Bride Fit for a Prince

Something menacing in his tone sent a spiral of fear snaking through her body.

“If your sister had looked carefully at the profile given her on Prince Enzo by the benefit committee, she would have seen that the blood of the Borgia’s as well as the Tescotti’s runs through his veins.

“It’s an historical fact that it was Cesare Borgia whom Machiavelli used as the model for his book about the prince who ruled without moral consideration for his terrified subjects.”

He leaned forward. “If I were you, I’d start thinking very hard how you’re going to influence your new husband not to have your sister arrested for sending you in her place. Prison is no place for the fiancée of Prince Enzo.”

Callie refused to be intimidated. “Ann’s not here to arrest.”

“That’s true. But you are…” His eyes had narrowed to black slits, like the kind you saw hollowed out in a castle turret where the bowmen shot their arrows.

“I thought Prince Enzo wanted me for his bride.”

“Naturalmente you’ll become his princess. When you’ve served your purpose, then you’ll be placed under house arrest.”

She felt her escape route closing fast, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

“So now we get down to the real reason for this absurd farce. My sister has already written him a check for ten thousand dollars which is all of her savings.

“With this next film, I’m sure she’ll be able to give him five times that amount. What’s his price? If she can’t meet it all the way, I’ll go to my bank and see how much of a loan I can take out.” At this rate Callie would be in debt for the rest of her life.

“Your loyalty to your sister is nothing short of astounding, signorina. That is if you have a sister,” he drawled unnervingly. “It’s a pity money is not the consideration here.”

He reached in his pocket and threw the check down on the coffee table for her to take back.

“Then what is?” she blurted in exasperation. “Why has he gone to all the trouble of choosing an American bride? Unless—”

She darted him a wicked smile. “Unless, of course, he has some genetic defect handed down from the Borgias that every Italian woman of royal blood already knows about and has avoided like the bubonic plague.”

With the stealth of a panther, Nicco rose to his full height, bigger than life. “You’re not as empty-headed as I had supposed, so I’m not going to ruin the surprise. Tomorrow morning you’ll find out for yourself just exactly what you, or your sister, agreed to marry.”

“That’s barbaric!”

The moment she shouted the words, the boxer growled deep in his throat and went into his guard dog stance.

A taunting smile broke the corner of Nicco’s hard mouth. “Valentino likes you very much, which is surprising when you consider his passionate devotion to the prince. Keep your voice well modulated and he won’t treat you as an intruder. It’s the last thing he wants to do. As you can see, his short tail is wagging.”

Valentino she could handle. The dog was wonderful. As for Nicco, he’d backed her into a corner.

Letting go of the breath she’d been holding she said, “You had me brought to this apartment under false pretenses. I won’t be seeing the prince until the wedding, will I.”

“Now you’re catching on, as you Americans are fond of saying.”

He must have spent a lot of time around someone from the States. How she’d love to wipe that triumphant expression from his good-looking face.

There was no way she would be a victim if she could help it. An idea for escape had just come to her. If it didn’t work, then she’d try something else.

“Since you leave me with no choice but to surrender, how about granting this condemned prisoner one last favor before her execution tomorrow?”

His white smile was so unexpected and electrifying, her heart almost jumped out of her body. “Short of asking for a reprieve, your wish is my command, signorina.”

“You mean that?” She infused a little trembling into her question to reveal a deceptive combination of fear and humility.

“Try me and find out.”

“Could we go on that ride around the city you promised me earlier?”

“Of course. I’ll arrange for the limousine.”

“No—I mean on your motorcycle.”

A strange quiet filled the room. It pleased her that her request was the last thing he’d expected to be asked.

“In a movie I once rented, this American woman rode on the back of this guy’s motorcycle while they toured Naples. It looked so fun the way he maneuvered them through the narrow streets and alleys. They were able to go exciting places a car wouldn’t fit.”

He rubbed his jaw absently. “Torino’s a northern city of long parkways, gardens, promenades and right angles, signorina.”

Before she averted her eyes, she purposely let out a deep sigh he couldn’t help hearing.

“It’s all right, Nicco. I understand. Really I do,” she said in the way she might speak to a small child.

After a suspicious pause, “What is it you think you understand?”

Good. She’d piqued his curiosity, just as she’d hoped.

“That your responsibility is to protect me until tomorrow.”

“And?” he bit out impatiently. When she looked at him again, his eyes glittered with an unfathomable light.

“I should have realized you don’t feel confident enough to show me the sights on your bike without having an accident. You could have just told me the truth, but I forgot your pride. I understand the Italian male’s is more inflated than that of the other men of the world.”

He had no idea how much satisfaction it gave her to say that to him.

A sardonic smile broke out on his lips. “If anything, I was trying to protect your female sensibilities. You would have to cling to me like you were my second skin,” he said in a husky tone, leaving her in no doubt what he was thinking.

“However if that’s your heart’s desire, far be it from me to deny Prince Enzo’s lovely fiancée her final request.”

Again she looked away, thrilled to realize she’d accomplished her first objective. But she wasn’t going to fool herself that obtaining her second goal would be as easy to achieve.

“The bathroom is down that hallway on the right. Feel free to freshen up while I find his helmet for you to wear.”

She made a show of frowning. “But in the movie, the woman didn’t wea—”

“Forget the film.” He broke in without hesitation. “If, God forbid, something unforeseen should happen while we’re out riding, I would never forgive myself if you suffered an injury. Prince or no prince.”

He stood there with his hands on his hips, his appeal so virile and potent, her body trembled when she thought of being plastered against him.

“If you’ve changed your mind, signorina…”

Now he was baiting her, expecting her to back down.

“No. I’ll be ready in a moment.”

“That’s good. We have very little daylight left.”

She headed for the hallway on unsteady legs. That was the effect he had on her.

Valentino followed. She knew he was standing guard outside the bathroom door because she could hear him snoring. He sounded just like her own dog, reminding her how much she missed Chloe.

When she was ready and reached the foyer, Nicco was waiting for her with a helmet under his arm, another black one in his hand.

He rapped out something in Italian to the boxer who immediately took a sitting position. Then he opened the door.

“After you,” he said to Callie, indicating she should exit first. She retraced their steps to the outside of the apartment building. By the time she approached his cycle, he’d already put on his helmet.

Up close she could read the name of the model. It was called a Danelli NT-1 super bike.

“How much does something like this cost?”

“In lira or dollars?” he drawled.

“Dollars.”

“Upward of $150,000 or more.”

Even more than she’d thought. “For a down-and-out prince, he must pay you a hefty salary to afford this.”

Ignoring her comment, he lowered the other helmet over her head and fastened the chin strap. His piercing black eyes trapped hers briefly before he moved to drop the rear foot pegs.

While she stood there in a daze, he threw his leg over the seat and straddled his bike. Once he’d started the powerful engine, he turned toward her.

“When you get on, place your feet on the pegs and wrap your arms around my waist, interlocking your fingers. That’s all you have to do.” He lowered his shield and waited.

From the second she’d laid eyes on Nicco, she’d known he was a dangerous man. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine she’d get anywhere near a motorcycle like his, let alone ride on one. She bet it could reach over a hundred miles per hour in less than ten seconds. To feel that kind of lightning acceleration was going to be thrilling.

Heavens—if it weren’t for the ghastly trouble Ann had gotten herself into, Callie would be having the time of her life.

Her heart pounded outrageously as she watched him pull in the clutch and put the bike in gear. He was impatient to go, letting her know it was now or never.

With an eagerness she couldn’t suppress, she jumped on behind him and adjusted her shoulder bag.

“I’m ready,” she said, placing her sneaker-clad feet on the pegs. With a tug on her face shield, she lay against him and slid her arms around his hard-muscled body. No sooner had she intertwined her fingers than the bike sprang to life as if it had a will of its own.

He maneuvered them down the alley to the street. Then there was an initial leap and everything became a blur. They literally flew along the parkway to join the freeway.

CHAPTER THREE

THIS was ecstasy.

Nicco had incredible control as he wove so smoothly between cars. The daring way he took corners with breathtaking accuracy, every practiced move as she leaned with him, conveyed the expertise of a racing pro.

When he wasn’t working for the prince, did he race? Was that how he could afford the bike? Or was this a special model paid for by sponsors?

A rush of adrenaline surged through her veins at the possibility she could be riding with one of the very best in the world. Yet she sensed he was still being careful to make certain nothing happened to her.

Callie wondered where he was taking them. The freeway seemed to be leading away from Torino’s core to the outskirts. They whizzed past centuries-old residences and fairy-tale palaces of Baroque design.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, Torino with its four rivers and miles of gardens had been left behind. They’d reached an alpine valley that looked like a patchwork quilt of vineyards. A marvelous fruity essence seemed to envelop them.

Though the air had grown cooler, Nicco’s warmth had invaded her body from her shoulders down. They were melded like two hot metals in a refiner’s fire. The feeling of oneness was indescribable.

Never wanting their magical ride to end, she moaned in disappointment when he pulled off the road to follow a path through the vegetation. It was evident he knew about this spot. She assumed he wanted to rest for a minute before returning to the city.

Soon they arrived at a charming three-story farmhouse with a portico. Closed green shutters stood out against the pale orange exterior.

He geared down and came to a stop in the empty courtyard. The place appeared deserted to her. Remembering her plan, now would be the best time to make her getaway. Otherwise she might never have another opportunity.

Callie quickly got down from the bike and lifted the shield of her helmet. While she waited for him to climb off, she looked all around. Tall cypress trees were silhouetted against the sky, heralding the approach of night. She would need the motorcycle’s headlights to help her find the way out of the mountains.

The second he swung his leg over she said, “That was an exhilarating ride. Before we go back to town, can I sit on it by myself for a minute?”

Nicco was still wearing his helmet which made it impossible to read his expression. He raised his shield.

“Go ahead.”

“Do you think you could help me up?”

He made a little sound which could have been exasperation. She wasn’t sure, but he did as she asked. With effortless masculine economy he lifted her on to the seat which she straddled.

“This is more exciting than opening my favorite present on Christmas morning! How do you make the dials light up like an airplane cockpit?”

With a swift movement he reached in front of her to turn on the key which was still in the ignition. The motion caused his arm to brush against her chest. Such intimate contact, even if it was accidental, sent her pulse zinging off the charts.

“I-it’s a beautiful work of art isn’t it?” her voice almost squeaked because she was shaking so hard in reaction.

“Are we still talking about the bike?” he asked in a sensuous tone.

The darkness hid the red staining her cheeks.

To her surprise his hands went to his chin strap. He was about to remove his helmet. She couldn’t understand why, not when she assumed they’d be going right back to the city. Still, it was the exact kind of distraction Callie could take advantage of to carry out her next move.

She waited till he started to lift it over his head. Wasting no more time, she kicked the stand back, then pushed the start button. As she pulled in the clutch at the same time, the bike took off like a missile shot from a silo.

Callie heard an immediate explosion of Italian invective behind her, but it quickly faded because of the engine’s whine. Praying to gain as much time as possible, she opened up on the dirt road.

Good heavens—there was so much power between her legs, she almost lost control as it ate up the kilometers leading down the main road to Torino.

If she could reach the American Embassy, she would ask for help getting home. At that point Nicco could claim his motorcycle while Callie’s sister arranged for an attorney to deal with Prince Enzo.

Five miles later she whipped through the tiny town of Monferrato. About a mile beyond it, the bike seemed to lose steam. She downshifted and gave it more throttle. Nothing happened.

To her horror, the fuel gauge registered empty!

No-o-o-o-o-o.

She had no choice but to coast to the side of the road and pull to a stop.

Much as she wanted to thumb a ride from a passing car, she didn’t dare leave a $150,000 bike sitting out in the open. It was too heavy to push anywhere, so the only thing she could do was wait until a motorist came along and she could pay for them to buy her a can of gas back in Monferrato.

Someone must have been watching out for her because she saw an old blue truck coming along the road in her direction. The driver slowed down and pulled over to the shoulder. Leaving the headlights on, he got out of the cab.

As she watched, she saw a tall, well-honed male walk toward her carrying a gas can in one hand, a helmet in the other. When she realized who it was, her legs began to tremble and wouldn’t stop.

Looking at him or touching him, she couldn’t deny Nicco was an exceptionally beautiful man.

In the animal kingdom there were gradations of beauty. Valentino took top honors for a boxer dog. If there were such a contest for the human male, Nicco would be hailed as grand champion. To find herself this attracted to him made it particularly hard to remember he was her enemy.

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