked arm in arm down the aisle toward the cardinal in his red robes. The grandeur of these surroundings made the experience surreal.

Their families were seated on carved chairs on one side, facing the aisle. Queen Teodora wore a cream-colored gown. Next to her, King Nuncio sat in his wheelchair. He was dressed in his ceremonial finery and no longer wore a cast. Enrico’s sisters sat by him, along with their husbands and Prince Giovanni.

Donetta’s mother wore blue chiffon. Her sisters were dressed in their lavender gowns. Lanza sat close to her handsome husband, Stefano. They all looked spectacular.

Holding on to her father, Donetta walked to the front, where King Victor helped her to sit in the carved chair next to the one Enrico would occupy. Then he took his seat next to her mother.

Enrico came in through a side door at the front to join her. He was dressed in his ceremonial navy blue suit with gold epaulets on the shoulders and his light blue sash. If Donetta were the type to swoon from such unmatchable male beauty—an old-fashioned word—she would have fallen at his feet in a white lace heap.

Today her husband was being proclaimed king. He looked so handsome and splendid she could hardly breathe. How blessed was she to be his wife and lover. No woman could be as insanely in love as she was.

Enrico’s black eyes met hers and flashed. He knew exactly what was running through her private thoughts, and she blushed.

Like in everything he did, Enrico had been thoughtful, asking the cardinal to keep the coronation short enough to accommodate both their fathers, who shouldn’t have to endure anything lengthy.

She’d learned that the cardinal was an old friend of their family, eager to comply with Enrico’s wishes. The speech about anointing the king didn’t take long. After his solemn talk, they were instructed to pray, and the choir sang a gorgeous piece of music.

Donetta was overjoyed when the cardinal picked up the crown and placed it on Enrico’s head. No man in existence could match her husband for his striking presence or inner goodness.