By Royal Decree. Оливия Гейтс

      Giorgio let him stew for a second before letting him off the hook. “You of course told her why that was not possible.”

      “Si, si, I did.” Paolo would never slump with relief but relaxed slightly.

      “Americans are very informal, as you know. It can be quite appalling how much personal information they share with each other on merely a short acquaintance.”

      He nodded eagerly. “That is so true, signor. The other drivers I met in New York…” He winced. “I am not a dottore, signor. Why do they think I want to know about their prostate problems?”

      Giorgio winced, as well. “Paolo, you’ve had a busy day. Why don’t you have a glass of wine at the trattoria across the street? The signorina and I will be staying in this afternoon.”

      Paolo nodded and left. Giorgio headed to the bedroom. He wasn’t sure what awaited him on the other side of the door, but was eager to find out.

      He tapped on the door. “It’s me. May I come in?”

      “Of course.” Her voice was sweet and soft, and he grinned in anticipation as he twisted the doorknob.

      “Mamma mia!” The exclamation escaped him just before his jaw dropped.

      Renata stood next to the four-poster bed wearing something that looked like it had floated down on a cloud. She raised her hand to delicately stroke a post and the thin white silk outlined the curve of her breasts, the thrust of her nipples. He could see nothing but was seeing everything. And that up-and-down stroking was enough to drive him mad.

      “Do you like it, Giorgio?” She tipped her head and gave him a coy look from behind the curtain of her luxurious auburn hair.

      “What do you think?” He stripped off his shirt and yanked his belt loose.

      She ducked behind the other side of the bed before he could finish undressing. He moved opposite her once he was naked except for his boxer shorts, ready to dive across if need be. “Why don’t you come here and let me show you how much I love it?”

      She gave him a wide-eyed look. “I need you to show me so many things.”

      “Ohhhh.” He nodded in understanding. She was taking things in a different direction, aiming for a little role-playing with her in the lead role as Innocent Virgin. Although the droit de seigneur, or right of the lord to de-flower local lasses, never existed in Vinciguerra and was largely mythical elsewhere, the blood of his conquesting ancestors surged in his veins, his cock hardening even further at the bawdy suggestion.

      “I am Giorgio Alphonso Franco Martelli di Leone, Hammer of the Lion and Prince of Vinciguerra,” he informed her, using his formal family name and all his royal hauteur. “Your duty is to please your prince—and obey whatever he orders you to do.”

      Her eyes flashed at the obedience part but she lowered her head. “Yes, Prince Giorgio.”

      “Come here.” He thought about snapping his fingers but figured he was pressing his luck.

      She glided to him. The afternoon sun slipping in through the shutters totally illuminated her body. Her breasts swayed over a narrow waist and round hips.

      “I should rip this gown down the front for you daring to wear it in front of me. It is against the law to appear in the Prince’s bedroom with clothing on.”

      She muffled a snicker.

      “But since it is so sheer, I will make an exception for you.” How far was she willing to go for this mutual fantasy? If she balked, he’d stop, but if she didn’t… “Put your hands behind your back.”

      Renata complied but her expression was confused. He grabbed a necktie from the back of the chair and wrapped it loosely around her wrists, then to the bedpost. Her eyes widened, although she didn’t protest. In fact, her breathing quickened and her nipples hardened against the silk.

      He moved close so her gown brushed his body, the silk resting on his erection. Oh so close to shoving up the nightgown and taking her how his ancestor would, with thoughts only for his own pleasure, the smoothness of her thighs, the hot, wet tightness of her flesh enveloping him as he pounded deep inside her. And to do it again whenever he felt like, to have her ready and willing at any time of the day or night. The good old days…he bit back a groan.

      “What are you going to do, Prince Giorgio?” Her words held a challenge and he answered it.

      “Whatever I want.” He smoothed his hands over her breasts, admiring the plump weight as he stared at the dark round nipples showing through the fabric. “And before long, you will beg your master for his touch, his mouth, his cock.” She inhaled sharply at his promise.

      He covered a nipple with his mouth and she pushed her head against the bedpost, arching her back. “Oh, Giorgio.”

      He worked the tight nub with his tongue and teeth, the silk a flimsy barrier to his determination. She gave a little gasp and he smiled in pleasure. Her breast felt different under his mouth, cool and wet at first but then hot as his breath and her skin heated the fabric.

      He moved from one breast to the other, leisurely exploring their curves through the intriguing veil. Renata wiggled in his embrace, a bead of sweat trickling down her neck between her breasts. He licked the salty trail until it fell below her neckline.

      Giorgio sat back on his haunches. What would his ancestor do? He gave her a long, slow grin and put his hands on her neckline. “I will buy you another.”

      “Another what?” Her dazed eyes widened and she squealed as he ripped the nightgown right down the middle. “Giorgio! Do you know how much this cost? The dollar-to-euro conversion is terrible this week!”

      “I will buy you, ten, twenty of them,” he swore as he followed that intriguing droplet of sweat down her belly to where it pooled in her navel. Ah, just right for his tongue.

      “And I thought bodice ripping was the stuff of myth and legend,” she quipped, breaking off into a long sigh as he licked her belly.

      He had no idea what she was talking about since he was dizzy from her scent, intoxicated from the feminine musk rising from her arousal. He gently spread her folds and dabbed his tongue onto her clit.

      She stopped a scream and sagged against the bedpost.

      “Here.” Not wanting her to fall, he lifted her onto the mattress, and raising first one leg over his shoulder and then the other, supporting her weight. Her hands were caught loosely enough to take any pressure off her shoulders.

      Once she was comfortable, it was time to go to work pleasuring her. He returned to his previous position and opened her wide to him. She had an attack of uncharacteristic shyness and brought her legs together.

      “None of that.” He stroked her breasts until her knees fell apart.

      “Giorgio,” she sighed his name. “This is so…so…” She stopped, unable to find the words for her thoughts.

      “Arousing? Sexy? Incredibly hot?”

      She swallowed hard. “Yes. This is amazingly erotic. I feel like the lord of the manor is preparing to ravish me.”

      “Good. Then you have the right idea. You will be ravished.” He bit her smooth neck, careful not to mark her white skin. “Totally.” He suckled one nipple to a plump red peak, pleased at her moans. “Completely.” He nipped the other, tugging until it swelled to match. “And quite thoroughly.” He dipped his tongue into her soft, sweet belly button, so glad she had pale, lush feminine curves instead of a stringy boyish build.

      She raised her hips in invitation, which he accepted, staring at her again. She was beautiful in her feminine secrets, medium pink like the inside of a conch seashell, her hidden pearl peeping out as it swelled with arousal.

      He inhaled her musky scent eagerly. He couldn’t stop remembering how she had gone up in flames under his mouth in his limo and had been eager to see if