How To Propose To A Princess

“You made his day. I listened while you finished reading to him.”

“I’m the one who loved it. He asked a lot of questions about Pompeii, especially when I told him I’d been there and described some of the things I’d seen. He said he wanted to go there. He’s a bright boy.”

“I agree. In the beginning, did he recognize you as Princess Fausta?”

“If he did, he never let on. Children are wonderful. They don’t set up boundaries.”

Like you have, Barsotti. The fact that he’d even asked the question revealed his amazement that she continued to want to be with him. “I think most every adult has that problem who meets a royal like you.”

“It shouldn’t be that way. From the first time I realized I was born a royal, I fought against it and wanted to be a commoner. Though I can’t change my heritage, I live my life like an ordinary person as much as possible.”

That revelation came as a surprise to him. “Why do you feel that way?”

“You don’t know how difficult it is to grow up not having your father around when you need to talk to him. It’s not natural to have to make appointments to see him. If you want to know the truth, I wouldn’t wish my royal life on anyone.”

“I had no idea.” She sounded so completely serious, he had to believe her. Yet it still didn’t change his wonderment that she wanted to be with him.

“I guess you’ve already noticed I’m always ready for a meal.”

He grinned. “By the lovely look of you, no one would guess. I’m starving too. What do you like?”

“Anything. Surprise me. I’d like to see where the renowned Dr. Nico Barsotti goes for a meal after an exhausting day.” Renowned? “I’m always looking for a good spot to eat.”

“That doesn’t sound like you spend much time at the palace.”

He felt her eyes on him as he headed for the old part of the city with its narrow cobblestoned streets. “How many hours a day do you stay in the place where you live?”

Nico knew where this conversation was going. Once again he’d left himself wide open with a statement that showed how off the mark he was over the life of a royal. “I sleep there. That’s about it.”

“You’ve just described my life.”

Except that her world was full of activity he knew nothing about and wished he didn’t want to know. There was no way he could ever have a romantic relationship with her. Though she insisted there was no one and she was free to be with him, he believed her parents would eventually prevail on her to marry some important prince. Again, he reminded himself that her sisters had married royalty. Why would it be different for her?

“There’s a small restaurant around the next corner that serves one of my favorite dishes. Have you ever eaten maialino allo spiedo?”

Her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds. “Roast pig? I’m sure I have.”

“But this recipe is different and you’re in for a real treat.”

After a minute he found a parking space along the ancient street, but it turned out to be a tight squeeze between cars smaller than his. He slid from the car and hurried around to help her.

Soon people were staring at her, but she seemed oblivious. He noticed that men couldn’t take their eyes off her. No doubt they wished they were in Nico’s shoes as he ushered her inside Prospero’s, a small dimly lit cantina over two hundred years old.

The owner saw Nico and hurried toward him with a wide smile. He couldn’t take his gaze off Fausta. “Dottore—are my eyes deceiving me?” he whispered.

Nico chuckled. “No, amico mio. Prospero Gallo? May I introduce Princess Fausta Rossiano?”

“I knew it! Benvenuto, Your Highness!” He beamed. “I’ve never been so honored.”

“Just call me Fausta, Signor Gallo, and I’m the one who feels privileged. Nico tells me you make the best roast pig in Domodossola.”

Nico could tell by the way the owner seemed at a sudden loss for words that her compliment had thrilled Prospero. But after a moment he recovered and led them past several other diners to the best table of the house in the corner, where they were seated.

“We don’t need a menu, Prospero. Just some white wine and your wife’s rigotoni alla carbanara to go with the maialino allo spiedo followed by coffee.”

“Al vostro servizio,Nico.” His gaze switched to Fausta. “Princess,” he murmured before hurrying to the kitchen, unable to call her by her first name.

By now the staff had to be aware of their illustrious visitor. Nico knew that a visit from a member of the royal family had made Prospero’s night. Being with her had made Nico’s night and he intended to enjoy it to the fullest.

“The owner is charming. Has he been a patient of yours?”

“No. We met in an entirely different way. When I moved to Domodossola eighteen months ago and joined the hospital staff, I asked around to find out what restaurants served roast pig. I tried several places, but they were a disappointment. Then I came to Prospero’s and now I never go anywhere else when I’m in the mood for it.”

“Why is that dish so special to you?” She’d just sipped the wine one of the waiters had brought to their table. Her lips glistened from the liquid, causing him to think thoughts he shouldn’t be having, like how she would taste right now if he were to kiss her. His instant attraction to her was growing in leaps.

He drank some of his. “They use an old recipe that reminds me of the years I lived in Biella.”

Her eyes searched his. “You mean Biella, Italy?”

“Have you been there?”

“Once years ago, with my mother and sisters. Mammaloved it because it was hilly with old castellos she’d visited as a child. As I recall, we had lunch there with a friend of my father’s cousin. I remember walking up the steep, narrow streets to the citadel.”

“I did it many times myself.”

“So you’re Italian! You must be here on a visa. Now that you’re a doctor here, do you think in time you might apply for Domodossolan citizenship? Quite a few people from other countries hold dual citizenship.”

“That’s true—”

But before he could answer her question, Prospero brought their food to the table. He nodded to Nico then said, “Buon appetito,Princess.”

“Grazie,signor.It looks delicious. So does the rigotoni alla carbanara.”

Nico eyed her after Prospero walked away. “He cooks the meat. His wife makes the pasta with guaciale.”

She looked surprised. “Doesn’t that mean ‘cheeks’?”

He chuckled. “In this case pig’s cheeks. Normally the pasta is made with pancetta,but the meat is too crisp. Guaciale melts in your mouth.”All the time they talked, he couldn’t stop admiring the mold of her face and the way her eyes danced. There wasn’t another woman like her in existence and he didn’t want this evening to end.

The waiter brought coffee as they started eating. After a few minutes she leaned toward Nico. “This food is divine. How do you know all this? Were you a five-star chef before you became a doctor?”

“Not exactly. From the age of twelve to eighteen I was a pig farmer on an estate on the outskirts of Biella before and after school.”

“You’re kidding!” she cried with excitement. “You got to play with all the little piglets?”

Her comment tickled him. “You like pigs?”

She smiled. “Yes! Sometimes my sisters and I would visit a pig farm on the palatial estate and I always wanted to take one home and turn it into a pet like my rabbit. My parents forbade it, but—Oh, they’re so adorable!”