‘I didn’t come to frighten you.’
‘So why did you come?’ She heard herself then, realising she was sounding hysterical. She knew Zoe’s father had come from Khryseis. She knew he’d been part of the royal family. What could be more natural than a distant relative, here on official business, dropping in to see Zoe?
But then there was his statement…
Prince Regent…That made him Prince in charge while someone was incapacitated. The old King?
Or when someone was a child.
‘Zoe, hush,’ she said, catching her breath, deciding someone had to be mature and it might as well be her. ‘I was silly to panic. Stefanos isn’t here to take you away.’ She glared over Zoe’s head, as much to tell him,
Zoe hiccuped on a sob, but there’d been worse things than this to frighten Zoe in her short life, and she was one brave little girl. She sniffed and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and turned within Elsa’s arms to face him.
She was a whippet of a child, far too thin, and far too small. The endless operations had taken their toll. It was taking time and painstaking rehabilitation to build her up to anywhere near normal.
‘Maybe we both should say sorry and a proper hello,’ Elsa said ruefully, and Zoe swallowed manfully and put a thin hand out in greeting. Clinging to Elsa with the other.
‘Hello,’ she whispered.
‘Hello,’ Stefanos said and took her hand with all the courtesy of one royal official meeting another. ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, Zoe. I’ve come halfway round the world to meet you.’
And then he turned his attention to Elsa. ‘And you must be Mrs Murdoch.’
‘She’s Elsa,’ Zoe corrected him.
‘Elsa, then, if that’s okay with Elsa,’ Stefanos said, meeting her gaze steadily. She had no hand free left to shake and she was glad of it. This man was unsettling enough without touch.
So…She didn’t know where to go from here. Did you invite a prince home for a cup of tea? Or for a twelve course luncheon?
‘You live here?’ he asked, his tone still gentle. There was only one place in sight. Her bungalow-a tired, rundown shack. ‘Is this place yours?’
‘Yes.’
‘Can I come in and talk to you?’
‘Your chauffeur…’
‘Would it be too much trouble to ask if you could ring for a taxi to take me back into town when we’ve spoken? I don’t like to keep my chauffeur waiting.’
‘There’s no taxi service out here.’
‘Oh.’
Now what? What was a woman to say when a prince didn’t want to keep his chauffeur waiting? She needed an instruction manual. Maybe she was still verging on the hysterical.
She gave herself a swift mental shake. ‘I’m sorry. A taxi won’t come out here but we have a car. It’ll only take us fifteen minutes to run you back into town. I’m not normally so…so inhospitable. It’s the uniform.’
‘I expect it might be,’ he said and smiled, and there it was again, that smile-a girl could die and go to heaven in that smile. ‘I don’t want to put you to trouble.’
‘If you can cope with a simple sandwich, you’re welcome to lunch,’ she managed. ‘And…of course we’ll drive you into town. After all, you’re Christos’s cousin.’
‘So I can’t be all bad?’ It was a teasing question and she flushed.
‘I loved Christos,’ she said, almost defensively. ‘And I loved Amy. Zoe’s mama and papa were my closest friends.’ She managed a shaky smile. ‘For their sake…you’re welcome.’
The house was saggy and battered and desperately in need of a paint. A couple of weatherboards had crumbled under the front window and a piece of plywood had been tacked in place to fill the gap. The whole place looked as if it could blow over in the next breeze. Only the garden, fabulous and overgrown, looked as if it was holding the place together.
Stefanos hardly noticed the garden. All he noticed was the woman in front of him.
She was…stunning. Stunning in every sense of the word, he thought. Natural, graceful, free.
Free was maybe a dumb adjective but it was the thought that came to mind. She was wearing nothing but shorts and a faded white blouse, its top three buttons undone so he had a glimpse of beautiful cleavage. Her long slim legs seemed to go on for ever, finally ending in bare feet, tanned and sand coated. This woman lived in bare feet, he thought, and a shiver went through him that he couldn’t identify. Was it weird to think bare sandy toes were incredibly sexy? If it was, then count him weird.
But it wasn’t just her toes. It wasn’t just her body.
Her face was tanned, with wide intelligent eyes, a smattering of freckles and a full generous mouth with a lovely smile. Breathtakingly lovely. Her honey-blonde hair was sun-kissed, bleached to almost translucence by the sun. There was no way those streaks were artificial, for there was nothing artificial about this woman. She wore not a hint of make-up, except the remains of a smear of white suncream over her nose, and her riot of damp, salt-and- sand-laden curls looked as if they hadn’t seen a comb for a week.
Quite simply, he’d never seen a woman so beautiful.
‘Are you coming in?’ Elsa was standing on the veranda, looking at him with the beginnings of amusement. Probably because he was standing with his mouth open.
‘Is this a holiday shack?’ he managed, forcing his focus to the house-though it was almost impossible to force his focus anywhere but her. The information he’d been given said she lived here. Surely not.
‘No,’ she said shortly, amusement fading. ‘It’s our home. I promise it’s clean enough inside so you won’t get your uniform dirty.’
‘I didn’t mean…’
‘No.’ She relented and forced another of her lovely smiles. ‘I know you didn’t. I’m sorry.’
He came up the veranda steps. Zoe had already disappeared inside, and he heard the sound of running water.
‘Zoe gets first turn at the shower while I make lunch,’ Elsa explained. ‘Then she sets the table while I shower.’
It was said almost defiantly. Like-don’t mess with the order of things. She was afraid, he thought.
But…This woman was Zoe’s nanny. She was being paid out of Zoe’s estate. He’d worried when he’d read that-a stranger making money out of a child.
Now he wasn’t so sure. This wasn’t a normal nanny-child relationship. Even after knowing them only five minutes, he knew it.
And the fear? She’d be wanting reassurance that he wouldn’t take Zoe away. He couldn’t give it. He watched her face and he knew his silence was being assessed for what it was.
Why hadn’t he found more out about her? His information was that Zoe’s parents had died in a car crash four years ago. Since then Zoe had been living with a woman who was being paid out of her parents’ estate-an estate consisting mostly of Christos’s life insurance.
That information had him hoping things could be handled simply. He could take Zoe back to Khryseis and employ a lovely, warm nanny over there to care for her. Maybe this could even be seen as a rescue mission.
This woman, sunburned, freckled and barefoot, standing with her arms folded across her breasts in a stance of pure defence, said it wasn’t simple at all. Mrs Elsa Murdoch was not your normal nanny.
And…Christos and Amy had been her best friends?
‘I’m not here to harm Zoe,’ he said mildly.
‘No.’ That was a dumb statement, he conceded. As if she was expecting him to beat the child.
‘I just want what’s best for her.’
