Praise for these bestselling authors:

FIONA HOOD-STEWART

“This huge, action-packed saga is a feast for anyone who yearns for a long, rich read.”

—Romantic Times on The Stolen Years

“A gripping, sensual tale. The characters are very rich, and they draw you into their story. The story is a page-turner, and you can’t help but get sucked into this romance.”

—Romantic Times on At the Spanish Duke’s Command

SHARON KENDRICK

“Sharon Kendrick pens a dynamite tale of love, passion, betrayal and revenge. Her hero is to die for, and the passion…scorches the pages.”

—Romantic Times on The Desert Prince’s Mistress

“This book is sizzling hot, with a saucy heroine and a dynamite hero. The scenes are full of passion and emotion.”

—Romantic Times on The Future King’s Bride

JACKIE BRAUN

“Intense emotion, a heartbreakingly vulnerable heroine, a wonderful hero, a beautiful setting and truly compelling story make Jackie Braun’s novel a poignant delight.”

—Romantic Times on True Love, Inc.

“Jackie Braun’s latest story is truly remarkable, mainly because of its humor, its edge and its cast of realistic, vulnerable characters.”

—Romantic Times on In the Shelter of His Arms

Dear Reader,

The editors at Mills & Boon and Silhouette are thrilled to be able to bring you a brand-new featured author program for 2005! Signature Select aims to single out outstanding stories, contemporary themes and oft-requested classics by some of your favorite series authors and present them to you in a variety of formats bound by truly striking covers.

We want to provide several different types of reading experiences in the new Signature Select program. The Spotlight books offer a single “big read” by a talented series author, the Collections present three novellas on a selected theme in one volume, the Sagas contain sprawling, sometimes multi-generational family tales (often related to a favorite family first introduced in series), and the Miniseries feature requested previously published books, with two or, occasionally, three complete stories in one volume. The Signature Select program offers one book in each of these categories per month, and fans of limited continuity series will also find these continuing stories under the Signature Select umbrella.

In addition, these volumes bring you bonus features…different in every single book! You may learn more about the author in an extended interview, more about the setting or inspiration for the book, more about subjects related to the theme and, often, a bonus short read will be included. Authors and editors have been outdoing themselves in originating creative material for our bonus features—we’re sure you’ll be surprised and pleased with the results!

The Signature Select program strives to bring you a variety of reading experiences by authors you’ve come to love, as well as by rising stars you’ll be glad you’ve discovered. Watch for new stories from Janelle Denison, Donna Kauffman, Leslie Kelly, Marie Ferrarella, Suzanne Forster, Stephanie Bond, Christine Rimmer and scores more of the brightest talents in romance fiction!

The excitement continues!

Warm wishes for happy reading,

Marsha Zinberg

Executive Editor

The Signature Select Program

Exclusive!
Hollywood Life or Royal Wife?
Fiona Hood-Stewart
Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!
Sharon Kendrick
Sex, Lies and a Security Tape
Jackie Braun

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

Cover

Praise for these bestselling authors

Dear Reader

Title Page

Hollywood Life or Royal Wife?

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

DEDICATION

Marriage Scandal, Showbiz Baby!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

DEDICATION

Sex, Lies and a Security Tape

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

EPILOGUE

Bonus Articles

Copyright

Hollywood Life or Royal Wife?

VICTORIA’S SECRET’S OUT

Film star Victoria Woodward has been spotted with Prince Rodolfo of Maldavina on several occasions this week at the Cannes Film Festival, fueling rumors that the pair are in the throes of a passionate affair. Victoria, who starred in the hit Hollywood movie

CHAPTER ONE

SHE HATED EVERY MINUTE of it: the hype, the flashbulbs everywhere she went, the ever-present expectations…

And now they wanted her to be on show yet again.

Victoria Woodward sighed. How she wished that the wretched movie, of which she’d unwittingly become the star, had not ended up as a contender to win the Cannes Film Festival.

But it was too late for regrets. Too late to wish herself back in the security and anonymity of Hetherington, the English village where she’d resided all her life, where everything was predictable and simple. To think she’d used to consider it boring, had longed for change and excitement. As though granting her wish, fate had changed her life overnight, swooping her into a Hollywood whirlwind of parties, private jets, paparazzi, and the not-so-easy-position of being dogged at every step by the press and the curious.

Now, as she exited the airport at Nice, another batch of eager reporters lay in wait.

‘For goodness’ sake, smile,’ Anne Murphy, her agent, hissed. ‘Ed’ll have a fit if he sees more pictures of you sulking.’ She pulled Victoria forward and hurried her out of the terminal. Immediately the press rushed upon them.

‘Is it true you may win the Palme d’ Or, Miss Woodward?’ A reporter poked a microphone aggressively under her nose.

‘Do you have a boyfriend, Miss Woodward? Is it true that you and Peter Simmons are dating?’

Victoria experienced that familiar and frightening tightening of her throat, followed by a paralysing rigidity that made it almost impossible to speak or move. Fear gripped her gut. She turned in panic to Anne.

‘Get me out of here,’ she muttered, her long blonde hair swinging wildly, her grey eyes glazed.

‘The car’s right there.’ Anne held her elbow and manoeuvred her expertly through the crowd.

Two burly young men in grey suits and designer sunglasses kept the spectators at bay as they forged a path to the limo that represented her safe haven. Forcing one foot in front of the other, Victoria managed a brief smile, then plunged inside the vehicle, curling up in the corner, ignoring the eager faces pressed against the windows, the camera lenses seeking one last shot of her before the car glided off into traffic.

‘Victoria, you’re just going to have to get used to this,’ Anne said sternly. Anne was short and sandy-haired, and the thirty-five-year-old New Yorker’s tone spelled efficiency.

‘I simply hate it,’ Victoria whispered, stretching her long slim legs out before her. ‘I think I must be claustrophobic or something.’

‘Well, this is hardly the moment to make earth-shattering discoveries,’ Anne replied tartly, sending her a significant look. ‘You’re on show, honey; that’s what they’re paying several million bucks for.’

‘I thought that was for playing Xanthia in the movie,’ Victoria said crossly, hair curtaining her face as she dropped her chin on her chest.

‘Now, grow up, Vic. You know perfectly well that was just the beginning. I really don’t understand what you’re complaining about. Anybody else would be delighted to have reached stardom in such a short time.’

‘I loathe it.’

‘And I give up,’ Anne exclaimed, rolling her eyes, wishing Ed Banes, the director, had chosen someone else for the role. For, although the girl was a natural, she had been nothing but trouble from the word go. Anne had warned Ed and the others that it wasn’t going to be a smooth ride. But had they listened? No. And as usual she was left to clean up. She liked Victoria a lot—thought she was a sweet, sensitive kid and a great actress. But that wasn’t enough. If she wasn’t disposed to do the PR, and put up with the media, it was just no damn good.

Glancing sideways at her charge, Anne decided to let Victoria be until they got to the Carlton Hotel in Cannes. She leaned back against the leather seat and flipped through the Festival programme.

There was a dinner tonight. She supposed that would be another piece of work. A top fashion house was delivering Victoria’s dress this afternoon. God only knew what she would do if there was a mistake in the fitting. Anne checked the guest list. Several other stars would be present. That would make Victoria less conspicuous. A couple of heads of state would be there, a sprinkling of royalty, and some famous rock stars to help dilute things. She glanced at the table seating. Victoria was placed to the right of HRH Prince Rodolfo of Malvarina, the ruler of the tiny principality, an island not far off the coast of Italy.

Anne twiddled her pen a minute and thought about what the bankers had said regarding a change of residence for Victoria. Malvarina wasn’t a bad option—one of the more attractive tax havens, easy to access, and with great banking laws. She wondered whether to mention it, then took a look a Victoria’s closed face, grimaced and decided not to. Right now, all Victoria seemed to want was to return to this place—Hetherington, the small English village where she and her widowed mother had lived. It was all very cute, but not Anne’s style. Malvarina, on the other hand, was smooth and sophisticated. Some of the world’s richest and glitziest had moved there, seeking anonymity.

Hmmm. Anonymity. That might be just be the selling point, she reflected. After all, everyone in Malvarina was rich and famous. Another star would just blend in. Anne made a note on her Palm Pilot to mention the subject to Victoria at a suitable moment, then glanced at her watch. Time to make sure Victoria would brave the arrival at the Carlton and the inevitable pack of reporters awaiting them without a scene.

IN HER HUGE SUITE over looking the Croisette and the Mediterranean, Victoria sank down on the king-size bed and let out a sigh. She didn’t want it to be this way, wished that everything could be as she’d imagined it would be when she’d been discovered and offered the role—before she’d rushed into all of this, so excited and thinking of nothing but the opportunity to act. She’d always wanted to be an actress and now, at only twenty, she’d been offered the break of a lifetime. So why was it so hard to do the other thing? Most people wanted to be famous, to be in the limelight, to be a star, seek fame and fortune. But to her the publicity and pressure were insurmountable obstacles that she found increasingly hard to deal with.

Time to take one of her pills, she realised, getting up and moving towards the bathroom. As she did so she remembered just how she’d discovered Dr Richard Browne, the man who kept her sane.

It had happened one night at a huge Hollywood dinner, when she’d slipped into the bathroom and leaned against the basin, closing her eyes and feeling desperate. The girl washing her hands at the next basin had looked across at her curiously.

‘You okay?’ she’d asked.

‘Fine,’ Victoria had answered, mustering a smile.

‘You sure?’ The girl had grimaced. ‘I guess you’re finding it hard to deal with all the crap. I used to be like that too. I ended up at a shrink. And thank God I did. It saved my life, man.’ She dried her hands on a towel and dropped it in the basket next to the sink.

‘Did he help you? The shrink, I mean?’

‘Sure he helped me,’ the girl had answered, laughing sympathetically. ‘It was like I’d turned a corner. He gave me some medication that really did the trick.’

‘That sounds wonderful,’ Victoria had replied, her voice filled with longing. What she wouldn’t have done for some assistance.

‘Hey, if you want I can give you his number. He’s really cool. Have a pen?’

‘Yes. Here.’ Victoria had rummaged in her evening purse and produced a pen and an old paper napkin, which she’d handed to her bathroom companion. Moments later she’d slipped the napkin back in her bag, determined to give the doctor a ring on the morrow.

‘You’ll like him. He’s very experienced in treating people in the movie business who are suffering from stress. He’ll have you feeling great in no time.’

And the girl had proved to be right. Dr Richard Browne had immediately understood her problem and had written out a prescription for a substantial supply of small capsules. He’d said they’d make her feel better very quickly, and she was to call his office when she needed more. They had, and she did—even though it was expensive. Not that money was in any way an impediment any longer. It seemed to flow in from every quarter

Now, for a long moment, Victoria hesitated, one of the capsules placed on her palm. Deep inside, she knew she shouldn’t be relying on drugs. She had never enquired of the doctor what they contained. But if lots of actors took them they couldn’t be harmful, she figured, eyeing the medication for a moment. Then, knowing she had to go back out there and face the crowd, a wave of panic overwhelmed her and she popped it in her mouth before she could change her mind.

Minutes later, it felt as though a black cloud had lifted. Suddenly she was relaxed and able to cope. But she’d have to take another one before she could face the dinner tonight.

Did Anne know that she helped herself with meds? Victoria wondered. She didn’t think so. She’d been very careful not to let on. Anne disapproved of anything that might tarnish Victoria’s reputation. So Victoria kept quiet about it, figuring that as long as no one found out it was okay. What mattered was that with the help of the meds she was able to produce the result they wanted. Surely that was what mattered?

She moved to the window and looked down at the people wandering up and down the promenade: the star-gazers, the groupies, the wannabe actors and actresses, trying to attract the attention of the press and the movers and shakers of the film industry. For a moment she felt a rush of shame. What wouldn’t those people out there give to be in her place? She had it all, yet she hated it. Not the actual making of the movie, she reflected—that she’d really enjoyed, even though the schedule had been relentlessly demanding. It had been wonderful, the film set her natural habitat. And when at last she’d seen the final rushes she’d been enchanted. It was the hype she couldn’t handle.

A knock on the door made her turn sharply. It was all about to begin again. An afternoon programme of activities: interviews, the hairdresser, the make-up artist, a photo shoot. She swallowed. She had to face it.

‘Come in,’ she said brightly, plastering on a smile.

‘How are you feeling, Vic?’ Anne eyed her closely.

‘Fine, thanks. Ready to roll.’

‘Good.’ Anne looked relieved. ‘Then let’s get going. The press are assembled in the main conference room, but we’ll fix your make-up and hair first. Marci’s got your outfit ready.’

Victoria nodded. She would do it. Could do it. Was determined to get through it, and maybe learn to hate it a bit less…She slipped her hand in the pocket of her designer jacket and was reassured by the feel of the extra capsule she’d slipped in as a precaution. Tossing her hair back, she went through the different expressions she’d practised in front of the mirror. Her masks, as she liked to think of them.

Soon they were making their descent in the lift, with Anne delivering last-minute orders on her mobile. The lift doors opened onto the main lobby and it all began again…

‘OKAY,’ ANNE SAID several hours later as they made their way to the Presidential Suite, where Ed was holding a cocktail party, ‘you did great.’

Victoria rolled her eyes. ‘There’s still tonight to get through. I’m dreading it already.’

‘It’ll be fine. Everybody who’s anybody will be at the dinner—it’s an A-list event.’

‘How reassuring,’ she said dryly. ‘Do I have to go?’ she muttered, knowing the answer and lifting the skirt of her gauze embroidered gown to negotiate the stairs. Behind her two private detectives followed her every move, never taking their eyes off the one-hundred-and-fifty-thousand-pound diamond necklace and earrings that a top jeweller had lent her for the night.

‘I guess that’s a joke, right?’ Anne queried, her brows shooting up.

Victoria made a face. ‘I suppose.’ She shrugged, and glanced at her bejewelled evening purse to make sure it was securely shut. She could always go to the loo and pop a ‘lifesaver’, as she liked to think of them, if things got sticky.

‘Okay. Remember—be polite and charming and you’ll do just fine. This is your big chance, Victoria—don’t blow it,’ Anne admonished. ‘And, by the way, our financial people want to talk to you about moving residence for tax reasons. Have you heard of a place called Malvarina?’

Victoria frowned. ‘It’s some island somewhere in the Mediterranean, isn’t it?’ she said, still treading carefully so as not to step on the hem of her dress.

‘Yes. And it happens to be a great tax haven too. In fact, tonight you’re seated next to—’

But Anne’s next words were lost as Ed’s large bald figure appeared in the doorway of the Presidential Suite and he swooped Victoria away on his arm. Oh, well, Anne thought to herself. She’d done her best.

She stopped, checked out the room, heard the buzz of voices, high-pitched laughter and the clink of expensive crystal. Victoria would do okay, she assured herself, and with that thought she set out to chat up the reporters who were trying to get exclusives with her charge.

CHAPTER TWO

RUNNING A PRINCIPALITY WAS no different from running a large company, Rodolfo reflected, as he stepped out of the lift and headed towards the next event. The need to be present at a seemingly never-ending succession of social occasions such as the Cannes Film Festival bored him. Still, it was definitely bringing in the kind of business the island needed.

His grandfather, the late Prince, had ensured that life in the principality remained very closed and refined. While he was alive only the ancient aristocratic families that had centuries-old residences on the island had been allowed tax breaks. But his grandfather had been dead for three years now, and Rodolfo was doing his damnedest to help his small dominion develop into a modern, self-sufficient state.

Its people needed work which would allow them to stay on the island, instead of having to leave and seek jobs in neighbouring countries. Rodolfo was determined to offer them a better standard of living, and he was sure that it could be achieved by tapping in to the island’s tourist and residency potential. Already many wealthy business people and movie stars, seeking seclusion and privacy, were moving to the island, thanks to the new tax laws he’d had passed.

Hence his reason for attending the Cannes Film Festival. For, like it or not, he, as the Prince, was Malvarina’s best marketing spokesman.

Rodolfo had spent several years preparing for what he was now implementing. All the while he’d been at Oxford, and later when he was at Harvard, he’d known that he would never persuade his grandfather to change the old ways. Instead he’d bided his time, respecting his grandparent’s views, but knowing exactly what he would undertake when the opportunity finally arose. In the meantime he had gained experience by working with major companies in London and New York and through living life to the fullest, aware that one day he would be the ruler of the small principality. And when the moment had come the people of the island had watched suspiciously as Rodolfo implemented his reforms and passed new laws.

However, little by little, he had won them over. Now there was a top-line tourism and hotel school where the islanders could train. Language courses and the possibility of exchange programmes with other countries existed too. Rodolfo wanted the best for his people, but he also expected them to provide the best possible service to those he was inviting to make the island their primary residence.

Straightening his bow tie, Rodolfo glanced critically at his tanned reflection in the glinting mirror in the corridor. He’d aged in the last couple of years. New responsibilities had brought tiny crows’ feet around his dark eyes, and streaks of silver touched his temples. Par for the course, he reflected, fixing his cufflinks and wondering which film star he would be expected to be polite to tonight and how many ego trips he would have to endure.

Cannes and its glitz and glamour bored him. But it was here that potential clients hung out. People, it seemed, were drawn to royalty like bees to honey. His lips curved ironically. He’d lost count of the number of women who’d thrown themselves at him, hoping to share his bed and to be able to say that they’d had a fling with one of Europe’s most eligible bachelors. Some may even have dreamed of another fairy tale à la Grace Kelly. But he was uninterested in the blonde-and-silicone perfection that was presently on offer, bored with the vapid top models he’d dated with no strings attached, and the inevitable publicity that accompanied his numerous affairs.

Of course the future of the principality was something he now had to take into consideration. Hence his introduction to several aristocratic European women whom the council of the island considered suitable brides. He sighed. Just thinking about them made his heart sink. To have to spend the rest of his life with a woman he didn’t love seemed a lot to ask. On the other hand, since Giada had died in that plane accident seven years ago he’d never thought of giving away his heart again. So perhaps it would be easier simply to marry someone like the Spanish duquesa the council were so keen on, or that German countess, and forget about romance.

He glanced at the thin gold watch gracing his wrist. Time for the show to begin. On his way out of his suite his valet had handed him a white silk scarf which he threw casually around his neck. Another black-tie event. How many could they squeeze into the space of one festival? he wondered with a grimace.

VICTORIA FIDDLED with the stem of her champagne flute and forced herself to appear interested in the dull story that a fellow actor was recounting about himself and his exploits in some obscure film which, he told her, was bound to win a prize at next year’s festival in Sundance, even though it was not making waves in Cannes. She made all the right noises and caught Anne’s eye, hoping she might be rescued.

It was only the beginning of what promised to be an interminable evening. Mercifully dinner was announced and she was able to escape.

‘Mademoiselle Woodward…’

The elegant MC showed her to her place at the central table. Why did she always have to be stuck in the most conspicuous place? she wondered, thanking him. The tables were filling up. The large room was decorated with a sylvan theme: glistening silver leaves and branches were entwined with fairylights under glittering chandeliers. The effect was rather special. A woodland fragrance had been sprayed to give the room more atmosphere. They’d even managed a soundtrack of birds twittering in the background. She sat down, along with the other bejewelled women, and plastered on a plastic smile, her mind wandering. Behind the seated diners hawk-eyed bodyguards hovered, just out of sight of the ever-rolling cameras…

‘Signorina.’ A deep masculine voice to her right made her nearly jump from her reverie. She looked up. Next to her stood a dark, handsome man with the ghost of a smile hovering about his lips.

Victoria blushed. It was as if he’d read her thoughts, knew she’d been off in a world of her own.

‘Good evening, signorina. May I?’ He raised a quizzical brow, then prepared to sit next to her.

‘Oh, please,’ she murmured, realising that she hadn’t checked the place card of her neighbour.

‘Thank you.’ He slid into the chair with a brief smile. ‘Good evening. I am Rodolfo Fragottini,’ he said casually.

‘Hi. I’m Victoria Woodward,’ she replied.

‘Of that I am well aware,’ he said smoothly. ‘In fact the whole world is aware of your presence here tonight, signorina. May I congratulate you on your success? I have not had the pleasure of seeing your movie yet, but I gather that your performance is spellbinding.’

‘Uh, thanks.’ She flashed the ritual demure smile. Why had she not created a formulated reply for these compliments that she was so bad at receiving?

‘You do not feel your performance was that great?’ he queried.

She turned, caught a swift flash of humour in his eyes and lowered hers. ‘Actually, I—Oh, I really don’t know,’ she muttered, embarrassed.

‘You didn’t seem to agree with me, that’s all,’ he said, eyes laughing as she looked up once more.

Despite her nervousness, Victoria smiled back. ‘It’s difficult to judge one’s own performance. People say it was good. I always feel it could have been better.’

‘Ah! You are a perfectionist?’ he teased.

‘No,’ she responded. ‘It’s my job. I want to do my best. I just don’t see what all the fuss is about. Oops.’ She bit her lip, realising she shouldn’t have said that.

‘How refreshing,’ he murmured, glancing at her with new interest. Here was a superstar not obsessed with her own fame and glory. A novelty by any standard. Also, she reminded him of someone. ‘Do I take it that you are not enchanted with having to keep up appearances on a permanent basis, Miss Woodward?’ he asked, placing his white linen napkin on his knee.

‘Well…’ She shrugged, glanced at him sideways and caught the flicker of mischief in his eyes. ‘It does become a bit heavy going after a while.’

‘You amaze me. I thought this was what all actors and actresses dreamed of—fame and recognition. It does not please you?’

‘Of course it does. It’s just that…’ She caught Anne’s eye and quickly stared at her plate, hoping the pill she’d taken beforehand would keep up its effect for long enough to get her through the evening.

‘Just that you don’t feel at ease in this role?’ he asked searchingly. There was something about her that struck a chord.

Their eyes met and her pulse missed a beat. ‘How can you tell?’

It was his turn to shrug. ‘I observe people. Like you, I am often subjected to the stares and curiosity of others. It can become extremely trying,’ he finished dryly.

‘Oh, my goodness, Your Royal Highness!’ An elderly woman decked in diamonds and with several obvious facelifts in her wake cooed across the table at him.

‘Good evening, Madame Jensen.’ He bowed his head in greeting.

Victoria blinked. Royal Highness? He’d said his name was Fragottini and, being her usual distracted self, she hadn’t bothered to glance at the place cards. Now she really had put her foot in it. Anne would have wanted her glittering for royalty, she reflected wryly, eyeing her lobster cocktail with a glint of humour. She looked at it and sighed. She was so sick of all this rich food, of the wining and dining. What she wouldn’t give for a good old steak and kidney pie at the Bells pub in Hetherington.

‘You do not like lobster, signorina?’

Realising Rodolfo Fragottini was politely waiting for her to start, Victoria picked up her fork and smiled briefly. ‘I’m sure it’s delicious,’ she replied, forcing herself to slip a forkful into her mouth.

‘I doubt it. These large dinners rarely are. Would you consider me very pushy if I said I think you are lying?’

Victoria nearly choked. She hastily grabbed her water glass and took a long sip to quell her laughter.

‘Better?’ he enquired solicitously.

‘Fine. Sorry.’ She cast him an apologetic glance tinged with a smile. ‘It’s just I seem to have had so many different cocktails lately I’m a bit saturated.’

‘I can understand that,’ he sympathised, rolling his eyes expressively. ‘Lobster cocktail, foie gras, quenelles. I too have to admit that I’ve had my share of rich food for a while to come.’

‘But surely you eat things like this the whole time? I mean, you’re a prince or a king or something, so I suppose you live in a palace and eat off gold plate?’ she challenged.

‘Not quite. Even we royals have had to adapt to modern times,’ he replied, tongue in cheek, enjoying the banter. ‘Actually, I rather like going to the supermarket, choosing ingredients and cooking myself.’

‘Gosh, in the royal kitchen?’

‘No. I have an apartment in the castle where I live, and I try to prepare my own dishes as much as possible. Nothing like a nice plate of spag bog,’ he added with a wink.

‘Spag bog?’ she exclaimed, spluttering with laughter and trying to remember that he was a royal. She pressed the napkin to her lips to suppress a giggle. ‘Where did someone like you learn to eat spaghetti Bolognese?’

‘At Oxford. I’m really rather good at pasta, though I say it myself. You should come and try it some time. Do you cook? Or does your Hollywood schedule not allow for such personal indulgences?’

‘You’re right,’ she sighed, ‘it doesn’t. But actually I love to cook. Or used to, until all this came down.’ She raised her hand, then let it drop in her lap.

‘And where was that?’ he asked curious about this girl who jogged his memory.

‘Oh, back in Hetherington. That’s the village where my mother lives. I do quite a lot of baking too.’

‘Where is this village?’ he asked, picking up his fork once more.

‘In England—Sussex. It’s very pretty—cottages with thatched roofs and no lighting on the streets at night. We live in a manor house just outside.’

‘It sounds wonderfully quaint. I can understand why you would want to return there.’

‘Can you? I thought people like you were trying to transform their countries into havens for the rich and glitzy.’

‘Really? Is that what you’ve heard?’ She caught the edge to his voice.

‘My agent has some idea that I ought to move to a principality called Malvarina. Apparently they have very attractive tax laws. Maybe you’ve heard of it?’ she responded.

‘Actually, I know it quite well. What have you heard about Malvarina?’ He arched a brow thoughtfully.

‘That it’s another Monte Carlo—filled with rich tycoons flitting about on glitzy yachts. I suppose the local potentate is luring them in by the dozen. Personally I think it’s criminal to spoil somewhere which up until now seems to have been preserved from an invasion by the outside world just for the sake of money. It sounds a bit like a theme park to me.’

‘You don’t say?’ He raised an amused, quizzical brow and leaned back in his gilt dining chair, the better to observe her. Quite the little spitfire, Miss Woodward, if her conversation up until now was anything to go by. ‘Let me get this right. You think that the Prince of Malvarina is some sort of exotic dictator, making a theme park out of what was once a beautiful, unspoiled Mediterranean retreat?’

‘Something like that.’

‘Maybe you should go and take a look at it yourself before forming such a cast-iron opinion. You never know. You might be agreeably surprised.’

‘I suppose you could be right about that, but I doubt it,’ she confided. ‘I heard the Prince himself is here, flogging the place. That doesn’t bode well, does it?’

‘Definitely a bad sign,’ he agreed.

‘In fact, I was meant to be sitting next to him tonight. They must have changed the seating.’

‘Really?’ His laughing dark eyes met hers full on.

All at once Victoria’s stomach lurched. ‘Uh-oh,’ she murmured, turning bright red as she leaned forward and peered beyond his plate at the name card. Her worst expectations were fulfilled. Sitting back, she took a deep breath. ‘Look, I’m dreadfully sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. If I’d known it was you I never would have—Oh, dear, how embarrassing.’

‘Signorina,’ he said, slipping his hand over hers, ‘please don’t be upset. I assure you there is no need to be distressed. I’ve never been described as a potentate before, but it has a certain ring to it. I must remember to tell my PR people to slip it into the next brochure we do for Malvarina. In fact, the only bit I objected to was your certainty that I am trying to create a theme park.’

His hand was still laid over hers, warm and reassuring, and Victoria felt a delicious shiver run up her arm. She looked up at him. Their eyes met and she smiled apologetically. ‘I’m always putting my foot in it. I’m truly sorry.’

He gave her fingers a light squeeze. ‘The only way I shall forgive you is if you personally visit Malvarina and allow me to dispel what I truly believe to be your false image of the island. I certainly intend for it to be very different from what you describe.’

‘That’s very kind of you,’ she said, drawing her hand away. ‘I suppose I should be fair and give the place a chance before judging it so arbitrarily. I’m sure it’s lovely. I just don’t want to move anywhere.’

‘I understand. But if you have to move, Malvarina may not be such a bad spot as you think. But then I’m prejudiced.’

AN HOUR LATER, VICTORIA was surprised at how quickly the dinner had gone by. Before she knew it, the guests were being ushered into the ballroom where an orchestra was striking up. The Prince was still at her side, and Victoria realised that she was far more at ease in his presence than she had been while meeting Hollywood moguls and stars. There was something easy and natural about him. Amazingly, he felt like the only real person she’d met here.

‘Would you like to dance?’ Rodolfo smiled down into her eyes, and for a moment Victoria’s pulse missed a beat. There was something very charming about this handsome man, she acknowledged.

She accepted the offer and accompanied him onto the floor. As his arms encircled her she felt a thrill course up her spine. She told herself to stop it immediately. He was just being polite, just trying to get people to go and live on his island—that was why he was being so nice to her. She must not lose sight of that. But it was hard not to feel light-headed as they twirled about the room and the musky scent of his aftershave reached her.

She could see Anne watching approvingly from the sidelines and groaned inwardly. She could imagine all the directives the woman would be giving her shortly. As the music subsided and they walked off the dance floor a flash went off in their faces and Victoria cringed involuntarily. At the same moment Rodolfo’s arm slipped protectively about her and she felt herself being guided quickly out of the ballroom and through the French doors that led onto the terrace.

‘Damn photographers,’ he exclaimed as they stepped outside. ‘They never give one any peace.’

‘No, they don’t,’ she murmured, shuddering.

‘I would have thought you would be used to that by now? Don’t all movie stars crave the limelight?’ He regarded her critically from under dark brows.

‘Not me,’ she replied with a half-smile, crossing her arms and staring out across the Croisette and the twinkling lights of the yachts beyond.

‘Victoria?’ Anne’s voice at the French window made her turn around. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt,’ she said apologetically, smiling at the Prince, ‘but that top Paris magazine I told you about wants to interview you.’

‘Now?’ Victoria grimaced.

‘Right away, I’m afraid. It was the only available time.’ Anne flashed a quick smile at Rodolfo.

‘Okay. I guess I don’t have a choice. Goodnight,’ Victoria said, stretching her hand out towards the Prince.

‘Goodnight.’ He raised her fingers to his lips. ‘And, please, don’t forget your promise.’ Their eyes met, his full of laughter and challenge, hers tentative.

‘Right,’ Victoria mumbled, aware of Anne’s interested eyes upon her.

Seconds later the actress and the agent were hurrying down the corridor back to Victoria’s suite for the interview.

‘What was that all about?’ Anne enquired. ‘What did you promise? I hope it wasn’t a press interview, because I gave exclusive rights to the Parisian Magazine. You can’t negotiate these things on your own, you know, and—’

‘Oh, do stop it, Anne. Don’t you ever think of anything but business?’ Victoria complained, exasperated. ‘He only asked me to get in touch with him if I ever went to that wretched island of his. And, since you’re so keen for me to move there, I should have thought you’d be pleased.’

‘Oh. Okay,’ Anne muttered, taken aback. The Prince wanted to see Vic again. That could be great PR. Better not discourage her. On the contrary, the more she thought about it the more the idea appealed. By the time they’d reached the suite door she was forming a plan. ‘Right, you go ahead, and I’ll tell them you’re ready.’

‘Just a sec,’ Victoria said, feeling the capsule in her pocket. ‘I need to go to the loo.’

‘Okay, but don’t be long. They’re waiting, and we’re running late.’

Feeling like a prisoner, Victoria slipped into the marble bathroom. It was empty, and she leaned a moment against the sink and took a deep breath. How long would all this socialising go on? Why couldn’t she just get on with the next film instead of having to go through all this agony?

But there was no way out.

Taking out the pill, she popped it in her mouth and drank a glass of water, then closed her eyes and waited for it to take effect. Ah! There. A minute or two later she raised her head, dragged her fingers through her hair, checked her lipgloss and braced herself. It was show-time once more. Still, as she stepped out of the bathroom and headed for the salon where the interview was to take place, a vision of the Prince flashed before her. She’d felt strangely reassured in his company.

AFTER VICTORIA HAD DEPARTED, Rodolfo stood for a few more minutes on the terrace, contemplating the night. In the background he heard the buzz of the party, the music, the laughter, the exaggerated exclamations and the smooth conversation. He had no desire to return inside. Something about Victoria had left him thoughtful, intrigued. Not just her ethereal beauty, which was without a doubt staggering, but the natural way in which she responded. There was no artifice in her manner, no guile. It was deliciously refreshing.

He must make a point of seeing her movie. Was she as good as was being made out? Perhaps. There was definitely something special about her. He thought of her now, upstairs, answering a battery of questions from journalists, and wished he could have helped prevent it, detained her longer.

Then, all at once, he caught his breath as finally his memory jolted and he remembered who she reminded him of. How could he have forgotten or even hesitated? How had he not caught the likeness at once?

As Giada’s face materialised before him he closed his eyes. When would it ever fade? Seven years had passed, and he’d had so many women since. But Giada’s image and all she’d represented in his life remained firmly imprinted in his mind. And tonight, for the first time, he’d met someone who reminded him of her as never before.

Banishing the memory and turning on his heel, the Prince quickly reminded himself why he was there and returned to the ballroom, where he was immediately accosted by a fat lady who glittered with jewels and who owned a huge fortune in oil. She was interested in learning more about Malvarina.

Rodolfo replied politely, but recalled Victoria’s words. Was he turning the principality into a theme park for the nouveau riche? He had wanted to preserve it as naturally and beautifully as possible. He needed to think about this initiative further.

After being buttonholed for twenty minutes he managed to make his escape and make his way upstairs. For a moment he hesitated, thought of phoning Victoria and seeing if she would like to have a drink with him. Then, realising she was probably exhausted, with a gruelling day ahead of her tomorrow, he decided against it and went to his suite.

CHAPTER THREE

SHE’D WON. BEST ACTRESS.

As she stood on the stage the following evening, receiving the trophy, Victoria was overwhelmed. She had made it, was being given one of the most prestigious prizes in film. Everyone was clapping, encouraging her, and tonight she felt good. This was recognition of her acting skills, not her beauty or her charisma, just her work. And for that she was grateful.

After a short speech she sat down next to Ed, who hugged her, while Anne glowed with pride on her other side. She knew she owed them a lot—everything, in a way. Had it not been for them, their patience and knowing how to get the best out of her as an actress, this would never have happened. But there was still all the press to face—more interviews, more emotion, another exhausting evening of being on show. And tonight she’d left her pills behind in the bathroom, hadn’t slipped one into her pocket as she normally did.

Never mind, she assured herself. Tonight was different. She would make it through the evening without mishap.

As they filed out of the theatre where the award ceremony was taking place, Victoria caught sight of Rodolfo in the distance. Across the crowd their eyes met and he smiled. For a moment she wished she could go to him, spend the rest of the evening in some quiet spot chatting. All at once she remembered his mention that he liked to cook. A vision of him tossing pasta in the kitchen of his own castle surfaced and made her want to laugh. But as she smiled back at him a flash went off in her face, reminding her of exactly where she was.

SHE CERTAINLY HAD tremendous talent, Rodolfo realised, watching Victoria move through the hall surrounded by paparazzi and moguls. He had seen her movie earlier that day and had come out impressed. There was something magical in her performance, something that reminded him of a young Audrey Hepburn in the way she floated across the screen—an ethereal quality coupled with a shining talent. Yet there was a vital and deeply emotional side to her that became apparent in her performance, and that had gripped him, stirred something deep within.

He glanced at his watch. The party would go on for a while yet. He was planning to leave tomorrow and return to Malvarina, but something made him hesitate. Perhaps he would wait and see if an opportunity to lunch with Victoria presented itself. He would really like to see her again before he departed.

SHE KNEW THAT if she was going to make it through the rest of the evening she simply had to disappear upstairs and take another capsule. She seemed to have increased the amount over the last few days. But that was okay. It was just for now. When she got home she would stop taking them completely. She glanced about her. She had to go, even if that meant displeasing Anne and the others.

Slipping away unseen, she dashed to the lift and rode it up to her floor. Then she hastened down the corridor and inserted the key in the lock of her suite. To her amazement the door was open. Had one of the hotel staff been in her room? She shrugged, threw her evening purse on the sofa and headed for the bathroom. The meds were where she’d left them, on the shelf in the bathroom cupboard in a little brown pharmaceutical plastic vial. Reaching thankfully for the bottle, she tipped one out.

She was holding it in her hand when suddenly a figure jumped from behind the curtains. A flash went off, then another, and another. Victoria stood in silent mesmerised horror, like a rabbit caught in headlights, unable to react. It took several minutes for her to take stock of the situation, for the full reality of it to grip her. She had seen the woman quite clearly—a photographer who had dressed up as one of the hotel maids and invaded her privacy.

She’d been caught in the act.

What was she to do? In panic she rushed to the phone and got Reception to page Anne. Minutes later she was pouring out the truth to her agent in person.

‘How could you, Vic? Why didn’t you tell me? It’s all gonna hit the fan.’

‘Can’t you do anything? Try and stop it? Not that there is any harm in me taking these pills—I mean they must be all right since the doctor gave them to me.’

‘Oh, Victoria. Are you really that innocent? Goodness only knows what your Dr Browne has put in this cocktail.’

‘But how did anyone know that I was taking anything at all?’

‘I don’t know. These paparazzi nose out everything. Maybe you were seen visiting the doctor’s office and that tipped one of them off. We’ll never know.’

‘Can’t you stop them publishing the pictures?’

‘I don’t know. This is France, not the US. They have different laws. I’ll have to tell Ed. He’ll be furious, and it’ll be my ass on the line. Oh, Vic. Why did you do it, for heaven’s sake? And if you were going to, why didn’t you tell me? I could’ve helped you out.’ Anne paced the room agitatedly.

‘I’m sorry,’ Victoria whispered, slouched on the sofa, her head thrown back against the velvet cushions. Right now she couldn’t think, couldn’t register. Had she mucked up her career? Was this the end? What had she done?

Next morning the answer came loud and clear, as Anne slapped the French newspapers down on the table.

‘Just look at what you’ve achieved,’ she threw. ‘Front-page headlines! Bravo! “Best Actress High On Drugs.” All the details of how you frequented the offices of that sleazy doctor in L.A. They’ve dug up the whole damn story. Wonderful. Ed is so mad, I can’t begin to tell you. He’s talking about dropping you from his next movie. And if you thought the press were on top of you before, babe, you ain’t seen nothing yet. They’re swarming all over the goddamn lobby. I don’t know how we’re going to get you out of here.’

‘Look, I’ve said I’m sorry, okay? What else do you expect me to do? I can’t make it un-happen.’ Victoria placed her cup back in the saucer with a snap, all desire for coffee disappearing.

‘I don’t know. I really don’t know,’ Anne said, dragging her fingers through her short spiky hair. ‘But we’ll have to come up with something mighty quick if we’re gonna scotch this thing. Nip it in the bud. That’s the only way. Maybe putting you into rehab is the answer…’ She shook her head and kept on muttering.

‘I am not a drug addict,’ Victoria protested, ‘I just took a few pills to help me through all this hype. I never would have touched them otherwise. I didn’t even know they were drugs in the real sense of the word.’

‘Well, guess what? It’s too late for that now. We’ll just have to see how to repair the damage and hope it isn’t too late.’

Victoria got up and left the room, her eyes filled with unshed tears.

She could bear it no longer.

RODOLFO SAW THE HEADLINES at breakfast and, putting down his glass of orange juice, read them, horrified. Was it possible? He read the details, then stared, eyes narrowed, at the picture of Victoria, one hand in mid-air, a bottle of pills in the other, her face a mask of terrified horror.

He experienced a rush of anger. At Victoria for indulging in this deplorable habit. At those around her who hadn’t given her a break and had probably driven her to it. And at the photographers who had hounded her night and day, giving her no privacy. It was scandalous.

Rodolfo rose and paced the salon of his suite, agitated. He knew he must do something for the girl—must help her if he could. Who knew what kind of a time Ed Banes and the others were giving her? Not that that was an excuse for her behaviour, he realised. But still…

Picking up his mobile, he dialled his assistant and told him to find out the number of Victoria’s suite. Minutes later the man called back to tell him she wasn’t taking any calls. He wasn’t surprised. Minutes later, as he entered the lobby, he got a good idea why. The place was abuzz with reporters, vultures agog with curiosity, avid to get a glimpse of their prey. Rodolfo watched them, disgusted. He was certain Victoria was hiding up in her suite.

Suddenly he took a decision. Heading up the stairs, he went to Ed Banes’s suite and knocked. A bodyguard answered.

‘Tell Mr Banes, His Majesty Prince Rodolfo of Malvarina wants to speak to him,’ he announced haughtily.

‘He can’t see you right now,’ the burly shaven-headed man answered in a Southern drawl.

‘He will. Tell him I’m here to help out Victoria.’

The man shrugged and continued chewing gum. ‘Okay. Wait here, sir.’

Rodolfo stepped inside. He could hear raised voices beyond the closed door. His determination to remove her from this place and these people’s company increased tenfold.

When the door opened and Ed Banes appeared he seemed choleric. His shirt was unbuttoned at the neck and he looked like a man who hadn’t slept in a while.

‘Hi,’ he said curtly. ‘What can I do for you?’

‘Actually, it’s what I can do for you,’ Rodolfo replied coldly. ‘I came here to see how I can help you in this tricky situation Victoria’s got herself entangled in,’ he said calmly.

‘Nothing you can do, I’m afraid. The kid’s blown it. Come on in. Might as well, since you’re here.’ He showed Rodolfo into the salon, where Anne was pacing the floor and two other women stood by the window busily talking on cellphones. ‘Trying to do some damage control,’ he said, jerking his head at the two. ‘What a stupid little fool. I can’t believe she didn’t even tell Anne what she was taking. We could’ve kept it all under wraps, gotten her the stuff ourselves, dealt with business.’

Rodolfo sent the man a withering glance.

‘Personally, I think Victoria’s health should be of primary concern,’ he replied coldly. ‘What I propose is that you create a diversion in the lobby—give a press conference or something. In the meantime I’ll spirit her out the back way. Nobody is going to imagine that she would be with me. Perhaps you could provide a disguise?’ he added, turning to Anne. ‘I shall take her on my private jet to Malvarina, where I can assure you she will be looked after. And not badgered by any members of the press, or given any more drugs,’ he added curtly.

Ed hesitated, rubbed his bald head and turned to Anne. ‘What d’ya think?’ he growled.

‘I think it’s a great idea. We were thinking of rehab, but this is a better option. What time do you want to do this, uh, Prince?’

‘Right away,’ Rodolfo snapped, taking the decision. ‘The sooner we get her out of here, the better.’

‘Hey, wait,’ Ed said, eyeing him curiously. ‘What happens if the press get hold of your ass?’

‘I am very well able to cope, Mr Banes. Right now I would advise you to concern yourself with Victoria and containing this awkward set of circumstances. I’m well able to take care of myself—and Victoria, too, for that matter.’

‘Fine by me.’ Ed shrugged and flopped into an oversized armchair. ‘Let’s get through this and move on. I have a movie starting in six weeks’ time. The kid’s under contract. I need her. But I can’t have this kind of crap flying around my set.’

‘Uh, right. Ed, let me deal with this,’ Anne said quickly, taking Rodolfo’s arm and guiding him to the door. ‘I’ll go up to Victoria with you. She’s pretty upset, as you can imagine. This is really nice of you to help out.’

‘Any time,’ Rodolfo murmured, casting a final withering glance at Ed, disgusted at his attitude and his lack of concern for Victoria’s wellbeing. Only dollars and cents seemed to count for Ed Banes.

Slipping into a service lift, Anne and Rodolfo managed to slip into the suite unnoticed.

‘Vic, there’s someone here to see you,’ Anne said, opening the door of the salon, where Victoria sat huddled in the corner of the large sofa, her feet tucked under her.

She looked like a waif, wearing jeans and a tiny white T-shirt, her hair falling straight over her shoulders and her eyes red from crying. Rodolfo’s words of censure died on his lips. There was a reason why she’d resorted to pills to help her through all this. For a moment he wanted to reach out, take her in his arms and offer comfort. But he knew that was impossible. Instead he looked at her hard.

‘I’m very sorry that you are having problems, signorina,’ he said curtly, stepping towards her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Victoria said in a shaky voice. ‘Why did you come? To criticise me? Well, let me tell you something—’ her voice trembled and she balled her fists ‘—I don’t care if it was wrong, and I didn’t know those pills were considered bad. The truth is that at least they helped me get through all those awful interviews and all that hype.’

‘Maybe. That is still no excuse for your behaviour,’ he said, sitting down next to her.

‘And what right do you have to come barging in here, judging me?’ she threw angrily.

‘None,’ he replied, taking one of her hands in his. ‘Except that I realise how hard it has been for you, that you aren’t cut out for this; you aren’t the kind of person who enjoys the sort of publicity you’ve been exposed to. I have come to help you, that’s all.’

His calm, low voice and his caressing hand soothed her. Victoria swallowed. She felt confused by his presence. For a moment she wondered if he’d come with some ulterior motive. Most people around her lately seemed to have one. But his mere presence was so comforting that she just accepted it. ‘What do you think I should do?’ she whispered shakily.

‘If you agree to come back with me to Malvarina for a while, there you can get proper medical assistance, relax, and get away from all this. I think that would be the best. I guarantee complete privacy.’ He squeezed her fingers reassuringly.

‘Ed’ll give a press conference in the lobby, and you and the Prince can escape the back way,’ Anne urged. ‘Here, put on this dark wig and these sunglasses. That should help. And go as you are. You look much younger, and no one will recognise you like that. Anyway, they’ll never think that you and the Prince would be together.’

Victoria took a deep breath and looked from one to the other. It seemed like a good plan, and there really wasn’t any other option. The thought of being able to escape the paparazzi seemed heavenly. She nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, smiling waveringly at Rodolfo.

‘It’s nothing.’ He gave a dismissive wave of a hand. ‘Leave your luggage. Anne can have it sent on to you. Take only your handbag and passport.’

Silently Victoria rose and obeyed. She wished for a moment she could take her pills with her. But then she realised that she must put a stop to her habit immediately. It would be hard, but she couldn’t abuse Rodolfo’s trust when he was being so generous and saving her from herself.

Minutes later Rodolfo had grabbed her hand and they were heading down in the service lift to the garage level of the hotel, then slipping through the work stations and kitchens and out into a back street, where a Bentley stood waiting. Hastily they jumped in and the driver accelerated swiftly away.

‘Thanks,’ Victoria muttered, letting out a long sigh of relief as she leaned back in the soft plush leather.

And for the first time in months she felt safe.

TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER she was staring out of the window of Rodolfo’s Gulfstream jet as it circled over the Mediterranean. Down below she could see the contours of Malvarina, its rich vegetation encircled by cerulean blue sea, rocky cliffs giving way to smooth, white, sandy beaches. She could distinguish what looked like large properties up in the hills and down by the water. Then a small town appeared and to the left, up on high overlooking the sea, stood a medieval fortress.

‘That is the Castello Constanza,’ Rodolfo said pointing down. ‘The fortress and the island have belonged to my family since they conquered it in the tenth century. It has been through many wars and difficulties. We fought the Saracens, and the Ottomans. But in the end we prevailed, and today I hope to make Malvarina into a modern, well-run, financially solvent society.’

Victoria looked over at him, surprised at the passion and intensity she detected in his tone. She’d thought of him as a sophisticated playboy, simply trying to extract as much as possible from his inheritance. Yet now she sensed there was far more at stake for Rodolfo than mere money. This was about honour, about the wellbeing of his people. She smiled, glad that she’d taken the decision to flee Cannes and join him here in what looked like an enclave of peace.

Soon they had landed at the island’s small airport and were swooped off in the Rolls Royce that awaited them on the tarmac. The car swerved through the sleepy little town of Malvaritza, and on and up towards the fortress. Peasants with well-loaded donkeys stopped by the roadside and waved. Victoria noted that Rodolfo always returned the waves, smiled and acknowledged them. She had the feeling he would always do this, however tired or absorbed by other worries he might be.

Then the vehicle slowed as they approached the castle and its portcullis entrance that stood just over an ancient bridge. The castle walls stood high, and Victoria experienced a moment’s doubt: what had she got herself into? After all, she had no way of knowing what this man was really like. Once she was inside those walls she would be virtually at his mercy.

As though sensing her unease, Rodolfo turned and smiled at her. ‘A bit daunting, isn’t it? But don’t worry. Inside we have all the mod cons. My grandfather, although quite antiquated in many respects, was determined to have the place modernised. I’m very thankful he did. It was quite a job to get everything shipshape.’

‘I’m sure it must have been,’ Victoria agreed as the car purred into a cobbled courtyard and immediately several members of the Prince’s staff, dressed in traditional costume, moved to open the doors.

‘Welcome to Malvarina and the Castello Constanza,’ Rodolfo said, slipping her hand through his arm and moving forward. ‘Let me show you around.’

‘I’d love to see the castle,’ she said. Though she still felt a little shaky, the dreadful episode of the night before began to fade from her mind as she looked around at her magical surroundings—at the worn stone walls topped with small turrets, the crooked windows and gables.

As they walked, she took a deep breath and exclaimed, ‘What a lovely scent.’

‘That’s jasmine. It blooms most of the year here. We have quite a few tropical plants as well. This is bougainvillea,’ he remarked, pointing to the lovely purple and white flowers creeping up the southern wall of the façade. ‘My mother planted most of it.’

‘Does she live here?’ Victoria enquired, as they headed into what appeared to be a great hall.

‘Both my parents died in an accident when I was twelve,’ he replied briefly, moving towards the window. ‘Please, come over here and take a look at the view. It is magnificent from this vantage point.’

How sad that he’d been orphaned, Victoria reflected, as she stepped over and joined him by huge French windows that gave onto a vine-trellised terrace overlooking the tranquil sea. A yacht glided across the clear blue stretch of water, leaving a pristine white trail rippling in its wake.

‘Where is that yacht headed?’ she asked.

‘Greece, probably. If you sail on you’ll hit the Adriatic coast. Would you like to sail?’ he asked, lifting her fingers to his lips and letting them trail over the inner part of her wrist.

‘Uh, well, I—yes…I suppose it would be very nice. I’ve never actually been on a yacht.’

All at once her pulse beat faster and her heart flurried. She had little or no experience with men. Nicky, her one boyfriend, had been just that—a boyfriend. She’d never felt attracted enough to contemplate going to bed with him. Now, as Rodolfo’s lips grazed her skin she shuddered. There was no doubt that she was experiencing an unadulterated new and intense draw to this man. And she wasn’t sure how to handle it.

‘Perhaps I should show you to your room before we make any further plans,’ the Prince remarked, letting go her fingers. ‘We need to have a doctor take a look at you, and I am hoping that your luggage will arrive later today. But, anyway, we can get you some stuff in town. Malvaritza looks like a sleepy little village but it has some very fashionable boutiques with all the top brands. I’m sure you’ll be able to find some suitable outfits and toiletries,’ he said, smiling.

‘Thanks. I’m certain Anne will have dealt with forwarding the luggage,’ she replied, aware that she didn’t even have a toothbrush with her. But that was a concern that was fast put to rest when she entered the ravishing suite of rooms allotted her.

Victoria gasped. Nothing in her short stay in Hollywood had prepared for the elegant refinement of the Castello Constanza. The reception rooms she’d spied were formally elegant and refined. But this! There was a four-poster bed decked with white voile curtains, and tapestries hung on the ancient stone walls, as well as an eighteenth-century Venetian mirror placed between crystal Murano wall sconces. Vases filled with freshly cut flowers graced the dressing table. A small plumped-up sofa had been strategically placed next to the window, through which the now familiar scent of jasmine invaded the apartments.

‘It’s lovely,’ she murmured, letting her fingers trail over the lace coverlet of the bed, her eyes resting on the flounced brocade of the skirt of the dressing table, where antique silver brushes lay. It was old-world and beautiful. Yet, as her eyes roamed, she noted a phone and a fax machine. In the corner an almost invisible panel hid a flatscreen TV.

‘I hope you will be comfortable,’ he replied with a formal bow. ‘Please feel free to stay for as long as you wish.’

‘Oh, gosh, that’s terribly generous. I don’t want to be a nuisance,’ she exclaimed, suddenly realising how unexpected her visit was—and perhaps inconvenient.

‘Such a beautiful woman as you could never be an inconvenience to anyone,’ he murmured, his eyes fleeting over her. ‘Why don’t you freshen up and join me downstairs for a drink?’

‘Great. Thanks.’ Victoria smiled nervously, brushed her golden hair back, and watched as he retreated and closed the door behind him.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. It was like a dream. Only this morning she’d been going through hell and now here she was, in a magical setting with the best looking, most sophisticated man she’d ever met.

To her surprise, when she opened the old rosewood armoire, a shimmering white and silver full-length sheath-style gown hung on one of the hangers. She lifted it out on the hanger and stared down at the high heeled silk sandals accompanying it. Was this for her? Then her eyes fell on a note, and she drew in her breath and opened it.

I hope this may serve its purpose until your luggage arrives.

She held the note, biting her lip, gazing at the bold black writing on the thick crest-emblazoned stationery. How had he managed to have this dress conveyed here so swiftly? And how did he know her size? A less agreeable thought crossed her mind. He probably dated so many women that judging their dress size was child’s play. Well, whatever. She would slip into the shower and then don the beautiful gown. At least she’d feel in tune with the setting.

An hour later dusk had settled over the island. The clear inky sky was dotted with bright flickering stars. Crickets chirrupped in a friendly fashion as she made her way down the wide stone staircase, hoping she wouldn’t slip in her finely tied silk sandals. Victoria had worn many gorgeous gowns since hitting Hollywood, but none compared to the ethereal beauty of this one, chosen for her by a man she barely knew.

When she reached the terrace she saw him, dressed in a dinner jacket, leaning against the stone parapet and gazing thoughtfully out to sea, a glass held loosely between his fingers. She stood a moment and watched him, etched against the horizon. How incredibly good-looking he was.

And how totally out of reach.

All at once reality sank in and she realised how poles apart their lives were: she, the unknown girl from a small English village who by a miracle had been chosen to star in a Hollywood success story; he, the noble Prince, whose lineage dated back a thousand years. She swallowed. Oh, well. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted, she reflected moving towards him. Perhaps it was just a ploy to get her to invest on his island, she reminded herself. In a way she wished it was. It would make it easier, and perhaps temper the irregularity of her heartbeat whenever he appeared.

‘Good evening,’ she said, trying to sound nonchalant and sophisticated. ‘Thank you for having this dress put in my cupboard. It was most thoughtful of you. The luggage still hasn’t arrived, so it came in very handy.’

‘I’m glad you like it. If I may say so it suits you very well.’ His gaze roamed critically over her.

A flush rushed to her cheeks. There was nothing bold in his look, but still she felt as though his eyes saw far more—as though they were divesting her of the flimsy fabric, and caressing her skin. A tiny shiver coursed up her spine and she felt her stomach tighten.

‘Would you like a drink?’ he asked turning to a tray of ice that hosted an array of soft drinks. He poured her choice into a crystal tumbler and handed it to her.

‘Thanks.’ Victoria took a quick gulp and then another. Suddenly she remembered the pills. Until last night she would have relied on them to help her through the evening, yet tonight she had no sudden urge to rush and pop one. Not that she felt terribly bad or ill at ease with Rodolfo, but he did seem so terribly suave and elegant in this magnificent setting, so terribly out of her league…

‘Come,’ Rodolfo said, as if sensing her discomfort, reaching for her hand. ‘Let me show you the rest of the terrace.’

Together they walked around and he showed her another view. In the distance she could see lights. ‘Is that Malvaritza?’ she asked.

‘Yes, that is the town. I’ll take you there when you’re feeling up to it. And we’ll also go for a spin on my yacht, the Mona Lisa, so that you can see the island from the sea. It will give you a better notion of the place.’

‘Thanks,’ she murmured, leaving her hand in his, relishing the feel of his fingers lightly caressing the inside of her palm. Then, when she least expected it, he was facing her, looking down into her eyes through the moonlight.

‘You are a beautiful woman, Victoria. Too tempting by far.’

She caught her breath as he drew closer, didn’t draw away when he reached out and pulled her close, his expression almost harsh.

Their eyes held and she fell under his spell. In one swift movement his lips came down on hers, hot and demanding. She gasped, held back, then gave way. She had never been kissed like this before. It was as though suddenly Rodolfo dominated her being. He plied open her lips, his tongue delved, and his hands pressed the small of her back, bringing her close up against him. She could feel the hardness of his desire, and experienced a rush of torrid heat flash like hot lightning from her head to her core, felt the peaks of her breasts go taut.

There was little she could do now but submit, her body supple and pliable in his arms. She could feel his hands roam over the curves of her rounded bottom, up her ribcage, then stop tantalisingly at the side of her breast. Half of her knew she should draw back, the other wanted to beg him to continue, to assuage the delicious yet agonising frustration mounting within her.

‘Victoria,’ he muttered, his thumb reaching to graze the tip of her breast.

‘Rodolfo,’ she whispered hoarsely. ‘We shouldn’t…we mustn’t. I barely know you. I—’

Reluctantly he drew back, eyes gleaming into hers. ‘I know it has all happened very fast, but I find you very hard to resist, cara.’

She returned the look, then glanced away, straightened her dress and moved towards the parapet picking up her glass as she went.

Rodolfo watched her, then followed suit, eyeing her closely, noting the hot flush on her cheeks. There was a definite chemistry between them. Her reaction had been timid at first, then as passionate and full of pent-up desire as his own. Yet there was something naïve and spontaneous in her reaction, something that spelled inexperience.

He must be dreaming, he reflected, as they sipped their drinks. A Hollywood actress, one who had taken drugs and was a big star, could hardly be an innocent.

‘Dinner will be served shortly,’ he said in a neutral tone. ‘I thought we should dine al fresco in the moonlight. Would that suit you?’

‘That would be lovely. Are you not cooking tonight?’ she added with a spark of humour.

‘Not tonight,’ he responded, with a laugh and a flash of white teeth, ‘But I promise to introduce you to my special Pasta Principesco in the very near future. Do you know that they have it on the menu in one of the restaurants in town? I was very flattered as the owner is an exceptionally good cook. But tonight we will have special Malvarinian dishes. I hope you will enjoy our local cuisine.’

‘I’m sure I will,’ Victoria answered, wondering if there was anything she wouldn’t like about this man and this amazingly enchanting fantasy world he lived in. But, she reminded herself, it was important to remember that it was just that: a fantasy, nothing more.

Dinner was as special as she had anticipated. Rodolfo made witty conversation throughout, and the servants served an array of delectable dishes, all of which were Malvarinian specialities. By the end, Victoria knew she couldn’t eat another thing.

‘That was simply delicious,’ she said smiling and laying down her white linen napkin. ‘You’ve spoiled me rotten.’

‘A woman as beautiful as you should be spoiled,’ he murmured, rising and coming behind her chair to draw it back.

‘That’s all very well,’ she admonished breathlessly. For, although she was far more at ease with him than she had been earlier, his presence so close sent frissons running through her. ‘One could get used to this sort of living,’ she said trying to sound light, ‘but, after all, it’s really just a dream.’

‘Not entirely. I like to believe that I’m very real,’ he responded with an amused smile.

‘Do you?’ She cast him a sceptical look and let out a sigh. ‘This is all so magical, so unreal. I think it’s heavenly, but then I remember that soon I’ll have to return to reality, to Hollywood and Ed and the next movie. And I don’t know how I’m going to manage it.’

‘Without the medication to help you, you mean?’ he enquired, his tone challenging.

Victoria’s face flushed. ‘I know it was wrong, but there’s no need to rub my face in it. I really had no idea what they were,’ she muttered, tossing her hair back.

‘I know you didn’t. It was very wrong of that doctor not to inform you of what was in them. But I am merely wondering if you think you can kick the habit or if you plan to continue on the same course? If you were my—’ He cut off, realising what he was about to say and the impropriety of it.

‘If I was what? I belong to nobody, and what I do is nobody’s business, either,’ she responded belligerently.

‘That is true. I’m sorry.’

‘Plus, you don’t know how difficult it was, there on my own. I knew nobody. Everyone expected me to fit in as if I’d been there all my life. When I met that girl and she gave me the doctor’s name I felt better, realising I wasn’t the only one who found it difficult to keep up the pace and—’

‘You don’t need to explain,’ he interrupted, placing his hands firmly on her shoulders. ‘I understand. I just hope that from now on you won’t feel the need to ruin your health, your youth and your beauty, that’s all.’ She looked up at him, read the sincerity in his gaze and swallowed. ‘If you hate Hollywood so much, why go back?’

‘I have a contract with Ed.’

‘But what about the actual work? I thought you enjoyed acting,’ he said, signalling to a servant to lay the coffee tray on a low Ottoman by the parapet.

‘I do. That’s why I have to overcome this stupid fear, these silly inhibitions I have. It’s absurd when I’ve been offered the chance of a lifetime. I’ve always wanted to act. Being taken to Hollywood and given this opportunity was all I’d ever dreamed of. It’s just that now I—’ She shrugged, looked out over the sea. ‘It’s all so superficial, so fake. Not at all as I imagined it. Again, just a sort of fantasy.’

‘That’s just how you described this place.’

‘Well, I didn’t mean it quite like that. It’s a different kind of fantasy.’

‘I’m glad you think so. I would hate to think that I live in a Hollywood dream world. I happen to have very real projects for this island.’

‘I’m sure you do,’ she said, seeing a gleam in his eye. ‘Very different to where I come from. That’s just pretty and old fashioned and comfortable.’

‘But you love it?’

‘Yes, I do. It’s home.’

‘And you regret the necessity of having to leave it?’

‘I—’ All of a sudden Victoria remembered Anne’s comments, her financial advisors’ insistence that she change her domicile, and all the reasons she hadn’t wanted to come to Malvarina surfaced. Was this man just trying to seduce her into investing in his island?

‘I’m sorry. That was a personal question and none of my business,’ he murmured. ‘But if, while you’re here, you would like to visit some property I can arrange it.’

‘Thanks,’ she answered, a cold chill rushing through her. ‘Would you mind awfully if I went to bed now? I’m really rather tired after everything that’s happened.’

‘Of course. You must be. I will accompany you upstairs and see that all is in order.’

‘Oh, please—don’t bother,’ she said hastily, getting up and taking a step back. ‘I’m sure I’ll find my way. Goodnight.’ She waved her hand abstractedly, then turned, quickly entered the large living room and headed towards the hall and the stairs.

WHAT HAD HE SAID to upset her? Rodolfo asked himself as he watched Victoria disappear into the shadows like a white and silver ghost. Had it been the mention of visiting property on the island? He had merely wanted to be of help. But he was fast realising that there was much more to this sensitive young woman than met the eye. Their kiss remained imprinted on his lips and the desire to possess her made him take a deep breath.

He stood pensive for a moment, then decided that he too would turn in early. He would have to take it slowly with Victoria. But he knew now that he definitely wanted to take her to his bed. But she was still fragile, and she was also his guest, and therefore he owed her every courtesy.

After a quick snifter of brandy he walked up the castello’s wide, ancient staircase, glanced at Victoria’s door, then with a veiled smile headed on towards his own suite of apartments and his lonely bed.

CHAPTER FOUR

A SHAFT OF BRIGHT SUNLIGHT piercing the heavy blue brocade curtains woke her.

At first she had no idea where she was, wondered for a moment if she was on a film set. Then she saw her luggage in the far corner of the room. Little by little the events of the previous day played out and she remembered everything—from the terrible morning to the flight to the airport and, later, the kiss on the terrace yesterday evening.

At the thought of the latter, a delicious shiver coursed through her. She had never been kissed like that before. The thought that it could reoccur left her anxious, yet filled with a new and exciting anticipation. Of course Rodolfo wanted nothing but a fleeting sexual affair, an amusing interlude to pass the time. Maybe that was why he’d asked her here? But, whatever the reason, she surely could handle it? Surely she was mature enough to indulge in an affair without getting hurt? It was time she got some experience of life and love. Perhaps he was exactly the kind of man to gain that experience with. After all, there were no strings attached, plus he was a gentleman, and she’d never found any man so devastatingly attractive.

An hour later she was downstairs, dressed in a short white flared cotton designer skirt, small pink T-shirt and matching flat fifties-style shoes.

‘I hope you slept well?’ the Prince said when she joined him at the breakfast table.

Victoria smiled, noted how attractive he looked, dressed in jeans and a white polo shirt.

‘Great, thanks.’

‘Please sit down.’ He’d risen to greet her and now they both sat at the glass table laid with attractive ceramic crockery. Not at all palatial, she thought with a tiny smile, feeling at ease as she sipped a delicious glass of chilled orange juice.

‘I have taken the liberty of asking my doctor to come after breakfast and check you over. Then, I thought I would take you around the island, and we can lunch on board my yacht, the Mona Lisa.’

‘Well, that’s very kind. But I feel fine, and am sure I don’t need medical assistance.’

‘Perhaps. But indulge me and see Dottore Manfreddo. He is the Royal Physician and a delightful character. That way we’ll both be assured that you are all right and we can forget that whole incident—okay?’

‘All right,’ she agreed with a reluctant smile.

‘As soon as you’re finished with him we’ll set sail.’

‘I’d love to. By the way, you suggested that I look at some property while I’m here. I think that’s a good idea. I might as well make good use of my time,’ she said, breathing in the gorgeous day, looking out over the cliff at the superb view, clearer now that the heat haze had subsided.

‘Perfect. I can arrange for someone to show us something tomorrow.’

‘Great.’ Victoria realised that she hadn’t felt so good in a long time. There was something so agreeable and easy about Rodolfo that she’d never encountered in any man before. Not that she knew that many men, she realised ruefully. But Rodolfo seemed interested in her, and her life, and she was able to forget that he was a prince, that his reality was so different from hers.

Together they enjoyed a pleasant and interesting conversation over the delicious array of fruit and pastries set before her. ‘Gosh, I’ll have to be careful not to get fat here,’ she remarked, laughing.

‘I don’t see any danger of that happening,’ he answered, his eyes fleeting over her in that same scrutinizing, yet admiring manner they had yesterday. ‘Now, come. The doctor will be here any moment.’

‘SO, SIGNORINA, how are you feeling?’

‘I’m fine. Better than I’ve felt in a while.’

‘Good.’ The elderly doctor smiled a wrinkled but reassuring smile and placed his index finger on her pulse. ‘Your heart-rate seems perfect. No palpitations or shakiness since you have stopped taking the medication?’

‘No. I don’t even feel that I need it.’

‘Excellent,’ he approved. ‘I think you have been lucky, young lady. In fact you haven’t taken enough for it to harm you in the long run. But what will you do when you have to face a similar situation again?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said with a sigh. ‘I’ll just have to cross that river when I come to it?’

‘If you permit, I have another suggestion. Here in Malvarina we are very knowledgeable regarding herbal remedies and teas. There is a special tea, made of a local herb, that soothes the nerves without causing any harm to your system. I would recommend you take some with you when you leave. Sometimes, if you are feeling tense, you can have a nice cup of this brew and you will feel more relaxed without doing yourself any harm whatsoever. It is well known on the island. I drink it myself sometimes.’

‘Thank you, Doctor. That would be wonderful.’

‘Now, I want you to relax and take it easy for a few days—forget all this nonsense and enjoy yourself. That is the best way to recover.’

They both rose and shook hands.

‘Thank you again, Doctor. It was very nice of you to come.’

‘Not at all. Any request of the Prince’s is a pleasure.’

They walked out into the drawing room, where Rodolfo was waiting. ‘Everything okay, Doctor?’ he said frowning slightly.

‘Absolutely fine. Victoria is a healthy young woman and has not suffered any side-effects from the pills. I believe she did not take them long enough for them to harm her.’

‘Good.’ He let out a sigh of relief and smiled. ‘Thanks, Dottore.’

‘I recommended some of our special island tea. I’ll have some sent over later.’

‘Good idea.’

They all shook hands, then the doctor departed, leaving them alone.

‘Let’s go and enjoy the day.’ Rodolfo took her hand and together they walked towards the courtyard, where they’d arrived. A silver Porsche convertible stood gleaming in the sun. ‘Jump in,’ he said, opening the door for her, ‘and let’s go for a spin.’

Victoria sat in the car, hair blowing in the breeze. She loved the island immediately, the scent of the orange and lemon trees, the lovely faded terracotta houses peering lazily from behind olive groves overlooking the sea. There was a gentle sense of peace in this place, and a pace of life that she identified with.

With time to explore Malvaritza, she could see that all its charm had been preserved: there was a small crooked church in the main square, which was bordered by little cafés where some old men played backgammon and others drank coffee and passed the time of day. As Rodolfo had promised, the town also housed some lovely shops, filled with exclusive designer brands and jewellery and also quaint boutiques. But all this was incorporated into the architecture and atmosphere with such extreme good taste and grace that it didn’t spoil the overall feel of the place.

The town, she realised as they drove on down towards the sea—in fact the whole island—was like Rodolfo: tranquil, elegant and charming.

Soon they were entering a little fishing port below, and she could see a large yacht at anchor and wondered if that was the Mona Lisa.

Just as she was about to ask, Rodolfo pointed out to sea. ‘There she is,’ he said, a touch of pride in his voice. ‘I had her built three years ago.’

‘She’s beautiful,’ Victoria exclaimed, shading her eyes to take a better look at the vessel. She could see a small motor boat steered by a uniformed sailor approaching the shoreline as they parked the Porsche.

Minutes later they were on board the yacht. Leaning against the deck rail, Victoria sighed as the craft raised anchor and the vessel glided out to sea. Rodolfo stood next to her in the stern and together they watched the island recede.

‘You’re right about Malvarina, and I take back all the nasty things I said the other night in Cannes. It truly is a beautiful spot.’ Victoria smiled, relaxed now, the soft wind mussing her hair as she gazed over the side at the white ripples of the wake.

‘But not as beautiful as you,’ Rodolfo said softly, slipping a hand over hers.

Victoria swallowed. There was a choice to be made: she could pull her fingers away and pretend that none of this was happening, then get in touch with Anne and tell her she was heading back to England. Or, she could court adventure, live an exciting experience and be none the worse for wear.

Part of her wanted to run; another part knew she was mesmerised and that her whole being wanted Rodolfo as she’d never wanted a man before. His fingers still covered hers. By not removing them she was tacitly sending him a signal. And all at once Victoria realised that she needed to know what it felt like to be held in a man’s arms—a man whom she found devastatingly attractive and who knew the rules of a game she was far from proficient in. When his arm slipped about her shoulders she didn’t flinch or move away but allowed him to pull her close.

‘Ah, Victoria, you are so young and so lovely, cara,’ he murmured above the purr of the yacht’s engine. He wanted her, wanted to ravish her, take her to his bed and love her. But instinct told him not to rush it. After all, she’d just lived through an extraordinarily painful set of circumstances that had not yet been fully resolved. He must take care not to make things worse. He smiled down at her. ‘We’ll drop anchor by the Malva Caves. Have you ever snorkelled?’

‘Actually, no, but I’d like to try.’

‘Then you shall. We shall discover the caves together. You will enjoy that.’

‘I would love it,’ she agreed.

‘Then come on, and let’s look at the gear. Gino,’ he called to one of the smiling bronzed crew, ‘we need some snorkelling gear for Miss Woodward. Can you see to it?’

‘Of course, Your Royal Highness. Immediately.’ The man disappeared and returned minutes later with a mask and flippers. ‘I think these should fit the signorina perfectly,’ he said.

And he was right. Soon Victoria was wearing only the tiny white bikini that she’d slipped on under her clothes. She pulled on the flippers as the yacht slowed and dropped anchor near the entrance of a large cave, excited at the thought of snorkelling. Rodolfo helped her to the side of the boat and, laughing at their comic appearance, they dropped into the water.

Victoria had no fear of the sea, as she was a good swimmer, so she followed Rodolfo towards the cave without hesitation. Through her mask she could see deep down onto the sea bed. Multicoloured fish glided below her, sea plants and shells shimmered as the sunlight illuminated the water. Then they arrived at the entrance of the cave and the sun gave way to dark shadows. Shortly afterwards Rodolfo stopped by a ledge and they rested, their arms reposing upon it.

‘It’s an amazing place,’ Victoria exclaimed, pulling up her mask and peering around at the beautiful glistening blues and greens shimmering on the walls.

‘It’s the phosphorescent stone that gives it this effect,’ he answered. ‘Are you feeling okay? Shall we continue?’

‘Great, thanks. Let’s explore further.’

They lowered their masks once more and headed into the winding passages of the cave, which Rodolfo obviously knew well.

It was as they were heading back to the entrance of the main cave that Victoria felt a sudden suction dragging her down. She swam harder, fighting against the spiralling current, her legs and arms beating frantically. But instead of abating the suction grew stronger, as though an underwater cyclone was drawing her down into the dark depths below. Rodolfo was up ahead. Soon he would be out of reach.

Victoria panicked. Naturally he thought she was following close behind—had no idea she was desperately struggling to keep her head above water. In a fraught movement Victoria struggled with her mask and air pipe and finally managed to remove them.

‘Rodolfo!’ she yelled between gulps of water, as loud as her breathless voice would carry. But he simply went on swimming. ‘Please, Rodolfo, help!’ she cried again, her strength giving out.

Just as she thought she could not go on, that the water would win this battle and suck her under, she saw him turn.

Horrified, Rodolfo swam back as fast as he could. Something was happening under the water! He’d heard of this once before, many years ago. But the phenomena had never been known to occur again, and he hadn’t thought of the caves as in any way dangerous. Diving under the gloomy water, he scooped Victoria in his arms and pulled her to the surface. She spluttered, could barely breathe, and clung to him for dear life.

‘Victoria, cara mia!’ he cried, securing her in a life-saving position and swimming with her back out into the open as fast as he could. The crew, who were watching attentively from the yacht, immediately realised that something was amiss. Within seconds Victoria was being lifted into a dinghy, where she lay in Rodolfo’s arms still fighting for breath.

‘What happened, cara? What did you feel?’ he asked anxiously, as little by little her breathing normalised and she was able to speak.

‘It was as if something was sucking me down below the surface. It was a pretty strong current that was impossible to resist…I thought I—’

‘Shush—just relax and don’t talk, cara. You’ll be all right. I feel terrible that I unwittingly subjected you to such an experience. I shall have the caves roped off against swimming. It is too dangerous. Dio, anything could have happened!’

‘Such a thing has not occurred for over fifty years, Your Royal Highness,’ one of the older crew members said as they reached the yacht.

‘I know. But I should have remembered,’ Rodolfo said, in self-reproach as he carried Victoria up the steps and on board. There he laid her carefully onto the cushions in the stateroom. At once one of the sailors brought water and cognac and Rodolfo made her drink.

‘Have some of this. It will make you feel much better,’ he said, tilting the glass towards her lips.

‘I’m fine, really,’ she whispered, trying to sit up on her elbows. ‘Just a little shocked, that’s all.’

‘I know. But now you’ll be okay.’ He brushed the hair from her face and looked into her eyes. ‘I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you.’

Their eyes held and Victoria felt her heart racing once more. Was he about to kiss her again? she wondered, a thrill jolting her. Even in her weakened state she longed for his touch. The answer came as his lips met hers. Not hard and hot, like the day before, but tenderly, languorously, as though seeking to know her every secret. His arms came about her and he held her close. It felt wonderful, warm and secure, and for a moment Victoria floated, forgot her troubles and luxuriated in the feel of his mouth, which moved more urgently now, plundering as she responded. Her arms slipped up around his neck and she held him, her body racked with delicious new sensations and a longing for all that she had yet to learn.

‘Victoria, I want you,’ he whispered, gazing into her eyes. ‘I want you as I have only wanted once before in my life,’ he murmured, his voice was low and husky, filled with patent desire.

The truth was she wanted him too. As she’d never wanted any man before. She had never known such want existed until now. But what would be the consequences of such an act? What would it lead to? And did she care?

As though realising that what he had just said was inappropriate in the present circumstances, Rodolfo rose and stepped away. ‘We are nearing the shore,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘I will bring your clothes.’

Half an hour later they approached the castle. Even as Victoria tried to step shakily out of the Porsche, Rodolfo picked her up and, despite her protests, carried her into the castle and up the wide staircase to her room, where he laid her down on the lace coverlet covering the huge bed.

‘You must rest now,’ he said, pulling the sheet over her. ‘Later, when you are feeling better, we can talk.’

She smiled, feeling suddenly drowsy, the brandy and the shock of what had occurred taking effect. A few minutes later she was asleep.

DOWNSTAIRS ON THE TERRACE, Rodolfo gazed thoughtfully out to sea. Today something unexpected had occurred, something he would never have imagined. He had experienced the fear of losing not just a guest, or a woman he was attracted to, but something more—something that reminded him so poignantly of Giada. The more he thought about it, the more he wondered if his attraction for Victoria wasn’t just the usual passing shaft of desire that needed to be satisfied, but something deeper—something that spoke of emotion, of a need to share?

Ridiculous! he chided himself. He barely knew the girl, and what he did know wasn’t a particularly good recommendation. What if she began taking narcotics again? How would he feel about that? But deep down he’d already realised that the reason she’d fallen into that trap was because of her desperate need to overcome an inner shyness, a sort of claustrophobia that she couldn’t handle and a lack of experience. If the circumstances were removed, and now she was aware of the true dangers, the problem would probably be resolved. For she was a sensitive, vulnerable woman, not used to the hard, tough atmosphere of the movie business. It wasn’t surprising she’d resorted to alternative measures to help her through the ordeal.

But what about the future? Victoria was scheduled to star in Ed Banes’s next movie, which was due to begin filming in six weeks. If some measure was not taken she could just fall back into the old routine.

He clenched his fist. Not if he had anything to do with it! Whatever happened between him and Victoria had nothing to do with his determination to make certain that she be shielded from the more disagreeable aspects of the movie business. How, he didn’t know yet. But he’d find a way.

CHAPTER FIVE

VICTORIA SLEPT FOR SOME hours, but awoke feeling revived and ready to join Rodolfo for dinner.

To her surprise, nothing was ready when first she entered the huge drawing room, with its eighteenth-century Italian elegance, and glanced into the formal dining room. She walked out onto the terrace. Evening had fallen and she saw Rodolfo, tall and slim, etched in moonlight, one foot raised on the low stone parapet, looking out over the cliffs to the midnight sea beyond.

‘Good evening,’ she said, moving onto the terrace to join him, a rush of heat surging through her as she watched him—so dark, handsome, sexy and attractive.

‘Ah, Victoria, you are better, cara?’ He moved quickly to her side and took her arm solicitously. ‘Come and sit down over here,’ he said, indicating one of the wrought-iron chairs to his right.

‘I’m fine, really. I feel no after-effects whatsoever.’

‘Good. Then why don’t we go directly to my apartment? I have a surprise for you.’ Looping his arm through hers, he drew her inside. Together they walked through the Great Hall and on towards one of the wings of the castle where Rodolfo had an apartment of his own.

‘It’s lovely,’ Victoria exclaimed as they walked inside the high-ceilinged living room. She was amazed to see how modern the decoration was compared to the rest of the castello, which retained its classical style. In contrast this apartment was dotted with exquisitely designed Italian leather furniture and medieval antiques. Halogen lights played on brightly coloured abstract canvases hanging on the centuries-old walls. Opening straight onto the vast living space was an ultra-modern kitchen.

‘So this is where you make your culinary delights?’ Victoria teased, sitting down on one of the steel bar stools topped with velvet cushions and leaning on the granite counter as Rodolfo moved towards the stove.

‘Here it is,’ he said, raising his hands. ‘I hope you’ll like my pasta. That’s what’s on the menu tonight. We’ll have a drink on the balcony, and then you can lay the table while I prepare the food.’ He leaned over and pulled a bottle of virgin olive oil off the shelf in readiness.

‘What? No servants, no pomp and ceremony?’ she queried mischievously.

‘No. Tonight it’s just you and me, cara, and that full moon out there. A drink?’ Without waiting for her to answer he selected a glass for her and poured from a wine bottle already uncorked on the counter.

‘Thanks.’ Victoria glanced at the glass he handed her, eyeing the rich dark red liquid.

‘To your quick recovery,’ he said, raising his own glass.

‘To a successful dinner,’ she returned, raising her glass.

‘With such a guest, dinner can only be successful,’ he replied gallantly.

‘Your Royal Highness is too kind,’ she murmured, fluttering her eyelashes and bowing her head comically before taking a sip of wine.

‘Come, come, Victoria.’ He laughed. ‘No formal titles, I beg you. I am Rodolfo to you, and that is all. Let’s step out and drink this on the balcony, shall we? The evening is quite fresh. Do you think you’ll be warm enough?’ He came around the counter and, slipping an arm around her, escorted her out onto the wide balcony which overlooked the floodlit gardens of the castello.

‘The garden is divine,’ she murmured, staring down at the manicured parterres, the flowerbeds and trimmed hedges, and listening to the soft sound of water pouring from a fountain. She breathed in the familiar scent that seemed to permeate the whole island, giving it an aura all of its own.

‘No, bella, the garden is pleasant—you are exquisite,’ he said, stopping himself from kissing her, knowing that if he allowed things to get out of hand right now there would be no pasta, no dinner, merely an immediate move into the bedroom.

If she was willing.

The question was an intriguing one: few women had ever refused him. He did not consider himself arrogant, merely self-confident, sure of his own charm and ability to seduce. He’d never been unfair or unjust, and had always acted the gentleman. Simply, he hadn’t allowed his heart to get involved. Victoria was beguiling and lovely, and she reminded him of Giada—but was he really going to stop playing by his rules?

Together they stood leaning against the balustrade of the wide balcony. The moon shone, full and bright, like a huge floodlight, illuminating the sky, the sea and the castle. The water below shimmered, as did the sparkling lights of the large yachts at anchor in the bay. It was magical, enchanting, unreal. And as Victoria sipped her wine she wondered if all this was nothing but a dream.

After a little while they went inside. Rodolfo directed her to a large antique sideboard, where the plates and cutlery were kept, while he busied himself tossing chopped onions and garlic in olive oil, selecting herbs and popping them into a large frying pan while next to it a huge pot of water simmered, awaiting the pasta. Then he switched on some music: a Baroque instrumental. It was soft and soothing, the quality of the sound perfect.

As she laid the table Victoria let out a sigh. How wonderful it must be to live with a man like this, in such an atmosphere, she reflected, to share such joyful and intimate moments. She barely remembered that he was a prince, simply looked at him as a man on whose company she was fast learning to depend.

And what a man.

Out of the corner of her eye she observed him, watched him, his shirtsleeves rolled up to reveal the taut tanned muscles of his forearms, his hair flicked back as he concentrated on his task. He wore an old pair of tight jeans and espadrilles. She swallowed. What, she wondered, would follow the pasta?

Nothing that she didn’t want, she realised ruefully.

For it had become abundantly clear that, however much Rodolfo might want her, he was too much of gentleman to do anything that she might regret or deplore. The thought left her limp with longing. To know that he respected her, that he wanted her yet would be willing to abstain from demonstrating his desire in any way that she might find offensive made him all the more attractive, and left her feeling more vulnerable and tender than she ever had before.

Unconsciously she moved towards the kitchen, came and stood next to him and watched as he stirred the pasta, threw herbs deftly into the pan, added a touch of salt and pepper, then turned and smiled into her eyes.

‘It smells delicious,’ she murmured, taking a deep breath.

‘Wait until you taste it,’ he replied, concentrating again on his undertaking. ‘Here.’ He lifted the wooden spoon and dropped some of the sauce on her hand. ‘Try it.’

‘Mmm. It’s scrumptious.’

‘Good. Now, this is the important moment,’ he said as the water boiled and he tipped the pasta in. ‘The pasta must only stay in for three minutes, so that it is al dente.’

‘Can I do anything?’ she asked, enjoying the sight of him intensely focused on his cooking.

‘Yes. Why not pour us some more wine?’ He flashed her a devilish grin, his teeth gleaming white against his tan. ‘I assure you this will be the best pasta you have ever tasted, cara mia. I am an expert.’

‘And modest to boot,’ she giggled, as she busied herself pouring from the bottle of red wine that sat on the counter.

‘I see little point in being modest when one knows one is the best,’ he said, dropping fettuccine into the pot with a flourish.

‘I promise to give you an honest opinion,’ she said, eyes flashing with humour as she handed him his glass.

‘Thanks. Now, join me here and watch the maestro at work.’

Rolling her eyes in amusement, Victoria poured the other glass then stood next to Rodolfo. The sauce smelled delicious. She could detect several fragrances, including basil. But the rest she could not identify. ‘What is that?’ she asked, sniffing.

‘None of your business,’ he responded, tweaking a strand of her hair. ‘It’s a secret recipe.’

Victoria made a moue with her mouth as he circled his arm around her and stirred the pan with a wooden spoon with his free hand. Then he dropped a light kiss on the top of her head. She looked up and their eyes met.

‘Not now,’ he said, shaking his head wryly. ‘I’m afraid this is the critical moment.’ Taking his arm away, he grabbed the pot, tipped the pasta out into a large sieve, then replaced it on the stove and stirred in some olive oil.

Victoria looked on, amazed at how professionally he handled things. Next he was tossing the pasta back in the pot and adding the savoury sauce.

‘There,’ he said, mixing with two large spoons, ‘ready to serve, signorina.’

Removing the large pot from the stove, he took it over to the table and placed it on a mat, serving large portions onto ceramic plates.

‘Here you go,’ he said, placing it before her. ‘Now, eat while it’s hot, or it’ll be no good.’ Then he served himself and, sitting down opposite, raised his glass.

‘Salute.’

‘Salute,’ she responded, raising hers.

‘Buon apetito.’

Carefully Victoria twiddled some pasta onto her fork, thankful that she’d learned to eat it properly. As she dropped it into her mouth she let out a tiny groan of appreciation. ‘It’s simply delicious,’ she murmured once she could speak. ‘I was hoping I could find something wrong with it, but frankly I would be lying. It’s perfect.’

‘Grazie.’ He smiled, inclined his head, and began eating.

For a few moments they ate in silence, enjoying the scrumptious dish. Victoria thought suddenly that she could go on doing this for ever and never be bored. He was so charming, so amusing, so easy to be around. Then she pulled herself up with a jolt. This was a ridiculous way of thinking. Here she was, spending a few days in this man’s company. She mustn’t allow her imagination to run away with her.

Rodolfo watched her across the table, thinking that he had rarely spent such a pleasant, easy-going evening. Victoria was unpretentious, lovely and natural. It was a big change from the sophisticated models he usually shared his time with.

By the time they’d finished dessert both were extremely relaxed with one another.

Coffee was taken out on the balcony, followed by a small glass of limoncello, an after-dinner drink. It was past ten o’ clock when suddenly Victoria’s mobile phone rang.

Rodolfo passed her handset to her.

‘That’s weird. Anne already called me. Hello?’

‘Hi, babe.’

‘Who is this?’ she asked blankly.

‘Why, baby-pie, it’s Bill—from Hollywood. I’m Janie’s boyfriend. Remember her? She told you about Dr Browne when you were feeling stressed. I heard you were hanging out there on an island, with some prince or other. Guess you won’t be using Dr Browne’s services any more, but I could get you some special candy and deliver it personally to you, if you like.’

A chill gripped Victoria and she stared out to sea, swallowing. ‘I don’t want anything. And how did you get my number?’

‘Wouldn’t you just like to know? Thought you might like to make me a little gift. After all, the newspapers worldwide are lining up looking for folks to give ’em a good story about you. You’re a hot item right now, babe. Thought you might like to do a deal, honey.’

Victoria froze. She glanced at Rodolfo moving around the kitchen area, discreetly staying away while she took the call. This couldn’t be happening. What would he say if he found out who was ringing her?

‘Well?’

‘Look, I can’t talk right now,’ she muttered nervously, playing for time. She had to think, had to decide what to do—maybe talk to Anne and see if she had a solution to the dilemma.

Blackmail.

She never would have believed it was happening.

‘Okay. You’ve twenty-four hours to make up your mind, honey-bunch. After that all bets are off.’ He hung up.

Victoria sat motionless, her hand trembling. What was she to do?

Once he realised she’d hung up, Rodolfo came back outside. ‘Nothing important, I hope?’ he said, and raised a questioning brow.

‘Uh, no. Nothing, really. Just—’ She cut off, unable to lie, yet unable to tell him the truth. How could she explain that she was being blackmailed by a drug dealer who, by some mysterious means, had found out her whereabouts? She wanted to scream with frustration—would have done anything to be able to pour out her troubles to Rodolfo, to tell him the truth and be done with it.

But that was impossible.

He must never know how far she’d got into trouble. He’d been so kind and tolerant. But what if he knew this? He would be disgusted by her. The thought made her shiver.

‘Are you cold?’ he enquired, coming to sit next to her and slipping his arm about her.

‘No, no, I’m fine,’ she lied, swallowing.

‘Victoria, I think you know that I want you very much,’ Rodolfo said, letting his fingers thread through her golden mane of hair.

‘I—’

‘There’s no need to say anything. Just let me lead the way.’

She hesitated. Then he rose. Unable to resist, she did too. She wanted this man more than anything, even though she knew that there was no future with him. But somehow it didn’t matter. What she needed now was to be in his arms, to feel him hold her, forget the nightmare taking place in her public life and give way to her inner desires.

Slowly they moved through the living room and into the bedroom of the extensive apartment. Rodolfo closed the door, then turned her towards him.

‘Cara mia, you are so lovely,’ he whispered, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on her temple, her neck, and down to her breast. Her heart was beating so fast she didn’t think she could breathe. Then his hands began slipping off her top. In one quick movement he loosened her bra. It fell to the floor and she stood before him, her golden hair falling over her naked breasts.

‘Bellissima,’ he murmured, leading her to the bed and laying her down among the pillows.

Soon they were lying naked next to one another. Victoria’s pulse raced as she thought of what she was about to do. This was the first time she’d been to bed with a man. Would Rodolfo be disappointed at her lack of experience? But it was too late to turn back—too late to have regrets. All at once she knew that this man would always be special in her life, even though they would probably only spend a few days with each other.

He would be the first to love her.

‘Victoria, you are so lovely, so beautiful.’ He touched her cheek, then his fingers trailed down her neck to the tip of her breast. Lightly he caressed her, taunting.

And Victoria did not resist. It was too delicious, too wonderful to be here, lying in his arms, prey to new and wonderful sensations. When his lips sought the tip of her breast and his fingers coursed between her thighs she gasped at the novel awareness. Pulling her to him, Rodolfo pressed her against him, making her feel his desire.

‘I want you, cara,’ he repeated hoarsely, eyes holding hers.

Victoria couldn’t reply, simply allowed him to continue this wonderful magic he was performing on her body, which left her pliant and limp with a need so strong she could not do anything but let out a sigh of longing. As though sensing her need, Rodolfo let his fingers venture further, seeking her core, caressing now in new ways, seeking the deepest secrets of her being. And Victoria gave way, let out a little cry when at last he brought her to completion, and she arched before falling back in his arms.

‘You must tell what you like, what you want,’ he whispered, still unaware that she had never shared an adventure like this before. Then, before she could answer, he straddled her, and lowered himself on top of her. How he wanted to reach inside her, feel the wet honeyed heat he’d already touched. But as he eased himself inside her a surprise awaited him. All at once he stopped, and his eyes sought hers.

‘Cara, is this possible?’ he said in a low husky voice. ‘Are you a virgin?’

‘Yes,’ Victoria whispered, flushed with excitement and embarrassment. Perhaps Rodolfo would despise her for being such an innocent.

‘But, my darling, you should have told me,’ he murmured, drawing back. ‘This puts a completely different light on the situation.’

He was about to withdraw completely when her arms came up about his neck and her eyes met his.

‘No. It doesn’t. I want you, Rodolfo. I want the first time to be with you,’ she whispered, drawing him back towards her.

‘Are you absolutely certain?’ he muttered, finding it hard to exercise self-control when her body was arching towards him, her eyes filled with such passion and longing.

‘Absolutely sure.’

For a moment he hesitated. Then slowly he entered her once more. ‘I promise I’ll do my best not to hurt you, cara,’ he whispered.

Victoria knew a moment’s pain as he penetrated her. Then it faded and her body relaxed. Heat rushed to her breasts, to her abdomen. She felt herself melting, needed to feel him deeper inside her. Her hips arched, following the rhythm of this new and exciting dance, until they moved together in a primal ritual. She threw her head back and let out a low gasp of delight when together they came, falling over the edge of a high precipice and collapsing in each other’s arms onto the rumpled sheets.

As he lay holding her in his arms Rodolfo let out a sigh of satisfaction. It was ages since he’d experienced anything so intense as their lovemaking. In fact, if truth be told, he’d only known it once before—with Giada. Now, as he stroked Victoria’s hair and kissed her temple tenderly, he felt a new and heightened responsibility towards this girl who had entrusted him with her womanhood.

‘Are you all right?’ he said, slipping away from her to lie next to her, his hand moving to her abdomen in a protective gesture that did not go unnoticed.

Victoria nodded. Her throat was knotted and she couldn’t speak. So many emotions were going through her. It was wonderful, thrilling. Yet it was difficult to face the fact that the situation was nothing but a transient affair which would end in a few days when life went back to normal.

‘I’m fine,’ she whispered, when at last she was able to speak.

‘Are you sure?’ He looked down at her tenderly, his dark eyes filled with concern. She could read the doubt. Yet there was also a look of pride in his expression. And she realised that he was taking her initiation into the world of love much more seriously than she had expected. It touched her, and tears filled her eyes. ‘Cara, what is the matter?’ he said, frowning, ‘did I hurt you?’

‘No, Rodolfo, it’s nothing. I’m just a bit mixed up, that’s all. So much has happened in the past few days, and now this. Don’t get me wrong. It’s wonderful. I’m glad it happened. I wanted it as much as you. It’s just a lot to handle, that’s all.’

‘I understand, cara.’ He held her close, kissed her hair and let his arms enfold her.

Victoria gloried in the embrace, wished it could go on for ever, and heaved a sigh of regret that soon she would be on her way and life as she’d known it for the past couple of days would be nothing but a distant memory.

CHAPTER SIX

‘YOU CAN’T STAY HIDDEN there for ever,’ Anne insisted next day, when Victoria phoned her, sitting perched on the balustrade of the terrace looking down past the olive groves at the sea.

‘Anne, I—’ Victoria wanted to tell her about Bill, about the awful phone call and how scared she was. But something stopped her.

‘What is it, Vic?’

‘Nothing.’

Anne hesitated. ‘Vic, is something the matter?’

‘No, not at all. In fact very much the opposite. The Prince has been a wonderful host.’

‘Look, they want to shoot those pictures in London in four days.’

‘Four days?’

‘Exactly. I’ve made arrangements for a jet to pick you up on the island and fly you to London. I’ll be there to pick you up.’

So she’d been right. It was all a dream that would come to an end as fast as it had begun. Victoria stared at the sea, at a woman leading a loaded donkey on the path below, and sighed.

‘Vic? Are you still there? Tell me, how did you like the island? See any property that you might want to invest in?’

‘It’s very nice. But frankly I’m not sure about it.’ The thought of being on the island, so close to Rodolfo and having to perhaps see him with another woman, would be unbearable, she realised suddenly. The last thing she wanted was to live here if she couldn’t be with him. ‘We’ll talk about it when I see you.’

‘Okay. Fine. Have a good time. I’ll call you again with the departure time. By the way, I think things are beginning to die down on the press front. Ed’s cooled down.’

‘Good. Bye then.’

Victoria swallowed as she laid down the receiver. She thought of Bill and the twenty-four-hour deadline he’d given her to come up with some cash. Should she pay him off and be left in peace for a while? Or would he simply become an ongoing threat, always there, ready to blackmail her whenever he wanted more money?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a movement from inside the castello. She looked up. A tall, slim blonde woman in well-cut white trousers and a black linen top, with a large leather handbag flung over her shoulder and a haughty expression, stepped onto the terrace.

‘And who,’ she demanded peremptorily, ‘are you?’ She tipped up her designer sunglasses to take better stock of Victoria.

‘I’m staying here,’ Victoria replied, bristling. Who was this creature, and what right did she have to question her?

‘Oh. How strange,’ she said. She had a foreign accent. ‘Where is he—do you know?’

‘Who?’

‘Why, the Prince, of course. Who else?’ The woman cast Victoria a withering look.

‘I have no idea. Perhaps in his office,’ Victoria replied coldly. ‘He said he had business to attend to.’

‘I see. Are you the new secretary?’ the woman enquired, looking her up and down. ‘Why aren’t you inside working?’

‘Look, I really don’t see what business it is of yours who I am or what I do,’ Victoria muttered icily.

At that moment Rodolfo stepped out onto the terrace. He took in the scene and cleared his throat. ‘Alexandra. What an unexpected surprise. I didn’t know you were on the island.’

‘My yacht anchored this morning. You look in good form, mein lieber.’ The woman sidled up to him, slipped an arm around his neck and deposited a kiss on his lips.

‘Uh, yes, I’m fine. I see you’ve met Victoria,’ Rodolfo added hastily, amazed at Countess Alexandra’s extraordinary behaviour.

She was one of the women the council had suggested he marry. Seeing her now, next to Victoria, he realised how impossible that would be. Alexandra was domineering and cold, even though her beauty and chic were undeniable. He glanced at Victoria, saw the tempestuous pain in her eyes, and felt his heart sink. The way Alexandra was behaving, Victoria would naturally believe there was something between them.

‘I haven’t been introduced. I didn’t know you allowed your staff to dawdle about,’ Alexandra pronounced in a low sultry voice.

‘Staff?’

‘Well, isn’t she your new secretary?’ Alexandra said, as though Victoria weren’t there.

‘Whatever gave you that idea?’ Rodolfo returned, annoyed, and stepped pointedly away from her. ‘Victoria, may I introduce Countess Alexandra von Bellinghof? This is Victoria Woodward. You have perhaps seen her in the movie which won so much acclaim at the Cannes Film Festival.’

Alexandra looked taken aback, but she quickly came about. ‘Ah, yes, of course. I should have recognised you immediately. After all, you’ve been front-page news for the past few days, haven’t you?’ The Countess’s tone was patronising and laced with venom.

Victoria seethed inwardly, but held her temper in check. She could tell the woman was determined to provoke her but she wouldn’t rise to the bait.

‘Part of the trials of fame,’ she answered languidly. ‘One keeps on having to deal with the paparazzi and the gutter press.’

‘Victoria is here incognito,’ Rodolfo said hastily. ‘I shall expect your complete discretion,’ he insisted.

‘Oh, goodness. Well, of course.’ Alexandra waved a dismissive hand. ‘I’m sure you have enough troubles without being hounded by the curious. Though, of course, if one has the unwholesome habits you’re reputed to indulge in, then…’ She let the rest of the sentence trail, turned from Victoria and shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s the best one can expect.’

Rodolfo’s blood boiled, and he replied icily, ‘Alexandra, you should have called before coming here. I’m afraid this isn’t a very convenient time. Why don’t I give you a buzz when I’m able to make some arrangement to see you socially?’ he said, slipping his hand under her elbow and guiding her firmly back towards the living room.

Victoria was pleased to see the woman’s features stiffen. Then Alexandra drew herself up and sniffed. ‘Of course—I’m sorry if I’m in the way. I shall leave immediately. You are obviously very busy. I imagine you must be amusing yourself quite nicely,’ she added, in a low conspiratorial voice that was calculated to reach Victoria.

Despite her anger, Victoria’s cheeks turned red. Was it written all over her that she’d slept with Rodolfo? Or was the woman just a bitch? Whichever the case, she felt diminished and offended.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ Rodolfo said a couple of minutes later. ‘Alexandra was being particularly obnoxious today.’ He laughed, making light of the situation, but Victoria could see that he was ruffled.

‘Who is she anyway?’

‘A German countess whose parents have a property on the island.’

‘She seemed to be quite intimate with you.’

‘Hmmm.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I have a feeling that was for your benefit.’

‘Why?’

‘I think Alexandra sensed something between us. She knows that the council of the island are urging me to find a suitable wife and get married. They are concerned with the succession. Obviously Alexandra has her own agenda.’ He approached, lifted Victoria’s chin and peered into her clear grey eyes. ‘Don’t tell me you’re jealous, cara?’

Victoria caught the glint of male satisfaction in his eyes. ‘Not in the least,’ she answered, sending him a bright smile. She would not let him know the devastating effect of Alexandra’s gestures. She would not give him that satisfaction.

Swooping an arm possessively around her, Rodolfo brought her up close. ‘How about a drive around the island? We could picnic somewhere, if you like, or I could take you to lunch at my favourite restaurant in Lamara—a village at the end of the island. I promise you Alexandra won’t bother us again. I sent her away with a flea in her ear.’

A slow smile hovered about Victoria’s lips. His words mollified her defiant mood. ‘Okay, that sounds very nice,’ she said, lifting her face for his kiss.

THE RIDE TO THE OTHER SIDE of the island was delightful. Together they wandered hand in hand up a hill to the little rustic fish restaurant, all crooked whitewashed walls and bright blue shutters, perched on the edge of a cliff overlooking the pristine sandy beach below. Immediately a large grey-haired lady in a bright flowered apron, wreathed in smiles, came to greet them.

‘Your Highness, what a pleasure to see you. And so well accompanied,’ the woman said with a broad smile.

She showed them to a secluded table with a wonderful view, and soon the red and white checkered tablecloth was covered with all sorts of dishes, ranging from fried fish to squid salad, lobster and a local specialty of meatballs in a delicious sauce that Victoria had grown particularly fond of in the past few days.

Now that they were away from the palace, and Alexandra’s oppressive presence, she’d recovered her mood of the night before. It was difficult to think of anything disagreeable like Bill’s ultimatum when she was being treated to so much solicitude. Determined to enjoy herself, she pushed the impending threat to the back of her mind. What could he do that hadn’t already been done? The scandal was fading, according to Anne—a seven-day wonder. Soon she would just be another item of old news.

Rodolfo was charming, as always, and she found herself melting inside when she looked at him, remembering all that had taken place the previous night. There was a new tenderness and intimacy between them that she had never known with a man before. What would it be like to leave? she wondered as she sipped a glass of chilled water. What would Hollywood and all the hype be like after this? That, and knowing that she probably wouldn’t ever see him again? Her heart sank at the thought.

Just as she was about to take another sip of water a shadow fell on the table and she looked up. A scruffy young man stood there, a smirk on his face.

‘Hi, gorgeous,’ he drawled in an American accent. ‘Having a nice day? Knew I’d find you if I looked hard enough.’

Rodolfo was looking at her, then at the young man.

‘Who are you?’ Victoria demanded, feeling her pulse race and her stomach lurch. This had to be Bill. How on earth had he found her?

‘You know what they say. You can run but you can’t hide.’ Bill wagged a finger at her and smirked again.

‘What do you want?’ she muttered, swallowing.

‘I told you what I wanted when I called you last night. But I guess it’s too late for that, honeybunch. You had your chance and you didn’t take it. Tough.’ With that he pulled a small camera from his pocket and snapped several quick shots.

‘Who the hell is this?’ Rodolfo rose quickly to his feet as Bill stepped niftily away from the table and made for the door.

‘He’s someone from LA. He—well—’ Oh, how could she tell Rodolfo?

‘What, Victoria? Tell me at once,’ Rodolfo commanded, leaning towards her and taking her hand in his. ‘You must tell me. He’s taken pictures. I need to know.’

‘He’s the boyfriend of the girl who introduced me to the doctor who gave me the pills,’ she said in a half-whisper. ‘He’s already tried to blackmail me. He—’

But before she could finish Rodolfo had spun on his heel and was marching across the restaurant. He caught up with Bill as he was about to get into his Jeep.

‘Hey—you!’ Rodolfo threw at the coarse-looking unshaven creature. ‘Give me that camera at once.’

‘You have to be kidding. This is tomorrow’s headlines.’ Bill patted the camera smugly. ‘You may run your own little show here on your fantasy island, Your Royal Highness, but where I come from money talks. Sorry.’ He made to switch on the engine.

But before he could do so Rodolfo lunged forward and caught him by the scruff of his neck. ‘I’m asking you nicely,’ he said, his voice low and filled with menace.

‘Hey, leave me be,’ the man said, trying pull away, his expression ugly. ‘I have every right to take pictures of who the hell I want.’

‘Not on my island, you don’t. As you just pointed out, I run the show around here. If you don’t give me that camera immediately I shall have you arrested for harassment. That, I believe, is a term that you should be familiar with where you come from?’

‘Hey, you can’t do that,’ Bill protested. Then, after pushing Rodolfo away, he revved the engine and skidded off down the earth road, leaving a trail of dust in his wake.

Without hesitation Rodolfo pulled out his mobile and called the local police. They would stop Bill at the port. No way would he allow Victoria to be blackmailed or harassed by the press or by some unscrupulous drug dealer.

As he slipped his phone back in his shirt pocket and stepped back into the restaurant, it occurred to Rodolfo that his reaction had been somewhat out of proportion. It had been that of a man protecting the woman he cared for, he thought suddenly. He looked across at Victoria, standing uneasily by their table, not knowing what to do, and smiled at her reassuringly. He did care for her, he realised, more than he would have imagined—certainly more than he ever would have deemed possible. Last night, spent together in each other’s arms, had been so special, so filled with extraordinary sensations and tenderness, that he would find it hard to forget.

Banishing his thoughts, Rodolfo went over to her. ‘The police will cut him off further down the road or at the ferry, so don’t worry. He won’t leave the island with those pictures. And if he doesn’t give the camera up voluntarily he’ll go to jail for a few hours. That should do the trick.’ He smiled down at her, his fingers touching her hair, and he made her sit down again. ‘There is no need to worry, Victoria. All that is behind you now, cara mia. But you must swear something to me.’

‘What is that?’ she asked sinking back onto the chair, her hand still held in his.

‘That if anybody should come bothering you or threatening you again, you will tell me at once. Trust me, Victoria. Above all, I’m your friend.’

She swallowed, then nodded silently, allowed him to pour her some more mineral water and sat with her hand covered by his.

‘Promise?’ He raised his glass to hers.

‘I promise,’ she said, smiling into his eyes. It felt strangely reassuring to know that he cared for her enough to worry about her well-being. ‘I wish I didn’t have to go back to Hollywood and that whole scene,’ she said suddenly.

‘Then why not drop the whole thing?’

‘Because I love acting—and the script of this new movie. It’s what I’ve always wanted. I can’t just run away. I would never forgive myself. I just wish—’ She cut off abruptly, looked down into her glass and sighed.

‘What do you wish?’ he asked softly.

‘That I was made of sterner stuff,’ she replied with a smile.

‘You are strong. But that world is full of traps. I know—I’ve seen it close-up. Are you sure you have to go?’

‘I have to. Apart from the fact that I’d never be able to face myself if I failed, I’m under contract. Ed would have a fit. No,’ she said, shaking her head and sipping more water, ‘I’m just going to have to face it.’

‘And fall back into old habits?’ he said, raising a harsh dark brow and withdrawing his hand from hers.

‘No. I’m determined not to.’

‘Easily said, when sitting here away from it all,’ he remarked dryly. ‘You don’t want to go back to popping pills, but you can’t guarantee that you won’t when the going gets tough.’

‘I will do my very best, I promise. And I’ll have Dottore Manfreddo’s tea.’

‘That’s not good enough,’ he said harshly, his eyes meeting hers. ‘I want you to swear to me that you won’t ever take those things again. Don’t you realise the danger? You have no idea what you’re taking. They could kill you, Victoria.’

Her eyes met his full-on, and she read the concern and anger in them and felt sudden resentment at his attitude. ‘Rodolfo, it’s easy enough for you to judge. You live here, in this magical kingdom, protected from everything. It’s different out there in the real world. I don’t want to fall back into anything, and I don’t believe I will now that I know the full truth, but I can’t promise you that in a crisis I won’t, because I don’t honestly know. I’d be lying. Sometimes the stress is overwhelming and, as we both know, I’m not good at too much pressure.’

‘You’re right,’ he conceded reluctantly. ‘Will you at least promise me that if you’re feeling down, overwhelmed or whatever, you will call me before doing anything rash, and that together we’ll find a solution? As I said before, cara mia, I’m above all your friend.’

She nodded. ‘I promise.’

Her friend. That was all. She supposed it was a lot but she wished he had said, I’m the man who loves you. But that wasn’t to be, she argued reasonably. And she was foolish even to think of such a thing.

Several minutes later Rodolfo rang the police and was advised that Bill had been stopped on the road and his camera confiscated. He had left the island furious, threatening lawsuits. But that, as Rodolfo knew, was just hot air.

‘He can threaten as much as he likes. The laws here do not permit harassment of my residents,’ he said autocratically. ‘Victoria, I suggest we go back to the castello and take a long afternoon siesta?’

He sent her an intimate smile filled with promise. His tender eyes and fingers, caressing the inside of her wrist, sent shivers jolting through her. Was it foolish to allow him to make love to her again? Was it courting trouble? Perhaps. But how could she resist? She had only a few days left before the dream came to an end and she returned to reality. She knew that, whatever the consequences for her own heart, she must live it to the full or regret it for the rest of her life.

A HEAT HAZE SHIMMERED outside, but in the shuttered bedroom of Rodolfo’s apartment the atmosphere was cool. Drawing Victoria towards him, Rodolfo slipped her top off, then her skirt and lacy undergarments. There was no pretence, no lingering over niceties, just a deep-rooted need to be in each other’s arms, skin to skin, throbbing heart to throbbing heart.

As her bra fell to the floor and his eyes fell upon her upturned breasts he sighed. ‘Ah, bellissima Victoria, how shall I be able to let you go?’ he whispered, letting his fingers trail down her throat, then down to caress the tips of her taut nipples.

She swallowed, eyes closed, then let out a tiny gasp of delight when his thumb grazed the aching tips and his other hand reached between her thighs for that special secret spot inside that she had never known existed until yesterday.

Next they were lying on the bed. Rodolfo caressed her, relishing the warmth, her honeyed response as his fingers reached inside her, making her writhe with delight as expertly he stroked while he took the tip of her nipple between his teeth, taunted and laved, driving her to distraction.

Only when he knew she could bear it no longer, that he had brought her to a peak several times, did he allow himself the ultimate pleasure. In one quick thrust he penetrated her, making her gasp. This was not the tender lovemaking of yesterday, but a hot, harsh need for completion in which she joined him. Braced on his hands above her, Rodolfo took her in long deep thrusts that left her on the verge of madness. Then she curled her legs around his waist and brought him down upon her, and together they spiralled once more, reaching new heights of unexpected pleasure, spinning into a whirlwind of delight that knew no boundaries.

CHAPTER SEVEN

HER BAGS WERE PACKED and she was ready to go.

Gazing out over the cliff and down to the sea, Victoria could barely believe that her time on Malvarina had gone by so fast. The past days had been spent making love, dining in Rodolfo’s apartment, living as if they were a couple, not two strangers who had come together by chance and whose lives were about to take different routes.

‘The car is ready.’ Rodolfo came up behind her and slipped his hands around her shoulders. ‘I shall miss you, cara, more than you can ever imagine.’

Victoria swallowed. She had promised herself to be brave, not to let her feelings get involved. But that was impossible. Rodolfo was all she’d ever dreamed of in a man. Now she was about to lose him for ever. Silent tears coursed down her cheeks and she swallowed hard, determined to try and put up a good front.

‘Cara, what is the matter?’ he asked, seeing her tears. He raised his thumb to her cheek and brushed them away. ‘You must not cry, darling. We have spent the most wonderful time together—a time that neither of us will ever forget.’

She nodded, forced herself to smile and pretend that all was well. ‘I’m fine. Just a little emotionally upset at the thought of having to go back, that’s all.’

He frowned. ‘Victoria, remember your promise.’ She nodded, and he took her hand. With one last look at the sea she turned and followed him. This interlude would remain etched in her mind for ever, she realised.

Soon they were reaching the island’s small airport, where the jet Anne had sent for Victoria was already on the tarmac. As she and Rodolfo alighted from the car and someone from the plane took her luggage, a familiar voice reached them.

‘Rodolfo, darling.’ Alexandra marched over towards them and, ignoring Victoria, slipped a hand onto Rodolfo’s shoulder. She dropped a kiss on his cheek. ‘It’s been awfully lonely without you, mein lieber. Where on earth have you been hiding?’ she asked, an insinuating smile touching her lips.

‘I’ve been busy. You remember Victoria?’ he said pointedly, removing her hand from his shoulder.

Alexandra turned with a raised brow and looked Victoria over from head to foot. ‘Ah, yes, the Hollywood headline. I’d forgotten.’

Victoria stood her ground and gave her a similar look back, but didn’t bother to answer. Instead she turned to Rodolfo. ‘I’d better be going,’ she murmured.

‘Of course. Goodbye, Alexandra.’

‘Bye-bye, caro,’ the Countess schmoozed. ‘I hope I’ll be seeing more of you now that you’ll be less occupied,’ she added with a significant look.

Rodolfo simply picked up Victoria’s tote bag, which she was taking with her on the plane, and slipped his hand under her elbow.

They walked in silence, accompanied by two airport staff. Victoria felt the pressure of his hand on her elbow and closed her eyes tight, as though trying to engrave the memory—the feel of him—inside her for ever.

Then they were at the plane. Rodolfo handed her bag to the crew and followed her on board into the sleek yet impersonal cabin, with its beige leather seats and glistening chrome tables.

‘Well, I guess this is it,’ he said, looking into her eyes.

‘I guess so,’ she answered as they stood uncomfortably aware of one another. Then suddenly she was in his arms and he was holding her tight. ‘Take care of yourself, cara. And remember. I’m here if you need me. Stay in touch, won’t you?’

She nodded into his shoulder, swallowing the flood of tears so near to the surface. Then she raised her face and his lips came down on hers, firm, warm and possessive. His arms caressed her back and they embraced. It was a kiss she’d hoped would last for ever, but inevitably it came to an end.

Rodolfo raised his head, smiled down into her eyes. ‘I think I’d better go now,’ he said. And, raising her fingers to his lips one last time, he kissed them. ‘Bon voyage, cara. Thank you for some of the most beautiful moments of my life. I will remember our time together for as long as I live.’

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