The Prince's Forbidden Bride. Rebecca Winters

to a store for fruit and some quiche. “I need to get us back to the hotel. You’re performing in the morning and need your sleep.”

      “No, I don’t. I only need you.”

      The car was their sanctuary. They didn’t go into the hotel until after one. “I’d come to your room, but then you’d never get rid of me and we’d be the target of every eye. I’ll be at the stands in the morning to watch you on Blaze.”

      They rode the elevator to the second floor, where he had to get out, but they clung to each other.

      “Enrico? How soon do you have to get back to Cambridge?”

      “Tomorrow night.”

      “Why don’t we just drive away right now until you have to be at the airport. I’ll skip the competition.”

      He pressed his forehead against hers. “You can’t do that. I can’t let you. But we’ll be together all day tomorrow.” Enrico let her go and stepped out into the hall. He looked back. “Meet me in the lobby at seven and we’ll go somewhere for breakfast before you have to report to the stands.”

      “Don’t go, Enrico. I’m afraid.”

      He frowned. “Why do you say that?”

      “Because I’m too happy.”

      “You don’t know the meaning of the word yet. Buona notte e sogni d’ oro, Donetta.”

      Golden dreams. She’d been living in one since they’d met in the lobby. “Buona notte, Enrico.”

      The elevator door closed and carried her to the third floor. When she reached her room, the phone was ringing. She rushed to answer it. “Enrico?”

      “Good. You’re home safe and sound for tonight. I’ll be dreaming of you.”

      “I dream of you every night,” she confessed.

      “One of these days we won’t have to do that anymore.”

      He clicked off.

      She was slower to hang up. If he meant what she thought he’d meant, he wasn’t just talking about a two-week vacation. Filled with elation, she whirled around the room before settling down long enough to undress and get to bed.

       CHAPTER ONE

      THERE WAS NO sight more beautiful to Crown Prince Enrico da Francesca di Montedoro than the island country of Vallefiore. In the early morning light, the sun’s first rays appeared like fingers over the magnificent vertiginous mountains and sparkling waterfalls.

      From his vantage point atop the highest peak, he could see his country was surrounded by the deep blue waters of the Ionian Sea splashing against rocky shoreline cliffs and hidden grottoes.

      He’d always likened his country to a dazzling blue-green jewel whose lakes and villages made up its many facets, including the plains where the wild Sanfratellano horses ran free.

      His eyes followed the lay of the land over rolling hills and orchards to palm-studded sand. Everything could grow here in its subtropical climate. But as his father, King Nuncio, had told Enrico when he was a boy, without more fresh water to irrigate, it couldn’t flourish as it should.

      From that day on, Enrico had a dream that one day he’d find a way to bring much-needed water to all parts of the eleven-thousand-square-mile island. Now, at the age of twenty-seven, he and his cousin Giovanni, always his best friend and now his personal assistant, were slowly fulfilling that dream.

      Today he’d come to the topmost point of the new water treatment plant to talk to the foreman, Giuseppe, and work out a few small problems. They talked for several hours and discussed the results of the huge project he and Giovanni had developed. At this point other countries wanted to adopt it.

      After saying goodbye to the foreman, he climbed back in his Land Rover, surrounded by his bodyguards. He headed down the mountain for the palace in Saracene an hour away. The capital city was located on Lake Saracene, the large, brilliant light green body of water resembling those in the tropics.

      Donetta possessed eyes that same color. He remembered the last time he’d looked into them before kissing her senseless. Those two days in Aix-en-Provence had been heaven. She’d once again won another competition, filling him with pride. He’d come close to kidnapping her for good before he came to his senses.

      Consumed with ideas for the two of them after graduation, he’d returned to Cambridge more anxious than ever to finish his studies and fulfill his desire to be with her on a permanent basis.

      But right before his graduation, his world had come close to falling apart when he’d learned the tragic news that his father had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s and his mother needed him. He had to fly home immediately and forgo his graduation ceremony.

      What made the situation worse was his mother’s insistence that the palace keep the world in the dark over the king’s diagnosis. She didn’t want the citizenry to learn that the disease had taken over completely and he could no longer function. This meant Enrico was forced to settle into his duties as crown prince the second the jet touched down.

      Enrico was put under further pressure when his mother arranged for Valentina to be a visitor to the palace. The queen was demanding he marry her. Both sets of parents had been good friends for years and she expected Enrico to propose immediately. At the time of the marriage, an official coronation would make Enrico king. Only then would it be revealed that King Nuncio was ill.

      Enrico had no intention of marrying Valentina, but the visits had been captured in the news, creating the excitement of a coming royal wedding for the country. To end this nightmare, he’d told his mother there would be no wedding in the foreseeable future while he was attempting to run the affairs of the kingdom.

      His desire to take Donetta on a two-week trip had been thwarted by circumstances beyond his control. In his next letter to her, he told her the vacation would have to be put off and he wouldn’t be writing any letters for a while.

      Without giving away the secret about his father, he explained his work for the country had become too involved. When the time came, he would get in touch with her again.

      He’d received a response that said she understood how busy he must be and hoped to see him again soon. “I miss you, Enrico.” He could hear her voice that tugged on his heart. That was the last letter from her.

      Now it was five years later and he still couldn’t stop thinking about her and wishing they could meet again. Did she still miss him? How would they really feel about each other after such a long absence?

      At the age of eighteen Enrico had already made up his mind over the woman he wanted in his life. In his wildest fantasy he’d even dreamed of Donetta becoming his bride, despite knowing such a marriage would raise a furor with their families.

      Because of the two-hundred-year-old dispute that had made their countries enemies, Enrico had never told anyone about her except his cousin. But not even Giovanni knew the extent of Enrico’s feelings.

      Enrico needed to find out how much of their relationship had been driven by rebellion, and how much had been based on a genuine and deep love for the each other. Ever since he’d competed on one of his special horses in an international concorso ippico held in England, he’d admired Princess Donetta Rossiano’s ability in the dressage event.

      For a ten-year-old she was a marvel, much better than any of the guys on all the teams represented from around the world. He’d approached to tell her so and was struck by the shimmering green color of her eyes, which had grown fierier as she’d matured.

      She, in turn, had complimented him and had admired his horse. As they’d talked, she’d asked lots of questions about the breed he’d chosen, revealing her exceptional intelligence.

      Enjoying