Crowned: The Palace Nanny (4 page)

‘Yes,' she whispered. ‘Thank you for recognising that. It did make things much harder.'

‘So then you stepped in.'

‘There was no one else.'

‘And now we have a mess,' he said, choosing his words with care. ‘Yes, Christos hated the royal family, but it was King Giorgos he feared and Giorgos's line is finished. The three Diamond Isles have splintered into three principalities. As Christos's only child, Zoe's the new Crown Princess of Khryseis. She'll inherit full sovereign power when she's twenty-five but until then, like it or not, I'm Prince Regent. Whether I want that power or not, the island's desperate for change. The infrastructure's appalling but I only have power for change if Zoe lives on Khryseis for at least three months of every year. Otherwise the power stays with an island council that's as impotent as it is corrupt. Elsa, she has to come home.'

 

She didn't say a word.

She was a really self-contained woman, he thought. He'd shaken her out of her containment but he'd done it with fear of losing Zoe. She had her self-containment back now, and he had no idea what was going in her head. He wouldn't be privy to it until she decided to speak again.

She poured two tumblers of water. She walked outside—
not limping now, he thought, and found he was relieved. He could cope with an injured child—but not an incapacitated nanny as well. There were two ancient deckchairs on the porch. She sank into one of them and left it to him to decide whether to sit on the other.

The chairs were old and stained and the one left vacant looked to be covered in cat fur.

His trousers were jet-black with a slash of crimson up the side. Ceremonial uniform.

‘It brushes off,' she said wryly, not looking at him. Gazing out through the palms to the sea beyond.

He sat.

‘You have a cat?' he asked, feeling his way.

‘Five,' she said, and as he looked around she shook her head.

‘They won't come near when you're here. They're feral cats. Cats are a huge problem up here—they decimate the wildlife. Only Zoe loves them. So we've caught every one we can. If they're at all approachable we have them neutered. We feed them really well at dusk and again in the morning. We lock them up overnight where we feed them—in the little enclosure behind the house. That way they don't need to kill wildlife to eat. Apart from our new little black one, they're fat and lazy, and if you weren't here they'd be lined up here snoozing their day away.'

‘You can afford to feed five cats?'

Mistake. Once again she froze. ‘You're inordinately interested in my financial affairs,' she said flatly. ‘Can you tell me why they're you're business?'

‘You're spending Zoe's money.'

‘And you're responsible for Zoe how? You didn't even know she existed.'

‘Now I do know, she's family.'

‘Good, then,' she said. ‘Go talk to Zoe's lawyers. They'll tell you we put her money in a trust fund and I take out only what's absolutely necessary for us to live.'

‘And the cats?'

She sighed. ‘We catch fish,' she said. ‘I cook the heads and innards with rice. That's my cat food for the week. So yes, I waste rice and some fish heads on our cats. Shoot me now.'

‘I'm not criticising.'

‘You are,' she said bluntly. ‘You said I'm struggling to care for her. Tell me in what way I'm struggling?'

‘Look at this place,' he said before he could stop himself—and her simmering anger exploded.

‘I'm looking. I can't see a palace, if that's what you mean. I can't see surround-sound theatre rooms and dishwashers and air-conditioning. I can't see wall to wall carpet and granite bench tops. So how does Zoe need those?'

‘It's falling down.'

‘So if it falls down I'll rebuild. We have isolation, which Zoe needs until she gets her confidence back. We have our own private beach. We have my work—yes, I'm still doing research and I'm being paid a stipend which goes towards Zoe's medical costs, but…'

‘You're paying Zoe's medical costs?'

‘Your investigator didn't go very far if he didn't find that out. Her parents hadn't taken out medical insurance,' she said. ‘In this country the basics are covered but there have been so many small things. The last lot of plastic surgery was on her shoulder. The surgeon was wonderful—that's why we used him—but he only operates on private patients so we had to pay.'

‘
You
had to pay.'

‘Whatever.'

‘You can't keep doing that.'

‘Try and stop me,' she said, carefully neutral again. She'd obviously decided it was important to keep a rein on her temper.

‘Where does that leave you?'

‘Where I am.'

‘Stuck in the middle of nowhere, with a damaged child.'

She put her drink carefully down on the packing case that served as their outdoor table. She rose.

‘You know, I'm not enjoying myself here and I have work to do. I correct assignments online and I try to do it while Zoe's asleep. When she wakes we'll drive you back into town. But meanwhile…Meanwhile you go take a walk on the beach, calculate cat food costs, do whatever you want, I don't care. I believe any further dialogue should be through our lawyers.'

And she walked deliberately inside and let the screen door bang closed after her.

S
HE
was true to her word. She wouldn't speak to him until Zoe woke up. He took a walk on the beach, feeling ridiculous in his ridiculous uniform. He came back and talked for a while to a little black cat who deigned to be sociable. Finally Zoe woke, but even then Elsa only spoke when necessary.

‘I'll give you the address of my lawyer,' she said.

‘I already know who your lawyer is.'

‘Of course you do,' she said cordially. ‘Silly me.'

‘You're being…'

‘Obstructive?' she said. ‘Yes, I am.'

‘What's obstructive?' Zoe asked.

‘Not letting your cousin Stefanos have what he wants.'

‘What does he want?'

‘You might ask him.'

Zoe turned to him, puzzled. ‘What do you want?'

‘To get to know you,' he said, refusing to be distracted by Elsa's anger. ‘Your papa was a very good friend of mine. When he left Khryseis we didn't write—he wanted a clean break. I should have made more of an effort to keep in touch and I'll be sorry for the rest of my life that I didn't. That he married and had a little girl called Zoe…that he died…it breaks my heart that I didn't know.'

‘It makes you sad?'

‘Very sad.'

But apparently Zoe knew about sad—and she had a cure.

‘When I'm in hospital and I'm sad, Elsa tells me about the fish she's seen that day, and shells and starfish. Elsa keeps saying the sea's waiting for me to get well. She brings in pictures of the beach and the house and the cats and she pins them all over the walls so every time I wake up I can see that the sea and this house and our cats are waiting for me.'

His gaze flew to Elsa. She was staring blankly ahead, as if she hadn't heard.

But she had heard, he thought. She surely had.

And he knew then…As he watched her stoical face he realised that he was threatening her foundations. He was threatening to remove a little girl she loved with all her heart.

He'd never thought of this as a possibility. That a nanny could truly love his little cousin.

He'd come here expecting to meet Mrs Elsa Murdoch, paid nanny. Instead he'd met Elsa, marine biologist, friend, protector, mother to Zoe in every sense but name.

After the shock of learning of Zoe's existence, his plan had been to rescue his orphaned cousin, take her back to Khryseis and pay others to continue her care. Or, if Zoe was attached to this particular nanny, then he could continue to employ her to give the kid continuity.

It had to be option two.

Only if he broached it now Elsa might well lock the door and call the authorities to throw him off her land.

So do it when? He had so little time.

‘I need to go back to Khryseis tomorrow,' he told Zoe and glanced sideways to see relief flood Elsa's face. ‘Elsa's said she'll drive me into town now. But I've upset her. She thought I might want to take you away from her, and I'd never do that. I promise. So if you and Elsa drive me into town now, can I come and visit again tomorrow morning?' He looked ruefully down at his ceremonial trousers—now liberally coated in cat fur. ‘If I'm welcome?'

‘Is he welcome?' Zoe asked Elsa.

‘If you want him to come,' Elsa said neutrally. ‘Stefanos is your cousin.'

Zoe thought about it. He was being judged, he thought, and the sensation was weird. Judged by an eight-year-old, with Elsa on the sidelines doing her own judging.

Or…it seemed she'd already judged.

‘If you come you should bring your togs,' Zoe said.

‘Togs?'

‘Your swimming gear—if you own any without tassels and braid,' Elsa said, still obviously forcing herself not to glower. ‘As a farewell visit,' she added warningly. ‘Because, if you really are Zoe's cousin, then I accept that she should get to know you.'

‘That's gracious of you,' he said gravely.

‘It is,' she said and managed a half-hearted smile.

 

The drive back to town started in silence. Elsa's car was an ancient family wagon, filled in the back with—of all things—lobster pots. There was a pile of buoys and nets heaped on the front passenger seat, so he was forced to sit in the rear seat with Zoe.

She could have put the gear in the back, he thought, but she didn't offer and he wasn't pushing it. So she was chauffeur and he and Zoe were passengers.

‘You catch lobsters?' he said cautiously.

‘We weigh them, sex them, tag then and let them go,' she said briefly from the front.

‘You have a boat?'

‘The university supplies one. But I only go when Zoe can come with me.'

‘It's really fun,' Zoe said. ‘I like catching the little ones. You have to be really careful when you pick them up. If you grab them behind their necks they can't reach and scratch you.'

‘We have lobsters on the Diamond Isles,' he told her. ‘My friend Nikos is a champion fisherman.'

‘Do you fish?' Zoe demanded.

‘I did when I was a boy.'

They chatted on. Elsa was left to listen. And fret.

He was good, she conceded. He was wriggling his way into
Zoe's trust and that wasn't something lightly achieved. Like her father before her, Zoe was almost excruciatingly shy, and that shyness had been made worse by people's reaction to her scars.

Stefanos hadn't once referred to her scars. To the little girl it must be as if he hadn't noticed them.

The concept, for Zoe, must be huge. Here was someone out of her papa's past, wanting to talk to her about interesting stuff like what he'd done on Khryseis when he was a boy with her papa.

She shouldn't be driving him back into town. She should be asking him to dinner, even asking him to sleep over to give Zoe as much contact as she could get.

Only there were other issues. Like the Crown. Like the fact that he'd said that Zoe had to return to Khryseis. Like crazy stuff that she couldn't consider.

Like asking a prince of the blood whether he'd like to sleep on her living room settee, she thought suddenly, and the idea was so ridiculous she almost smiled.

He was leaving tomorrow. He'd stopped talking about the possibility of Zoe coming with him. Maybe he'd given up.

She glanced into the rear-view mirror and he looked up and met her eyes.

No, she thought, and fear settled back around her heart. Prince Stefanos of Khryseis looked like a man who didn't give up—on anything.

 

The township of Waratah Cove had two three-star hotels and one luxury six-star resort out on the headland past the town.

Without asking, she turned the car towards the headland and he didn't correct her.

Money, she thought bleakly. If she could have the cost of one night's accommodation in this place…

‘Can you stop here?' Stefanos asked and she jammed her foot on the brake and stopped dead. Maybe a bit too suddenly.

‘Wow,' Zoe said. ‘Are you crabby or something?'

‘Or something,' she said neutrally, glancing again at Stefanos in the rear-view mirror.

‘Your nanny thinks I spend too much money,' he said, amused, and she flushed. Was she so obvious?

‘Elsa's not my nanny,' Zoe said, amused herself.

‘What is she?'

‘She's just my Elsa.'

My Elsa. It was said with such sureness that he knew he could never break this bond. If he was to take Zoe back to Khryseis, he needed to take them both.

He had to get this right.

‘So why did you want me to stop here?' Elsa asked.

‘Because the ambassador to the Diamond Isles leaked to the media that I was coming here,' he said bitterly. ‘That's why I had to find myself a uniform and attend the reception. I've already had to bribe—heavily—the chauffeur they arranged for me so he wouldn't tell anyone my location. I imagine there'll be cameramen outside my hotel, wanting to know where I've been, and I don't want a media circus descending on Zoe. I can walk the last couple of hundred yards.'

‘Maybe you should check your trousers,' Elsa said, and there was suddenly laughter in her voice. ‘Cat fur isn't a great look for a Royal Prince.'

‘Thanks very much,' he said, and smiled.

And, unaccountably, she smiled back.

Hers was a gorgeous smile. Warm and natural and full of humour. If he'd met this woman under normal circumstances…

Maybe he'd never have noticed her, he thought. She didn't move in the circles he moved in. Plus he liked his women groomed. Sophisticated. Able to hold their own in any company.

She'd be able to hold her own. This was one feisty woman.

He needed to learn more about her. He needed to hit the phones, extend his research, come up with an offer she couldn't refuse.

Unaccountably, he didn't want to get out of the car. The
battered family wagon, loaded with lobster pots, smelling faintly—no, more than faintly—of fish, unaccountably seemed a good place to stay.

He thought suddenly of his apartment in Manhattan. Of his consulting suite with its soft grey carpet, its trendy chrome furniture, its soft piped music.

They were worlds apart—he and Mrs Elsa Murdoch.

But now their lives needed to overlap, enough to keep the island safe. The islanders safe.

Zoe safe.

Until today he'd seen Zoe as a problem—a shock, to be muted before the islanders found out.

Now, suddenly that obstacle was human—a little girl with scars, attached to a woman who loved her.

They were waiting for him to get out of the car. If he left it any longer a media vehicle might come this way. One cameraman and Zoe would run, he thought, and it'd be Elsa who ran with her.

Elsa wasn't family. It wasn't her role to care for Zoe.

Forget the roles, he told himself sharply. Now he must protect the pair of them. He climbed from the car and tried to dust himself off. He had ginger cat fur on black trousers.

Suddenly Elsa was out of the car as well, watching as he shrugged on his jacket.

‘Do your buttons up,' she said, almost kindly. ‘You look much more princely with your buttons done up. And hold still. If a car comes I'll stop, but let's see what we can achieve before that happens.'

And, before he knew what she intended, she'd twisted him round so she could attack the backs of his legs and the seat of his trousers.

With a hairbrush?

‘It's actually a brush Zoe uses for her dolls,' she told him, sweeping the cat fur off in long efficient strokes. ‘But see—I've rolled sticky tape the wrong way round around its bristles. It's very effective.'

He was so confounded he submitted. He was standing on
a headland in the middle of nowhere while a woman called Mrs Elsa Murdoch attacked his trousers with a dolls' hairbrush.

She brushed until she was satisfied. Then she straightened. ‘Turn round and let me look at you,' she said.

He turned.

‘Very nice,' she said. ‘Back to being a prince again. What do you think, Zoe? Is he ready for the cameras?'

‘His top button's undone,' Zoe said.

‘That's because it's hot,' he retorted but Elsa shook her head.

‘No class at all,' she said soulfully. ‘I don't know what you modern day royals are coming to.' She carefully fastened his top button while he felt…he felt…He didn't know how he felt; he was only aware that when the button was fastened and she stepped back there was a sharp stab of something that might even be loss.

‘There you go, Your Highness,' she said, like a valet who'd just done a good job making a recalcitrant prince respectable. ‘Off you go and face the world while Zoe and I get back to our cats and our lobster pots.'

And she was in the car, turned and driving away before he had a chance to reply.

 

His first task was to get his breath back. To face the media with some sort of dignity.

His second task was to talk to the hotel concierge.

‘I need some extensive shopping done on my behalf,' he said. ‘Fast. Oh, and I need to hire a car. No, not a limousine. Anything not smelling of fish would be acceptable.'

Then he rang Prince Alexandros back in the Diamond Isles. As well as being a friend, Alexandros was Crown Prince of Sappheiros, and Alex more than anyone else knew what was at stake—why he was forced to be in Australia in royal uniform when he should be in theatre garb back in Manhattan.

‘Problem?' his friend asked.

‘I don't know.'

‘What don't you know?'

‘The child's been burned. She's dreadfully scarred.'