Beauty and the Reclusive Prince (11 page)

“Señor Ortega is a friend of my father’s,” Isabella told
him comfortably. “Someday he’ll have his own full-size restaurant, just like we do.”

The food was wonderful and the beer was ice-cold. They ate and talked and even laughed a bit together as though they’d known each other forever. Whenever she stopped to think about it, Isabella felt a glow. She could hardly believe they seemed so good together. She’d never known a man like this before.

They finished up and walked the horse back to the estate gate.

“You see?” she told him. “That wasn’t so bad. You need to get out more and be a part of this area. After all, this place is yours. Your ancestors owned all this land and developed the village originally, didn’t they? You can’t just walk away and pretend it has no connection to you.”

He rolled his eyes and made a gesture with his hand meant to show that she talked too much, and she laughed.

They stopped while he used his code to open the gate. It creaked out of the way, giving them room to enter, and she looked up and down the length of what she could see of the long stucco wall.

“I can’t believe you have this wall around your whole huge property,” she said. “It must be miles and miles long.”

“And it took years and years to build it. About four hundred of them.”

She sighed, feeling the history and the romance of it all. “And now the wind and rain and everything else is working hard to tear it back down again,” she noted wistfully.

“Yes.” He steadied his horse and helped her mount. “Just like that Robert Frost poem about there being something that does not love a wall,” he added as he came up behind her and settled her into a comfortable place in front of him. “Nature abhors a wall more than it does a vacuum.”

She nodded, relaxing against him and feeling his arms come around her waist with a sense of warm pleasure. “Maybe you should work on tearing down some of your walls,” she murmured.

He groaned. “How did I know you were going to go in that direction?”

“Because you know you need to do it.”

His voice hardened a bit. “I’m not going to be lectured by you,” he warned her carefully.

She caught her breath. She certainly didn’t want to put him off, but, still, he needed to begin to live a real life, and if she didn’t help him do that, what good was she to him?

“Oh?” she said, deciding to use a humorous tone to help defray resentment. “Then who
will
you let do the lecturing?”

“No one.”

His voice was firm, but not angry, and she risked going on with it.

“You see? That’s your problem right there. You need other people in your life. You need to be with others, talk to people, hear some new opinions on things, new experiences in life. You’re alone too much.”

He shrugged. “I have the Internet.”

“The Internet!” She turned to try to look him in the face. “That’s like interacting with robots.”

“They’re not robots.” He actually sounded a bit offended that she would say such a thing. “They’re real people on real computers. I’m not quite the hermit you think I am.”

She shook her head. “You can’t see the people, you can’t judge their emotions. You can’t see their truth.”

“Truth,” he scoffed.

“Real life is better,” she insisted stubbornly.

He was silent for a moment, then he said, softly, “Real life can be painful.”

She drew in her breath. “Yes.” She wished she could turn and hug him. He was holding her, but loosely, impersonally. It was odd to be so close, and yet so far apart. “Pain is like rain. You need it to grow.”

He made a sound that was derisive, but with a touch of amusement that let her know he wasn’t taking offense to all her philosophizing.

“Too much rain floods out life,” he said, making it sound as though he were trying to bring in his own words to live by to stand against hers. “What then?” he challenged her.

“Then we learn to tread water,” she shot back.

He laughed softly. “Don’t worry about me, Bella. This is my lot in life. I can handle it.”

She loved that he’d used that affectionate nickname for her, but she wasn’t sure she liked the way his thoughts were tending otherwise.

She didn’t know what he meant. Was he expressing a fatalistic acceptance of his scars, or was he saying he could rise above that if he wished? She wanted to know, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to ask him to explain. So she was silent for the rest of the ride back to the castle.

They found Mimi grazing peacefully in the yard outside the kitchen with only about half the basil left under the strap that held the bags. Her wild ride to get home again must have sprayed it across the landscape.

“What a shame,” Max said, a smile in his eyes. “It looks like you’ll have to come back tomorrow and do this all over again.”

She turned to look at him. He reached out and touched her cheek with the palm of his hand. She covered his hand with her own as she searched his eyes.

“Shall I come back?” she asked him, wanting to make sure.

He nodded. “Yes,” he said.

She smiled at him, thinking of all they had been through today, and her heart was full. There were no words she could use, not right now. So she did the only thing she could think of. And in that moment, she would have done anything for him.

Reaching up, she took his face between her hands and kissed his mouth. He started to pull away at first, but she didn’t let him go. She kissed him and held him close and used her body to tell him what she couldn’t say with words. In a moment, he responded, curling his arms around her and kissing her back.

When she finally drew back, her eyes were swimming with tears, but his were smiling.

“Isabella,” he said softly, holding her chin in his hand as he looked into her eyes with something close to affection. “How did you so quickly become the sunshine of my life? Without you, I live in darkness. I only wish…”

He didn’t say what he wished, but she thought she knew. He wished she were just a little different. He wished he were just a bit more free to act on his inclinations. She wished those things too, and her heart broke a little just because reality was so cruel. But, for now, she was happy just to be with him. It was all she needed.

Isabella’s joy in the day faded quickly once she got back to the restaurant. Her father was waiting for her, his face creased with worry.

“Where have you been?” he demanded.

“I…Papa, I’ve brought back basil.” She lifted the bag to show him. “We’ll be able to use it again right away. I…”

“You’ve been with the prince.” He said the words as though she’d destroyed herself and her family’s reputation in one fell swoop and there was no turning back.

“What?”

She tried to laugh at his serious attitude. It was so completely over the top and something she’d never expected from him. But he was obviously sincere. This sort of anguish just floored her.

“Papa, it’s all right. He’s allowing me to continue to harvest the leaves and he’s helping me….”

Luca waved away her explanations. “I’ve heard all about it. I know you’ve been seeing him. And we all know what that means.”

Her head went back. She didn’t deserve this. Anger shot through her veins. Here she’d practically turned her life inside out in order to get the desperately needed ingredient, and when she returned in triumph, no one cared.

“Yes, I’ve been seeing him,” she retorted. “But I don’t think it means what you seem to think it does.”

He turned away, muttering curses and complaints and she stared after him, more angry than she’d been in ages. She was not one to dwell upon resentments, but she was feeling some now. After all she’d done for her family, after all her sacrifices and delayed dreams, she didn’t need payment—but she certainly could use a little acceptance and compassion. After all, she was very likely falling in love with a man she would never be able to have for her own. And all because she was trying to save the restaurant. A little family support would be helpful.

“You didn’t tell me,” he said, turning back. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because…”

That was a question. Why hadn’t she told him? She usually told him everything. Now that she thought about it, she could see that not telling him made it seem as though she were ashamed, and there was nothing to be ashamed about.

“I guess I didn’t want to get your hopes up about the basil,” she said, knowing that was lame.

“Oh, Isabella, my beautiful daughter.”

His voice echoed with despair. He swayed as though he was about to fall and she hurried to help him stay upright, then gave him an arm as she led him back into the restaurant and through the kitchen where Susa was grating chocolate, into the little room behind where he could rest.

Once she had him settled, she came out and asked Susa, “What on earth is going on? Why is he so upset?”

She shrugged. “He has a point, you know. Nothing good can come from these liaisons with princes.”

Isabella threw out her hands. “Sorry, but I beg to differ. Something good has already come from them.”

She pointed to the bag of basil. Then her chin rose defiantly.

“And anyway, I like the man and he likes me. We have fun together. End of story.”

Susa shook her head, not giving an inch. “That’s what they all say when the relationship begins,” she noted gloomily. “It’s later when reality sets in like crows on the clothesline.”

Isabella stared at the older woman. “You have no faith in me, either one of you.” She threw up her hands. “Maybe I should just go. Maybe I should go back to the city and forget all about helping out here.”

“Maybe you should,” Susa said. “But for now, your father is worried about other things besides the precious feelings of his little girl. Fredo Cavelli has filed a formal complaint with the village board.”

Isabella whirled, her anger forgotten. “What?”

That really was bad news. If the board actually accepted his complaint, there would be an investigation. They might
have to hire a lawyer to defend their interests. And where would the money come from for something like that?

“Your father says he can fight this on his own,” Susa said, shaking her head, when Isabella brought that up. “I say, God help us all.”

Isabella sighed. You solved one problem and another jumped up to take its place. Happened every time. So what was she going to do about this one?

“First,” she told Susa, “I’m going to write to Cristiano and Valentino to come home and help with this attack on our livelihood.” Another flash of anger roiled through her. Why were her brothers never here to help carry some of this burden? “They should be coming home soon for Papa’s birthday anyway.”

“Are you planning a party?”

Isabella hesitated, then let herself relax a bit. “Of course. Just a family party, but we need to celebrate. Papa needs the moral support, if nothing else.”

“I’ll start work on a cake right now,” Susa said, looking happier.

Isabella frowned fiercely, gathering strength. “Then I’m going to come in here and start a big vat of sauce for the evening dinner rush.”

“Good.” Susa nodded approvingly. “That’ll show them.”

Isabella laughed and gave the older woman an affectionate hug. “You better believe it,” she agreed, and went off to do just that.

Despite everything, Isabella went to the castle the next day. She and Max rode out on horseback again. This time they took the picnic lunch she brought and spread it out on a cloth at the hillside. The sun was shining, the day was fresh and clear, and something seemed to be sparkling in the air.

For some reason, she found herself telling him about the unpleasant reception she’d had when she got home the day before. A little of her anger still lingered, and he could tell.

“It’s because they love you,” he told her. “They think they’re protecting you.”

“They think they’re controlling me, you mean,” she shot back.

“That too,” he admitted. “But I’m sure they’re worried about the restaurant and that colors their emotions.” He looked at her sideways. “Have you considered taking out a loan to get you through this rough patch?” he asked.

Her heart skipped a beat. He was ready to offer a loan to her family. She could tell by his tentative tone. That was unbelievably generous of him and it warmed her. But she shook her head quickly.

“My father is already up to his chin in loan repayment bills,” she told him. “He can’t handle any more.”

“Hmm.”

He looked thoughtful and she smiled. Yes, she could easily fall head over heels for this man. Sadness still haunted the recesses of his eyes, but it didn’t seem to dominate his spirit the way it had before. His smile seemed more genuine. And he laughed more. He was opening up to her more than she would have dreamed possible just a few days before.

And that was good, because Isabella had plans. She had ideas. She had projects swirling in her head. She wanted to tell him, but she knew she had to take it slowly so as not to scare him off.

Max had no plans at all. He was enjoying her and enjoying the day, and that was all he thought about. Little by little he began to realize she had more on her mind, but he didn’t flinch. As she tentatively brought up the vineyard
and what a shame it was to let it go to waste he listened. He was enchanted by her and her enthusiasms and he didn’t want to tell her that her ideas were crazy.

So by the end of the day, they had a compromise of sorts. He would allow her to bring her friend to take a look at the vineyard and give an estimate of what it would take to bring it back into production. And he would give it a fair consideration. Then she would bring more of her restaurant’s wonderful famous sauce for him to have on his pasta for his dinner.

She felt good about it. It was so obvious to her that he was ready. She wouldn’t be pushing if she weren’t sure of that. If what he really wanted was to be alone, that was his choice. But she could tell he was ready to spread his wings. All he needed was the space and the opportunity to fly.

T
HE
next few days seemed to race by. Isabella went to the castle nearly every day on one pretext or another, and Max was just as complicit as she was in finding reasons she should be there. They seemed to mesh so well, and their interest in each other was new and still overwhelming. Max told Isabella everything he could think of about his childhood, and she still asked for more. Then he quizzed her about the village, about her brothers, about her father’s past, about her childhood and her dreams as a young adult.

“I went to library school for a while,” she told him. “I was actually thinking of a career in a big university library. I dreamed about going to live in the city, of being a part of the hustle and bustle, the lights and the excitement.”

Her eyes shone as she talked about it and he smiled.

“What happened?”

She sighed. “My father got sick. My brothers were both gone, so I came home to help him.”

He nodded. It was just what he’d feared. She was the one whose shoulders were supposed to be big enough to carry all the weight. And here she was, ready to take up his concerns as well.

He asked more about the restaurant and she filled him
in. Once she started, it was as if she’d opened the floodgates and she opened up about her worries for her father, about the state of the family finances and how worried she was about the haphazard way her father had managed things. And finally, she even told him about the problems with Fredo Cavelli.

Max frowned as he listened to all this. “Can he really do any damage to your restaurant?” he asked.

She thought for a moment. “You know, I didn’t think so until very recently. He was always just an old grouch who had a grudge against my father. But now that he’s become big friends with the mayor and managed to get a seat on the planning commission, he’s starting to make me nervous.”

He listened sympathetically, nodding and asking intelligent questions at all the right times. And she realized he was the first person she’d ever told all these things to. Suddenly that seemed very, very significant to her.

“If it’s money your father needs,” he began.

“No,” she said quickly. “You are generous to a fault, Max. But my father needs more than money right now. He needs his family to get together and help him.”

Max nodded. “Now, that’s up to you to handle,” he told her. “You’re the one they will all listen to.”

“What?” She couldn’t imagine where he could have got that idea. “No one listens to me.”

He gave her a penetrating look. “They will if you let them know how important the family is to you, and to them. Try it. I think you’ll be surprised.” He squeezed her hand. “And in the meantime, if your father has more trouble with the board, I might be able to make a few phone calls and pull a few strings myself.”

She loved that he was offering, but couldn’t foresee a time when his help could really make a difference. He still
didn’t leave the castle walls. But his other advice was sound and she took it to heart.

She marveled at how her life had changed in such a short time. Who would have believed that she would so quickly become so at home in the castle? And so very happy there. The place seemed to be timeless, ageless, forever. If only that could really be true.

To her surprise, Renzo had become an ally of sorts. She’d been straightforward with him from the beginning.

“You know what I’m trying to do, don’t you?” she asked him one day while Max was on the telephone with a researcher he often collaborated with.

“No, miss.” The man looked more like a walking skeleton every day. “Perhaps you should explain it to me.”

Isabella took a deep breath and searched for the right words. “I guess I would say that I’m trying to find a way to get the prince to come out of his shell a little, to take part in the wider life of the community he lives in.”

“Ah.”

She couldn’t read a thing in that reaction.

“He’s been living here, away from everyone else, though wonderfully protected by you and his family, for almost ten years now.”

“Yes, miss.”

“Do you think it’s been good for him?”

Renzo hesitated. “Well, I do think that a large part of him has healed over that time.”

She smiled, relieved. She’d been so afraid he would take offense at what she was doing. “Oh, I’m so glad to hear you say that. So you agree with me that it is time for him to branch out a bit?”

She held her breath, waiting to see what his verdict was.

“Yes. Yes, I do.”

She closed her eyes and laughed a little. “Thank goodness. I was afraid…”

“No, miss,” he said stoutly. “I will help you in any way I can.”

She took his hand and shook it vigorously. “Thank you, Mr. Renzo. Thank you so much.”

“I’ve known him since he was a boy,” Renzo continued solemnly. “He’s a wonderful man, you know. He’s suffered too much. He deserves more out of life than what he’s been given so far.”

“We agree on that.”

He nodded. He didn’t quite smile, but she had a feeling he never did. “I could see from the first that you were a good-hearted lady,” he went on. “I just want to help.”

It was such a relief not to have to fight against Max’s oldest employee and closest companion. Just knowing that he was in her corner gave her courage and she didn’t waste any time.

The very next day, she brought in her friend the contractor to take a look at the vineyards. Having been warned ahead about what to expect and how she wanted him to act around Max, Giancarlo did fine. His face did register a bit of shock when he first caught sight of the scars, but he quickly settled down and treated Max like anyone at all.

So far so good. Now to convince him that the large mentioned sum would be worth the effort in expenditure. Giancarlo put up a pretty good argument and Max promised to think it over. The contractor left and Max didn’t seem unduly bothered by the entire process. She breathed another sigh of relief.

And when Giancarlo returned the next day with a wine expert, just to give Max more information, that meeting went just fine as far as she could see.

To her eyes, he seemed to be blossoming. Little by little, he was beginning to be able to accept others in a way he hadn’t been able to do for so long. She told him as much that day as they sat out on the veranda and ate a simple lunch.

“I think you’ve developed a sort of paranoia by living alone for so long,” she told him. “Most people are perfectly willing to accept people who are different, once they get used to it. It’s the surprise that gets them at first. Then, when they realize it’s only skin-deep, they are usually okay with it.”

“You’ve made a detailed study of this, I presume?” he teased her.

“Sure,” she shot back. “Live and let live is the motto of our age,” she added with a flourish meant to overwhelm his doubts.

He shook his head and his mouth twisted with his signature cynicism. “You’re dreaming.”

She gave him a mock glare. “If so, it’s a good dream. Why not join me?”

He shrugged. He knew what she meant. She was so set on his starting off on this project. “Tell me this, Bella, why does the world need a Rossi vineyard?”

She leaned forward, her eyes big. “It’s not just that. You need to be a part of your community. And just think of the jobs you could provide. People around here could live better lives, all because of you.”

He bit back a grin. “What if I don’t care if all those anonymous people I’ve never met are getting jobs or not?”

“You should care,” she maintained stoutly. “That’s why you have to go out and meet them. Then you’ll care.”

He groaned, but he didn’t tell her to stop planning.

She brought in plants to fill in a bare spot in the gardens at the mausoleum. She loved going there, loved looking at the statue that reminded her of Max. He went along with her
and helped break up the soil. And he told her about his beautiful mother and how she’d loved this garden. And somehow he went on to describe how destroyed she’d been when the people had turned against her as her looks had faded.

“For some reason, when a woman is that beautiful, it becomes the most important thing about her,” Isabella said, agreeing with him. “Nothing else she does, no matter how much genius it displays, is held to the same esteem.”

He nodded, thinking of his mother. “The celebrity culture needs its routine sacrifices, and she was one of them.”

Isabella put a hand on his knee and looked up into his huge dark eyes. She knew very well that what had happened to his mother had colored how he looked at his own loss of beauty.

“It’s very sad, but you can’t let it affect you.”

He smiled down at her, but he knew she was right. It had affected him. And it was high time he reversed that process.

Later that evening, Isabella got up the nerve to ask Renzo a very sensitive question. She’d made dinner for the three of them and was in the kitchen, gathering her supplies and getting ready to head home. Max was off doing some research on the Internet.

“Tell me something, Renzo,” she said, turning to find him preparing breadcrumbs from the leftover garlic bread for toasting. “I know the prince was scarred in an accident, but I don’t know much about the details. Are you willing to tell me what happened?”

She watched his eyes to see how he would react to that question but he didn’t give away any clues.

“Have you asked him?”

She shook her head. “He’s never volunteered the information and I don’t want to make him relive it if it’s just too painful for him. But if you’d rather not say…”

Slowly, he shook his head. “I think it would be better if you talked to him about it directly, miss.”

Sighing, she nodded. She knew he was right. Walking out onto the terrace, she looked up at the stars. She remembered the day he’d told her about how Laura had died. Could she really ask him to do this as well? It seemed she was going to have to.

Max came out to join her a short time later.

“Max, I need to know. About your scars…” She raised her hand and touched his face. “How did it happen?”

His hand covered hers. “Do you want the official story? Or the truth?”

She searched his eyes. His words were bitter but his gaze was clear. “Don’t they say the truth will set you free?” she asked softly.

“They say a lot of things meant to sound smart that are nothing but hot-air balloons,” he told her, thrusting his hands deep into his pockets. “Okay, Bella, you asked for it. Here goes.” He tilted his head back as though searching for the Milky Way. “It happened the night Laura died.”

Her heart lurched. She’d been afraid of that.

“I raced her lifeless body to the hospital, knowing there was really no hope, but praying some miracle might happen. They tried. They did everything humanly possible. But she…” His voice choked and he paused for a moment, regaining his composure.

She put her hand over her heart, aching with the pain he must have felt that day. She rocked back and forth, wishing she could take it from him somehow. But that could never happen. It was his burden to hold forever. All she could do was hope, in some simple way, to help him deal with it.

“She was still dead,” he said as he went on, his voice
rough. “They couldn’t perform miracles and I found I had no magic powers either. It was hopeless. I was hopeless. I had just let my wife and my unborn child die while I lay snoozing a few feet away.”

He turned to look at her, his eyes burning. “The horror of that, the pain and the guilt, were just too deep to bear. As I drove myself home, I found myself going faster and faster. I couldn’t think of a reason to slow down. I no longer had anything to live for. The rest of my life would be hell on earth. What was the point?”

“Oh, Max. You didn’t…”

He winced. “I aimed straight for that tree. All I could think of was joining Laura.” He looked at her again. “So now you know.”

“Yes.” She barely whispered the word. In trying to end his suffering, he’d only made his own suffering worse—but perhaps that was what he’d wanted to do. She nodded. It didn’t really surprise her. But she felt such utter sadness. He’d made his own hellish prison on earth and now he didn’t know how to break out of it. She didn’t speak. Her throat was choked with unshed tears. But she understood better now. She knew he’d created his own special torture. He’d locked himself away here because he thought he deserved it. It wasn’t just that he didn’t like the way people reacted to his face—he thought of it as a punishment. He thought he deserved never to connect with the rest of humanity. It was his lot in life, his life sentence, and he had no right to try to overturn it.

No reprieves for the Rossi prince.

Finally, tears filled her eyes and she could cry. She tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her. Gently, carefully, he took her into his arms and held her close. And she cried.
She cried for Laura, and the tiny baby. She cried for Max and his mountain of pain. And she cried for herself.

“Don’t cry, Bella,” he said at last. “I only got what I deserved.”

And that only made her start sobbing all over again.

Finally, she pulled back and looked up into his face, half laughing, wiping away the tears.

“Look, I’ve ruined your shirt,” she said, putting her hand over the wet spots and feeling his heart beating very hard beneath her palm, as though he’d been running, as though he were feeling…

Her own heart began to pump in response. And then she looked up at him, her lips parted, waiting.

He looked down and she could see the struggle behind his eyes. He wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted it herself. Why, oh, why was he fighting it?

It was a question that was bothering her more and more lately. She’d never felt anything this close to love before, not with any man. She wanted to tell him so. She wanted his arms around her; she wanted his mouth on hers. She wanted his kiss.

He’d kissed her the day she’d let herself into his house with her sauce for him to sample. The entire encounter had been unexpected and he hadn’t been prepared. His defenses had been down. His kiss had been spiced with a wildness that he’d quickly leashed, but she had been able to sense it flowing just under the surface. He’d been so gorgeous with his naked chest and his wet hair. Her heart beat like thunder whenever she thought of it.