LITMIR.BIZ

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all he’d gone through, who could blame his heart for turning numb? To Stefano, love must feel like pain. She could hardly bear to think of him as a lonely little boy, neglected and abandoned. Even his dog had been taken away.

       If only my love could heal you.

      Tess’s eyes widened as she straightened in her chair.

      If only she could show him that love wasn’t something to be feared, but embraced.

      If she could show him that true love could last a lifetime...

      When the harvest festival was finally over and everyone started cleaning up, Tess rose to her feet and found Gerlanda, to ask how she could help. In response, the housekeeper gave a hearty belly laugh.

      “You, do the cleaning? No. I forbid it. You do enough. You make our prince happy.”

      “Sí,” another woman said. “We want Prince Stefano’s happiness, after everything he’s done.” Turning away, she smiled. “And by the way he looks at you now, Princess, you make him very happy indeed.”

      Following the woman’s gaze, Tess turned. Stefano stood on the other side of the castle courtyard. His black eyes looked at her hungrily across the crowd. Their eyes locked in the velvety Sicilian night.

      He came forward, and took her hand.

      “It’s late,” he said huskily. She shivered at the heat of his touch. “Time for bed.”

      He led her into the castle and up the stairs. Their footsteps echoed against the worn stone. He never let go of her hand, only pausing to check on Esme, sleeping in the nursery next door. Then he led her to the bedroom.

      Silvery moonlight flooded the large window. Glancing out, she saw the full moon frosting the dark valley, reflecting against the black sea. Coming behind her, he gently rubbed her shoulders, pulling her back against his body. “Are you happy, cara?”

      She turned in her arms. “Very happy.”

      How long could she hide her love for him? She was suddenly scared as she glanced toward the enormous four-poster bed. Once she was naked in his arms, feeling him deep inside her, she feared the truth would explode from her lips, and it might cost her everything.

      He must never know. He could never know.

      Unless...unless she could somehow heal him. Change him. Or was that just her foolish heart believing what she wanted to believe, instead of cold reality?

      Lowering his head to hers, Stefano kissed her passionately. She sighed, lost in his embrace. But, as he started to lead her toward the bed, she nervously pulled away, pretending to be interested in the shelves of leather-bound books stretching up the opposite wall.

      “So many books,” Tess said awkwardly, touching their spines. “They all look so old.”

      “They are, I suppose. I’ll show you the library downstairs sometime,” he replied in a low voice, pulling her back into his arms. “Thousands of books, some of them a thousand years old.”

      Her jaw dropped. “A thousand?”

      His sensual lips lifted into a smile. “I love how innocent you are. The smallest things impress you.”

      “A small thing—a great room full of books a thousand years old!”

      Stefano shrugged. “Small.”

      “Then what on earth would you call amazing?”

      Lifting his hand to her ponytail, he pulled out the tie, and her red hair came tumbling down the back of her cotton sundress.

      “Having you in my bed,” he whispered.

      Lifting her reverently in his arms, he carried her to the enormous four-poster bed. As he lowered his head to kiss her, she felt a sea breeze come in through the open window, scented with jasmine and exotic spices from distant shores. She felt the roughness of his jaw against her skin as he whispered words like an Italian invocation and kissed down the length of her body. Slowly he removed her clothes, and then his own. He made her feel she was on fire, lit from within.

      And through it all, with every beat of her heart, came the rhythm of the words she longed to say.

       I love you. I love you.

      But the last time she’d said those words, Stefano had left, intending never to return. Just because she’d said, I’m already falling in love with you.

      Strange. At the time, she’d honestly believed her words. She’d thought she knew what love was.

      Looking back, Tess realized she hadn’t known at all. She’d just been in love with the idea of love, and dazzled by a romantic, sensual night with the most handsome, powerful man she’d ever known.

      Real love was different.

      It wasn’t flowers or jewelry or poetic words. It wasn’t the fairy tale of a grand wedding or becoming a princess in a castle. It wasn’t even spectacular, mind-blowing sex.

      Real love was quieter.

      It grew when you weren’t looking. From moments of laughter, of sharing. From small kindnesses. Like all the little things Stefano did that he thought she wouldn’t notice, not just for her, but for others. For his employees. For his hometown. For their child.

      Despite his attempts to hide it, she’d discovered his deepest secret. Stefano’s title might be Prince, but in his heart, he was something even better.

      He was a good man.

      She knew him now, perhaps better than he knew himself. She knew him, and she loved him.

      Did she dare tell him? Would that be foolhardy—or brave? Would her honesty ruin their fragile happiness? Or would it be the start of a life more joyful than either of them could imagine?

      As Stefano held her in his arms that night, as she felt the weight of his body over hers and the soft Sicilian winds blowing in from the balcony against their hot skin, she felt tormented, even as she shuddered with pleasure beneath the slow stroke of her husband’s hands.

      Until, when he pushed himself inside her, making her cry out with ecstasy, she could take it no more. As he shuddered into her with a low roar, she gripped his shoulders and looked straight into his eyes.

      “I love you,” she whispered. “I love you, Stefano.”

      * * *

      The next morning, Stefano woke with a strange feeling in his chest, finding he’d cradled Tess naked in his arms the whole night as they’d slept. A flash of vertigo went through him, leaving him woozy and sick.

       I love you, Stefano.

      He could still hear the tremble of Tess’s voice last night, see the piercing emotion in her emerald eyes. He’d been deep inside her, his whole body shuddering with pleasure, but when she’d spoken the words, something had gone through him, something greater than joy. Overwhelmed, he’d kissed her, again and again as she’d softly wept.

      “I was so scared to tell you,” she whispered, pressing her cheek against his naked chest.

      “Don’t be scared,” he’d said, his heart in his throat. And he’d found himself whispering love poetry in Italian he’d thought he’d forgotten. Since they’d arrived in Sicily, the prison of his childhood had become paradise.

      He’d kissed her again, then held her until they’d both slept with their naked bodies intertwined. And for that brief moment, everything had felt right to him.

      Waking in the morning was different.

       I love you, Stefano.

      A chill went down his spine. A pounding anxiety formed at the base of his brain. He looked at Tess, cuddled against him beneath the blanket, her beautiful face tender, smiling in her sleep.

      Stefano

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