Crowned: The Palace Nanny (16 page)

‘What do you mean, changing direction's easier?' he asked.

She looked up at him in the firelight and shook her head. ‘If you need to explain it, you can't do it,' she said. ‘You just…follow your heart. Thank you, Stefanos, for saving my turtles. And thank you for giving me another direction. I'll make the most of it.'

‘Your hip…'

‘Has nothing to do with direction,' she said. ‘Some things still hurt, no matter what direction you're travelling.'

F
OR
the next three weeks she immersed herself in this new life and felt herself…unfurl. That was what it felt like, she thought. As if she was coming to life again.

For the last four years she'd been constantly worried, constantly battling for their survival. Here, Zoe's welfare was more than taken care of. It was Stefanos who inspected the little girl's grafts, who worried about her medically, who even told her to back off a little, she was fussing. Others cooked for her, cleaned…Elsa was an honoured guest, free to do as she wished.

And she was free. Zoe had made a friend her own age, Pip, daughter of Phillip the butcher, granddaughter of Helena, defender of the turtles. She was friends with every one of the castle staff now, she was happy and confident and more than content that Elsa do her own thing.

So Elsa was making her own friends. The turtle breeding grounds was a project which had her waking up every morning aching to get up and go.

The only problem was…in the moments when she'd sit opposite Stefanos at meals and watch his face as the palace secretary outlined what needed to be done that day, she felt…bleak.

He was doing the right thing, the honourable thing. But, for Zoe and for her, this new life promised excitement and freedom. For Stefanos…There was still a conflict that seemed to be tearing him apart.

She didn't know what was happening with his practice in Manhattan. The plan was to leave straight after the coronation and do what needed to be done and return. She tried to talk to him about it, but it was as if after their appalling picnic he'd decided he'd overstepped the boundaries; his life was separate, only overlapping with her need to be with Zoe.

Oh, his bleakness wasn't overt. Outwardly he was cheerful and confident and purposeful. It was only that she seemed to know this man; she seemed to sense how he was feeling.

His trouble was the one cloud on her horizon. Actually, no, sometimes it felt more than that, like a fog she could see rolling in to envelop him, but she had no idea what to do about it. The fact that sometimes she had an urgent desire to take him and hold him and love him…Well, that was just plain dumb.

And…she suspected it might not even help.

Meanwhile, the coronation was almost on them, and she'd made her promise. It was time to buy a dress.

Zoe's coronation dress was exquisite, stitched by hand by a team of dressmakers who smiled all the time they worked, who said what a pleasure it was to be able to do this, what a joy. So, ‘Can't I get my gown made here as well?' she asked Stefanos, knowing how stressed he was and how little he could spare the time to be away.

But, ‘It's my one bright day,' he said. ‘I think I've worked hard enough to earn one free day.'

He surely had. What he'd achieved in these last weeks was little short of miraculous.

The island council had been reformed. Three councillors had been invited to stay on; five had been ‘retired'. Stefanos had done it with tact but with an underlying ruthlessness that left her awed.

The governance of the island was now under the control of the council, with ultimate responsibility resting with Stefanos. The royal coffers were being used with a speed that made her blink. Advertisements were already appearing on the mainland, for teachers, for engineers, builders, nurses…

Unemployment on the island had been running at over fifty per cent. No longer. There were schools and hospitals to build, roads to repair, water mains to install, electricity to supply to the inland area…

‘Giorgos and his predecessors have held on to our taxes for hundreds of years,' Stefanos told her when she questioned how the island could possibly afford what he was starting. ‘Alexandros on Sappheiros has split the royal coffers into three so there's more than enough to get things moving.'

He worked with a ruthless efficiency that left her awed. But still there seemed to be this aching need…

She heard him, late at night. Her balcony overlooked the sea and so did his. She'd walk outside to watch the sea and she'd hear him talking, discussing operations, questioning results, talking to colleagues about cases they needed his help with.

He was needed elsewhere. He was working frantically so he could leave, fitting in as much medicine as he could as well. He'd found a locum to work here while he was away, to leave him free.

And he'd come back. He'd promised that he'd come back. But he didn't want to. She heard it in his voice—that coming back would tear him in two.

And she couldn't help.

But first…her dress.

‘I've organised a seaplane to pick us up and take us to Athens for the day,' he'd told her at dinner the day before.

Three weeks ago Zoe would have reacted to this proposal in fear. Now she simply looked up and said, ‘Am I coming too?'

She'd been tucking into her dinner as if she had hollow legs. The difference in her health since she had been here was astonishing.

‘I've asked Pip's mama if you can stay with Pip for the day,' Stefanos said. ‘Is that okay?'

‘Ooh, yes,' Zoe said, pleased.

‘And Pip's mama says it's okay if Pip comes back here and
sleeps for the night. Christina will look after both of you and you'll have Buster to keep you company. I thought I might take Elsa shopping in Athens for something beautiful to wear to our coronation, and I thought I might take her to dinner afterwards.'

From the start he'd been able to wind his cousin round his little finger and this was no exception.

‘Elsa would like that,' Zoe said seriously. ‘She says she doesn't like dresses, but she does really. And boys are supposed to take girls out to dinner.'

‘Hey,' Elsa said, startled. Half laughing, half horrified. ‘I'm here. It's not like you're talking behind my back.' But she was ignored.

‘It'll be a date,' Zoe said in satisfaction. ‘You have to kiss her on the way home.'

‘Who says?' Elsa demanded.

‘Pip's big sister went out on a date last week. Pip says when the boy brought her home he kissed her goodnight.'

‘Pip's sister is eighteen,' Elsa retorted. ‘I'm too old for that nonsense.'

‘You're not,' Zoe said seriously. ‘You're still quite pretty.'

‘Gee, thanks.' She hesitated. ‘Stefanos, it really isn't necessary.'

‘You promised,' Stefanos pointed out. ‘A bargain's a bargain. I've saved your turtles. Twice.'

He had, too. The second hatching, twenty-five days after the first, had been orchestrated so that, as far as they knew, every single hatchling had made it to the water. It was a fraught journey the turtles had before them, the sea was full of dangers, but Stefanos had done everything humanly possible to see they had every chance.

And the price? A snip. An agreement to buy a dress.

‘Athens or nothing,' he said. ‘It has to be special.'

‘All right,' she said grudgingly.

‘You're very gracious,' Stefanos said and he was laughing at her. Laughing!

At least the bleakness had lifted for the moment.

That conversation had taken place last night. And now…

Stefanos was waiting in the hall. A car was waiting to take them down to the harbour, to the seaplane.

In minutes she'd be climbing aboard an aeroplane with a prince…

‘Are you coming or do I have to come up and carry you down?' he called from below in the entrance hall.

She went.

 

There was something about this day that made her feel…dizzy. Sitting in the seaplane across from Stefanos, she stared straight ahead.

‘Are you okay?' he asked gently, fifteen minutes into the flight, and she nodded but couldn't even find the courage to answer.

This was one day out. A shopping expedition for a dress, followed by a meal.

Why did it feel so overwhelmingly scary?

Stefanos smiled at her and retired to a medical journal. Medicine, she thought. He missed it so much. Or…he missed his own niche of medicine.

He was already busy helping the elderly doctor on the island with his workload. It wasn't the medicine he was trained for, but that was the medicine he was reading up on.

Finally they were there. Athens! It was all she could do not to sit with her nose squashed against the car window.

Athens. The world.

‘Not a seasoned traveller?' Stefanos teased, and she flushed.

‘Sure I am. I just like looking.' And then, as they swung off the road into a huge car park, she frowned. ‘Where are we?'

‘It's a hospital,' he said. ‘I've arranged an appointment for your hip.'

‘Stefanos…' She was almost rigid with shock. ‘You've interfered enough.'

‘No,' he said. ‘Not enough. I know I handled this badly. I
know I should have gained your permission before I accessed your records, but what's done is done. I'm sorry but if I'd told you about this appointment I was afraid you'd refuse to come.'

‘You'd be right.'

‘Then I'm justified.' He hesitated, but his look was stern. ‘Elsa, this is only a doctor's appointment. I'm not chaining you to a bed and operating regardless.' He gave a rueful smile. ‘Actually, that might be beyond even my level of intrusion. But I am one of only two doctors on Khryseis and before I go back to New York I need to know you're not doing permanent damage. This man's an orthopaedic surgeon. The best in Athens. You need to see him.'

‘You still should have asked me.'

‘I'm asking you now. This is my honour, Elsa, and it's also sense,' he said, stern again. ‘I know I upset you—obtaining your medical history without permission—but it doesn't stop the need. I need you to do this—for you. It would be childish for you to refuse—no?'

‘No.'

‘Elsa…You
will
do this.'

 

She had no choice. He was right—she was being childish but it didn't make it any easier to swallow her temper. She followed him into the hospital, fuming.

He was recognised. Doors opened for him. The receptionist of this best-in-Athens-orthopaedic-surgeon practically genuflected.

‘You can go right in, Your Highness. The doctor's expecting you.'

But, to her surprise, Stefanos didn't go in. He simply smiled at her, gave her a gentle push towards the door and settled his long frame into a waiting room chair as if he had all the time in the world.

She stared down at him, stunned.

‘What?' he said, looking up. And then, ‘He won't bite, Elsa. I thought, as he might want to examine you, I should stay out here. But if you're scared…'

The door was opening behind her. She wheeled round and an elderly doctor was smiling a greeting.

‘Dr Murdoch. Come on in.' And then he smiled across at Stefanos. ‘Steve. Welcome home. When are you coming home for good, my boy?'

‘By Christmas.'

‘But not to work in neurosurgery?' the older man said, looking suddenly concerned. ‘I've heard you'll let that go. I had this young man working with me for a while as he was training and I was in the States,' he told Elsa. ‘It was an honour and a pleasure to work with one so talented.' He turned back to Stefanos. ‘But now…to abandon your neurosurgery…There must be some way you can fit that into your new life.'

‘There's not,' Stefanos said. ‘The island's far too small.'

‘Could you work in Athens? There's a need here.'

‘No,' Stefanos said abruptly. ‘Please…leave it. It's Elsa we're concerned about here. Not me.'

‘But what a waste,' he said softly. And then he turned back to Elsa. ‘Well, then. What has to be has to be. Meanwhile, come with me, young lady, and let's see what needs to be done about that hip.'

 

He was, as Stefanos had promised, very good.

He examined her with care and with skill. He already had the X-rays from Brisbane—a fact that made Elsa gasp again with indignation but that shouldn't reflect on this kindly doctor. She let him take his time, carefully assess and then tell her what she wanted to hear.

‘You're doing no real harm to the hip itself, but it does need to be repaired and it will give you pain until that happens.'

‘So I can wait,' she said thankfully. ‘Can you tell that to Stefanos?'

‘You want me to call him in?'

‘Yes, please,' she said, tugging on her shoes. ‘Tell him and let me get on with my life.'

So Stefanos came in. He listened while the doctor outlined exactly what he thought.

‘But you know this,' the doctor told Stefanos. ‘You've seen the scans.'

‘I'm too close to treat Elsa myself.'

‘You are,' the doctor said gently. ‘And you'd need first rate surgical facilities on that island of yours to be able to do it. You know, that's what you really need. A state-of-the-art suite of operating theatres. Cutting-edge techniques. All the things I hear you're doing in New York.'