Part of what he remembered was reality, part fantasy. He hadn’t wanted that night to end. To Ruby, he’d been just Alex. At that point in his life he’d been able to do that. But it had been the last night of his life to have that opportunity, and spending it with Ruby couldn’t have been more perfect. If only it had ended differently.
He looked down and shuffled the ever-growing mound of papers on his desk. All things that needed his signature. Emails were all very well, but some things still required a signature.
He picked up the phone and dialled the number of the clinic in Switzerland. It didn’t matter that he knew the doctors would phone him if they had any concerns. Or that he had a multitude of staff members to do it for him. After ten years, he still liked to keep a check of things on his own.
He moved the papers on the desk again, looking to find a letter for a foreign dignitary. Something fluttered to the floor. A photo. He picked it up and smiled. It was ten years old. Ruby, just the way he remembered her, taken by one of his security team on New Year’s Eve. He’d only found out about it a few months later, when he’d wanted to track her down. His Head of Security had admitted they had some photographs and had looked into her past—all to check her authenticity.
It was of the two of them, sitting at the table in that café next to the Four Seasons. They were laughing. Ruby had her head thrown back, her dark hair was glossy, and she was smiling from ear to ear. But the thing that had always struck him about that picture was the way they were looking at each other. Even though Ruby was laughing she was still looking at him, and he at her.
A little moment captured in time.
A million different possibilities. A million different futures.
If he’d turned a different corner that night he’d never have met Ruby Wetherspoon, and that thought made his stomach twist almost as much as the thought of what might have been.
Deep down he knew his father would never have accepted his fascination with an English healthcare worker. He’d never fully understood it himself.
But no one could deny the connection between them. This picture was everlasting proof of that.
When he had his darkest moments—when the nights just seemed to last for ever—it was thoughts of Ruby that gave him comfort. Thoughts of being twenty-four again and having the world at his feet.
He sighed and opened a drawer to put the photo inside. Ruby had never been a threat and his security staff had filed their paperwork away.
He just couldn’t do the same.
* * *
There it was again. That strange noise.
Ruby moved from the window seat, where she’d been watching the sun start to lower in the sky. Evenings could be long in the palace. Annabelle went to bed early and most of the time Ruby spent her time walking in the gardens, reading a book or talking to Polly on the phone.
Polly was still unimpressed.
The noise again. Was it a whimper?
She stood up quickly. Brigette, the nanny, had gone to bed earlier with a migraine. Could it be Annabelle?
Annabelle’s door had been left open earlier, so Ruby walked out into the corridor and hesitated, her hand above the door handle. Part of her was worried. Annabelle wasn’t that familiar with her yet. Maybe she would be scared if Ruby went into her room.
She took a deep breath as the whimper continued and pushed the door open. There was no way she could leave any child upset—whether they knew her or not.
The room was dark. Even though the sun hadn’t set yet there were blackout blinds at the window. It only took her a few seconds to realise the bed was empty.
She sucked in a breath and suppressed her impulse to shout. Instead she flicked on the light switch and had a quick look around. Annabelle might still be in the room.
But she wasn’t. Not under the bed. Not in the wardrobe—even though Ruby hadn’t really expected her to be. Not in any corner of the room.
Her heart started thudding as she walked back to the door and quickly along the corridor. The missing child would cause mayhem. The implications were tremendous—and terrifying. She had to take a few seconds to be sure before she called the alarm.
There. In front of her. At the top of the stairs.
A tiny staggering figure in pink pyjamas.
Her legs broke into a run.
‘Annabelle!’
She reached her seconds.
But Annabelle hadn’t responded to her voice. And it was clear why. She was sleepwalking.
Ruby didn’t have any experience with sleepwalking kids. She could vaguely remember something about not waking them up. But Annabelle was perilously close to the top of the staircase. She didn’t hesitate. She just swept her up into her arms.
Annabelle’s eyes were open, and the movement and embrace by Ruby seemed to give her a little start. Her whimpering stopped and she tucked her head into Ruby’s neck.
There was no one else about. Not a single person in the corridor.
She hesitated. What next? She walked back along the corridor and paused at Annabelle’s door. Her heart was still thudding after that horrible few seconds of thinking something might be wrong.
She couldn’t put Annabelle back into her bed and risk it happening again. She’d need to talk to Brigette and Alex in the morning to see if this was normal for Annabelle. No one had mentioned it, and she knew in some kids it was common, but she couldn’t risk Annabelle walking near the stairs again.
She walked back into her own room. There was plenty of space in her bed for both of them. At least then she’d know that Annabelle was safe.
Her eyes were still open. Ruby had no idea if it was just an automatic response in sleepwalking, or if on some level Annabelle was actually awake.
The little arms wound around her neck. Thank goodness for automatic reactions. Ruby just started to rock her.
Familiarity. That was what she needed for this little girl.
She kept her in her arms and walked next door, picking up Annabelle’s favourite movie and taking it with her.
Background noise. That was all it needed to be. Something familiar so that if Annabelle woke up she’d be comfortable.
Ruby reached her hand out, juggling the weight of Annabelle on the other arm as she opened the case and slid the DVD inside the player.
They settled back on the bed. Annabelle adjusted her position. She seemed comfortable in Ruby’s lap and made no attempt to move. Ruby piled the pillows around them. If they were here for the long haul they might as well be comfortable.
The screen lit up bright blue as the titles for Finding Nemo appeared. Her own ‘go to’ film as well as Annabelle’s favourite. She loved it just as much as any child, and had yet to meet a kid who wasn’t enthralled by it.
Annabelle seemed to settle back against her and that was when Ruby really started to listen. She’d already heard Annabelle whimper. She had no doubt that on a physical basis the little girl could form sounds. The diagnosis of selective mutism seemed the most appropriate. She wondered if Annabelle spoke in any situation.
She seemed a little more awake now, but she hadn’t made any sign to Ruby. Her head was definitely turned towards the TV screen, and she didn’t seem to have any objection to being in Ruby’s bed.
A new thought crossed her mind, completely unrelated to the sleepwalking. Company. This little girl wanted company.
And then it started. Little noises. Little sounds. Gasps when Nemo’s mother disappeared. Small, slow body movements along with the music, and then—eventually—a little hum. Ruby did nothing. She didn’t react at all. Just listened as Annabelle hummed along. A smile danced across the little girl’s face. She was enthralled—lost in the story. Perfect. Just perfect.
She was only three. Her speech wasn’t really too delayed. Maybe Annabelle needed a little encouragement
and coaching instead of assessing and prodding. She would have to choose her words carefully when she explained all this to Alex. There was no magic wand that she could wave here. Annabelle had to be allowed to develop at her own pace.
Ruby settled back against the pillows. Annabelle’s eyes were getting heavy. She would fall asleep soon—and then Ruby could think about this a little more...
* * *
‘Ruby!’
Her eyes shot open. The first thing that struck her was the crick in her neck. The second thing that struck her was the three people standing in the doorway—all of them staring at her.
She tried to push herself up, but Annabelle was still curled in her lap, sleeping. Ruby couldn’t even begin to imagine what she looked like—rumpled clothes, hair sticking up in every direction but the right one, and more than likely pillow creases on her face.
Brigette, Rufus and Alexander were standing in the doorway, three sets of eyes fixed on her. She tried to edge herself out from under Annabelle without disturbing her. The curtains were still drawn and the TV was flickering on the wall.
Alex rushed across the room. ‘What on earth is going on? Why is Annabelle in here?’ He seemed furious. ‘Have you any idea what I thought when I saw her bed was empty?’
He was shouting now, unable to contain his anger.
Of course. The same horrible thought she’d had for a few seconds last night, when she’d saw Annabelle’s empty bed. The horror. The worry.
She couldn’t get the words out quickly enough. ‘I’m sorry. I found her sleepwalking last night. She was close to the top of the stairs. I just grabbed her. Then I didn’t know whether to try and wake her or not, so I brought her in here. I was worried she might do it again.’
Alex reached over and lifted his still sleeping little girl out of the bed. ‘Sleepwalking? Why didn’t you call me? Why didn’t you call Brigette?’
He was angry with her.
‘I’m her father. You should have come and got me if there was something wrong with Annabelle.’
Ruby shook her head. She understood his anger. She understood those seconds of panic.
‘There was no one around, Alex. I had no idea if sleepwalking was normal for Annabelle or not. And she seemed to settle with me really quickly. She just wanted some comfort. I did plan to talk to you about it today.’
Alex shot her a look that left her in no doubt about his feelings. He didn’t even say another word. Just turned and walked out of the room with Annabelle in his arms, still asleep.
She turned to Brigette. The last thing she wanted to do was get Annabelle’s nanny in trouble. ‘I’m sorry, Brigette. I knew you had a migraine. I didn’t want to wake you when I felt as if I could deal with Annabelle on my own.’
Brigette brushed past her too, leaving Rufus the last person to lock his beady eyes on hers.
She sighed. ‘I’m going to take a shower and get dressed.’
Rufus tutted at her and then spun on his heels and left.
Great. Just great.
Now she was awake a little more she wanted to shout at them all to come back and tell them to calm down.
Annabelle was fine. They should talk about her sleepwalking and put steps in place to keep her safe.
But common sense told her this wasn’t the time.
* * *
He hadn’t spoken to Ruby in four days.
It was ridiculous. He’d snapped at her when there had been no reason to. But when Rufus had bustled along the corridor to tell him Annabelle was missing he’d panicked. He could have broken speed records with his bolt along the corridor.
The thought of something happening to his daughter... He couldn’t even allow his brain to contemplate it.
But seeing Ruby asleep on the bed with Annabelle in her arms had knocked the wind from his heels.
After the instant relief he’d felt a wave of anger.
Their heads resting next to each other, the mish-mash of blonde curls and long brown hair, the way Ruby had been sheltering Annabelle in her arms had consumed him with an unexpected rage he hadn’t felt in a long time.
She couldn’t know that, against advice, on lots of occasions Sophia had taken Annabelle in to sleep next to her. She could never imagine that the impact of seeing his little girl in someone else’s arms would flood him with unspeakable guilt.
He hadn’t loved Sophia the way people thought he had. He had loved her like a best friend. A best friend who’d been cheated out of sleeping next to their little girl and seeing her grow up.
If Sophia was here now he was almost sure Annabelle wouldn’t have any problems with her speech.
As for the sleepwalking...? Was that his fault too? It was yet another worry. Another failing. Something else to consult a whole array of doctors on.
He couldn’t even begin to understand why it annoyed him all the more that it was Ruby who’d found the problem. She was under his skin in more ways than was imaginable.
Guilt was chipping away at him. Guilt for how he was feeling about Ruby. And guilt because he continually felt as if he were failing his daughter.
What would Sophia have thought? His friend would have dealt with things so much better than he could.
But if Sophia were here now he would never have seen Ruby again. And that was what burned away at his insides. That was what filled him with even more hideous guilt.
The last few days of being around Ruby had lit a fire inside him that had long since died. He could feel her presence everywhere. The staff in the palace seemed happier—less formal. It was almost as if her scent drifted in the air into every room. Light, flowery, lifting the mood.
She’d connected with most members of staff in her polite but informal manner. She wasn’t afraid to ask questions, and more importantly she wasn’t afraid to laugh. In the space of a few days the atmosphere around him seemed to have lightened. The palace had started to feel happy again.
Years of worry about his father’s health, the economy of Euronia, and then the terminal diagnosis of Sophia, followed by the concerns about Annabelle, had made being here oppressive. Every tiny part of this place seemed to weigh on his shoulders relentlessly.
Seeing Ruby’s connection today with Annabelle had been unexpected. He’d never realistically thought about someone else stepping into Sophia’s shoes.
But he should have. It was inevitable.
At some point he would marry again—this time for love—and that woman would become a mother to Annabelle. He’d been so busy these last few years, and so stressed, he hadn’t taken time to think of the impact of that.
The impact on the country. The impact on Annabelle. The impact on him.
And then, there she was, with her mussed-up curls parallel with his child’s. Making him see something that everyone had probably already surmised.
It was time to move on.
But was he ready?
CHAPTER FIVE
THE CLOTHES WERE lying across her bed. Seventeen dresses of varying styles and colours—all with matching shoes.
‘I don’t understand. Did something happen to my clothes?’
Rufus shook his head. ‘I told you I would arrange for some other clothing to be sent to the palace for you.’
She reached down and touched the nearest designer dress. It was red...beautiful. Like something you would wear to the Queen’s garden party back in London. It certainly wasn’t like anything she owned.
‘But I’m not sure I really need these. I don’t know how much longer I’ll be here. And I’ve got clothes of my own.’ She opened the wardrobe, revealing her few dresses, jeans, T-shirts and a couple of pairs of sandals and heels.
Rufus gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head. He turned to leave. ‘They’re here now—enjoy!’ he said, and with a wave of his hand he disappea
red, leaving her to perch on the edge of the bed, too nervous to touch some of the dresses.
‘How very Pretty Woman.’ She sighed. Her head was swimming. Was this another way for Alex to buy her? Did he want to dress her up like some doll?
Every dress was beautifully styled and there was a rainbow of colour. It was strange, but whilst they were all different none was in a style that she wouldn’t wear. It was almost as if they’d given her friend Polly a free budget and the run of all the designer houses.
A silk one slid through her fingers. It was almost the same blue as Alex’s eyes. She gave a little shudder.
Alex. He hadn’t spoken to her for four days. Falling asleep with his daughter was obviously a no-no. But while it might have been a little unconventional she really thought everyone had overreacted.
The imaginary walls between herself and Annabelle had definitely started to crumble. The little girl wasn’t completely ignoring her any more. Yesterday she’d sat next to Ruby as she’d thumbed through a book. After a while Ruby had asked her if she wanted her to read the story and Annabelle had given a little nod and slid closer.
It was a small step, but gaining Annabelle’s trust was the most important thing of all.
She picked up another of the dresses. It was yellow—a colour she never usually wore—and it matched the sun outside and the flowers in the garden directly beneath her window.
She slipped off her T-shirt and Capri pants. The dress dropped over her head and fitted her curves as if it had been specially made for her. Everything was covered, from the round neckline to the flouncy skirt that fell to her knees. She reached behind to fasten the zip. It was a little tricky. She managed to pull it up to her bra strap. Then she reached her hands above her shoulders and over her back, trying to pull the material of the dress a little higher and grasp the zipper.
Someone cleared his throat loudly. She spun around.
She hadn’t thought to close the door after Rufus had left. No one ever seemed to come down this corridor.
The Prince She Never Forgot (Harlequin Romance) Page 7
