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She looked like a waif, wearing jeans and a tiny white T-shirt, her hair falling straight over her shoulders and her eyes red from crying. Rodolfo’s words of censure died on his lips. There was a reason why she’d resorted to pills to help her through all this. For a moment he wanted to reach out, take her in his arms and offer comfort. But he knew that was impossible. Instead he looked at her hard.

‘I’m very sorry that you are having problems, signorina,’ he said curtly, stepping towards her.

‘What are you doing here?’ Victoria said in a shaky voice. ‘Why did you come? To criticise me? Well, let me tell you something—’ her voice trembled and she balled her fists ‘—I don’t care if it was wrong, and I didn’t know those pills were considered bad. The truth is that at least they helped me get through all those awful interviews and all that hype.’

‘Maybe. That is still no excuse for your behaviour,’ he said, sitting down next to her.

‘And what right do you have to come barging in here, judging me?’ she threw angrily.

‘None,’ he replied, taking one of her hands in his. ‘Except that I realise how hard it has been for you, that you aren’t cut out for this; you aren’t the kind of person who enjoys the sort of publicity you’ve been exposed to. I have come to help you, that’s all.’

His calm, low voice and his caressing hand soothed her. Victoria swallowed. She felt confused by his presence. For a moment she wondered if he’d come with some ulterior motive. Most people around her lately seemed to have one. But his mere presence was so comforting that she just accepted it. ‘What do you think I should do?’ she whispered shakily.

‘If you agree to come back with me to Malvarina for a while, there you can get proper medical assistance, relax, and get away from all this. I think that would be the best. I guarantee complete privacy.’ He squeezed her fingers reassuringly.

‘Ed’ll give a press conference in the lobby, and you and the Prince can escape the back way,’ Anne urged. ‘Here, put on this dark wig and these sunglasses. That should help. And go as you are. You look much younger, and no one will recognise you like that. Anyway, they’ll never think that you and the Prince would be together.’

Victoria took a deep breath and looked from one to the other. It seemed like a good plan, and there really wasn’t any other option. The thought of being able to escape the paparazzi seemed heavenly. She nodded. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured, smiling waveringly at Rodolfo.

‘It’s nothing.’ He gave a dismissive wave of a hand. ‘Leave your luggage. Anne can have it sent on to you. Take only your handbag and passport.’

Silently Victoria rose and obeyed. She wished for a moment she could take her pills with her. But then she realised that she must put a stop to her habit immediately. It would be hard, but she couldn’t abuse Rodolfo’s trust when he was being so generous and saving her from herself.

Minutes later Rodolfo had grabbed her hand and they were heading down in the service lift to the garage level of the hotel, then slipping through the work stations and kitchens and out into a back street, where a Bentley stood waiting. Hastily they jumped in and the driver accelerated swiftly away.

‘Thanks,’ Victoria muttered, letting out a long sigh of relief as she leaned back in the soft plush leather.

And for the first time in months she felt safe.

TWO AND A HALF HOURS LATER she was staring out of the window of Rodolfo’s Gulfstream jet as it circled over the Mediterranean. Down below she could see the contours of Malvarina, its rich vegetation encircled by cerulean blue sea, rocky cliffs giving way to smooth, white, sandy beaches. She could distinguish what looked like large properties up in the hills and down by the water. Then a small town appeared and to the left, up on high overlooking the sea, stood a medieval fortress.

‘That is the Castello Constanza,’ Rodolfo said pointing down. ‘The fortress and the island have belonged to my family since they conquered it in the tenth century. It has been through many wars and difficulties. We fought the Saracens, and the Ottomans. But in the end we prevailed, and today I hope to make Malvarina into a modern, well-run, financially solvent society.’

Victoria looked over at him, surprised at the passion and intensity she detected in his tone. She’d thought of him as a sophisticated playboy, simply trying to extract as much as possible from his inheritance. Yet now she sensed there was far more at stake for Rodolfo than mere money. This was about honour, about the wellbeing of his people. She smiled, glad that she’d taken the decision to flee Cannes and join him here in what looked like an enclave of peace.

Soon they had landed at the island’s small airport and were swooped off in the Rolls Royce that awaited them on the tarmac. The car swerved through the sleepy little town of Malvaritza, and on and up towards the fortress. Peasants with well-loaded donkeys stopped by the roadside and waved. Victoria noted that Rodolfo always returned the waves, smiled and acknowledged them. She had the feeling he would always do this, however tired or absorbed by other worries he might be.

Then the vehicle slowed as they approached the castle and its portcullis entrance that stood just over an ancient bridge. The castle walls stood high, and Victoria experienced a moment’s doubt: what had she got herself into? After all, she had no way of knowing what this man was really like. Once she was inside those walls she would be virtually at his mercy.

As though sensing her unease, Rodolfo turned and smiled at her. ‘A bit daunting, isn’t it? But don’t worry. Inside we have all the mod cons. My grandfather, although quite antiquated in many respects, was determined to have the place modernised. I’m very thankful he did. It was quite a job to get everything shipshape.’

‘I’m sure it must have been,’ Victoria agreed as the car purred into a cobbled courtyard and immediately several members of the Prince’s staff, dressed in traditional costume, moved to open the doors.

‘Welcome to Malvarina and the Castello Constanza,’ Rodolfo said, slipping her hand through his arm and moving forward. ‘Let me show you around.’

‘I’d love to see the castle,’ she said. Though she still felt a little shaky, the dreadful episode of the night before began to fade from her mind as she looked around at her magical surroundings—at the worn stone walls topped with small turrets, the crooked windows and gables.

As they walked, she took a deep breath and exclaimed, ‘What a lovely scent.’

‘That’s jasmine. It blooms most of the year here. We have quite a few tropical plants as well. This is bougainvillea,’ he remarked, pointing to the lovely purple and white flowers creeping up the southern wall of the façade. ‘My mother planted most of it.’

‘Does she live here?’ Victoria enquired, as they headed into what appeared to be a great hall.

‘Both my parents died in an accident when I was twelve,’ he replied briefly, moving towards the window. ‘Please, come over here and take a look at the view. It is magnificent from this vantage point.’

How sad that he’d been orphaned, Victoria reflected, as she stepped over and joined him by huge French windows that gave onto a vine-trellised terrace overlooking the tranquil sea. A yacht glided across the clear blue stretch of water, leaving a pristine white trail rippling in its wake.

‘Where is that yacht headed?’ she asked.

‘Greece, probably. If you sail on you’ll hit the Adriatic coast. Would you like to sail?’ he asked, lifting her fingers to his lips and letting them trail over the inner part of her wrist.

‘Uh, well, I—yes…I suppose it would be very nice. I’ve never actually been on a yacht.’

All at once her pulse beat faster and her heart flurried. She had little or no experience with men. Nicky, her one boyfriend, had been just that—a boyfriend. She’d never felt attracted enough to contemplate going to bed with him. Now, as Rodolfo’s lips grazed her skin she shuddered. There was no doubt that she was experiencing an unadulterated new and intense draw to this man. And she wasn’t sure how to handle it.

‘Perhaps I should show you to your room before we make any further plans,’ the Prince remarked, letting go her fingers. ‘We need to have a doctor take a look at you, and I am hoping that your luggage will arrive later today. But, anyway, we can get you some stuff in town. Malvaritza looks like a sleepy little village but it has some very fashionable boutiques with all the top brands. I’m sure you’ll be able to find some suitable outfits and toiletries,’ he said, smiling.

‘Thanks. I’m certain Anne will have dealt with forwarding the luggage,’ she replied, aware that she didn’t even have a toothbrush with her. But that was a concern that was fast put to rest when she entered the ravishing suite of rooms allotted her.

Victoria gasped. Nothing in her short stay in Hollywood had prepared for the elegant refinement of the Castello Constanza. The reception rooms she’d spied were formally elegant and refined. But this! There was a four-poster bed decked with white voile curtains, and tapestries hung on the ancient stone walls, as well as an eighteenth-century Venetian mirror placed between crystal Murano wall sconces. Vases filled with freshly cut flowers graced the dressing table. A small plumped-up sofa had been strategically placed next to the window, through which the now familiar scent of jasmine invaded the apartments.

‘It’s lovely,’ she murmured, letting her fingers trail over the lace coverlet of the bed, her eyes resting on the flounced brocade of the skirt of the dressing table, where antique silver brushes lay. It was old-world and beautiful. Yet, as her eyes roamed, she noted a phone and a fax machine. In the corner an almost invisible panel hid a flatscreen TV.

‘I hope you will be comfortable,’ he replied with a formal bow. ‘Please feel free to stay for as long as you wish.’

‘Oh, gosh, that’s terribly generous. I don’t want to be a nuisance,’ she exclaimed, suddenly realising how unexpected her visit was—and perhaps inconvenient.

‘Such a beautiful woman as you could never be an inconvenience to anyone,’ he murmured, his eyes fleeting over her. ‘Why don’t you freshen up and join me downstairs for a drink?’

‘Great. Thanks.’ Victoria smiled nervously, brushed her golden hair back, and watched as he retreated and closed the door behind him.

She let out the breath she’d been holding. It was like a dream. Only this morning she’d been going through hell and now here she was, in a magical setting with the best looking, most sophisticated man she’d ever met.

To her surprise, when she opened the old rosewood armoire, a shimmering white and silver full-length sheath-style gown hung on one of the hangers. She lifted it out on the hanger and stared down at the high heeled silk sandals accompanying it. Was this for her? Then her eyes fell on a note, and she drew in her breath and opened it.

I hope this may serve its purpose until your luggage arrives.

She held the note, biting her lip, gazing at the bold black writing on the thick crest-emblazoned stationery. How had he managed to have this dress conveyed here so swiftly? And how did he know her size? A less agreeable thought crossed her mind. He probably dated so many women that judging their dress size was child’s play. Well, whatever. She would slip into the shower and then don the beautiful gown. At least she’d feel in tune with the setting.

An hour later dusk had settled over the island. The clear inky sky was dotted with bright flickering stars. Crickets chirrupped in a friendly fashion as she made her way down the wide stone staircase, hoping she wouldn’t slip in her finely tied silk sandals. Victoria had worn many gorgeous gowns since hitting Hollywood, but none compared to the ethereal beauty of this one, chosen for her by a man she barely knew.

When she reached the terrace she saw him, dressed in a dinner jacket, leaning against the stone parapet and gazing thoughtfully out to sea, a glass held loosely between his fingers. She stood a moment and watched him, etched against the horizon. How incredibly good-looking he was.

And how totally out of reach.

All at once reality sank in and she realised how poles apart their lives were: she, the unknown girl from a small English village who by a miracle had been chosen to star in a Hollywood success story; he, the noble Prince, whose lineage dated back a thousand years. She swallowed. Oh, well. Might as well enjoy it while it lasted, she reflected moving towards him. Perhaps it was just a ploy to get her to invest on his island, she reminded herself. In a way she wished it was. It would make it easier, and perhaps temper the irregularity of her heartbeat whenever he appeared.

‘Good evening,’ she said, trying to sound nonchalant and sophisticated. ‘Thank you for having this dress put in my cupboard. It was most thoughtful of you. The luggage still hasn’t arrived, so it came in very handy.’