The Orsini Brides. Sandra Marton

The Orsini Brides - Sandra Marton


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       International bestseller

       Sandra

      MARTON

       presents

      The ORSINI BRIDES

      Two Sicilian sisters, two powerful princes—two passionate, tempestuous marriages!

      THE ICE PRINCE

      THE REAL RIO D'AQUILA

      SANDRA MARTON wrote her first novel while she was still in primary school. Her doting parents told her she'd be a writer some day and Sandra believed them. In secondary school and college she wrote dark poetry nobody but her boyfriend understood—though, looking back, she suspects he was just being kind. As a wife and mother she wrote murky short stories in what little spare time she could manage, but not even her boyfriend-turned-husband could pretend to understand those. Sandra tried her hand at other things, among them teaching and serving on the Board of Education in her home town, but the dream of becoming a writer was always in her heart.

      At last Sandra realised she wanted to write books about what all women hope to find: love with that one special man, love that's rich with fire and passion, love that lasts forever. She wrote a novel, her very first, and sold it to Mills & Boon. Since then, she's written more than seventy books, all of them featuring sexy, gorgeous, larger-than-life heroes. A four-time RITA® Award finalist, she has also received eight RT Book Reviews awards and has been honoured with an RT Book Reviews Career Achievement Award for Series Romance.

      Sandra lives with her very own sexy, gorgeous, larger-than-life hero in a sun-filled house on a quiet country lane in the northeastern United States.

      Sandra loves to hear from her readers. You can contact her through her website, www.sandramarton.com, or at PO Box 295, Storrs, CT 06268, USA.

      The Orsini Brides

      The Ice Prince

      The Real Rio D’Aquila

      Sandra Marton

       www.millsandboon.co.uk

      MILLS & BOON

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      Table of Contents

       Cover

       About the Author

       Title Page

      The Ice Prince

      CHAPTER ONE

      CHAPTER TWO

      CHAPTER THREE

      CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       The Real Rio D’Aquila

       CHAPTER ONE

       CHAPTER TWO

       CHAPTER THREE

       CHAPTER FOUR

       CHAPTER FIVE

       CHAPTER SIX

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       CHAPTER EIGHT

       CHAPTER NINE

       CHAPTER TEN

       CHAPTER ELEVEN

       CHAPTER TWELVE

       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

       EPILOGUE

       Copyright

       The Ice Prince

      Sandra Marton

       CHAPTER ONE

      THE first time he noticed her was in the Air Italy VIP lounge.

      Noticed? Later, that would strike him as a bad joke. How could he not have noticed her?

      The fact was, she burst into his life with all the subtlety of a lit string of firecrackers. The only difference? Firecrackers would have been less dangerous.

      Draco was sitting in a leather chair near the windows, doing his best imitation of a man reading through a file on his laptop when the truth was he was too sleep-deprived, too jet-lagged, too wound up to do more than try to focus his eyes on the screen.

      As if all that weren’t enough, he had one hell of a headache.

      Six hours from Maui to Los Angeles. A two-hour layover there, followed by six hours more to New York and now another two-hour layover that was stretching toward three.

      He couldn’t imagine anyone who would be happy at such an endless trip, but for a man accustomed to flying in his own luxurious 737, the journey was rapidly becoming intolerable.

      Circumstances had given him no choice.

      His plane was down for scheduled maintenance, and with the short notice he’d had of the urgent need to return to Rome, there’d been no time to make other arrangements.

      Not even Draco Valenti—Prince Draco Marcellus Valenti, because he was certain his ever-efficient PA had resorted to the use of his full, if foolish, title in her attempts to make more suitable arrangements—could come up with a rented aircraft fit for intercontinental flight at the last minute.

      He had flown coach from Maui to L.A., packed in a center seat between a man who oozed over the armrest that barely separated them and an obscenely cheerful middle-aged woman who had talked nonstop as they flew over the Pacific. Draco had gone from polite mmms and uh-huhs to silence, but that had not stopped her from telling him her life story.

      He had done better on the cross-country flight to Kennedy Airport, managing to


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