‘So we’re going to the beach why?’ she prodded again and he shook off his preoccupation with Elsa the woman and Gullwing the car and tried to think of what she’d asked.
‘I want to be private.’
‘Not so you can kiss me again?’
‘No,’ he said, startled, and then thought actually that wasn’t such a bad idea.
‘Just as well,’ she said, but her voice was strained. He glanced across at her and thought she’d come close to admitting that last night’s kiss had affected her as much as it had him.
‘So you want to talk to me,’ she ventured.
‘We need to depend on each other,’ he said, trying to sound suitably grave and princely. ‘Maybe it’s time we got to find out a bit more about each other.’
‘Without kissing.’
‘Without kissing.’ Hard to sound grave and princely while saying that.
‘So you can figure whether I can take on this island?’
‘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
She managed a smile in turn. ‘Not
‘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
