Crowned: The Palace Nanny (13 page)

‘No.' He grew serious then. ‘I'm not asking that of you. It's my responsibility. But I did think—even before last night—that you deserve an explanation of who I am—of what's behind the mess of this island. So that while I'm away you have a clear idea of the background.'

He was manoeuvring the car off the main road now, turning onto a dirt track through what was almost coastal jungle. Once upon a time this had been a magnificent garden but that was a long time ago now. He parked the car under the shade of a vast wisteria draping the canopy of a long-strangled tree. As the car's batwings pushed up, the wisteria's soft flowers sent a shower of petals over their heads.

It was right to come here, Stefanos thought. Matters of state had to wait a little. This felt…right.

Elsa was gazing around her with awe and the beginnings of delight. A tiny stone cottage was also covered with wisteria. It looked ramshackle, neglected and unused.

‘This looks almost like home,' she breathed. ‘Without the termites.'

‘You have termites?'

‘My house is wood veneer,' she said darkly. ‘Veneer over termites. So what's this place?'

‘My home,' he said, and she stared.

‘Your home? But you live in Manhattan.'

‘Now I do. This is where I was brought up.'

She stared around her, puzzled. ‘But a prince wouldn't live here.'

‘I wasn't raised as a prince. My father scratched a living fishing. He was killed in a boating accident when I was sixteen. Accidents to the island's original royals are littered throughout our history—never anything that could definitely be attributed to the King, but terrifying, regardless. After Papa died my mother insisted I go abroad. She sold everything to get me into school in the States. Christos left soon after, for the same reasons, only Christos's mother had a little more money so she was able to go with him.'

‘So you left the island when you were sixteen? Alone?'

‘Yes,' he said flatly. ‘I had no choice. Mama was terrified every time I set foot on the island so she insisted I didn't return. She died of a heart attack just before I qualified as a doctor, and it's to my eternal regret I wasn't here for her. I hope…I hope she was proud of my medicine. I've always hoped that what I do was worth her sacrifice.' He shrugged awkwardly. ‘Who can tell, but there it is.'

‘So…' She was eyeing him cautiously. Sympathetic but wary. ‘Why are you telling me this?'

‘I want to tell you why I left the island and I want to explain how important my medicine is to me.' He hesitated. ‘That's all. Dumb, really. But after last night…it seemed important that you know.'

‘You can practice medicine here,' she said, still cautious.

‘I can,' he said. ‘I will. The old doctor here is overjoyed that I'll be joining him.'

‘But…not practising neurosurgery?'

‘I'd need a population considerably bigger than this island to justify equipment, technology, ancillary staff. So no.'

‘You'll be a good family doctor,' she said softly and he smiled.

‘I hope so. If I'm not I'm sure you'll tell me. Now…lunch?'

‘Yes, please.'

She climbed out of the car and gazed around her. It was a picture-perfect setting, a tiny house nestled in a tranquil little
cove. She thought of Stefanos growing up here, using this place as his own private paradise.

He had it all. His career, his title, his good looks, his life.

So why did she feel sorry for him? It wasn't what he'd intended, she thought, glancing at him as he retrieved a picnic basket from the car. But suddenly…Suddenly she thought she hadn't had it too hard at all.

She'd lost Matty but she'd loved him and he'd loved her. Her own parents had died young but her best friend, Amy, had always been close. And then there'd been Zoe.

How hard must it be to walk alone?

How would he react if she told him she felt sorry for him? she wondered, and then she glanced at him again, at the sheer good looks of the man, the way he smiled at her, the teasing laughter behind his eyes.

All this and sympathy too? This man was too dangerous for words!

 

He suspected it was a picnic to surpass any picnic she'd ever had. Lobster, crunchy bread rolls, butter curls in a Thermos to keep them cool, a salad of mango and avocado and prawns, lemon slivers, strawberries, tiny meringues, a bottle of sparkling white wine…

‘This is enough for a small army,' she gasped as he spread a blanket over a sandy knoll overlooking the sea.

‘I doubt the royal kitchen appreciates the concept of enough. Do you think you can make a dent in it?'

‘I'll do my best,' she said and proceeded to do just that.

She concentrated on eating, as if it was really important. It probably was, he conceded. She'd missed last night's dinner and this morning's breakfast, but she probably didn't need to concentrate quite as hard as she was.

She seemed nervous, and that made two of them. Last night had left him floundering, and quite simply he didn't know how to go forward. This was a woman unlike any other. A widow. A woman with a past, but a woman who was facing the future with courage, with humour and with love.

Quite simply, she left him awed. And now…He felt as if he were treading on eggshells, and he was already sure he was squashing some.

In the end it was Elsa who broke a silence that was starting to seem strained. ‘So tell me about the island,' she ventured. She was lying on the rug looking out to sea. She was on one side of the rug, he was on the other and the picnic gear was in between. It was starting to seem a really intrusive arrangement. But it'd be really unwise to change it, he thought. No matter how much he wanted to.

‘I'll show you the island,' he told her. ‘When you've finished lunch I'll give you a quick tour. It's far too big to see in a day—but I do want to give you some impression of what we're facing.'

‘We?'

‘Hey, you offered to help,' he said and then smiled at her look of panic. ‘But no, Elsa, relax. I meant
we
as in all the islanders.'

She managed a smile in turn. ‘Not
we
as in the royal
we
? Not
we
as in, “We are not amused”?'

‘No.'

‘So there's still nothing for me to do.'

‘There is.' He hesitated, trying to figure a way to say what needed to be said. He couldn't. But still it needed to be said.

‘There are three things,' he said at last. ‘Some time before I go back to Manhattan—before the end of the month—I'd like to take you to Athens. I want you to buy a dress for the coronation.'

It was such an unexpected request that she looked blank. It was left to him to explain—why he'd woken at three this morning and thought he had to do this. He'd fit it into his schedule somehow.

‘I want you to have a gown that'll do justice to your role on the island,' he said simply. ‘I want you to stand by Zoe's side at the coronation and look royal yourself. You're her guardian. I'll stand by her side as Prince Regent but you're
guardian to the Crown Princess. You should be received with equal honour.'

There was a lengthy silence at that. Then, ‘A dress,' Elsa said cautiously. ‘You mean…not a nice nannyish dress with a starched collar and Nanny embroidered on the breast.'

‘I had in mind more a Princess Di dress. Or a Princess Grace dress. Something to make the islanders gasp.'

‘Yeah, right,' she said dryly.

‘Yeah, right? That would be two positives? That means you agree?'

‘That means there's no way I agree.'

‘I wish it,' he said.

‘Oooh,' she said. ‘Is this insubordination?'

‘Elsa…'

‘Sorry.' She managed a shaky smile. ‘It's an amazing offer.' She shook her head, as if shaking off a dream. ‘But it's nuts. For one thing, you have way too much to do to be taking me shopping. How could you possibly justify putting off your surgical lists for something so crazy? And second…The clothes you've already arranged for me are bad enough.'

She faltered then, her colour fading as she realised what she'd said. ‘I'm sorry,' she said again. ‘I mean…they're lovely and I'm very grateful, but…I don't know how to explain. This is me, Stefanos. I might be changing direction but I'm still me. I don't do Princess Di or Princess Grace. Please. Let me keep being Elsa.'

‘You can be Elsa in a couture gown.'

‘Yeah, right,' she said again. ‘But no. So okay, that's sorted. What next? What else did you want to talk to me about?'

‘It would give me pleasure to see…'

‘No.' Flat. Definite. ‘You're royalty and I'm not. Let's move on.'

Uh-oh. He wasn't having much luck here, and the next one was more important. Maybe he should have voiced it first. Except when he'd thought this all through in the middle of the night, the thought of taking her shopping had distracted him. It was still distracting him.

Maybe now, though, he needed to get serious.

‘It's not just shopping,' he said softly. ‘I'd like you to see an orthopaedic surgeon in Athens. I want you to get your hip repaired.'

‘Now?' she said, astounded.

‘Now,' he said. ‘You're in pain.'

‘I'm not.'

‘You are. The pin in your hip hasn't held. You need a complete joint replacement.'

Uh-oh, he thought, watching her face. Maybe he'd gone about this the wrong way.

She stood, staggering a little as she put weight on both feet, but she righted herself fast. Her eyes were flashing fire. ‘How do you know,' she said, carefully enunciating each syllable, ‘that the pin hasn't held?'

‘I rang Brisbane.'

‘You rang Brisbane.' The fire in her eyes was suddenly looking downright explosive. ‘You mean you rang my treating doctor?'

He was suddenly in really dangerous territory. This woman might change direction at will but she was never going to be compliant or boring or…or less than the Elsa he was starting to have enormous respect for.

Respect? Respect didn't begin to cover what he was feeling.

‘You wouldn't tell me what's wrong with your hip,' he said, trying to sound reasonable, but he was wrong-footed and he knew it. He'd wanted to sound caring and concerned and…maybe even magnanimous. Instead, suddenly he was feeling unprofessional and interfering and about the size of a rather small bug.

‘So you just asked,' she said, and her anger was starting to make her stutter. ‘You thought you'd just ask my doctor what was wrong with me. How did you do that? Did you say, “Hi, Doctor, this is a casual acquaintance of one of your patients. Could you tell me what's wrong with her hip?” Or…“This is Prince Stefanos Leandros Antoniadis from Khryseis and I order you to hand over my servant's medical records.” Or…'
She paused for breath. ‘Or, “This is Doctor Antoniadis and I have a woman here who can't even get up the stairs without limping so can you send me her records—as one professional to another”.'

‘It wasn't like that. Elsa, I owe you so much.' He'd risen to face her. Now he tried to take her hands, but she wrenched them away as if he were poison ivy.

‘You owe me so much that you can't even grant me privacy?' she demanded.

‘I have to know what's wrong with you. Zoe depends on you. We need to get it fixed before I leave.'

‘Before you leave…It'll take weeks. Months, even. A week in hospital and at least a month in rehabilitation. When you get back from Manhattan, when things are settled, when Zoe's happy, then I'll think about it. Maybe. Possibly. But it's my business. Mine, Stefanos.'

‘Zoe will cope…'

‘Zoe will not cope. I will not ask it of her. Now, what's the third thing?'

‘I don't think it's wise…'

‘I don't think any of this is wise,' she said. ‘But ask me anyway.'

‘It can wait.'

‘I might not be speaking to you tomorrow. Tell me now.'

‘It was just…' Hell, he'd messed this. He'd messed this so badly. He wanted to back off but she was waiting, breathing too fast, and he knew that not to finish it would make it even worse than it already was. The third request…

‘It's none of my business.'

‘So tell me and let me decide.'

He hesitated. But he did need to get to know this woman. Even as her employer, he should know her.

‘I'd like you to tell me about Matty.'

‘Matty.'

‘Your husband.'

‘You think I don't know who Matty is?' She seemed almost speechless.