Bride Fit for a Prince Read online

  But knowing Nicco, he would make certain there were other guards on watch to ensure that nothing went wrong at the ceremony. If she tried to bolt, she probably wouldn’t make it out of the chapel doors.

  Short of doing something that would cause the prince to cancel the wedding, she could see no way out of this nightmare.

  The problem was to think of a strategy that would force his hand.

  Her mind went over several possibilities. An hour passed by before she came up with the only idea that just might work. If she had the courage to carry it out.

  By any standards it was outrageous. So outrageous in fact that under any other circumstances, it would be unthinkable to Callie.

  Unfortunately she was desperate.

  When the fire had turned to dying embers, she got up from the floor and walked back to the bedroom. Her plan couldn’t be put off any longer.

  Enough moonlight came through the window to see the outline of her jailer’s hard-muscled physique still fully clothed as he lay on the top of the bed.

  “Nicco?” she whispered.

  “Si, signorina?” he drawled.

  She swallowed hard, unable to tell if he’d been asleep or not. “The fire went out in the fireplace.”

  “It was inevitable.”

  “I realize that. The thing is, I—I’m ready for bed, but I’m used to a much warmer climate. It’s cold by the window and the blanket is so thin.”

  “Then we’ll trade beds.” In one effortless movement he sprang to his feet. “Get in this one.” The next thing she knew, he’d pulled down the sheet and blanket for her.

  Callie murmured a quiet thank-you. After removing her shoes and socks, she lay down on the mattress.

  Once her head touched the pillow, he covered her before walking across the room to lie down on the other bed. She noticed he’d taken great care not to touch her.

  The Nicco of a few hours ago had said and done things to make her believe that given the slightest chance and encouragement, he wouldn’t think twice about taking advantage of their situation.

  She needed to send out a stronger signal. If she could get him to at least kiss her, then she would tell the prince that the man he’d sent to guard her couldn’t be trusted. If she could convince him she’d been compromised, he’d call off the wedding.

  Expelling a deliberately troubled sigh he couldn’t help but hear, she sat up in bed.

  “What are you doing now?” he muttered in a voice that had gone several decibels deeper.

  “I’m still cold, so I thought I’d unbraid my hair. It might make me a little warmer.”

  A sound of male frustration left his lips before he disappeared from the room. The next thing she knew he’d returned with his motorcycle jacket. By now her hair hung about her shoulders.

  “Lie down and I’ll put this over you.”

  That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. She was doing this all wrong. Gearing up her courage she said, “Thank you. I’m sure your coat will help. But I’m not used to sleeping alone, and need the warmth of another body.”

  It was too dark to see his features clearly. “Does the man you slept with as recently as yesterday know you’re about to become the sleeping companion of Prince Enzo for the next thirty days and nights?”

  There was an edge to his tone now. She’d made him angry. That was good. He sounded much more like the dangerous Italian male who’d met her at the airport.

  “I was referring to Chloe, the runt of a litter nobody else wanted. The poor little thing was born with a toe missing from both front paws. But since she’s not here to cuddle, I was hoping you’d lie down on top of the covers. Just to feel your warmth would probably help me go to sleep.”

  She had to disabuse him of the fact that she was trying a major seduction scene on him. All she wanted was for him to break down enough to kiss her. But what happened between them needed to seem perfectly natural.

  An odd stillness filled the room. He placed the coat over her upper body. “It’s not that cold.”

  “Maybe not, but it feels colder to me b-because I’m frightened.”

  Another silence ensued before he spoke again.

  “You don’t need to be. The prince won’t demand anything of you that you can’t give. He signed the contract, too.”

  She sat up abruptly. “I realize you two are close. Yet behind closed doors no one knows what really goes on between a man and a woman. Even though I believe that you believe what you’re saying, you truly can’t make that promise for another human being. Once I’m forced to marry him, anything could happen,” she stammered quietly.

  “You’re right. It’s possible you might find him more attractive than you originally thought and decide you’d like him to make love to you.”

  He’d purposely twisted her words. Tamping down her frustration she said, “From the picture of him my sister showed me, he looks to be very handsome, but that’s not the point. He’s a complete stranger to me. I always wanted my first experience to be with the man I loved!” Her declaration bounced off the walls of the room.

  “You expect me to believe you’ve never slept with a man?”

  “No. I wouldn’t expect anything from you. You couldn’t care less if you’re holding the wrong woman hostage. What would make me think I could convince you of something that sounds unbelievable, even to me?”

  Callie could understand his incredulity. Her lack of experience with men was embarrassing.

  She turned on her side away from him and pulled the jacket up to her chin. So much for her femme fatale ploy. He wasn’t falling for it.

  “Contrary to the old wives’ tale, making love is not a fate worse than death. It can be a very pleasurable experience in fact. Surely you’re not that naive.”

  “I understand what goes on well enough, but I refuse to be a guinea pig for the prince’s pleasure.”

  “You should have thought of that before stepping off the plane in Torino.”

  “I did, but like a fool I was trying to help my sister so I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I should have known he’d send someone else to deal with the situation. I realize you’re only doing the job the prince pays you to do, but I was hoping you might show me a little kindness tonight.”

  While she waited, she could hear that intelligent mind of his turning things over. It wasn’t very flattering.

  If Ann had been here, she wouldn’t have had to orchestrate anything. Nicco would have been so attracted, he’d have found a room upstairs with a double bed.

  Of course if Ann had flown to Italy, she would have told Nicco to take her directly to the prince, so it was all a moot point anyway.

  “You’re not afraid of me?” he asked in a silky voice.

  “No. The prince obviously trusts you with his life. Besides, any man who owns and rides a Danelli motorcycle only has one mistress on his mind, and it’s not a woman.”

  A low chuckle escaped his throat before he got on the bed and fit himself right up against her back.

  Dear God. What had she done?

  One arm went beneath her pillow, the other encircled her and the jacket. It didn’t take long for her to feel his warmth through the covers. Whatever soap he’d used in the shower still clung to his skin.

  “How do you know so much about motorcycles?” His breath tickled the skin of her neck, sending darts of awareness through her body.

  This wasn’t such a good idea after all!

  “Growing up we had some wealthy neighbors next door. Their oldest son Jerry owned a variety of bikes which he kept in a special mechanic’s garage at the back of their house. I used to hang out in there and talk to him.

  “When I got old enough, he taught me how to ride and make minor repairs on them. Pretty soon I was reading all his old motorcycle magazines.

  “One day he brought home a beautiful black and yellow Danelli 100 Strada sports bike. I fell in love with it and learned everything I could about them. He made me a promise that if he ever had to sell it, I could buy it
from him.”

  Nicco’s arm tightened on hers. “You could only have been about ten years old when that model was manufactured in Milano.” Evidently he’d seen her age on either the benefit application or her passport, and had figured the years correctly.

  “You’re right. Though he got married, Jerry came back to his parents’ home a lot and we kept up our friendship. About six months ago he phoned to tell me he was selling his bikes which he kept in mint condition. Did I still want to buy the Danelli Strada? Naturally I jumped at the chance because they’re the best bike made.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.”

  “Do you know it still runs perfectly?”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Why wasn’t he going away? “When you’re not working for the prince, do you race?”

  “I used to, once upon a time.”

  “For the Danelli company?”

  He nodded. “Among others.”

  It didn’t appear she was going to get any more information out of him.

  “For a man who’s over the hill, you’re still pretty good.” In truth he was a sensational rider, but she refused to give him that much satisfaction.

  “Such high praise. I’m overwhelmed.”

  “Do you know the owner, Luca Danelli?”

  “Sì,” he whispered against her cheek. She felt it all the way to the tips of her toes.

  Callie scooted away from him and sat up. “Do you know why his company stopped making bikes?”

  Nicco eyed her speculatively, as if he was deciding whether to answer her question or not. “His right hand in the business, the man who’d served with him in World War II, passed away unexpectedly. The heart went out of him. He suspended all manufacturing at a time when other companies were starting to spring up.”

  “I never read about that in my cycling magazines.”

  “He kept his business private.”

  “Who was his partner?”

  “Ernesto Strada.”

  Her eyes widened. “That’s his name on my bike. I thought Strada meant ‘street’ in Italian, implying it was a street bike.”

  “Anyone who didn’t know the truth would have made the same assumption.”

  “Mr. Danelli must be quite old by now.”

  Deep laughter rumbled out of Nicco. “Don’t you know there are no old Italian men?”

  “If you’re suggesting that at ninety he still chases after women, then let me tell you something. Italian men don’t have the monopoly when it comes to that problem.”

  His smile was wicked. “You ought to know.”

  She tried to catch her breath. “Seriously, Nicco—since he has started manufacturing again, do you think when I fly to Milan to catch my plane home, I could take a tour of his factory first?”

  “No.” He tucked a strand of her glossy hair behind her ear. “Now that he has recommenced operations, all bikes for sale on next year’s retail market must remain a secret until they arrive at the various showrooms throughout the world.”

  “What about the bike you’re riding?”

  “Mine is this year’s racing bike.”

  She bit lightly on her inner lip. “Doesn’t he ever make an exception?”

  After a long silence, “If you mean, could I use my connection to Prince Enzo to wangle you a personal tour, if I were so inclined?”

  Callie nodded.

  “Possibly.”

  “Name your price and I’ll pay it,” she said before she realized how it sounded.

  His hand moved so his fingers could caress either side of her mouth. “Tempted as I am to exact what I want from you, I’m afraid it would break my oath to the prince.”

  Another tremor shook her body. Before they’d gone to bed, she’d wanted Nicco to kiss her so she could go to the prince with proof that his henchman couldn’t be trusted. But in the last few minutes something had changed. She found herself aching for a taste of his sensual mouth of her own freewill.

  “Does the prince have to know?” Callie couldn’t believe she’d just asked him that.”

  “No, but I would.”

  Expelling a frustrated sigh, she turned on her side so she faced the wall. It appeared that in his own way, Nicco was an honorable man.

  His fingers played with her hair. Each movement sent a little current of electricity cavorting through her system. He brought her body alive.

  “I have an idea that would make us both happy, signorina.”

  “What’s that?” She struggled to keep her voice steady.

  “Don’t fight the marriage ceremony tomorrow, and I swear that I’ll put in a good word for you with Signor Danelli. In fact if you’re an especially obedient bride, I’ll let you pick out any bike you want for a wedding present after your honeymoon.”

  She blinked. “That’s very generous of you, but you couldn’t afford to give me one.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because the prince has no money to speak of which means your only substantial salary comes from your day job, not from him. What you do earn certainly wouldn’t be enough to buy me a $150,000 bike. This conversation is ridiculous anyway since I don’t intend to marry the prince.”

  “You have no choice, bellissima.”

  “Don’t call me that! For your information it’s time for you to go to sleep in your own bed now. I’m warm enough with your jacket. Thank you for putting it over me.”

  “Actually I’m very comfortable here with it covering both of us. Do you mind?”

  “Not if you don’t care about my snoring.”

  He tugged gently on a handful of her hair he’d wrapped around his fingers. “If you haven’t had a lover, how do you know you make noises in the night?”

  “Because my sister does, and we’re identical.”

  “No problem,” he murmured. “I’ve become used to Valentino’s snoring, so yours won’t bother me.”

  No matter what Callie said, he always had a clever answer for everything.

  “I heard him snore outside the door while he was guarding me in the hall. Did you know there’s an operation that could fix his problem?”

  “I’m afraid the prince likes him just the way he is. The noise is comforting in the dark hours of the night.”

  “Valentino sleeps with the prince?”

  “Every night. Does the thought disturb you?”

  “Of course not. I think it’s sweet.” The prince had just risen a notch in her estimation.

  “Most new brides wouldn’t want a third party in the bed chamber.”

  “The prince should have made that point clear to all the potential contestants before the benefit ever took place.” Except that it wouldn’t have put Ann off. She loved animals too.

  “Luckily for him, he picked a woman who sleeps with a runt named Chloe. You and your husband-to-be have something vital in common. That’s a good omen for beginning your life together. I can picture the four of you now all snuggled up in the royal bed.”

  “Then your imagination is a lot better than mine,” she muttered as she fought certain images of her and Nicco passionately entwined.

  “What kind of a dog did you say yours was?”

  “I didn’t. She’s a pug.”

  “Ah…a breed well-known for its snoring.”

  “Yes, and she guards me with a vengeance, too.”

  “Valentino will be enchanted.”

  “I don’t think so. Chloe doesn’t like animals and other people. Not even my mailman has been able to befriend her, and he’s the nicest person I know.”

  “Maybe that’s because the man who delivers your letters has an interest in you, signorina, and your little puplet senses danger.”

  So they were back to that subject again. “It’s more a case of her having been abused by a male owner.”

  His hand stilled on her arm. “That’s too bad, but I wager the prince will win her around.”

  “This is a pointless conversation. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get some sleep now.”<
br />
  Her plan to vamp Nicco so he would kiss her simply wasn’t working. Even if he had, she would have lost her nerve and pulled away from him. No matter how desperate she was to avoid getting married, kissing a stranger in order to get out of the ceremony wasn’t something she could do. She must have been insane to have entertained the idea in the first place.

  It was Nicco’s fault. He held an appeal for her that was growing stronger with every minute they spent together. At this point she had more than one pressing reason for leaving Italy as soon as possible.

  “I wish you sweet dreams, but know you won’t need them because in less than twelve hours you’ll be a real princess. Your husband-to-be is a very fortunate man. Buonanotte, signorina.”

  His lips against her temple were more like a benediction, yet they sent another quiver of delight through her body. She held herself rigid to prevent him from divining her reaction.

  Despite all his male banter, she knew she was as safe with him as if she were his sister. That should have been reassuring to Callie.

  It was reassuring. Yet somewhere inside her lived the regret that she hadn’t met Nicco under other circumstances.

  As she drifted off to sleep, she couldn’t help but wonder how things might have turned out had she been a simple tourist, one who happened to catch the eye of a certain exciting Italian male as she got off the plane in Torino.

  What if he had pursued her and shown her the city on the back of his bike? In time who knows if they might have fallen in love…

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “SIGNORINA Lassiter?”

  She thought it was Nicco, but his voice sounded far away and he didn’t speak to her like the ardent lover he’d been in her dreams.

  “Come! This is your wedding day. You don’t want to be late. I have coffee and rolls waiting for you.”

  Wedding day?

  Suddenly she was wide awake and sat up straight in the bed.

  Instead of being wrapped in his arms as they watched the crashing surf along the Big Sur in California, she’d awakened to the same room of the Italian farmhouse where Nicco had kept her prisoner during the night.