PRINCES OF EUROPE

Torn between love and royal obligation…

by Rebecca Winters

Vincenzo and Valentino are determined to fulfil their duty to their beloved kingdoms by taking royal wives, but they haven’t counted on the revolutions taking place in their hearts caused by two captivating commoners.

When these two charming princes risk everything to win the trust of the women they love they soon find the true meaning of commitment and honour, proving that sometimes fairytales do come true—and in the most unexpected ways!

EXPECTING THE PRINCE’S BABY Available May 2014

and

BECOMING THE PRINCE’S WIFE Available June 2014

Expecting the

Prince’s Baby

Rebecca Winters

www.millsandboon.co.uk

REBECCA WINTERS, whose family of four children has now swelled to include five beautiful grandchildren, lives in Salt Lake City, Utah, in the land of the Rocky Mountains. With canyons and high alpine meadows full of wildflowers, she never runs out of places to explore. They, plus her favourite vacation spots in Europe, often end up as backgrounds for her romance novels, because writing is her passion, along with her family and church.

Rebecca loves to hear from readers. If you wish to e-mail her, please visit her website: www.cleanromances.com.

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I dedicate this book to my angelic grandmother, Alice Vivia Driggs Brown, who made my childhood a constant enchantment. She was so romantic she called the home she and my grandfather had built ‘Camelot.’

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

EXTRACT

CHAPTER ONE

VINCENZO DI LAURENTIS, thirty-three-year-old crown prince of the Principality of Arancia, stood before the camera on the balcony of the royal palace overlooking the gardens to officially open the April Fifteenth Lemon and Orange Festival. This was his first public appearance since the funeral of his wife, Princess Michelina, six weeks ago. He waved to the crowds that had come out en masse.

His country was nestled between the borders of France and Italy on the coast of the Mediterranean. Eighty thousand people lived in the city of the same name. The other thirty thousand made up the population that lived in the smaller towns and villages. Besides tourism, it had depended on the lemon and orange industries for centuries.

For the next two weeks the country would celebrate the mainstay of their economy with marching bands in the streets, food fairs, floats and statuary in the parks decorated with lemons and other citrus fruit.

Vincenzo had just gotten back from a series of visits to three continents, doing business for the monarchy with other heads of state. It felt good to be with his father, King Guilio, again. On his return, he’d forgotten how beautiful Arancia could be in the spring with its orchards in full flower. He felt an air of excitement coming from the people that winter was over. As for himself, the darkness that had consumed him over the last six weeks since Michelina’s death seemed to be dissipating.

Their marriage had never been a love match. Though betrothed at sixteen, they’d spent very little time together before their wedding fourteen years later. When he’d walked into their apartment earlier this afternoon, more than any other emotion, he was aware of a haunting sense of guilt for not having been able to love her the way she’d loved him.

Romantic love never grew on his part for her, only respect and admiration for her determination to keep up the image of a happily married couple. They’d suffered through three miscarriages hoping for a child, but it hadn’t happened.

His passion had never been aroused when they’d made love because he hadn’t been in love with her, but he’d done his best to show her tenderness. He’d known passion with other women before he’d married Michelina. But it had only been a physical response because he was never able to give his heart, knowing he was betrothed.

Vincenzo suspected Michelina’s parents had undergone the same kind of unfulfilled marriage. He knew his own parents had struggled. It was the rare occurrence when a royal couple actually achieved marital happiness. Michelina had wanted their marriage to be different, and Vincenzo had tried. But you couldn’t force love. That had to spring from a source all on its own.

However there was one thing he had been able to do that had brought them their first real happiness as man and wife. In fact it was the only thing that had gotten him through this dark period. Just a few days before she’d died, they’d learned they were pregnant again. Only this time they’d taken the necessary steps to prevent another miscarriage.

Relieved that his last duty for today was over, he left the balcony anxious to visit the woman who’d been willing to be a gestational surrogate for them. Abby Loretto, the American girl who’d become his friend. Since twelve years of age she’d been living on the palace grounds with her Italian father, who was chief of security.

Vincenzo had been eighteen, with his own set of friends and a few girlfriends his own age, when Abby had arrived on the scene. Yet Abby had become the constant in the background of his life, more like a younger sister flitting in and out of his daily life. It was almost like having a sibling. In a way he felt closer to Abby than he’d ever felt to his sister, Gianna, who was six years older.

The two of them had played in the sea or the swimming pool. She was fun and bright. He could be his real self around her, able to throw off his cares and relax with her in a way he couldn’t with anyone else. Because she lived on the grounds and knew the inner workings of the palace, she already had the understanding of what it was to be a royal. They didn’t have to talk about it.

When his mother had died, Abby had joined him on long walks, offering comfort. When he didn’t want anyone else around, he wanted her. She’d lost her mother, too, and understood what he was going through. She asked nothing from him, wanted nothing but to be his friend and share small confidences. Because they’d been in each other’s lives on a continual basis, he realized it was inevitable that they’d bonded and had developed a trust.

She’d been so woven into the fabric of his life that years later, when she’d offered to be a surrogate mother for him and Michelina, it all seemed part of the same piece. His wife had liked Abby a great deal. The three of them had been in consultation for several months before the procedure had been performed. They’d worked like a team until Michelina’s unexpected death.

He’d gotten used to their meetings with the doctor and the psychologist. While he’d been away on business, it had felt like years instead of weeks since he’d seen or talked to Abby. Now that she was carrying Vincenzo’s son or daughter, she was his lifeline from here on out. He needed to see her and be with her.

All he could think about was getting back to make certain she and the baby were doing well. But accompanying this need was an uncomfortable sense of guilt he couldn’t shake. Less than two months ago he’d lost his wife. While still in mourning over the marriage that had been less than perfect, he now found himself concentrating on another woman, who was carrying the baby he and Michelina had made.

It was only natural he cared about Abby, who’d agreed to perform this miracle. Before long he was going to be a father, all because of her! Yet with Michelina gone, it didn’t seem right.

But neither was it wrong.

While he’d been traveling, he hadn’t had time to dig deep into his soul, but now that he was back, he didn’t know how to deal with this new emotional dilemma facing him, and he left the balcony conflicted.

* * *

Abigail Loretto, known to her friends as Abby, sat alone on the couch in her apartment at the palace, drying her hair while she was glued to the television. She’d been watching the live broadcast of Prince Vincenzo opening the fruit festival from the balcony of the palace.

Abby hadn’t known he was back. Her Italian-born father, Carlo Loretto, the chief of palace security, had been so busy, he obviously hadn’t had time to inform her.

She’d first met Vincenzo sixteen years earlier, when her father had been made the head of palace security. The king had brought him and his American-born wife and young daughter from the Arancian Embassy in Washington, D.C., to live in the apartment on the palace grounds. She’d been twelve to his eighteen.

Most of her teenage years had been spent studying him, including his tall, hard-muscled physique. Instead of a film star or a famous rock star, she’d idolized Vincenzo. She’d even kept a scrapbook that followed his life, but she’d kept it hidden from her parents. Of course, that was a long time ago.

The crown prince, the most striking male Abby had ever met in her life, had many looks depending on his mood. From what she could see now, he appeared more rested since his trip.

Sometimes when he was aloof, those black eyes and furrowed brows that matched his glistening black hair made her afraid to approach him. Other times he could be charming and fun, even a tease. No one was immune from his masculine charisma. Michelina had been the most fortunate woman alive.

His picture was always on the cover of magazines and newspapers in Europe. The camera loved the handsome thirty-three-year-old son of Arancia, with his olive skin and aquiline features. Dogged by the press, he made the nightly news on television somewhere on the continent every day of the year.

The knowledge that he was home from his travels sent a wave of warmth through her body. Six weeks without seeing or talking to him about the baby had felt like an eternity. She knew he’d get in touch with her at some point. But after being away, he would have so much work to catch up on at home, it might be another week before she heard his voice on the phone.

Now that he’d left the balcony and had gone back inside the palace, the station began showing a segment of the funeral that had been televised on every channel throughout the kingdom and Europe six weeks ago.

She would never forget her father’s phone call. “I have bad news. Before Vincenzo and Michelina were due to return to Arancia today, she went for an early-morning ride on her horse. Vincenzo rode with her. While she was galloping ahead of him, the horse stepped in a hole. It tossed her over end. When she hit the ground, she died on impact.”

Abby froze.

Michelina was dead?

It was like déjà vu, sending Abby back to that horrific moment when she’d learned her own mother had died.

Poor Vincenzo. He’d seen the whole thing... She couldn’t stand it. “Oh, Dad—he’s lost his wife. Their baby will never know its mother.”

Before long she was driven to the hospital, where Dr. DeLuca had his office. “My dear Abby, what a terrible shock this has been. I’m glad your father brought you here. I’m going to keep you in the hospital overnight and possibly longer to make certain you’re all right. The prince has enough pain to deal with. Knowing you’re being looked after will be a great comfort to him. Excuse me while I arrange for a private room.”

When he left, Abby turned to her father. “Vincenzo must be in absolute agony.”

He kissed her forehead. “I know he is, but right now it’s you I’m worried about. Your blood pressure is up. I plan to stay with you and will tell Signor Faustino you’ve caught a bad cold, but will be back to work in a few days.”

“You can’t stay with me here, Dad. Your place is at the palace. The king will want you there.”

“Not tonight. My assistant is in charge, and Guilio wants to be there for his son. My daughter needs me, and I need you, so let that be the end of the discussion.”

Her father’s words had been final. Deep down she’d been glad he’d remained with her.

Abby kept watching the funeral she’d lived through once before. It was shocking to see how gaunt and shadowed Vincenzo’s handsome features had been back then. His wife’s death seemed to have aged him.

The most beautiful man she’d ever known in her life made a striking yet lonely figure in his mourning finery. Once again her soul shuddered to see his somber expression as he walked behind the funeral cortege toward the cathedral. He led Michelina’s favorite horse from the palace stable alongside him. The chestnut mare was covered in a throw of his wife’s favorite pink roses. The scene was so heart wrenching, Abby felt tears well up once again.

Behind him came the king, in his uniform of state, and his mother-in-law, dressed in a black mantilla and suit. They rode in the black-and-gold carriage with the siblings of both families. When the broadcast moved inside the cathedral, Abby listened once again to the scripture reading and remarks from the archbishop. When it was over and the bells from the cathedral rang out their mournful sound, she was once more a trembling mass of painful emotions.

“For those of you who’ve just tuned in, you’re watching the funeral procession of Her Royal Highness Princess Michelina Cavelli, the wife of Crown Prince Vincenzo Di Laurentis of the Principality of Arancia. Earlier in the week she was killed in a tragic horse-riding accident on the grounds of the royal palace on the island kingdom of Gemelli.

“In the carriage is His Majesty Guilio Di Laurentis, King of Arancia, her father-in-law. His wife, Queen Annamaria, passed away two years ago. Seated next to him is his daughter, Princess Gianna Di Laurentis Roselli and her husband, Count Roselli of the Cinq Terres of Italy.

“Opposite them is Her Majesty Queen Bianca Cavelli, mother of Princess Michelina. Her husband, King Gregorio Cavelli of Gemelli, was recently deceased. Also seated in the royal carriage is His Royal Highness Crown Prince Valentino Cavelli of Gemelli and Prince Vitoli Cavelli, the brothers of Princess Michelina.

“On this day of great sadness for both royal houses, one has to speculate on the future of the Principality of Arancia. The world has been waiting to hear that their Royal Highnesses were expecting a child after three miscarriages, but tragically the love match between Michelina and Vincenzo ended too soon.

“Should the Princess Gianna and her husband, Count Enzio Roselli, have offspring, then their child will be third in line to—”

Abby shut off the TV with the remote and got to her feet, unable to watch any more. She shouldn’t have allowed herself to live through that funeral segment a second time. Vincenzo’s trip appeared to have done him some good. It was better to leave the tragic past behind and concentrate on the future.

She walked into the den to do some work at her laptop. Her dinner would be arriving shortly. Except for the occasional meal out with her best friend, Carolena, Abby normally ate in while she worked on one of her law briefs. But she had little appetite tonight.

How hard for Vincenzo to come back to the palace with no wife to greet him. His loneliness had to be exquisite and her heart ached for him.

* * *

After receiving an urgent message from his father that couldn’t have come at a worse moment, Vincenzo had been given another reason to visit Abby. As he rounded the corner to her suite, he saw Angelina leaving the apartment with the dinner tray.

Angelina was Abby’s personal bodyguard, hired to keep an eye on Abby, virtually waiting on her. She was the one who fed Vincenzo information on a daily basis when he couldn’t be there himself. He stopped her so he could lift the cover. Abby had only eaten a small portion of her dinner. That wasn’t good. He put the cover back and thanked her before knocking on the door.

“Yes, Angelina?”

He opened it and walked through until he found Abby in the den, where he could see her at the desk working on her computer in her sweats and a cotton top. The lamp afforded the only light in the room, gilding the silvery-gold hair she must have just shampooed. He could smell the strong peach fragrance. It fell to her shoulders in a cloud.

Instead of the attorney-like persona she generally presented, she reminded Vincenzo of the lovely teenager who’d once flitted about the palace grounds on her long legs.

“Abby?”

She turned a face to him filled with the kind of sorrow he’d seen after her mother had died. “Your Highness,” she whispered, obviously shocked to see him. A glint of purple showed through her tear-glazed blue eyes. She studied him for a long moment. “It’s good to see you again.”

Because of the extreme delicacy of their unique situation, it frustrated him that she’d addressed him that way, yet he could find no fault in her.

“Call me Vincenzo when the staff isn’t around. That’s what you used to shout at me when you were running around the gardens years ago.”

“Children are known to get away with murder.”

“So are surrogate mothers.” There was something about being with Abby. “After such a long trip, I can’t tell you how much I’ve been looking forward to talking to you in person.”

“You look like you’re feeling better.”

Though he appreciated her words, he wished he could say the same about her. “What’s wrong? I noticed you hardly ate your dinner. Are you ill?”

“No, no. Not at all.” Abby got up from the chair, rubbing the palms of her hands against the sides of womanly hips. To his chagrin the gesture drew his attention to her figure. “Please don’t think that finding me in this state has anything to do with the baby.”

“That relieves me, but I’m still worried about you. Anything troubling you bothers me.”

She let out a sigh. “After I watched your live television appearance a little while ago, they replayed a segment of the funeral. I shouldn’t have watched it.” Her gaze searched his eyes. “Your suffering was so terrible back then. I can’t even imagine it.”

Diavolo. The media never let up. “To say I was in shock wouldn’t have begun to cover my state of mind,” he said.

Abby hugged her arms to her chest, once again drawing his attention to her slender waist. So far the only proof that she was pregnant came from a blood test. She studied him for a moment. “Michelina loved you so much, she was willing to do anything to give you a baby. I daresay not every husband has had that kind of love from his spouse. It’s something you’ll always be able to cherish.”

If he could just get past his guilt over the unhappy state of their marriage. His inability to return Michelina’s affection the way she’d wanted weighed him down, but he appreciated Abby’s words.

Little did Abby know how right she was. In public his wife had made no secret of her affection for him and he’d tried to return it to keep up the myth of a love match. But in private Vincenzo had cared for her the way he did a friend. She’d pushed so hard at the end to try surrogacy in order to save their marriage, he’d finally agreed to consider it.

Needing to change the subject, he said, “Why don’t you sit down while we talk?”

“Thank you.” She did as he asked.

He subsided into another of the chairs by her desk. “How are you really feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Rest assured that during my trip I insisted on being given a daily report on your progress. It always came back ‘fine.’”

“It doesn’t surprise me you checked. Something tells me you’re a helicopter father already,” she quipped.

“If you mean I’m interested to the point of driving you crazy with questions, I’m afraid I’m guilty. Since you and I have known each other from the time you were twelve, it helps me to know I can have the inside track on the guardian of my baby. Dr. DeLuca said your blood pressure went up at the time of the funeral, but it’s back to normal and he promises me you’re in excellent health.”

Abby had a teasing look in her eye. “They say only your doctor knows for sure, but never forget he’s a man and has no clue.”

Laughter broke from Vincenzo’s lips. It felt good to laugh. He couldn’t remember the last time it had happened. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

“So what does the crown prince’s personal physician have to say about the state of the expectant father?”

He smiled. “I was disgustingly healthy at my last checkup.”

“That’s good news for your baby, who hopes to enjoy a long, rich life with his or her daddy.”

Daddy was what he’d heard Abby call her father from the beginning. The two of them had the sort of close relationship any parent would envy. Vincenzo intended to be the kind of wonderful father his own had been.

“You’re veering off the subject. I told you I want the unvarnished truth about your condition,” he persisted.

“Unvarnished?” she said with a sudden hint of a smile that broke through to light up his insides. “Well. Let me see. I’m a lot sleepier lately, feel bloated and have finally been hit with the mal di mare.”

The Italian expression for sea sickness. Trust Abby to come up with something clever. They both chuckled.

“Dr. DeLuca has given me medicine for that and says it will all pass. Then in the seventh month I’ll get tired again.”

“Has he been hovering as you feared?”

“Actually no. I check in at the clinic once a week before going to work. He says everything looks good and I’m right on schedule. Can you believe your baby is only one-fifth of an inch long?”

“That big?” he teased. Though it really was incredible, he found it astounding she was pregnant with a part of him. He wished he could shut off his awareness of her. Michelina’s death had changed their world.

Vincenzo suspected Abby was also having to deal with the fact that the two of them were now forced to get through this pregnancy without his wife. No doubt she felt some guilt, too, because they were treading new ground neither of them could have imagined when they’d had the procedure done.

A laugh escaped her lips. “It’s in the developmental stage. He gave me two identical booklets. This one is for you. Anatomy 101 for beginner fathers.”

Abby...

She reached in the desk drawer and handed it to him. The title said The Ten Stages of Pregnancy at a Glance.

“Why ten, not nine?”

“A woman wrote it and knows these things.”

He appreciated her little jokes more than she could imagine. Her normally lighthearted disposition was a balm to his soul. Vincenzo thumbed through the booklet before putting it in his pocket. When he went to bed tonight, he’d digest it.

“Thank you. Now tell me about your law cases.” A safe subject that intrigued him. “Which one keeps you awake at night?”

“The Giordano case. I have a hunch someone’s trying to block his initiative for political reasons.”

“Run it by me.”

Her arched brows lifted. “You’d be bored to tears.”

“Try me.” Nothing about Abby bored him.

She reached in one of the folders on her desk and handed him a printout on the case, which he perused.

As has been stated, major constraint to import into Arancia is nothing more than bureaucracy. Import certificates can take up to eight months to be released, and in some cases are not released at all. However, if the procedure is simplified, an increase of imports could particularly benefit Arancia, providing high-value high-season products.

That made even more sense to Vincenzo since talking to important exporters on his trip.

At present, the hyper/supermarket chains do not operate directly on the import market, but use the main wholesalers of oranges and lemons as intermediaries. Signor Giordano, representing the retailers, has entered the import market, thus changing some long-established import partnerships. He’s following a different strategy, based on higher competition, initial entry fees and spot purchases, thus bringing more revenue to Arancia.

Vincenzo knew instinctively that Signor Giordano was really on to something.

Signor Masala, representing the importers, is trying to block this new initiative. He has favored cooperative producers and established medium-to long-term contracts, without requiring any entry fee. The figures included in this brief show a clear difference in revenue, favoring Signor Giordano’s plan.

I’m filing this brief to the court to demonstrate that these high-quality products for fast-track approval would benefit the economy and unfortunately are not unavailable in the country at the present time.

Vincenzo handed her back the paper. Her knowledge and grasp of their country’s economic problems impressed him no end. He cocked his head. “Giuseppe Masala has a following and is known as a hard hitter on the trade commission.”

Abby’s brows met in a delicate frown. “Obviously he’s from the old school. Signor Giordano’s ideas are new and innovative. He’s worked up statistics that show Arancia could increase its imports of fuel, motor vehicles, raw materials, chemicals, electronic devices and food by a big margin. His chart with historical data proves his ideas will work.

“I’d like to see him get his fast-track idea passed, but the lobby against it is powerful. Signor Masala’s attorney is stalling to get back to me with an answer.”

She had him fascinated. “So what’s your next strategy?”

Abby put the paper back in the folder. “I’m taking him to court to show cause. But the docket is full and it could be awhile.”

“Who’s the judge?”

“Mascotti.”

The judge was a good friend of Vincenzo’s father. Keeping that in mind, he said, “Go on fighting the good fight, Abby. I have faith in you and know you’ll get there.”

“Your optimism means a lot to me.”

She was friendly, yet kept their relationship at a professional distance the way she’d always done. To his dismay he discovered he wanted more, in different surroundings where they could be casual and spend time talking together like they used to. Her suite wasn’t the right place.

Her bodyguard already knew he’d stopped by to see her and would know how long he stayed. He wanted to trust Angelina, but you never knew who your enemies were. Vincenzo’s father had taught him that early on. So it was back to the business at hand. “The doctor’s office faxed me a schedule of your appointments. I understand you’re due for your eight weeks’ checkup on Friday, May 1.” She nodded. “I plan to join you at the clinic and have arranged for us to meet with the psychologist for our first session afterward.”

“You mean you’ll have time?” She looked surprised.

“I’ve done a lot of business since we last saw each other and have reported in to the king. At this juncture I’m due some time off and am ready to get serious about my duties as a father-in-waiting.”

Laughter bubbled out of her. “You’re very funny at times, Vincenzo.”

No one had ever accused him of that except Abby. He hated bringing the fun to an end, but he needed to discuss more serious matters with her that couldn’t be put off before he left.

“Your mention of the funeral reminds me of how compassionate you are, and how much you cared for Michelina. I’ve wanted to tell you why we decided against your attending the funeral.”

She moistened her lips nervously. “My father already explained. Naturally, none of us wanted the slightest hint of gossip to mar your life in any way. Just between us, let me tell you how much I liked and admired Michelina. I’ve missed my daily talks with her and mourn her loss.”

He felt her sincerity. “She cared for you, too.”

“I—I wish there’d been a way to take your pain away—” her voice faltered “—but there wasn’t. Only time can heal those wounds.”

“Which is something you know all about, after losing your mother.”

“I’ll admit it was a bad time for Dad and me, but we got through it. There’s no burning pain anymore.”

When he’d seen Carlo Loretto’s agony after losing his wife, Vincenzo had come to realize how lucky they’d been to know real love. Abby had grown up knowing her parents had been lovers in the true sense of the word. Obviously she could be forgiven for believing he and Michelina had that kind of marriage. A marriage that had physically ended at the very moment there was new hope for them.

“Did your father explain why I haven’t phoned you in all these weeks?”

“Yes. Though you and Michelina had told me we could call each other back and forth if problems arose, Dad and I talked about that too. We decided it will be better if you and I always go through your personal assistant, Marcello.”

“As do I.”

It would definitely be better, Vincenzo mused. She understood everything. With Michelina gone, no unexplained private calls to him from Abby meant no calls to be traced by someone out to stir up trouble. They’d entered forbidden territory after going through with the surrogacy.

Vincenzo had to hope the gossip mill within the palace wouldn’t get to the point that he could no longer trust in the staff’s loyalty. But he knew it had happened in every royal house, no matter the measures taken, and so did she.

“I mustn’t keep you, but before I go, I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything.”

“Michelina’s mother and brothers flew in for the festival.” It was an excuse for what the queen really wanted. “She would like to meet with you and me in the state drawing room at nine in the morning.”

His concern over having to meet with his mother-in-law had less to do with the argument Michelina and the queen had gotten into before the fatal accident, and much more to do with the fact that he hadn’t been able to love her daughter the way she’d loved him. He was filled with guilt and dreaded this audience for Abby’s sake. But his mother-in-law had to be faced, and she had refused to be put off. “Your father will clear it with your boss so he’ll understand why you’ll be a little late for work.”

“That’s fine.”

It wouldn’t be fine, but he would be in the room to protect her. “Then I’ll say good-night.”

She nodded. “Welcome home, Vincenzo, and buonanotte.” Another smile broke out on her lovely face.

“Sogni d’oro.”

CHAPTER TWO

THE PRINCE’S FINAL words, “sweet dreams,” stayed with her all night. Seeing him again had caused an adrenaline rush she couldn’t shut off. She awakened earlier than usual to get ready, knowing Michelina’s mother would ask a lot of questions.

Abby always dressed up for work. Since the law firm of Faustino, Ruggeri, Duomo and Tonelli catered to a higher-class clientele, Signor Faustino, the senior partner, had impressed upon her and everyone else who worked there the need to look fashionable. Though her heart wasn’t in it this morning, she took her antinausea pill with breakfast, then forced herself to go through the motions.

Everyone knew she was the daughter of the chief of security for the palace, so no one questioned the royal limo bringing her to and from work. Except for her boss and Carolena, her coworkers were clueless about Abby’s specific situation. That’s the way things needed to remain until she took a leave of absence.

After the delivery, the palace would issue a formal statement that a surrogate mother had successfully carried the baby of their Royal Highnesses, the new heir who would be second in line to the throne. At that time Abby would disappear. But it wouldn’t be for a while.

Vincenzo had been a part of her life for so long, she couldn’t imagine the time coming when she’d no longer see him. Once the baby was born, she would live in another part of the city and get on with her life as a full-time attorney. How strange that was going to be.

From the time she’d moved here with her family, he’d been around to show her everything the tourists never got to see. He’d taken her horseback riding on the grounds, or let her come with him when he took out his small sailboat. Vincenzo had taught her seamanship. There was nothing she loved more than sitting out in the middle of the sea while they fished and ate sweets from the palace kitchen. He had the run of the place and let her be his shadow.

Abby’s friends from school had come over to her parents’ apartment, and sometimes she’d gone to their houses. But she much preferred being with Vincenzo and had never missed an opportunity to tag along. Unlike the big brothers of a couple of her friends who didn’t want the younger girls around, Vincenzo had always seemed to enjoy her company and invited her to accompany him when he had free time.

Memories flooded her mind as she walked over to the closet and pulled out one of her favorite Paoli dresses. When Abby had gone shopping with Carolena, they’d both agreed this one had the most luscious yellow print design on the body of the dress.

The tiny beige print on the capped sleeves and hem formed the contrast. Part of the beige print also drew the material that made tucks at the waist. Her friend had cried that it was stunning on Abby, with her silvery-blond hair color. Abby decided to wear it while she still could. The way she was growing, she would need to buy loose-fitting clothes this weekend.

After arranging her hair back in a simple low chignon with three pins, she put on her makeup, slipped on matching yellow shoes and started out of the bedroom. But she only made it to the hallway with her bone-colored handbag when her landline rang. Presuming it was her father calling to see how she was doing, she walked into the den to pick up and say hello.

“Signorina Loretto? This is Marcello. You are wanted in the king’s drawing room. Are you ready?”

Her hand gripped the receiver tighter. It sounded urgent. During the night she’d worried about this meeting. It was only natural Michelina’s mother would want to meet the woman who would be giving birth to her grandchild. But something about the look in Vincenzo’s eyes had given her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.

“Yes. I’ll be right there.”

“Then I’ll inform His Highness, and meet you in the main corridor.”

“Thank you.”

Because of Vincenzo, Abby was familiar with every part of the palace except the royal apartments. He’d taken her to the main drawing room, where the king met with heads of state, several times. Vincenzo had gotten a kick out of watching her reaction as he related stories about foreign dignitaries that weren’t public knowledge.

But her smile faded as she made her way across the magnificent edifice to meet Michelina’s mother. She knew the queen was grieving. Marcello met her in the main hallway. “Follow me.”

They went down the hall past frescoes and paintings, to another section where they turned a corner. She spied the country’s flag draped outside an ornate pair of floor-to-ceiling doors. Marcello knocked on one of the panels and was told to enter. He opened the door, indicating she should go in.

The tall vaulted ceiling of the room was a living museum to the history of Arancia, and had known centuries of French and Italian rulers. But Abby’s gaze fell on Vincenzo, who was wearing a somber midnight-blue suit. Opposite him sat Michelina’s stylish sixty-five-year-old mother, who was brunette like her late daughter. She’d dressed in black, with a matching cloche hat, and sat on one of the brocade chairs.

“Come all the way in, Signorina Loretto. I’d like you to meet my mother-in-law, Her Majesty the Queen of Gemelli.” Abby knew Gemelli—another citrus-producing country—was an island kingdom off the eastern coast of Sicily, facing the Ionian Sea.

She moved toward them and curtsied the way she’d been taught as a child after coming to the palace. “Your Majesty. It’s a great honor, but my heart has been bleeding for you and the prince. I cared for your daughter very much.”

The matriarch’s eyes were a darker brown than Michelina’s, more snapping. She gave what passed for a nod before Vincenzo told Abby to be seated on the love seat on the other side of the coffee table. Once she was comfortable, he said, “If you recall, Michelina and I flew to Gemelli so she could tell the queen we were pregnant.”

“Yes.”

“To my surprise, the unexpected nature of our news came as a great shock to my mother-in-law, since my wife hadn’t informed her of our decision to use a surrogate.”

What?

“You mean your daughter never told you what she and the prince were contemplating?”

“No,” came the answer through wooden lips.

Aghast, Abby averted her eyes, not knowing what to think. “I’m so sorry, Your Majesty.”

“We’re all sorry, because the queen and Michelina argued,” Vincenzo explained. “Unfortunately before they could talk again, the accident happened. The queen would like to take this opportunity to hear from the woman who has dared to go against nature to perform a service for which she gets nothing in return.”

CHAPTER THREE

ABBY REELED.

For Vincenzo to put it so bluntly meant he and his mother-in-law had exchanged harsh if not painfully bitter words. But he was a realist and had decided the only thing to do was meet this situation head-on. He expected Abby to handle it because of their long-standing friendship over the years.

“You haven’t answered my question, Signorina Loretto.”

At the queen’s staccato voice, Abby struggled to catch her breath and remain calm. No wonder she’d felt tension from him last night when he’d brought up this morning’s meeting. Michelina’s omission when it came to her mother had put a pall over an event that was helping Vincenzo to get up in the morning.

He was counting on Abby being able to deal with his mother-in-law. She refused to let him down even if it killed her. More time passed while she formulated what to say before focusing on the queen.

“If I had a daughter who came to me in the same situation, I would ask her exactly the same question. In my case, I’ve done it for one reason only. Perhaps you didn’t know that the prince rescued me from certain death when I was seventeen. I lost my mother in that same sailboat accident. Before I was swept to shore by the wind, I’d lost consciousness.

“When the prince found me, I was close to death but didn’t know it.” Abby’s eyes glazed over with unshed tears. “If you could have heard the way my father wept after he discovered I’d been found and brought back to the living, you would realize what a miracle had happened that day, all because of the prince’s quick thinking and intervention.

“From that time on, my father and I have felt the deepest gratitude to the prince. Over the years I’ve pondered many times how to pay the prince back for preventing what could have been an all-out catastrophe for my father.”

The lines on the queen’s face deepened, revealing her sorrow. Whether she was too immersed in her own grief to hear what Abby was saying, Abby didn’t know.

“The prince and princess were the perfect couple,” Abby continued. “When I heard that the princess had had a third miscarriage, it wounded me for their sake. They deserved happiness. Before Christmas I learned through my father that Dr. DeLuca had suggested a way for them to achieve their dream of a family.”

Abby fought to prevent tears from falling. “After years of wishing there was something I could do, I realized that if I could qualify as a candidate, I could carry their child for them. You’ll never know the joy it gave me at the thought of doing something so special for them. When I told my father what I wanted to do, he was surprised at first, and yet he supported my decision, too, otherwise he would never have approved.”

She took a shuddering breath. “That’s the reason I’m doing this. A life for a life. What I’m going to get out of this is pure happiness to see the baby the prince and princess fought so hard for. When the doctor puts the baby in the prince’s arms, Michelina will live on in their child, and the child will forever be a part of King Guilio and his wife, and a part of you and your husband, Your Majesty.”

The queen’s hands trembled on the arms of the chair. “You have no comprehension of what it’s like to be a mother. How old are you?”

“I’m twenty-eight and it’s true I’ve never been married or had a child. But I won’t be its mother in the way you mean. I’m only supplying a safe haven for the baby until it’s born. Yes, I’ll go through the aches and pains of pregnancy, but I view this as a sacred trust.”

Her features hardened. “You call this sacred?”

“I do. During my screening process, I met a dozen different parents and their surrogates who’d gone through the experience and now have beautiful children. They were all overjoyed and agreed it’s a special partnership between them and God.”

For the first time, the queen looked away.

“The prince is a full partner in this. He and the princess discussed it many times. He knows what she wanted and I’ll cooperate in every way. If you have suggestions, I’ll welcome them with all my heart.”

Quiet reigned.

Realizing there was nothing more to say, Abby glanced at Vincenzo, waiting for him to dismiss her.

He read her mind with ease. “I’m aware the limo is waiting to drive you to your office.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

At those words Michelina’s mother lifted her head. “You intend to work?” She sounded shocked.

“I do. I am passionate about my career as an attorney. After the delivery, I will have my own life to lead and need to continue planning for it.”

Vincenzo leaned forward. “She’ll stop work when the time is right.”

“Where will you live after the baby’s born?” The pointed question told Abby exactly where the queen’s thoughts had gone.

Nowhere near the prince.

She couldn’t blame the older woman for that. How could Michelina’s mother not suspect the worst? Her fears preyed on Abby’s guilt, which was deepening because she’d found herself missing Vincenzo more than she should have while he’d been away. He shouldn’t have been on her mind so much, but she couldn’t seem to turn off her thoughts. Not when the baby growing inside her was a constant reminder of him.

For weeks now she’d played games of what if? during the night when she couldn’t sleep. What if the baby were hers and Vincenzo’s? What would he or she look like? Where would they create a nursery in the palace? When would they go shopping for a crib and all the things necessary? She wanted to make a special baby quilt and start a scrapbook.

But then she’d break out in a cold sweat of guilt and sit up in the bed, berating herself for having any of these thoughts. Michelina’s death might have changed everything, but this royal baby still wasn’t Abby’s!

How could she even entertain such thoughts when Michelina had trusted her so implicitly? It was such a betrayal of the trust and regard the two women had for each other. They’d made a contract as binding as a blood oath. The second the baby was born, her job as surrogate would no longer be required and she’d return to her old life.

But Abby was aghast to discover that Michelina’s death had thrown her into an abyss of fresh guilt. She needed to talk to the psychologist about finding strategies to cope with this new situation or go crazy.

Queen Bianca had asked her a question and was waiting for an answer.

“I plan to buy my own home in another part of the city in the same building as a friend of mine. My contract with the prince and princess includes living at the palace, and that ends the moment the baby is delivered.”

Vincenzo’s eyes narrowed on her face. “What friend?”

That was probably the only thing about her plans the three of them hadn’t discussed over the last few months.

“You’ve heard me speak of Carolena Baretti and know she’s my best friend, who works at the same law firm with me. We went through law school together at the University of Arancia before taking the bar.”

If a woman could look gutted, the queen did. “This whole situation is unnatural.”

“Not unnatural, Your Majesty, just different. Your daughter wanted a baby badly enough to think it all through and agree to it. I hope the day will come when you’re reconciled to that decision.”

“That day will never come,” the older woman declared in an imperious voice. “I was thrilled each time she informed me she was pregnant and I suffered with her through each miscarriage. But I will never view surrogacy as ethically acceptable.”

“But it’s a gestational surrogacy,” Abby argued quietly. “Dr. DeLuca says that several thousand women around the globe are gestational surrogates and it’s becoming preferable to going with traditional surrogacy, because it ensures the genetic link to both parents. Think how many lives can be changed. Surely you can see what a miracle it is.”

“Nevertheless, it’s outside tradition. It interferes with a natural process in violation of God’s will.”

“Then how do you explain this world that God created, and all the new technology that helps people like your daughter and Vincenzo realize their dream to have a family?”

“It doesn’t need an explanation. It’s a form of adultery, because you are the third party outside their marriage. Some people regard that it could result in incest of a sort.”

Tortured by her words, Abby exchanged an agonized glance with Vincenzo. “What do you mean?”

“As the priest reminded me, their child might one day marry another of your children. While there would be no genetic relationship, the two children would be siblings, after a fashion.”

Naturally Abby hoped to marry one day and have children of her own, but never in a million years would she have jumped to such an improbable conclusion. By now Vincenzo’s features had turned to granite.

“There’s also the question of whether or not you’ll be entitled to an inheritance and are actually out for one.”

Abby was stunned. “When the prince saved my life, he gave me an inheritance more precious than anything earthly. If any money is involved, it’s the one hundred and fifty thousand dollars or more the prince has paid the doctors and the hospital for this procedure to be done.” She could feel herself getting worked up, but she couldn’t stop.

“I’ve been given all the compensation I could ever wish for by being allowed to live here in the palace, where my every want and need is taken care of. I’m so sorry this situation has caused you so much grief. I can see you two need to discuss this further, alone. I must leave for the office.”

Abby eyed the prince, silently asking him to please help her to go before the queen grew any more upset. He got the message and stood to his full imposing height, signaling she could stand.

“Thank you for joining us,” he murmured. “Whatever my mother-in-law’s reaction, it’s too late for talk because you’re pregnant with Michelina’s and my child. Let’s say no more. I promise that when the queen is presented with her first grandchild, she’ll forget all these concerns.”

The queen flashed him a look of disdain that wounded Abby. She couldn’t walk out of here with everything so ugly and not say a few last words.

“It’s been my privilege to meet you, Your Majesty. Michelina used to talk about you all the time. She loved you very much and was looking forward to you helping her through these coming months. I hope you know that. If you ever want to talk to me again, please call me. I don’t have a mother anymore and would like to hear any advice you have to help me get through this.”

It was getting harder and harder to clap with one hand and the prince knew it.

“Again, let me say how sorry I am about your loss. She was so lovely and accomplished. I have two of her watercolors hanging on the wall of my apartment. Everyone will miss her terribly, especially this baby.

“But thankfully it will have its grandmother to tell him or her all the things only you know about their mother.”

The queen stared at Abby through dim eyes.

Abby could feel her pain. “Goodbye for now.” She curtsied once more. Her gaze clung to Vincenzo’s for a few seconds before she turned on her low-heeled sandals and left the room. The limo would be waiting for her. Though she wanted to run, she forced herself to stay in control so she wouldn’t fall and do something to hurt herself.

The queen had put Abby on trial. No wonder Vincenzo’s wife had been frightened to approach her mother with such an unconventional idea. Only now was Abby beginning to understand how desperate and courageous Michelina had been to consider allowing a third party to enter into the most intimate aspect of all their lives. Facing the queen had to be one of the worst moments Abby had ever known.

But this had to be an even more nightmarish experience for Vincenzo. Here he was trying to deal with his wife’s death while at the same time having to defend the decision he and Michelina had made to use a surrogate. He had to be suffering guilt of his own.

Abby blamed no one for this, but she felt Vincenzo’s pain. How he was going to get through this latest crisis, she couldn’t imagine. Probably by working. That was how she planned to survive.

* * *

Twenty minutes later Abby entered the neoclassical building that housed her law firm and walked straight back to Carolena’s office. Her friend was a patent attorney and had become as close to Abby as a sister. Unfortunately she was at court, so they’d have to talk later.

Both Carolena and Abby had been hired by the well-known Arancian law firm after they’d graduated. Abby had been thrilled when they’d both been taken on a year ago. She had planned for this career from her junior-high days, and had been hired not only for her specialty in international trade law, but because she was conversant in French, English, Italian and Mentonasc.

Since the Mentonasc dialect—somewhere between Nicard and a dialect of Ligurian, a Gallo-Romance language spoken in Northern Italy—was currently spoken by about 10 percent of the population living in Arancia and its border areas, it gave her an edge over other applicants for the position, which required her particular linguistic expertise.

Abby’s parents had cleverly directed her studies from a very young age. Thanks to them her abilities had taken her to the head of the class. However, this morning Abby’s mind wasn’t on her latest cases.

She felt disturbed by the revelation that Michelina had kept her mother in the dark about one of the most important events in her life. Abby had done her research. Since the death of King Gregorio, Queen Bianca become the ruler of Gemelli and was known to be rigid and difficult. Abby had felt her disapproval and didn’t envy Vincenzo’s task of winning his mother-in-law over.

Hopefully something Abby had said would sink in and soften her heart. At the moment, Abby’s own heart was breaking for all of them.

* * *

Six hours later, Abby finished dictating some memos to Bernardo and left the building for the limo. But when she walked outside, she noticed the palace secret service cars had parked both in front of and behind the limo. One of the security men got out of the front and opened the rear door for her. What was going on?

As she climbed inside and saw who was sitting there waiting for her—in sunglasses and a silky claret-colored sport shirt and cream trousers—the blood started to hammer in her ears.

“Vincenzo—”

His name slipped out by accident, proving to her more and more that he filled her conscious and unconscious mind.

* * *

The tremor in Abby’s voice made its way to every cell of Vincenzo’s body. After she’d bared her soul to his mother-in-law that morning, he’d realized not only at what price she’d sacrificed herself to make their dreams of a baby a reality, but he’d been flooded with memories of that day when she’d lost her mother.

Abby had been a great swimmer and handled herself well in the sea. As some of his friends had pointed out years ago when they’d seen her in the water offshore, she wasn’t a woman yet, but she showed all the promise.

By the time she’d turned seventeen, he’d found himself looking at her a lot more than he should have. She was one of those natural-blond American girls with classic features, noted for their long, gorgeous legs. At that point in time Vincenzo had already been betrothed to Michelina. Since the marriage wouldn’t be for at least another ten years, he’d had the freedom to date the women who attracted him.

Abby had been too young, of course, but pleasing to the eye. She’d turned into a very beautiful girl who was studious, intelligent and spoke Italian like a native. He enjoyed every moment he spent with her; her enthusiasm for everything surprised and entertained him.

But even if he hadn’t been betrothed, Abby had been off-limits to Vincenzo for more reasons than her young age or the fact that she wasn’t a princess. Her parents had become close friends with Vincenzo’s parents. That was a special friendship that demanded total respect.

Though her periwinkle-blue eyes always seemed to smile at him with interest when they chanced upon each other, there was an invisible boundary between them she recognized, too. Neither of them ever crossed it until the day of the squall...

As Abby had told Queen Bianca earlier, she and her mother, Holly, had been out in a small sailboat off the coast when the storm struck. Nothing could come on as rapidly and give so little time for preparation as did a white squall.

Vincenzo had been in his father’s office before lunch discussing a duty he needed to carry out when they’d noticed the darkening sky. A cloudburst had descended, making the day feel like night. They hadn’t seen a storm this ferocious in years and felt sorry for anyone who’d been caught in it.

While they were commenting on the fierceness of the wind, a call came through informing the king that the Loretto sailboat was missing from its slip. Someone thought they had seen Signora Loretto and her daughter out sailing earlier, but they hadn’t come back in yet. Several boats were already out there looking for them.

Abby—

Vincenzo was aghast. She was out there?

The sweet girl who’d always been there for him was battling this storm with her mother, alone?

Fear like Vincenzo had never known before attacked his insides and he broke out in a cold sweat. “I’ve got to find them!”

“Wait, son! Let the coast guard deal with it!”

But he’d already reached the door and dashed from the room. Driven by fear, he raced through the palace. Once outside, he ran to the dock, where a group of men huddled. He grabbed one of them to come with him and they took off in his cruiser to face a churning sea.

The other man kept in radio contact with the rescue boats. Within a minute they heard that the sailboat had been spotted. Vincenzo headed toward the cited coordinates, oblivious to the elements.

The rescue boats were already on the scene as Vincenzo’s cruiser came close to the sailboat. It was tossing like a cork, but he couldn’t see anyone on board. “Have they already been rescued?”

“Signora Loretto was found floating unconscious in the water wearing her life preserver, but there’s no sign of her daughter yet,” replied his companion.

Vincenzo’s heart almost failed him.

Abby had drowned?

It was as though his whole life passed before him. She couldn’t have drowned! He couldn’t lose her! Not his Abby...

“We’ve got to look for her! She knows to wear a life jacket. The wind will have pushed her body through the water. We’re going to follow it. You steer while I search.”

“It’s too dangerous for you, Your Highness!”

“Danger be damned! Don’t you understand?” he shouted. “There’s a seventeen-year-old girl out there who needs help!”

“Tell me where to go.”

He studied the direction of the wind. “Along the coastline near the caves!” Vincenzo knew this coastline like the back of his hand. When a low pressure over the Mediterranean approached the coast from the southeast, the weather could change quickly for the worse and its clear sky change to an east wind. If Abby had been knocked unconscious, too, she could have been swept into one of the caves further up the coast.

When they reached the opening of the largest cave, Vincenzo dove in and swam through to the three hidden grottoes, where he’d been many times with his friends. In the second one, his heart had leaped when he saw Abby’s body floating lifelessly, like her mother’s. Quickly he’d caught hold of her and swum her out to the boat, where he took off her life jacket and began giving her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. At first there was no response. Her face was a pinched white. Though terrified she was too far gone, he kept up the CPR.

At the last second there came sounds of life, and her eyelids fluttered. He turned her on her side while she coughed and threw up water.

“That’s it, my precious Abby. Get rid of it.”

When she’d finished, she looked up at him, dazed. “Vincenzo?”

“Sì,” he’d murmured in relief. “You were in a storm, but I found you in one of the grottoes and you’re all right now.”

Abby blinked. “My mother?” she cried frantically. “Where is she?”

“With your father.” It wasn’t a lie, but since he didn’t know the whole truth of her condition, he kept quiet.

“Thank God.” Her eyes searched his. “I could have died in there. You saved my life,” she whispered in awe. In a totally unexpected gesture, she’d thrown her arms around his neck and clung to him.

“Thank God,” he’d whispered back and found himself rocking her in his arms while she sobbed.

Vincenzo had never felt that close to another human being in his life. She’d felt so right in his arms. When they took her to the hospital and she learned her mother had died of a blow from the mast, she’d flung herself into his arms once more.

That was the moment when he knew Abby meant more to him that he could put into words. Their relationship changed that day. His feelings for her ran much deeper than he’d realized. To imagine his life without her was anathema to him.

She’d been too inconsolable for him to do anything but let her pour out her pain and love for her mother. His only desire had been to comfort her. He’d held her for a long time because her father, overcome with grief, had to be sedated.

In front of the queen today, they’d both relived that moment. Abby’s outpouring of her soul had endeared her to him in such a profound way, he could hardly find expression. Though he knew it was wrong, he’d decided to break one of his own rules and pick her up from work.

Bianca had put Abby through a torturous session. Despite his guilt in seeking her out for a reason that wasn’t a medical necessity, he couldn’t let it go until he’d seen for himself that she was all right.

“I came to find out how well you survived the day.”

The picture of her in that yellow dress when she’d walked in the room had made an indelible impression of femininity and sophistication in his mind. Bianca couldn’t have helped but notice how lovely she was, along with her moving sincerity. It hadn’t surprised him his mother-in-law had been so quiet after Abby had left the room to go to work.

“My worry has been for you.” She sat down opposite him and fastened her seat belt. “For me, work is the great panacea. But it’s evident the queen has been in absolute agony.”

“She’s flown back to Gemelli with a lot to think about.”

“The poor thing. We have to hope she’ll let go of her preconceived beliefs so she can enjoy this special time.”

There was a sweetness in Abby that touched Vincenzo’s heart. “You’re the one I’m concerned about. It hurts me that you no longer have your mother to confide in.” Until now he hadn’t thought about how alone Abby must feel. Bianca’s castigations had been like a dagger plunged into her, bringing out his protective instincts.

She flicked him a glance. “But I have my father, and I have you and the doctor. Who better than all of you to comfort me when I need it?” Except that Vincenzo wanted to do more than comfort her, God forgive him.

He held her gaze. “I’m sorry if anything the queen said has upset you, but I promise everything’s going to be all right in time.”

“I believe that, too. Did she say anything else?”

“No, but her son Valentino and I are good friends.” When he’d gone with the queen and his brothers-in-law to visit Michelina’s grave once, they’d eaten lunch before he’d accompanied them to their jet. “He’s promised to keep in close touch. Now let’s change the subject.”

“You’re taking too great a risk, Your Highness. We mustn’t be seen out together like this.”

“The limo protects us.” Even as he said it, he was trying to tamp down his guilt over pressuring her when it was obvious she was afraid to be seen with him. He ought to be worried about that, too, but something had come over him.

“Please, Your Highness. The fact that there are so many security men will cause the locals to speculate about who is so important, driving around in the crowded streets. Have the car turn around and take me back to the office.”

“It’s too late for that.” Vincenzo had no intention of letting her go yet.

“After my audience with the queen, surely you understand my fears.”

“After the way she went after you, I have my own fears where you’re concerned. You didn’t deserve that and I want to make it up to you.”

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