Donetta’s thoughts were running wild. While she was in Vallefiore, she would purchase a Sanfratellano horse for herself and have it shipped home. Besides the king and queen, some of the Montedoro royal family would probably be present at the events. She knew they had two married daughters. Would Enrico also be there to explain his behavior?
He was twenty-seven now. She was surprised he hadn’t married Valentina yet. Donetta had always thought he was the most attractive man in the world. No male of her acquaintance ever sat a horse as magnificently. She appreciated beauty in any form.
Before seeing him in Spain she’d lodged some unkind thoughts about him. He’d fallen off the pedestal she’d put him on. But she’d had to scratch her negative thoughts when he’d said he’d come to Spain expressly to see her and apologize.
To make things harder for her, he’d dressed in chinos and a silky brown sports shirt, leaving her breathless. How on earth was she ever going to get him out of her system?
She decided it was a good thing Arnaud would be coming to dinner tomorrow evening to help her deal with what she’d only been able to consider as Enrico’s rejection of her.
Her mom was right that Arnaud was handsome in that certain French way. It was long past time she put thoughts of Enrico away for good and accepted the inevitability of marrying Arnaud, who’d been actively pursuing her.
“Talia? I have some shopping to do, but I’ll check back with you later.” Donetta decided to buy a new dress and shoes. It had been a while.
Apparently her effort didn’t go unappreciated. At dinner the next night, Arnaud whispered, “I’ve never seen you look so incroyable. That lovely green dress matches your eyes. I can’t stop looking at you, ma belle.”
“Thank you, Arnaud. You’re quite a sight yourself.”
He did look pretty amazing in his evening clothes. They wandered out on the terrace off the large dining room after dessert and talked several hours. “You have to know why I’m here. Will you marry me, Donetta?”
She lifted her head. The time for truth had come. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me you’re in love with me? You know what I mean. The kind of heart-wrenching love that leaves you breathless and aching inside until nothing else matters in this world?”
He searched her eyes for a long moment before he said, “Why do I get the feeling you’ve known a love like that?”
She fought not to look away while her guilty heart pounded with sickening speed. “I get the feeling you haven’t known a love like that yet, or you would have married her without your parents’ consent.”
The silence convicted both of them.
“Thank you for being honest with me, Arnaud. I do love you for that. Maybe we can make a go of an arranged mar
riage and children based on a mutual liking and fondness for each other.”
“Donetta—”
“Let me finish. I know you like me, and I care for you. But this is the problem of being born to royal parents. They are pressuring you to marry and they’ve picked me. My parents want me to marry you and have wanted it for a long time. This has been planned and wished for on both sides for years. Though I’ve liked you better than any of the men who’ve made proposals, it isn’t love.”
Up to the point that Enrico’s letters had stopped coming, Donetta had remained resolute in her determination that the two of them had been in love. To her consternation, she feared she’d been deluding herself.
“It can grow into love,” Arnaud murmured, breaking into her painful thoughts. “I want you to come to Haute Vienne next weekend. There’s so much to show you, and we’ll talk. Hopefully you’ll fall in love with my home and like me better. Let’s find out if we can see our way clear to announce our engagement.”
Donetta had to admit she was touched. He was sincere and truly a wonderful man. If she broke her own rule and decided to marry since her desire to be queen of Domodossola was hopeless, Arnaud would be the perfect choice for a husband and father of her children. Forget Enrico.
He gripped her hand tighter. “Donetta? Will you come next weekend?”
She closed her eyes. Why not? “Yes, I’ll be happy to come. Thank you for inviting me.”
“Ma chère,” he said in an unsteady voice and pulled her into his arms to kiss her.
She responded to him, waiting for the magic she’d felt when Enrico had hungrily kissed her. But there was no comparison and never could be. She wasn’t in love with Arnaud, nor he with her.
Donetta was now a grown woman who’d become somewhat distrustful and cynical after seeing Enrico’s picture in the media with other women. She’d also heard rumors of a possible marriage with Valentina.
As for Donetta, she’d been a starry-eyed twenty-one-year-old whose heart had been full of Enrico. But she shouldn’t expect to be in that insane condition ever again.
* * *
A month later, Enrico rode out early on Friday morning to the Vallefiore National Airport in one limo, Giovanni in another. His staff from the palace were meeting the planes flying in with the contestants and their horses from Domodossola and other countries. They would take them to their lodgings so that Enrico and his cousin were free to meet the royal jet.
He hadn’t slept all night in his excitement to see Donetta again. The August concorso hadn’t come soon enough for him. After installing her at the palace, he wouldn’t leave her side during the day’s events. Tonight after dinner and fireworks for everyone along the lake’s waterfront, he would whisk her away for an overnight campout on the island in his Land Rover.