She could do this, she thought. She just had to stay detached from Stefanos and his dangerous charm.
This man was important to her only in his relationship to Zoe. He was good to Zoe. He made the little girl laugh. But he hadn’t gained so much trust that Elsa could walk away.
She didn’t ever want to walk away. Not from Zoe. The thought hurt on so many levels that the pain in her hip didn’t even register in comparison.
‘What are you thinking?’ Stefanos asked, watching her quizzically from the head of the table. ‘To make you look like that?’
‘I…nothing.’
‘I don’t think I’ve been appropriately sympathetic.’
‘I don’t know what appropriate sympathy is.’
‘Neither do I,’ he said softly. ‘But if it helped I’d find it for you.’
See, there was the whole problem. She had so much going on in her head-how to fit in here-what she was going to do with herself while Zoe settled-how she was going to make a life for herself after Zoe stopped needing her, as stop she surely would-and across it all was Stefanos’s gorgeous smile, the way his dark eyes creased at the corners, the way he seemed to read her mind…
He left them for a while as she drank coffee. Urgent royal business, he said and that made her even more nervous. By the time he returned she was climbing the walls.
‘You don’t need me for this,’ she said and pushed her chair back. ‘Zoe, are you okay to do this photo thing with…with your cousin? I’ll go up to the bedroom and unpack.’
‘No!’ Zoe was out of her chair in a flash, darting round the table to grab her hand. ‘You have to come with me.’
Not so settled, then. Neither would she be, she thought, if someone told her she had to meet the press.
‘I’ve arranged for Elsa to come with us,’ Stefanos told Zoe, and her heart hit her boots.
‘Excuse me?’
‘I’ve promised the press they can meet Zoe and you.’
‘And me?’
‘You’re the woman who’s been caring for our Crown Princess for the past four years,’ he said steadily. ‘The islanders would have taken Zoe to them in a heartbeat. All of us owe you a debt that touches our honour.’
He rose and held out a hand to Zoe, and the little girl hesitated for a moment and then gave him hers. It was that sort of gesture. Strong, sure, commanding. Royal.
‘If Zoe’s brave enough to have her photograph taken, surely you can,’ he told her.
‘Yes, but Zoe’s a princess,’ she said on a wail. ‘Look at me. I’m not even a proper nanny.’
‘You’re not,’ he agreed. ‘You’re our friend. And, as our friend…’ He hesitated. ‘Elsa, giving Zoe clothes seemed appropriate. For you, however, it seems almost insulting and I ask you to accept that it’s not my intention to insult you. Nevertheless, I’ve made some fast phone calls and the owners of our two main dress shops are here already, setting out a selection of clothes. For Zoe’s coronation you’ll need evening wear and we can’t get that here, but for now…it would please me if you could choose something more suitable than jeans and sweatshirt for your introduction to our island.’
She stared at him in stupefaction. ‘You want me to buy clothes?’
‘I want you to take the clothes that I will buy for you,’ he said. ‘This will be my pleasure.’
‘To dress me?’
His eyes creased involuntarily into laughter. ‘I don’t think we’re quite there yet.’
She stared at him, feeling a tide of colour sweep upward. ‘Ex…excuse me?’
‘Levity,’ he murmured, obviously fighting to get back to being serious. ‘You need to excuse me. But this is clothes, Elsa. No big deal.’
‘I wear jeans.’
‘Zoe says you don’t. Not before the accident.’
‘I’m a whole new me since the accident.’
‘Then is it possible,’ he said gently, ‘that you can be a whole new you again?’
‘I…’
‘Please, Elsa.’
She stared down at her battered sneakers, her worn jeans. They were like her skin, she thought, yet another skin she was being asked to change.
Poverty-stricken single mother to royal childminder.
Single woman to wife. Eager student to earnest professional. Married woman to grieving widow.
Skins, skins, skins. She hardly knew who she was any more. What harm could one more change do?
‘Fine,’ she said.
‘Your gratitude is overwhelming,’ he murmured, and there it was again-that hint of laughter.
‘Did you like it when they told you that you had to wear a sword?’ she demanded.
‘I…no.’
‘Then pay me the compliment of allowing that I feel the same,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you very much for providing clothes. I accept and I’m grateful. It’s just…I’ve learned from past experience that it hurts to change direction. I’m doing my best to smile while it happens but you’ll need to excuse me when my smile falters.’
She chose a simple green sundress. Zoe and Stefanos chose a whole lot more. Presumably the photographers and journalists had been told to wait, for Stefanos refused to hurry and was only satisfied when he-and Zoe-had decided she had enough clothes to make her…pretty.
Pretty was a strange concept. She’d stopped worrying about her appearance four years ago. Now, dressed in a lovely light sundress, with shoestring straps and a skirt that twirled and swished as she walked, she decided there were definite upsides to shedding skins.
She felt…nice. Free. It was a novel experience, but it didn’t stop her hanging back as she finally followed Stefanos and Zoe to the palace media centre.
At the door Stefanos stepped back and motioned for Elsa to precede him.
No way.
She shook her head and dropped deliberately further back, and there was no time for him to react. The door was open. Cameras were flashing and questions were flying.
Zoe cast her a panicked backward glance, but Stefanos lifted her up and held her in his arms.
It was the best thing he could do, Elsa thought. Holding her in his arms. Zoe would feel totally protected.
The press was absolutely riveted on Zoe-their princess coming home. Which left her mind free to wander where it willed.
She kind of liked the way she looked in this sundress. And her new sandals were pretty.
Clothes maketh the woman? The man?
Her eyes flew back to Stefanos. She could see why he’d decided to wear his uniform, but it was more than clothes, she thought. He looked confident, sure, in charge. He was assuming the mantle of control of this country.
He had a job to do and he’d do it.
And he held Zoe as if she was his own. His body language was totally protective, and in his arms Zoe felt brave enough to venture shy answers of her own, responses the media loved-responses Elsa knew would go straight to the heart of any islander.
The Prince and his little Princess. She watched them pose together, she watched Stefanos tease Zoe into laughter, and the weird sensations she’d been feeling since the first time she’d seen him standing on her beach were consolidating to something firm and definite and true. Her vision of Matty was fading still further-not disappearing entirely; she knew it could never do that-but fading to a place where he could be mourned without the constant piercing pain that had been with her for years.
She could be pretty. She could change her skin yet again with no betrayal of Matty.
What on earth was she thinking? Crazy, crazy, crazy.
A latecoming journalist jostled past her, nudging her out of her introspection. Hauling her back to reality.
Get back to earth fast, she told herself harshly. This is one of Zoe’s fairy tales.
And maybe she ought to listen.
‘And may I introduce Dr Elsa Murdoch?’ Stefanos was saying, and she was suddenly being looked at by everyone in the room.
Doctor? She hadn’t used that title since…
; ‘It’s Mrs…’ she started but he wasn’t allowing her to get a word in.
‘Elsa-Dr Murdoch-was in the car crash that claimed Prince Christos’s life,’ Stefanos said, and his voice was gentle and full of compassion. ‘Also killed were Zoe’s mother, Amy, and Elsa’s husband, Mathew. Zoe still bears the scars, physically as well as mentally, and so does Elsa. Elsa is a world expert on…what did you call starfish, Zoe?’
‘Echinoderms,’ Zoe volunteered. Stefanos was still holding her tightly and she obviously felt confident enough to answer. ‘Or asteroidea,’ she added with aplomb.
‘That’s the one,’ Stefanos said encouragingly. ‘So, for the last four years, Dr Murdoch and Zoe have been conducting echinoderm-or asteroidea-research while they’ve gradually healed from their injuries. Dr Murdoch has cared for Zoe with total love and commitment, and for that this country owes her an enormous debt of gratitude.’
‘Hey,’ she said, startled enough to forget nerves and reply with spirit. ‘That sounds like you’re about to give me a gold watch and a pension.’
‘You deserve much, much more than that,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’m hoping Dr Murdoch can stay here,’ he told the reporters. ‘I’m hoping she’ll be a constant presence in Zoe’s life. I need to be away from the island for a few weeks between now and Christmas-there are ends I need to tie off before I can stay here permanently-but Zoe and, I hope, Elsa, will be happy here for ever.’
And her tingle of humour and enjoyment disappeared, just like that.
Whoa. What was he saying? That she and Zoe would be staying, but he was leaving?
I need to be away from the island…
He was planning on coming and going at will? While…what had he said?…Zoe and, I hope, Elsa will be happy here for ever.
She stayed rooted to the spot while more questions were aimed at Stefanos. Was his work still important to him? How committed to the island could he be if he was returning to the States? Exactly how much time would he stay here and would he still play a ceremonial role?
‘You know I’m a neurosurgeon,’ he was explaining to the press, ‘but of course there’s work for me to do here now, medical as well as political. However, there are commitments to be honoured in the States before I can take on a permanent role.’
This was never in the contract, she thought wildly. He was leaving?
Stefanos was fielding the final questions. He was saying he’d be here until the coronation, and then he’d return by Christmas. He was intending to get the council sorted within the week…
She was no longer listening.
He was leaving.
He’d organised her to wear a sundress, while he wore a sword. The way she was suddenly feeling…
Maybe she needed a sword as well.
CHAPTER EIGHT
T HE media session had taken its toll on Zoe. Jet lag and excitement had finally caught up with her. As the last of the reporters left, the little girl almost visibly drooped.
‘Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you up to bed,’ Elsa said as Stefanos brought Zoe back to her. She carefully didn’t look at Stefanos. The things she needed to say to this man couldn’t be said in front of Zoe. In fact, maybe they needed a soundproofed room.
‘I’m thinking you need a carriage, Your Highness,’ Stefanos said grandly and scooped the little girl up again and carried her up the stairs.
Once again Elsa was left to follow. Her anger and bewilderment were building by the minute.
Stefanos was leaving. He was assuming she’d stay and take care of Zoe. In a place she didn’t know. In a country she didn’t know.
She was furious, but as she limped up the stairs after them her anger receded, leaving her flat and deflated. Like Zoe, she was so tired…
She’d been tired for years, but this was worse. Jet lag? No. It was betrayal, and betrayal hurt.
She stopped at the top stair and thought, I don’t want to go on. I don’t want to watch Stefanos tuck Zoe into bed and make her smile. I don’t want to see Zoe seduced into this life of media attention, of shallowness, of wealth, with only me to protect her.
Royalty had destroyed Christos’s childhood-he’d told her that. Stefanos had left the island as well, and he’d left for a reason. How could she possibly assess the risks royalty posed for such a vulnerable child as Zoe?
Regardless, Stefanos was obviously intending that she take on the burden of protecting Zoe. That was what he’d said. For ever?
She didn’t follow him into the bedroom. She made it to the top stair and sat. If Zoe needed her, Stefanos would come back for her, she thought, but the way the little girl’s eyelids were drooping as he’d carried her, she doubted if she’d notice if Elsa wasn’t there. And if she went in now she might explode. That he demand she drop the threads of her life in Australia on command, and yet manipulate her so he could still do what he wanted…That he could return to his old life in Manhattan and leave her to care for Zoe in a place she didn’t understand…
There were weary chuckles from the end of the corridor. Stefanos was making Zoe laugh.
Bully for Stefanos.
She felt dizzy, as well as angry and confused and all the rest of it. Her hip hurt. She put her head on her knees and folded her arms over her head. This was jet lag and more. Desolation, homesickness, betrayal. The world could go away…
Footsteps sounded down the hall, approaching her on the stair and pausing. She opened her eyes. A pair of black Hessian boots was in her field of vision.
Stefanos.
‘Jet lag too, huh?’ he said and he was smiling again. She knew he was smiling. She could hear his smile.
‘It’s not jet lag,’ she said without looking up. ‘It’s anger and disgust and deception thrown in for good measure. Zoe’s your cousin. What do you mean by abandoning her?’
‘I’m not abandoning her,’ he said, sounding surprised.
‘You’re going back to Manhattan.’
‘Only for a few weeks.’
‘Why didn’t you tell us?’
There was a pause. And then…Amazingly, an honest answer. ‘Because I thought you wouldn’t come if I did.’
‘How very perceptive.’
He sighed and sat down beside her. ‘I’m sorry. I should have told you before, but I have an urgent surgical list to do before Christmas.’
‘I had a paper on echinoderms to write up before Christmas,’ she retorted. ‘Believe it or not, it was important. Someone else is finishing it for me right now.’
‘You’re saying your echinoderms are more important than my surgical list?’
‘You’re saying your life is more important than my life?’
He hesitated. ‘Elsa, I’m sorry. Of course I don’t think that. But you don’t understand.’
‘So make me understand,’ she flashed at him. ‘Are there no other surgeons in New York?’
‘I can’t hand this over.’
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t explain this while you’re angry.’
‘You don’t have a choice,’ she said wearily. ‘From my point of view, you’ve conned me into bringing Zoe here. You’ve seduced the two of us, with your promise of palaces and lovely clothes and happy ever after. But what do I know of this life? How do I know Zoe is safe here? It was your assurance of safety and care that brought us here. How can you calmly say you’re going away and leaving us when we’ve scarcely set foot in the place?’
She was staring downstairs at the massive chandelier below them. Wishing she wasn’t in these clothes he’d bought her. Wishing she could wave a magic wand and be home with her beach and her starfish and even her disgusting fish-head cat food-somewhere where she knew the risks and could face them for her small charge; knowing exactly where she stood.
But it seemed that Stefanos wasn’t backing down. He was hesitating over what to say to her but she could see that Manhattan was a done deal.
‘Just explain,’ she said wearily and for a moment she thought he wasn’t going to say anything. And
then he did.
‘I work with overseas aid agencies,’ he said slowly into the silence, as if he didn’t yet know that he should admit it.
Aid agencies? What sort of aid agencies? What part of this could she believe? ‘But you said you work in Manhattan.’
‘I do. Patients come to me.’
‘How?’
‘Aid agencies send them,’ he said bluntly, his tone implying he’d decided he might as well tell her and get it over with, whether she believed him or not. ‘International aid agencies know what I do and they contact me at need. I intersperse these operations with my normal surgery-that way I can afford it. Mostly I treat people with head injuries from Africa. Neurological stuff. For children especially, as the brain continues to grow, scar tissue causes major problems. I work on techniques to remove the worst of the scar tissue without it reforming. I had to cancel some desperate cases when I realised I needed to find Zoe and get this place sorted. Those kids are still waiting. Now you’re here, I need to go back, finish what I’ve promised and try to hand over my techniques to others to take them forward.’
‘You cancelled…’ She was staring at him in horror. ‘You cancelled them for Zoe?’
‘For the welfare of the whole island. If Zoe wasn’t back here by the end of next week, then she’d forfeit the throne.’
She frowned, trying to keep up. ‘But then you’d inherit.’
‘You think I want it? I want to carry on my work.’
She swallowed. Hard. Trying to take this in. ‘So…So you really are abandoning us?’
‘No,’ he said flatly. ‘I can’t. This place is a mess. Hell, Elsa, there’s one doctor on the whole island and that’s just the start of it. The local school only takes kids up to sixteen and then there’s nothing. There’s no infrastructure. The council needs replacing with good, solid people and they’ll need support. How can I walk away and leave that to Zoe?’
‘I haven’t heard about this.’
‘I keep it quiet.’ He shrugged. ‘My wealthy patients come to me in part because of my social position. To be honest, their fees pay for the other work I do, so I have to pander to them.’
Crowned: The Palace Nanny Page 9
