The Royal Collection. Rebecca WintersЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER ONE

      August, Monte Calanetti, Italy

      THE FLOOR-LENGTH MIRROR reflected a princess bride whose flowing white wedding dress, with the heavy intricate beading, followed the lines of her slender rounded figure to perfection. It probably weighed thirty pounds, but her five-foot-nine height helped her to carry it off with a regal air.

      The delicate tiara with sapphires, the something-borrowed, something-blue gift from the queen, Christina’s soon-to-be mother-in-law, held the lace mantilla made by the nuns. The lace overlying her red-gold hair, to the satin slippers on her feet, formed a whole that looked...pretty.

      “I actually feel like a bride.” Her breath caught. “That can’t be me!” she whispered to herself. Her very recent makeover was nothing short of miraculous.

      Christina Rose, soon-to-be bride of Crown Prince Antonio de L’Accardi of Halencia, turned to one side, then the other, as past memories of being called an ugly duckling, the chubby one, filled her mind.

      From adolescence until the ripe old age of twenty-eight, she’d had to live with those unflattering remarks muttered by the people around her. Not that she really heard people say those things once she’d grown up and had been spending her time doing charity work on behalf of her prominent family. But she knew it was what people were thinking.

      In truth her own parents were the ones who’d scarred her. They’d left her with nannies from the time she was born. And as she’d grown, her father had constantly belittled her with hurtful barbs by comparing her unfavorably to her friends. “Why is our daughter so dumpy?” she’d once heard him say. “Why didn’t we get a boy?” They’d picked out the name Christopher, but had to change it to Christina when she was born.

      His unkind remarks during those impressionable years had been wounds that struck deep, especially considering that Christina’s mother had been a former supermodel.

      Christina didn’t know how her father could have said such cruel things to his daughter when she had loved both her parents so much and desperately wanted their approval. Between her unattractive brownish-red hair she’d always worn in a ponytail, to her teeth that had needed straightening, she’d been an embarrassment to her parents, who moved in the highest of political and social circles in Halencia.

      In order to keep her out of sight, they’d sent their overweight daughter to boarding school in Montreux, Switzerland, where forty-five girls from affluent, titled families were sent from countries around the world.

      Her pain at having to live away year after year until she turned eighteen had been her deepest sorrow. Christina was a poor reflection on her parents, whose world revolved around impressing other important people in the upper echelons of society, including the favor of the royal family of Halencia. Her father particularly didn’t want her around when they were entertaining important dignitaries, which was most of the time.

      If it hadn’t been for Elena, the daughter of Halencia’s royal family attending the French-speaking boarding school who’d become her closest friend, Christina didn’t know how she would have survived her time there. With both of them being from Italian-speaking Halencia, their nationality and own dialect had immediately created a bond between the two women.

      Though Elena bore the title of Princess Elena de L’Accardi, she’d never used it at school or behaved as if she were better than Christina. If anything, she was a free spirit, on the wild side, and good-looking like her older brother, the handsome Crown Prince Antonio de L’Accardi, who was the heartthrob of Halencia, beloved by the people. He’d had a hold on Christina’s heart from the first moment she met him.

      Elena never worried about breaking a few rules, like meeting a boyfriend at the local ice-skating rink in Montreux without their headmistress finding out. And worse, sneaking out to his nearby boarding school and going rowing on the lake at midnight, or sneaking her out for a joyride to Geneva in the Lamborghini his wealthy parents had bought him.

      Christina had loved being with Elena and secretly wished she could be outgoing and confident like her dear friend. When the royal family went on their many vacations, Christina missed Elena terribly. It was during those times that Christina developed a close friendship with the quiet-spoken Marusha from Kenya.

      Marusha was the daughter of the chief of the westernized Kikuyu tribe who’d sent his daughter to be educated in Switzerland. Marusha suffered from homesickness and she and Christina had comforted each other. Their long talks had prompted Christina to fly to Kenya after she turned eighteen and Marusha prevailed on her father to open doors for Christina to do charity work there.

      Once she’d established a foundation in Halencia to deal with the business side, Christina stationed herself in Africa and lost herself in giving help to others. She knew she was better off being far away from home where she couldn’t be hurt by her parents’ dissatisfaction with her.

      Caught up in those crippling thoughts, Christina was startled to hear a knock on the door off the main hallway.

      “Mi scusi,” sounded a deep male voice she hadn’t heard since his phone call two months ago. “I’m looking for Christina Rose. Is she in here?”

      What was Antonio doing up here outside the doors of the bridal suite?

      In a state of absolute panic, Christina ran behind the screen to hide. She’d come up here to be alone and make sure her wedding finery fit and looked right. For him to see her like this before the ceremony would be worse than bad luck!

      Her heart pounded so hard she was afraid he could hear it through the doors. Trying to disguise her voice to a lower pitch, she said, “Christina isn’t here, signor.”

      “I think she is,” he teased. “I think it’s you playing a game with me.”

      Heat filled her cheeks. He’d found her out. “Well, you can’t come in!”

      “Now, that’s the Christina I remember. Still modest and afraid of your own shadow. What a way to greet your intended beloved.”

      “Go away, Antonio. You should be at the chapel.”

      “Is that all you have to say after I’ve flown thousands of miles to be with my fiancée?”

      The large four-carat diamond ring set in antique gold belonging to the L’Accardi royal family had been given to her at their engagement four years ago. Though she’d gone through the sham ritual for the most worthy reason, it had been a personal horror for Christina.

      But when her parents had acted overjoyed that she’d snagged the crown prince, she felt she’d gotten their attention at last. Becoming a royal princess had made them look more favorably at her, and that had helped her enter into the final wedding preparations with growing excitement.

      The