The Amalfi Bride by Ann Major

Author:Ann Major
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Man-Woman Relationships, Italy, Princes, Americans - Italy, Single women, Contemporary, Fiction, Romance, Women Laywers, Italians, Love Stories, Amalfi (Italy), General, Texas, Pregnant women
ISBN: 9780373767847
Publisher: Silhouette
Published: 2006-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Regina scanned the tapestries, paintings and antiques and tried to act as if she wasn’t the least bit intimidated by the opulent grandeur of the beautiful salon. In truth, she felt like a naughty little girl who’d run away from a paid tour and had gotten lost in the grand palazzo and would be found and scolded for such mischief.

Where was Nico? Why didn’t he come? Had he forgotten she even existed?

His regal mother in her silk designer suit and exquisite pearls had gone through the motions of behaving graciously to Regina, greeting the limousine with a frozen smile. She’d even extended an icy hand to Regina and had offered tea, which Regina had desired but politely refused, not wanting to put the princess to more trouble. The princess had pursed her lips. The next moment, Regina had been asked if she would be a dear and wait while the princess and Nico discussed “the situation” alone. When Regina had nodded, a tall, imperious man in a stiff, black suit that emphasized his height and gauntness, introduced to her as Tiberio Abruzzi, had whisked her out of the way and escorted her here.

Glancing at her watch every five seconds, Regina tried to sit as still as one of the marble statues. She really tried, but the brocade chair was stiff and she’d been here nearly an hour. And she didn’t have a clue about what was going on.

Every time she turned toward the door, her gaze met Abruzzi’s forbidding black eyes. His face was shaped like a skull, his skin white as a cadaver. Was he as old as the castle, or rather, the palazzo?

Definitely, he’d been ordered to watch her. Thus, she’d sat as still as she could for as long as she could with her hands folded neatly across her lap.

Then like a toddler restrained too long, she burst out of her chair. The ancient chair groaned, and when she began to pace the parquet floor, Abruzzi’s brooding gaze followed her as it seemed the painted eyes of Nico’s ancestors did, as well. Feeling selfconscious, she walked the length of the golden oak-and-porcelain-filled Gothic sitting room and then retraced her steps.

She stopped in front of a portrait of a staid, elderly man in red velvet, who had a particularly disquieting stare. A cardinal? One of Nico’s predecessors? Had he been painted by one of the old masters? When she moved closer to inspect the artist’s signature, Abruzzi stepped closer.

Warned, she jumped back from the painting, and like a shadow, he receded to his former place. Afraid that the glittering antique glass-and-gem-studded snuff boxes on all the little tables were worth a fortune, Regina steered clear of them as she continued walking.

Feeling trapped and out of place in such dazzling surroundings, she stepped to a tall window and looked out at the lush, sloping lawns. Two white swans gliding serenely on a dark pool caught her attention.

How she envied them their beautiful garden. Was it only yesterday that Nico

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