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. Mamma loved 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!”
So was she. Already Nico realized he was falling hard for her. “For the most part they’re well behaved as long as you don’t separate them from the sow. There were times when I had to help a runt so it would thrive, and the vet would come. They have to be given antibiotics to prevent infection, and you have to put iodine on their navels. But sometimes the runts died. That was the hard part.”
“How sad that must have been for you. When the wild rabbit I found and nursed back to health eventually died, it took me a long time to get over it. I’m surprised you didn’t become a vet.”
Nico finished his wine. “There was another experience earlier in my life that influenced me to go into a different kind of medicine, but I’ll never regret my time on that farm.”
“I think you were lucky.”
“For many reasons I agree.” Right now I’m the luckiest man on the planet. “The family I lived with were good to me and cooked roast pig at least twice a week. We ate well, which was a blessing because I was always hungry. Whenever I get homesick for those days, I come here to eat.”
“I can see why. Do you ever go back to Biella?”
He was flattered and humbled by her interest in his life, as if she really wanted to know. “About every two months since I moved here. I enjoy the trip and visit friends, some of whom need medical help.”
“How fortunate for them to have you looking after them.” After she’d finished her meal, she swallowed the rest of her wine. “Where is your family?”
The inevitable question, reminding him of the separation between them. For a little while he’d forgotten. After sitting back, he studied her through narrowed lids. “I’ve been wanting to know the answer to that question since my first remembrance of life.”
She studied him. “I don’t understand.”
“Someone like you whose royal pedigree goes back thousands of years would have a hard time relating.”
“Please can’t you forget my background and just talk to me like I’m a normal woman?” she persisted. Her endearing sincerity got to him.
Nico slowly drank his hot coffee. “I’m here on a temporary visa that has to be renewed on a regular basis. I have no idea of my true nationality, which is why I couldn’t answer your question about citizenship.”
A slight frown marred her brow. “But your parents—”
He lowered his cup. “I think around five years of age I must have asked someone where my mamma was because there was a painting of the bambino Gesu with his mamma in the big room.
“Apparently I understood some Italian and remember a lady in black patting my head. ‘Only God knows, figlio mio. While you are here, we shall call you Nico.’ Later I learned I’d been placed there with the nuns at the age of two, but I have no memory of it. The orphanage is in a village near Biella.”
A look of compassion and other emotions less definable pooled in the celestial blue eyes of the princess.
“Now I’ve told you more than I’ve told anyone else in years. You have that rare quality of being a good listener. I’m
