Jessica Gilmore – A Proposal From The Crown Prince (страница 1)
The prince and the ballerina...
Her dreams of making principal dancer dashed, Posy Marlowe escapes to her beloved Villa Rosa. However, her peace is shattered by the arrival of a gorgeous stranger on her private beach!
Crown Prince Nico is surprised to find Posy at the abandoned island villa. Once, he would’ve charmed Posy off the beach and into his arms, but now he’s in need of a more permanent arrangement. He just has to persuade the woman who’s already warming his heart she’ll make his perfect princess bride!
“I think we should get married. Don’t you?”
“But...that’s ridiculous. We don’t even know each other.” Plus he hadn’t even asked her. Not that a ring and a bended knee would make any difference, but at least she wouldn’t feel like a problem he needed to sort out. She folded her arms and glared at him.
Nico raised one lazy brow. “Rosalind Anne Marlowe,” he drawled. “Twenty-four years old. Your parents own a well-thought-of light aircraft manufacturer, which your sister, Imogen, now runs. You have two more sisters, one a pilot, the other a celebrity journalist who is in a relationship with Javier Russo, a friend of my cousin, Alessandro.”
“Yes, but...”
He carried on as if she hadn’t spoken. “You went to train to be a ballerina when you were eleven and graduated into a company where you spent the last five years as a member of the corps de ballet until your unexpected sabbatical this summer. No one knows if you plan to return to dancing or if you have other plans, but your sabbatical has caused quite a stir—you have shown no interest in anything except ballet your entire life. You share a flat with two other dancers, have had a handful of boyfriends although no relationship lasted more than three months and you met them all through work. How am I doing so far?”
“You had me investigated?”
His eyes darkened and he took a step nearer. “I know you like to dance on the beach even when there’s no audience there to see you. I know you like the feel of cold salt water on your bare skin. I know the look on your face when you make your mind up to do something and the way your hands clench when you’re nervous. I know the look on your face when I touch you. I know the way you sigh, the way you moan...”
Four sisters escape to the Mediterranean...
Only to find reunions, romance...and royalty!
Villa Rosa holds a very special place in the hearts of Posy Marlowe and her three sisters, filled with memories of idyllic summer holidays on L’Isola dei Fiori. And her recent inheritance of the beautiful but fading palazzo from her godmother, Sofia, couldn’t have come at a better time for them all!
Now, this summer, they all escape to L’Isola dei Fiori and rediscover Villa Rosa again.
Don’t miss all four books in this fabulous quartet:
On sale June: Her Pregnancy Bombshell
by Liz Fielding (Miranda’s story)
On sale July: The Mysterious Italian Houseguest
by Scarlet Wilson (Portia’s story)
On sale August: The Runaway Bride and the Billionaire
by Kate Hardy (Imogen’s story)
On sale September: A Proposal from the Crown Prince
by Jessica Gilmore (Posy’s story)
Only in Mills & Boon Romance.
And Jessica Gilmore brings you an exciting online read—a prequel to Summer at Villa Rosa.
Available now at millsandboon.co.uk.
A Proposal from the Crown Prince
Jessica Gilmore
A former au pair, bookseller, marketing manager and seafront trader, JESSICA GILMORE now works for an environmental charity in York, England. Married with one daughter, one fluffy dog and two dog-loathing cats, she spends her time avoiding housework and can usually be found with her nose in a book. Jessica writes emotional romance with a hint of humor, a splash of sunshine and a great deal of delicious food—and equally delicious heroes!
To my very own hardworking ballerina.
I hope one day you really will be a tree in Covent Garden xxx
Contents
POSY’S CHEEKS ACHED but her smile didn’t waver, nor did she flinch as a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, another trickling slowly down her back. Her muscles screamed for release but she kept perfectly still, one leg bent, an arm outstretched, head high, eyes fixed on the cheering crowd. They were on their feet, shouts of ‘bravo!’ reverberating around the auditorium as bouquet after ravishing bouquet were carried onto the stage to be laid reverentially at her fellow dancer’s feet.
What must it feel like to be Daria, Posy wondered as Daria kissed her hand to the ecstatic audience, to know that all this rapture was for you? How did it feel to star in a brand-new ballet, choreographed just for you, and to have London at your feet? She and Daria had started ballet school together years before, had once stood side by side, the only two girls from their year to make it into the Company—but now Daria shone right in centre stage while Posy remained firmly in the heart of the Corps de Ballet.
But there was still hope, the promotions were yet to be announced. Maybe this year she would finally make Artist and be given some of the smaller featured roles—and then First Artist to Soloist and on and on until she reached the exalted rank of Principal. Maybe...
But at twenty-four, five years after she’d graduated into the Company, it was getting harder and harder to keep hoping. Of course, she reminded herself as another bead of sweat trickled down her cheek, thousands of people would kill for the opportunity to be doing exactly what she was doing, would consider being able to dance in nearly every production of the most prestigious ballet company in the world enough in itself. But it wasn’t enough; she wanted more.
Posy stayed backstage longer than usual after the curtain finally fell, standing quietly to one side of the cavernous room as the rest of the dancers exited chattering excitedly and the stagehands began to move the scenery back into its designated space. There was always an extra buzz after a Saturday night’s performance, adrenaline mixing with the sweet knowledge there was no class on a Sunday so the dancers could flock to their favourite Covent Garden haunts, filling the tables vacated by the tourists as night drew in. But Posy couldn’t shake her flatness and so she waited until the backstage area had cleared before making her way out. When she finally reached the dressing room she shared with several other girls it was empty apart from the usual bottles of make-up and brushes scattered on the dressing tables, discarded tights and pointe shoes piled in the corner and costumes hanging on rails, waiting for the costume department to collect, clean and mend them before the next performance.