How To Propose To A Princess. Rebecca Winters

      He grinned. “By the lovely look of you, no one would guess. I’m starving too. What do you like?”

      “Anything. Surprise me. I’d like to see where the renowned Dr. Nico Barsotti goes for a meal after an exhausting day.” Renowned? “I’m always looking for a good spot to eat.”

      “That doesn’t sound like you spend much time at the palace.”

      He felt her eyes on him as he headed for the old part of the city with its narrow cobblestoned streets. “How many hours a day do you stay in the place where you live?”

      Nico knew where this conversation was going. Once again he’d left himself wide open with a statement that showed how off the mark he was over the life of a royal. “I sleep there. That’s about it.”

      “You’ve just described my life.”

      Except that her world was full of activity he knew nothing about and wished he didn’t want to know. There was no way he could ever have a romantic relationship with her. Though she insisted there was no one and she was free to be with him, he believed her parents would eventually prevail on her to marry some important prince. Again, he reminded himself that her sisters had married royalty. Why would it be different for her?

      “There’s a small restaurant around the next corner that serves one of my favorite dishes. Have you ever eaten maialino allo spiedo?”

      Her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds. “Roast pig? I’m sure I have.”

      “But this recipe is different and you’re in for a real treat.”

      After a minute he found a parking space along the ancient street, but it turned out to be a tight squeeze between cars smaller than his. He slid from the car and hurried around to help her.

      Soon people were staring at her, but she seemed oblivious. He noticed that men couldn’t take their eyes off her. No doubt they wished they were in Nico’s shoes as he ushered her inside Prospero’s, a small dimly lit cantina over two hundred years old.

      The owner saw Nico and hurried toward him with a wide smile. He couldn’t take his gaze off Fausta. “Dottore—are my eyes deceiving me?” he whispered.

      Nico chuckled. “No, amico mio. Prospero Gallo? May I introduce Princess Fausta Rossiano?”

      “I knew it! Benvenuto, Your Highness!” He beamed. “I’ve never been so honored.”

      “Just call me Fausta, Signor Gallo, and I’m the one who feels privileged. Nico tells me you make the best roast pig in Domodossola.”

      Nico could tell by the way the owner seemed at a sudden loss for words that her compliment had thrilled Prospero. But after a moment he recovered and led them past several other diners to the best table of the house in the corner, where they were seated.

      “We don’t need a menu, Prospero. Just some white wine and your wife’s rigotoni alla carbanara to go with the maialino allo spiedo followed by coffee.”

      “Al vostro servizio, Nico.” His gaze switched to Fausta. “Princess,” he murmured before hurrying to the kitchen, unable to call her by her first name.

      By now the staff had to be aware of their illustrious visitor. Nico knew that a visit from a member of the royal family had made Prospero’s night. Being with her had made Nico’s night and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

      “The owner is charming. Has he been a patient of yours?”

      “No. We met in an entirely different way. When I moved to Domodossola eighteen months ago and joined the hospital staff, I asked around to find out what restaurants served roast pig. I tried several places, but they were a disappointment. Then I came to Prospero’s and now I never go anywhere else when I’m in the mood for it.”

      “Why is that dish so special to you?” She’d just sipped the wine one of the waiters had brought to their table. Her lips glistened from the liquid, causing him to think thoughts he shouldn’t be having, like how she would taste right now if he were to kiss her. His instant attraction to her was growing in leaps.

      He drank some of his. “They use an old recipe that reminds me of the years I lived in Biella.”

      Her eyes searched his. “You mean Biella, Italy?”

      “Have you been there?”

      “Once years ago, with my mother and sisters. Mamma loved it because it was hilly with old castellos she’d visited as a child. As I recall, we had lunch there with a friend of my father’s cousin. I remember walking up the steep, narrow streets to the citadel.”

      “I did it many times myself.”

      “So you’re Italian! You must be here on a visa. Now that you’re a doctor here, do you think in time you might apply for Domodossolan citizenship? Quite a few people from other countries hold dual citizenship.”

      “That’s true—”

      But before he could answer her question, Prospero brought their food to the table. He nodded to Nico then said, “Buon appetito, Princess.”

      “Grazie, signor. It looks delicious. So does the rigotoni alla carbanara.”

      Nico eyed her after Prospero walked away. “He cooks the meat. His wife makes the pasta with guaciale.”

      She looked surprised. “Doesn’t that mean ‘cheeks’?”

      He chuckled. “In this case pig’s cheeks. Normally the pasta is made with pancetta, but the meat is too crisp. Guaciale melts in your mouth.” All the time they talked, he couldn’t stop admiring the mold of her face and the way her eyes danced. There wasn’t another woman like her in existence and he didn’t want this evening to end.

      The waiter brought coffee as they started eating. After a few minutes she leaned toward Nico. “This food is divine. How do you know all this? Were you a five-star chef before you became a doctor?”

      “Not exactly. From the age of twelve to eighteen I was a pig farmer on an estate on the outskirts of Biella before and after school.”

      “You’re kidding!” she cried with excitement. “You got to play with all the little piglets?”

      Her comment tickled him. “You like pigs?”

      She smiled. “Yes! Sometimes my sisters and I would visit a pig farm on the palatial estate and I always wanted to take one home and turn it into a pet like my rabbit. My parents forbade it, but—Oh, they’re so adorable!”

      So was she. Already Nico realized he was falling hard for her. “For the most part they’re well behaved as long as you don’t separate them from the sow. There were times when I had to help a runt so it would thrive, and the vet would come. They have to be given antibiotics to prevent infection, and you have to put iodine on their navels. But sometimes the runts died. That was the hard part.”

      “How sad that must have been for you. When the wild rabbit I found and nursed back to health eventually died, it took me a long time to get over it. I’m surprised you didn’t become a vet.”

      Nico finished his wine. “There was another experience earlier in my life that influenced me to go into a different kind of medicine, but I’ll never regret my time on that farm.”

      “I think you were lucky.”

      “For many reasons I agree.” Right now I’m the luckiest man on the planet. “The family I lived with were good to me and cooked roast pig at least twice a week. We ate well, which was a blessing because I was always hungry. Whenever I get homesick for those days, I come here to eat.”

      “I can see why. Do you ever go back to Biella?”

      He was flattered and humbled by her interest in his life, as if she really