The Prince She Never Forgot (Harlequin Romance)

by Scarlet Wilson

  Alex sat a little straighter, straining to hear what Ruby had heard above the constant trickle of water from the fountain.

  There it was—floating across the air.

  Ruby touched his arm. ‘She’s humming. She did that the other night with me.’ She gave a tiny shake of her head. ‘I know that one of the reports about Annabelle questioned whether she could even make sounds. But she can. You’ve heard her laugh. You’ve heard her squeal. And she can communicate with sign language. She’s choosing not to speak.’ A frown marred her complexion. ‘I’ve just got to figure out why.’

  Her eyes were fixed on Annabelle playing with her dolls. This was all so easy for Ruby. Annabelle was just a patient. She didn’t have the same investment, the same emotional connection that he did. She didn’t have the same frustrated feeling that there must be something else he could do. She was a professional with a puzzle to solve.

  ‘You make it sound so easy.’ He couldn’t help the way the words sounded. He’d forced them out through gritted teeth.

  But Ruby didn’t react. She just kept looking at Annabelle. ‘I don’t think it’s easy, Alex. I just think that you—and I—are going to have to be patient. That’s the only way this can work.’

  Her eyes met his. For a second he wasn’t quite sure what she was talking about. They were talking about Annabelle, right? Because those words might sound as if she were talking about them instead.

  ‘What’s your first memory, Alex?’

  ‘What?’ He was surprised by her question.

  She smiled at him. ‘I can honestly say the first thing I remember is from around age seven. I was on holiday with my mum and dad in Boulogne in France. I can remember walking about with cases because we couldn’t find our hotel. Then my father thought it would be interesting to go and watch the fishermen.’ She gave a shudder. ‘Watching fishermen gut their fish was not something I wanted to see as a seven-year-old.’ She turned and smiled at him. ‘That’s my first real memory.’

  He sat back a little, unsure where this was going. ‘I can remember having to sit very still for a long, long time. It was at some awards ceremony and my father glared at me every time I moved. I hated the shirt and tie I was wearing because it felt too tight.’

  She nodded. ‘What age do you think you were?’

  He shrugged. ‘Around five, I think.’

  She lifted her hand towards Annabelle. ‘Here’s the thing. Science tells us that the first three years are the most important for a child’s brain development. It’s the first time we’re supposed to form memories—but I can’t remember anything from back then. The experts tell us that young children’s memories change over time, replacing old memories with new ones. So I’m looking at Annabelle and wondering what she remembers.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ This was starting to make him uncomfortable.

  She interlinked her fingers. ‘The brain has connections—hard wiring. Children’s brains are like a sponge—they take in everything all around them. Children are born to learn. By their first year seventy-five per cent of the hard wiring is in place.’ She pointed at Annabelle again. ‘By age three ninety per cent of the hard wiring is there.’

  She ran her fingers through her hair.

  ‘Under the age of two, lots of their development depends on attachment. I wonder if Annabelle’s speech issues could actually be down to the loss of her mother.’

  ‘What?’ Alex shook his head. It was something he hadn’t even considered. ‘But she was only eleven months old when Sophia died.’

  Ruby nodded slowly, ‘Exactly. A baby recognises its mother’s voice in the womb. Once it’s born it puts the face and voice together. It responds to those. You said that Sophia was a good mother and spent most of her time with Annabelle?’

  He nodded. ‘Yes, she did.’

  ‘Then for eleven months Annabelle’s hard wiring was formed all around her mother.’

  Ruby sat back, letting what she’d said sink around him. She seemed to know when she’d said enough.

  She wasn’t apportioning any blame. She wasn’t being confrontational. She was being logical. She was giving him information and letting him think for himself what it might mean.

  He sat quietly. Ruby was relaxed and Annabelle seemed happy. She was busy trying to drown all her plastic dolls in the ornamental fountain and probably block the pumps from here to eternity.

  No matter what Ruby had just told him it was comfortable. It was relaxed.

  The sandwiches disappeared quickly, followed by some little cakes at the bottom of the picnic basket. Ruby didn’t feel the need to chatter and fill the silence. She was entirely happy to lie back on the blanket and watch Annabelle.

  This was something he never got time to do any more.

  There was always something to be signed, someone who needed to talk to him urgently. An email or a letter to write. A dignitary to entertain. A celebrity to pander to in order to bring extra publicity and business to Euronia.

  Where was the time for Annabelle in all that?

  Where was the time for him?

  He never got time to be just a father. He never got time to be just Alex. Did anyone in the palace even think of him as just Alex?

  He watched as Ruby moved, crawling on all fours, ignoring her dress and bare knees, creeping across the red stones to meet Annabelle and start splashing her with water from the fountain.

  Annabelle shrieked in delight and ran around the fountain. It was the finest sound he’d ever heard.

  Two minutes later Ruby had the pink plastic ball and was throwing it over the top of the fountain to Annabelle at the other side. But that was soon too safe—too ordinary. Within a few seconds they’d both climbed on the wall at each side of the fountain and were throwing the ball to each other while balancing precariously on the low wall.

  He should intervene. He should tell them to stop being so silly. Last time they’d had to replace the blue tiles in the wall of the fountain it had taken for ever. He couldn’t even remember the cost.

  But both of them were laughing out loud. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen Annabelle so happy. And it was Ruby who was responsible for that.

  Something twisted inside him. Part of it was pride, part of it a little inkling of jealousy. Deep down he knew that he should be the one making his little girl laugh like that. But if it couldn’t be him he was so glad that it was Ruby.

  Ruby was genuine. Ruby related to his daughter in a way that none of the other professionals had.

  He had been so right to bring her here.

  Even when the palace officials had voiced their obvious concerns about his latest plans to get Annabelle assessed he’d known that this was the right thing to do.

  He’d been right to remember the passion in her eyes when she’d spoken about missing out on the job she would have loved. He’d followed her for years...sent her unsigned flowers. He remembered his surge of pride when he’d found out she’d got her dream job, when she’d been promoted, when she’d published professional papers. All those things had made him happy for her.

  Now, in a few short days, she’d started to connect with his daughter.

  With him.

  There was a scream, followed by a huge splash. A flash of moving yellow rushed before his eyes. He was on his feet instantly.

  Annabelle’s eyes were wide. She jumped down from her side of the fountain and ran around it towards the splash, meeting her father as they both peered down into the few feet of clear water.

  Ruby was completely under the water, tiny bubbles snaking out from her mouth, her yellow dress billowing around her. Alex leaned over to put his hand in and pull her up—then gasped as she opened her eyes.

  The expression on her face was priceless. Annabelle dissolved into fits of laughter as Ruby burst up through the surface of the w
ater, shrieking with laughter.

  Alex’s eyes shot up towards the hundreds of windows of the palace. He could only imagine what anyone on his staff might say if they’d witnessed this.

  But the laughter was infectious. And Ruby wasn’t at all worried about the fact that her hair was sodden and she was soaked to the skin.

  She reached towards his outstretched arm, smiled, and tugged sharply—pulling him straight in next to her.

  Even though the sun was shining the water in the fountain was freezing.

  His landing was partly cushioned by the soft body of Ruby. Water was dripping from the end of her nose, her hair was flattened to her head and her clothes hugged every part of her body.

  ‘Who are you laughing at?’ She winked.

  He couldn’t do anything other than laugh. Annabelle was still jumping up and down at the side of the fountain.

  Ruby reached down and picked up a submerged princess doll. ‘I came in to rescue the doll—what’s your excuse?’

  He smiled, their faces only inches apart. He lifted his eyebrows, ‘Oh, I definitely came in to rescue Ruby.’

  His arms were on either side of her, his chin just above her head. Every part of him was soaked.

  ‘Who says I needed rescuing?’ she quipped.

  She didn’t care. She didn’t care about her wet clothes or how she looked. She wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder for a camera. Ruby was just Ruby.

  And it was at that moment that he realised. Realised this was bigger than he ever could have imagined.

  Every thought, every memory of this fountain had been imprinted on his brain for thirty-four years. That famous photo had been shared firstly in the newspapers, and later around the world on the internet.

  Every single time he’d looked at this fountain it had brought back memories of Sophia and their childhood. He could clearly remember sitting on the edge of the fountain with her, banging his heels on the stonework.

  But now, and for ever, every time he looked at this fountain this was what he’d remember. This. A water-soaked, laughing Ruby with a twinkle in her eyes and a bright-eyed little girl watching at the side.

  Some memories were worth changing.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THERE WAS DEFINITELY something wrong with her. She was getting used to these clothes. She was getting used to opening the closet and seeing the rainbow colours of the beautiful garments hanging up and just waiting to be worn.

  Her blue jeans had been stuffed in the back of the cupboard, along with her baseball boots. It had only been two weeks and she didn’t even want to pull them out any more.

  Even the pale green dress that she’d worn when she’d arrived—the best thing she had—looked like a poor cousin hanging beside all the designer clothes.

  It made her skin prickle. She’d never been like this before. Every girl liked nice things. But she hadn’t expected to get used to it so suddenly.

  What would happen in a few weeks, when she was back in London, in her flat, wearing her healthcare uniform again? She’d always worn that uniform with pride. What on earth was happening to her?

  Alex had been keeping to his side of the bargain and spending a certain amount of time with Annabelle. She’d been trying not to interfere—no matter how much she wanted to.

  It was important that there was time for just father and daughter. But the rest of the palace staff didn’t seem to understand that. She’d had no idea how busy Alex really was. It seemed that a country/principality didn’t run itself.

  After watching the constant interruptions of their father/daughter time she’d appointed herself guardian of that little part of the day. She’d started to stand guard outside the door.

  By the time Annabelle was settled into her bed and he’d read a few stories to her there was usually a queue of people standing outside the bedroom, waiting to see Alex. Not one of them ever got past her.

  The hard wiring talk seemed to have done the trick. It had given him the gentle kick up the backside he needed to say no to people who weren’t his daughter. It was sad, but clear, that Alex hadn’t been able to spend as much time with Annabelle as he would have liked.

  Now he made it his priority. And Ruby’s role was to make sure that father and daughter got that protected time together.

  ‘Knock-knock.’

  The voice made her jump. She was sitting in the palace library, looking out over the gardens.

  This had quickly become her favourite room. The beautiful wood and paper smell crept along the corridor towards her and drew her in like a magnet. The dark wooden bookcases filled with beautiful hardback books seemed to suck her in every time she walked past. The set of steps that moved on a rail to reach the books at the top almost made her jump up and down with excitement. Every time she entered the room she climbed a few steps and moved them on just a little.

  She’d even taken to bringing her computer down here and answering any emails she received from work in her favourite environment. She needed to stay in touch with her colleagues to make sure things were running smoothly back home. There were only a few emails each day—mainly about patients, asking for a second opinion or a referral route for a patient with unusual conditions. Nothing she couldn’t handle from thousands of miles away.

  She spun around in her chair. ‘Alex? Is something wrong?’

  He smiled. ‘Do I only come and look for you if something is wrong?’

  She leaned her elbow on the desk and rested her head on the heel of her hand. ‘Let’s see—maybe?’

  She was teasing him. Sometimes he made it so easy. But most things were easy around Alex—except for the times when he was surrounded by palace staff. She could almost swear that Rufus stalked him from one end of the palace to the other.

  ‘Well, let’s change that. You’ve been here for a few weeks now, and apart from the palace grounds and a few walks into the city centre you’ve hardly seen anything of Euronia. How about we remedy that?’

  He held his hand out towards her. She hesitated. Since the dress incident and the day at the fountain something had changed between them. It was happening slowly. Almost without her even noticing. But the way Alex looked at her was different.

  Sometimes she caught him staring with the blue eyes of a man ten years younger, without the responsibilities of today on his shoulders. Those were her favourite moments.

  Ten years of thinking about ‘what ifs’... It was easy to pretend that she hadn’t. That she’d been busy with work and life and relationships. But underneath all that there had always been something simmering beneath the surface.

  Her first sight of him in her hospital department had knocked the breath from her lungs—not that she’d ever admit that. She had a hard time even admitting it to herself.

  In her mind, Ruby Wetherspoon had never been that kind of girl. Dreaming of princes and happy-ever-afters. But her brain kept trying to interfere with her rational thoughts. It kept giving her secret flashes of holding hands, or more kisses. It kept making her imagine what might have happened on the rest of that night on New Year’s Eve.

  But there was no point dreaming of the past. Today was about looking to the future.

  She was beginning to feel a glimmer of hope that there could be a future. Her confidence around Alex was starting to grow.

  She stood up. The only ‘what ifs’ were for the here and now.

  She reached out and took his hand, his warm skin enveloping hers. ‘Where do you plan on taking me?’ She looked down, ‘And am I suitably dressed?’

  He grinned. ‘You might need alternative clothes.’

  ‘Really? Why?’

  He winked. ‘You’ll see.’

  * * *

  If the crew were surprised to see him accompanied by a lady they did their best to hide it. It had been a few months since he
’d been out on the yacht, and in the past he’d always gone alone.

  He hadn’t even mentioned the yacht to Ruby, and her face had been a picture as they’d walked onto the dock.

  She’d blinked at the gleaming white yacht. It was made of steel and over three hundred feet long.

  He waved his arm, ‘Ruby, I’d like you to meet the other woman in my life—the Augusta.’

  ‘She’s huge.’ She could see all the staff on board. This wasn’t a one-man sailing boat.

  He nodded and headed over to the gangway. ‘Five bedrooms and an owner’s stateroom with living room, bedroom, bathroom and veranda. She’s pretty much a guy’s dream come true.’

  Her foot hesitated at the gangway. His heart gave a little twist. He hadn’t even asked her if she was afraid of water. Please don’t let this be a disaster. He’d already arranged for some swimming and snorkelling gear to be dropped off at the yacht.

  But her hesitation was momentary and she steadied her balance on the swaying gangway by holding on to the rail.

  ‘Shouldn’t a boat have sails?’ she whispered as they walked over the gangway.

  ‘It’s a yacht. And it doesn’t need sails—it’s got four diesel engines. It can probably go faster than some cars.’

  She grinned and stopped mid-step, ‘Well, aren’t we a bit snippy about our boat?’ She was clearly amused by his automatic response.

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘Snippy? What does that mean?’

  She stepped a little closer. She’d changed into a pale blue dress and flat sandals. He could see the tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose and feel her scent invade his senses. It didn’t matter that the smell of the Mediterranean Sea was all around them. The only thing he could concentrate on right now was the smell of some kind of flowers, winding its way around him.

  ‘It means you don’t like anyone calling your yacht a boat.’ She waved her hand. ‘Boat, ship, yacht—it’s all the same to me.’

  He laughed and shook his head. ‘What’s that word you use in the UK? Landlubber?’