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You went exploring in town and stopped for something to eat, unaware some man had his sights set on you. Tomorrow Papa will remind you that you’re not in America now. Mama will laugh and accuse me of being jealous. The whole incident will be forgotten.”

      Maybe, but Alex knew Lucca could never be jealous. He would have to be in love with Alex for that to happen.

      “Let’s hope.”

      He reached for her sack. “I wonder what you bought.”

      She was afraid he would laugh. “Touristy things. Didn’t my bodyguards tell you?”

      His expression remained impassive. “They’ll only report if you’re in danger.” A sobering thought. “May I see?”

      Since he appeared so determined, she didn’t try to stop him. “Go ahead.”

      The book came out first. “This isn’t the best history,” he pointed out seconds later, “but it’s not the worst, either.”

      “I wouldn’t know, since I can’t read Italian yet. I bought it for the pictures.”

      He suddenly lifted his head and gave her a long, unsmiling look. “After the coronation and our marriage, a plethora of new books will appear in the shops. You’ll be in every one of them and every account will say that Princess Alexandra is the most beautiful of all the brides of the House of Savoy.”

      Lucca could tell superb lies. She rolled her eyes. “If you insist.”

      His laughter helped dissipate her worry that he was upset with her for the second time since their arrival in his country.

      He pulled out the next item and thumbed through it. “I approve of your pocket phrase book. It’s how I began to learn English.”

      For some reason his comment reassured her.

      After scanning the map, he said, “This needs a little help. I’ll fix it when we get back to the palace.” He returned everything to the sack. “I noticed you’re not wearing my pin.”

      “No. It’s too precious to flaunt.”

      He grasped her hand, entwining their fingers. “You’re my fiancée now. After what you told Regina, I couldn’t very well give you an engagement ring. Wear the pin for me?”

      “You mean, all the time?”

      “Yes, all the time.”

      She sucked in her breath. “If you wish.”

      “Is it such a burden?” he whispered.

      “Lucca—surely you understand the worry I have about losing it. The stone is irreplaceable.”

      “What good is it if it’s never worn?”

      “You really feel strongly about this, don’t you?”

      “Yes.”

      “All right,” her voice trembled.

       “Grazie.”

      The limo pulled to a stop beneath the north portico of the palace. Lucca cupped her elbow and ushered her inside. They parted company at the second floor.

      “Buonanotte, Alexandra.” After pressing a light, unexpected kiss to her parted lips, he strode swiftly toward his parents’ suite. She knew he was on his way to put out a fire the media would have started.

      Little did he know the damage he’d done to her at the restaurant. That deeply searching kiss for the crowd’s benefit had fanned the flames of a conflagration growing inside her with no power to contain it.

      CHAPTER SIX

      LUCCA checked his watch. Five to twelve. Alexandra’s first day of learning Italian with Professor Emilio ought to be over by now. He was retired from the university, but according to Regina, the older man still did tutoring.

      He left his palace office on the main floor and hurried up the steps to the third floor where the schoolroom was located, but his excitement dissipated when he opened the door and heard Alex laughing quietly with a man who couldn’t be much older than Lucca.

      The sight of the two of them enjoying each other’s company in this intimate atmosphere shook him to the roots, something that hadn’t happened to him before where a woman was concerned.

      One look at the tutor’s face and body language and Lucca knew Alexandra had him enchanted just as she’d done that idiot college kid at the restaurant last night. It didn’t take a two-hour lesson for her to work her magic. Lucca ought to know because to his great surprise, it was beginning to work on him.

      She was dressed in the familiar plum silk shirt and gray pants he’d admired before. After lunch he had plans to do something about her bare-bones wardrobe, but at the moment the only thing Lucca was feeling was irrationally territorial.

      He moved inside.

      The other man saw him before Alexandra did. He slid off the corner of the desk and stood up. The fact that he was lean and almost as tall as Lucca irritated him further.

      “Your Highness.”

      Alexandra turned in her chair. “Lucca—”

      He couldn’t tell if she was pleased to see him or not, but she was wearing his pin. That was something at least and should have appeased him. It didn’t.

      She got to her feet, very much in command of the situation. “Lucca? This is Professor Morelli. Professor Emilio is ill so he sent Tomaso in his place.”

      Lucca gave Tomaso a brief nod. “I’m sorry to hear that. How long will it take him to recover?”

      “He has influenza. His doctor says two weeks, maybe a little longer.”

      That was too long.

      “How is my wife-to-be doing?” Besides giving you a heart attack. Lucca ground his teeth together. Wife-to-be sounded more permanent than fiancée. He wanted that made clear to Tomaso at the outset.

      “Signorina Grigory is an excellent student. By the time of your wedding she’ll be speaking a little Italian and understanding some of it.”

      She smiled. “One lives in hope, Tomaso. Thank you for taking me on.”

      “It’s an honor for me.”

      And a rush you won’t be able to do a thing in hell about, professor.

      “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

      Alexandra nodded. “Si. Domani. Ore due. Ciao, Tomaso.”

       “Ciao, Alex.”

      The hackles stood on the back of his neck. Alex? She’d given him permission to call her that?

      His gaze slid to Lucca. “Your Highness,” he said in passing.

      “Why two o’clock?” Lucca asked after the other man had left the room.

      She picked up the book and notebook he hadn’t seen before. “Tomaso teaches classes all morning, but he can come after lunch. If I’d had a teacher like him for Spanish in high school, I might have learned how to conjugate verbs.”

      Intrigued in spite of his foul mood he asked, “What was wrong with your Spanish teacher?”

      “He taught by immersion, and no one ever understood anything. He gave everyone an A for trying. It was ridiculous.”

      Laughter burst out of him. “What verb did Professor Morelli teach you to conjugate today?”

      “To be. Essere. Io sono, tu sei, lui e, noi siamo, voi siete, loro sono.”

      “I’m impressed.” He was more than impressed. Her little conversation a moment ago sounded as if she’d been studying a lot longer than two hours.

      “He said

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