LITMIR.BIZ

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bodyguards don’t really encourage conversation with him,’ she said. ‘Besides, I prefer to play a low profile.’

      ‘Because of your family’s history?’

      ‘That and…other things,’ she said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear self-consciously.

      ‘You’re not intimidated by all that monarchy stuff, are you?’ he asked, swinging another quick glance in her direction.

      She met his eyes briefly. ‘So you’re not a monarchist yourself?’

      He gave a little noncommittal shrug. ‘It’s an ongoing debate in Australia about whether we should become a republic. I haven’t really made up my mind. Too busy saving lives I guess.’

      ‘Your work is very demanding,’ she said, releasing a tiny breath to counteract the effect of his close proximity. ‘It’s a wonder you had the time to come over here to help our people.’

      ‘When I received a royal summons I was a bit intrigued, I can tell you,’ he said. ‘I had heard about the island before but, while it was somewhere on my list of must-see places, I wouldn’t have come right now, but my parents were keen for me to do it.’ He sent a quick smile her way and added, ‘I guess they want to dine out on it a bit. “Have we told you about our son who mixes with Italian royalty?” That sort of thing goes down a treat at a dinner party.’

      ‘But you’re not fazed by it all—or, if you are, you’re not showing it,’ she surmised.

      ‘I’m a doctor, Amelia. My first priority is to heal the sick and if I can do that in a way that helps the underprivileged then I’m more than happy. Don’t get me wrong, I come from a wealthy background which has given me some wonderful privileges, but my parents have always encouraged both Megan and I to give something back to the community and not just our neighbourhood one.’

      ‘Your family sounds wonderfully supportive,’ Amelia said, thinking sadly of all she had missed out on in hers.

      ‘They are. I am very lucky.’

      ‘How old is your sister?’ she asked after a little silence.

      ‘She’s twenty-five.’

      ‘That’s quite an age gap between you—eleven years,’ she observed.

      ‘I know, but it was a long time after my adoption papers were processed before they could adopt another child,’ he said.

      Amelia swung her gaze to look at him again. ‘You’re… you’re adopted?’

      ‘Yes, and very proud of it.’ His dark eyes met hers briefly. ‘My adoptive parents are fabulous people. I owe them a great deal. When you think about it, I could have ended up with much worse.’

      She waited until he’d brought the car to a stop outside one of the restaurants in Santa Fiera before asking, ‘Have you ever thought of tracing your biological parents?’

      He met her gaze across the small width of the car. ‘Now and again I’ve thought of it but I haven’t done anything about it. I guess my main reason has been to save my adoptive mother the hurt she might feel if I were to go looking for the woman who gave birth to me. It’s a sensitive subject. My adoptive mother was unable to have children of her own. She grieved terribly that she couldn’t give my father what he most wanted. Of course, the reproductive technology available today would have solved her problems in an instant. But she is the only mother I’ve ever known, even though I was what was considered in those days a late adoption.’

      Amelia felt the small silence begin to tighten the air in her chest. ‘How late?’ she asked, glancing at him.

      ‘I was two years old.’

      A tiny shiver passed over the back of her neck, lifting each and every fine hair. ‘So…so you don’t recall anything at all of your infancy? I mean, before you were adopted?’ she asked.

      He answered her question with a question of his own. ‘Tell me, Amelia, what’s your very first memory?’

      She thought about it for a moment. ‘I was about three, I think, when my mother made me a fairy dress with wings on the back of it. She told me later how she had made it from the material of her wedding dress and veil. I can’t really remember anything before that.’

      ‘That’s about average for most people. Neurological studies have shown that the infant brain is not mature enough to store reliable memories until about the age of three.’

      ‘What about in terms of emotional and physical abuse?’ she asked. ‘Surely if the infancy was traumatic enough there would be some trace of it in the child’s later behaviour?’

      ‘Perhaps, but that would not necessarily be because the child actually remembered what had happened, but more of an instinctive feeling in an evolutionary sense that life was unsafe and chaotic during that time.’

      Amelia mused over his answer as they walked into the restaurant. They were led to a table near the windows that overlooked the beach of the main tourist area, which had been recently developed on the island, the casino, restaurants and health spa attracting large crowds during the spring and summer months.

      The waiter handed them menus and the wine list and left them alone to decide.

      ‘What wine do you recommend?’ Alex asked, looking at the list in his hands.

      ‘I’m not much of a wine connoisseur but the Porto Castellante Blanco is known as the signature wine of the island. The Niroli vines have been cultivated since Roman times,’ she said, recalling what Rico had told her while he had been working at the vineyard. ‘It’s said that the Niroli vines produce the queen of white grapes.’

      ‘Let’s give it a go, then,’ he said, and signalled to the waiter.

      Amelia tried to relax as their wine was poured a short time later but she was way out of her comfort zone and felt sure it showed. She glanced at the other couples and parties dining and wished she could appear less gauche, but she had so rarely eaten out and was terrified in case she picked the wrong piece of cutlery.

      Alex picked up his glass and raised it in a toast against hers. ‘Here’s to mending the broken hearts of Niroli.’

      She lowered her gaze for a moment, a shadow passing over her features.

      ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked.

      ‘Nothing.’

      ‘Confession time, little elf.’ He reached across the table and tipped up her chin with his finger, his dark eyes meshing with hers. ‘If you tell me who broke your heart I’ll tell you who broke mine.’

      ‘I can’t imagine you having your heart broken,’ she said, her gaze slipping away from his to stare into the contents of her glass.

      ‘It happens to the best of us, believe me,’ he assured her as he leaned back. ‘My work gets in the way a lot. I guess that’s why I’ve reached this age without settling down.’

      ‘Is that what you want to do some time? Settle down?’ she asked, taking a tentative sip of wine.

      ‘I don’t know.’ A small frown brought his dark brows closer for a fraction of a second. ‘I thought I wanted to once but it didn’t work out.’

      Amelia wondered if she’d been wrong about assuming his heart was unbreakable. He acted like a carefree playboy, but she couldn’t help wondering now if it was a cover-up for deeper hurt.

      ‘What about you?’ he asked, his expression lightening once more. ‘Are you like most other young women living in hope that Prince Charming will come along one day and sweep you off your feet?’

      She gave him a twisted smile as she reached for her wine again. ‘It’s a nice fantasy, but hasn’t anyone told you there aren’t enough princes to go around?’

      He smiled back at her. ‘You could always settle for an ordinary

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