The Knight's Kiss

by Nicole Burnham

  She dropped her head against the island as quietly as possible. How could she have gotten herself into this mess?

  “Hold on,” Stefano’s voice boomed from the front of the store. “You keep searching out here. I have one more place I can check.”

  Within seconds, Stefano was back in the room with them. He stood still for a second, then leaned on the island directly in front of them.

  “Issy?” His voice came out so low she almost didn’t hear him. “Come on out, Sis. I heard noise in here before we came in. And you’re the only one who didn’t come to tonight’s reception.”

  She looked at Nick. His jerked his head toward the island and moved his mouth as if to say, go ahead.

  She stood. Better that than having Stefano come around the island to see both of them hiding there.

  Stefano’s smug grin greeted her as she placed the key in his hand. He leaned forward, kissed her on the cheek, then whispered in her ear, “You’re not as good at this as I am. Tell me next time you want to sneak out and I’ll give you some pointers.”

  She considered punching him, just to wipe the mocking look off his face, but knew Amanda would hear.

  Stef met her gaze, winked, then yelled to Amanda, “Found it!” With a final smirk, he spun on his heel and headed to the front of the store.

  As soon as the metal gate closed behind Amanda and Stefano, Nick collapsed against the island, holding his sides and laughing.

  “You think that was funny?”

  Nick snorted. Actually snorted, he laughed so hard. “Funniest thing I’ve seen in a long, long time. Think about it, Princess. Two world-famous royals sneaking around the back room of a hole-in-the-wall Italian bakery in the middle of the night just so they can get a little—”

  “Get a little what?”

  He cleared his throat and pretended to be serious. “A little…fresh air.”

  Isabella gave him a chastising shake of her head, but couldn’t suppress a smile. “Okay, so it was funny. And I’m happy for Stef that he found someone levelheaded who loves him as much as Amanda does.”

  “They are in love. No doubt about that.”

  “But what if Stef had caught us outside? Or worse, what if a reporter had seen us? Or even a tourist with a camera? We should never have done this.”

  Nick pushed himself up from the tile floor. This time, his serious expression wasn’t for show. “Do you really mean that?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know. I—”

  He moved closer, then put a hand on her shoulder. She loved the reassurance his touch gave her, but right now it didn’t seem to calm her.

  “You needed to get out and experience some freedom,” he said. “And to see that it’s okay for you to be with a man without worrying about what the tabloids might say.”

  “I see men all the time.”

  “But not alone. Not since you went to Harvard.” He lifted his hand from her shoulder to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “I understand why, but it doesn’t have to be that way. Life’s too short for you to remain a cooped-up virgin.”

  Anger mingled with embarrassment in her gut. “I never said—”

  “No shame in it, Princess. And before you ask, no, the whole world doesn’t know. Just supposition on my part.” He ran his thumb along her cheek and studied her for a moment, as if deciding how best to phrase what he wanted to say. “Trust me when I say I’ve seen too many women waste their entire lives waiting for the time to be ‘safe’ to follow their hearts. While your circumstance is unique, I couldn’t stand to see that happen to you. You’re too special a person. You deserve some happiness.” He shot a pointed look toward the front of the store. “Like your brother and Amanda.”

  “Maybe,” she whispered. “But what about my family? You should have seen what my father went through with Stefano before he met Amanda. Out gambling at all hours, refusing to attend palace events…and it’s different with a daughter. Look at what the Grimaldis have endured with Princess Stefanie. She even lived with a traveling circus, just because a man—”

  He shushed her with a look. “You’re not your brother, and you’re certainly not Princess Stefanie. You’re Isabella diTalora. And your judgment is sound. You want to go on a date, not join a traveling circus. And no one, not even the tabloids, will fault you or your family for that. You have to believe that. And any man who is lucky enough to date you will believe it, too.”

  “Nick—”

  “Just think about it. Tonight doesn’t have to be a one-time event for you. If you want to see men, then see them. I’m sure there are dozens of men who would kill for the opportunity to take you out, even once. Wear the glasses and hat if you want, but soon you’ll realize you don’t need them.”

  She must have looked as doubtful as she felt, because he whispered, “Just promise me you’ll think about it. Take a risk and live your life. Find someone to love. You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

  A tear rolled down her cheek before she could stop it. Had anyone ever spoken to her as he did? Her family cared about her, but no one ever bothered to ask if she was happy. They assumed it because that’s what she’d allowed them to see. And she had to admit, even if they had asked, she’d have told them she was perfectly happy, thank you very much. Only Nick perceived the truth.

  She touched the smooth cotton of his black T-shirt, drawing from his strength, then letting the pads of her fingers linger on his firm shoulder. She could detect his raised scars, even through the fabric. As magical as their night was, he gave her the impression he wanted her to date other men. What could have damaged him so profoundly that he felt he could not love? Why couldn’t he take the same risk he encouraged her to take?

  She took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep her tears in check. “Okay, I promise. I’ll think about it.”

  “Good.”

  She looked him in the eye, but left her fingers on his shoulder. “Tell me, though, what do you need, Nick? You keep yourself even more isolated than I do. You see no one. Not in public, not in private. Perhaps that’s why you understand me so well. Because you’re in need, too?”

  His eyes narrowed, and she knew he erected fortifications around his heart she might never penetrate. But she had to try, at least one more time.

  “I can’t tell you why, Princess. I want to, but—” He leaned forward, putting his forehead against hers. “I know it sounds like I’m trying to evade your questions. I’m not. I really do want to tell you, more than I’ve ever wanted to tell anyone. But it’s very complicated.”

  “More complicated than my life? You can’t possibly fear the paparazzi or bad press as much as I do.”

  “You have no idea.”

  Nick removed her hand from his scarred shoulder for the second time that night. He hated to put her off, knowing that if anyone on earth might believe his story, it would be Princess Isabella.

  But experience told him he needed to protect himself, and to protect her. If she heard his story and decided to stick by him, as Coletta had, he couldn’t live with himself.

  And though the tabloids might not skewer her for going on a simple date with an ordinary man, they’d rip her to shreds if she chose to date a man who claimed to be immortal. Her family would be hurt, she’d be convinced she was right to keep herself isolated and she’d be even worse off than before.

  “Listen, Princess,” he guided her away from the butcher block island, toward the passage, “it’s late, and we should both get some sleep. I have to get that report to you first thing in the morning, and you’re going to need to prepare for your meeting with the museum board.”

  The corners of her mouth tipped up, but he could still see pain in her eyes at his inability to share his secrets. “All right,” she replied. “But you aren’t off the hook.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  They strolled through the passage and into the storeroom hand in hand, without speaking. As they climbed the worn stone steps leading from the storeroom to the main area of the kee
p, they let go, drifting to opposite sides of the hallway. Entering the palace together, yet feeling the need once again to maintain a professional distance.

  When they reached the door to his guest suite, Isabella broke the silence. “Thank you, Nick. Dinner was wonderful.” She turned to face him in the semidarkeness. “It was a wonderful birthday gift, and I won’t forget it.”

  “Nor I. Happy twenty-ninth.” Sensing more was needed, despite the fact they were in a public hall and anyone could happen along, he leaned over and kissed her cheek. He breathed in the sweet, fresh scent of her hair, and nearly lost his resolve. Forcing himself to pull back, he added, “I’ll deliver the report to Nerina first thing.”

  He saw her swallow. “Thank you.”

  He turned the knob, and was halfway into the room when a thought occurred to him. Stepping back into the hall, he called to Isabella’s back, “Princess?”

  She froze, then spun around, anticipation on her face.

  “I’ve been thinking about your offer to fly Anne over here. I do think I’ll take you up on it.”

  The look of anticipation vanished, replaced by what he’d come to recognize as her “professional” expression.

  “Of course. I’ll arrange to have a ticket delivered to her in Boston at your convenience and will have the staff prepare a guest suite for her.” She gave him a curt nod, making it clear she didn’t care to talk any more that night. “If you need anything else, just let Nerina know. Good night.”

  “Good night,” he answered, but she was already halfway down the hall. He closed the door to his room, then pounded the wall with his fist hard enough to cause bruising by morning, though it was his heart that would likely ache.

  He hated to hurt Isabella. He didn’t regret taking her out and proving to her that she could enjoy life, but he should have resisted her kisses.

  He leaned his head against the cool stone wall and mimicked his favorite Star Trek line, “Resistance is futile.” Isabella diTalora fit too perfectly into his arms. He had no more strength to resist her than a starving man would if offered a gourmet feast.

  Without thinking, his fingers drifted to the scars on his shoulder, obtained in battle two years before he’d met Rufina. Nearly all the knights he knew suffered injuries at one time or another, either on the battlefield or during training, and their bodies bore the scars. His own wounds healed as well as could be hoped back in the twelfth century, without the benefit of modern medicine, and he hadn’t thought much about them since.

  But Isabella did. She cared, just as she cared about his isolation and realized that he didn’t live this way by choice.

  He turned his head enough to look out the modern window that now occupied one wall of his small suite. Below, elegant roses and clipped boxwood hedges filled the area that once held King Bernardo’s herb garden and a well. To his left, the main area of the palace, which hadn’t even existed during his years here, stretched out across its majestic hilltop perch, overlooking the casinos, theaters and business district below. A lone bright light shone in the area occupied by the family’s private apartments, but otherwise, all were dimmed for the evening.

  He couldn’t help but wonder if the light belonged to Isabella. And if their night on the town left her as agitated and full of need as it left him. They belonged together, body and soul, and he sensed she felt the same way. Or she would, if they spent more time alone.

  But he couldn’t have her, not until he broke the curse, if he could even break the curse. She deserved to see someone else, and he had to let her. Just as he should have let Coletta go, no matter how much he’d wanted her to remain with him.

  He sighed as the bright light in the main palace was extinguished. At least with Anne around to help with the museum project, more of his time could be freed up to follow his own quest.

  He closed his eyes, praying that he might finally break the curse. Never had he felt so close, nor had he ever felt more desperate.

  And in the meantime, having his secretary present in the storeroom would keep him from succumbing to temptation where Princess Isabella was concerned.

  If he kissed her again, they’d both be lost.

  Chapter Eight

  Isabella nodded to the familiar night guard stationed outside her palace apartments, then opened the main door and flipped on the light. As she expected, the staff had completed their usual whirlwind preparations for the next day. A typewritten copy of her schedule sat perfectly centered on the small cherry writing desk beside her door, courtesy of Nerina. A chocolate-colored silk suit appropriate for her morning appointments hung on a small rack beside her armoire, with matching shoes and a prepacked purse neatly laid out on a chair nearby. A black pantsuit of lightweight wool hung behind the silk, with a small note attached indicating it would be appropriate for her meeting with the museum staff and the dinner she’d planned with her father, should she choose to change.

  The brocade comforter topping her bed was neatly folded back, leaving her Egyptian cotton sheets exposed. A deeply cut crystal pitcher containing cool water rested on her nightstand beside a matching tumbler, and she knew a freshly fluffed bathrobe awaited her inside the luxurious marble bathroom.

  Here, nothing had changed. Inside her, everything changed.

  Part of her wanted to return to Nick’s room, to knock on his door and to kiss him again the second he opened it. Before he could think, before he could make an excuse or put her off. Every molecule in her body screamed for his touch, and the same overwhelming need tortured him, she knew it did. She might be a virgin and fairly inexperienced with men, but she hadn’t just fallen off the turnip truck, either. No one could mistake the hunger in Nick’s kisses, the need in his gaze or the admiring way his hands caressed her body.

  So what held him back?

  She kicked off her flats beside the front door, still amazed she’d ventured out in public dressed in such casual clothes, then picked up her schedule from the desk.

  Beneath the schedule, a sheet of ivory stationery bearing Federico’s neat handwriting caught her attention. Instantly, her hand went to her stomach. The boys! She’d promised to tuck them in, and in her excitement at going out on the town, she’d completely forgotten. Federico had to be furious, and the boys so disappointed. How could she have been so thoughtless?

  She picked up the page and began reading Federico’s always-formal Italian.

  Dearest Sister,

  Arturo and Paolo were naturally saddened that you were unable to read to them this evening. Whether your absence was accidental or intentional, please accept my deepest gratitude. I enjoyed having the opportunity to spend some quiet hours with my sons, and for the first time in a long while, we read and sang songs and truly enjoyed ourselves. I needed to see for myself that I can be comfortable laughing again, and wouldn’t have done so without being pushed into spending some time alone with the children.

  After the boys went to sleep, I phoned Nerina and enquired as to your whereabouts. She said little save that you had a prior engagement. I then realized, dear sister, that today is your birthday. Please forgive me for failing to give you my heartfelt good wishes. I do hope you found your own enjoyment tonight—you deserve some happiness after all you have done for Arturo, Paolo and me since Lucrezia’s death. Indeed, for all you have done for our family. Until tonight, when you were not here, I failed to realize the many sacrifices you make for us.

  Again, please accept my apologies, and my gratitude for all you do. If you wish, Arturo and Paolo would be happy to share a birthday cake with you tomorrow evening. But if you have other plans, I encourage you to pursue them.

  Ever in your debt,

  Federico

  Isabella blinked in disbelief, then read the note again. Gratitude for missing the boys’ bedtime story. Not what she’d expected, yet she didn’t doubt Federico’s sincerity.

  She scribbled a note on her schedule reminding her to stop by Federico’s apartments the next night. Then, smiling to herself, she folded Federi
co’s letter for safekeeping in her nightstand. Someday Federico might learn not to be so formal, at least with his own siblings, but for now, she’d treasure his heartfelt words.

  She slid the nightstand drawer closed, thinking that perhaps Nick was right after all. Perhaps her family would understand if she dipped her toe in the relationship waters. Not that she’d allow herself to get caught kissing a man on a public bench—that had been a dreadful lapse in judgment—but what harm could there possibly be in sharing a candlelight dinner under the stars, enjoying good conversation and a glass of wine, provided her date didn’t mind a flash-bulb going off now and then?

  Unless, of course, the man with whom she shared that dinner harbored a secret the tabloids could expose, then use to destroy her family’s reputation.

  She sat on the edge of her bed and propped her chin in her hands. Nick had taken pains to evade the paparazzi’s cameras at the airport the day he’d arrived in San Rimini. And tonight she’d been well-disguised, so his chances of being photographed were minimal. Still, she’d sensed he remained on edge, constantly alert for anyone who might snap a photo of them. But was his edginess because he feared for her, or for himself as well?

  And why did he seem to be encouraging her to see other men? Did he genuinely believe a relationship between the two of them was impossible, despite the undeniable chemistry they shared? What secret could be so devastating?

  She threaded her fingers through her hair. “Why, Nick? Why won’t you tell me?”

  Pushing off the bed, she slid into feet into her flats and strode out the front door. The guard jumped when she stopped beside him.

  “Your Serene Highness!”

  “Sorry to disturb you. I was wondering, do you know what time Jack Donnington arrives in the morning?”

  “Your father’s chief of security? I believe he is here now. He was briefing the night watch at your brother Antony’s apartments when I came on duty, Your Highness. If you need to speak with him, you might try ringing his office.” In the dim light of the hallway, she could see the guard’s brow pucker in concern. “I—I hope you have not been dissatisfied with my service?”