‘You’re not trying to impress me now?’
‘No,’ she said solemnly. She reached one hand over to his. Her other one was poised carefully. ‘I’m just trying to distract you so I can steal some more of your chocolate cake.’
Her fork swooped in and she grabbed another piece.
He held the hand resting over his. ‘That’s what I like about you, Ruby. What I remember. A girl who likes to eat cake.’
She licked her fork. ‘It’s my best talent. It’s taken years and years of practice.’
She liked this. He was relaxed here. He was much more like the Alex she remembered. Around the palace he seemed so much more uptight.
‘How long has the casino been open?’ She watched the stream of people entering and leaving.
‘Almost three hours.’
She glanced at her watch. ‘But it’s only one o’clock in the day. I thought gambling would be a night-time kind of thing.’
‘Have you ever been to Las Vegas or Atlantic City?’
She shook her head. ‘So people gamble here all day?’
He nodded.
‘And is that good or bad?’
He fixed his blue eyes on hers. ‘You mean for the people, or for the place?’
She shrugged, ‘Both, I guess. I don’t really know that much about gambling.’
‘Neither do I. But tourism is one of the ways to bring money into Euronia. The new port means that cruise ships can easily moor here. We open up part of the castle for tours at different times of the year. We’ve spent money building five-star hotels that keep the rich and famous happy. And we have some of the most beautiful venues for weddings in the world. That, and the tax benefits, mean that Euronia thrives.’
She listened to his words carefully, hearing the underlying pride as he said them. Ten years ago there had been financial predictions that Euronia would have to be taken over by another country to remain viable. None of those predictions had come true.
‘Is that why you went to Harvard and studied business—to find a way to help Euronia?’
He gave a rueful smile. ‘If I’d had my way I would have gone to Harvard to study chemistry or physics.’
She sat back in her chair. ‘Really? You like that kind of thing?’
He nodded. ‘Of course I do. Doesn’t every little boy want to be an astronaut? I still want to. Science, maths or engineering—that’s what you need a degree in.’
She couldn’t help but smile. This was the Alex she’d met back in Paris. This was the guy who’d kissed her until her toes tingled. This was the guy she’d lost a tiny little piece of her heart to.
‘You really looked into this?’
‘Of course I did.’
She finished the last piece of her cake and licked the fork. It had been delicious. Now she knew this place existed she would try to take a daily trip.
He glanced towards her and it sent a tingle right down to her toes. A cheeky look, a flirtatious look, a maybe-none-of-those-things look, but there was no denying its effect.
It made her feel exposed. It made her feel as if all those fleeting thoughts, all those ridiculous daydreams about being here in Euronia, were being instantly read in her mind.
‘Now I’m sold on the cake here I want to come back.’
‘I’ll bring you any time you like.’
‘Good. Because I want you to bring us tomorrow.’
‘Us?’
‘Yes. You, me and Annabelle. I’ve watched her in the palace. Later on I’m going to watch her at nursery. But I also need to see how the two of you interact together.’
‘But you’ve seen her with me in the last few days.’
‘That was in the palace. This is different.’ She held out her hands. ‘This is normal.’
He raised his eyebrows at her. ‘My life isn’t normal?’
She sighed. ‘No, Alex. Your life isn’t normal. But Annabelle’s should be. She’s just a little girl. I want to see her come and eat cake or ice cream with her dad.’
If it was possible his tanned face paled. He took a few moments, and she could almost see the thoughts flickering across his face.
Alex had been so relaxed around her for the last hour. She was just praying that the palace portcullis wasn’t about to come down, slamming into place.
He gave a slow nod and lifted his bright blue eyes to meet hers. He didn’t get it. When he looked at her like that it was magnetising. She couldn’t pull herself away if she tried.
She hated it that after ten years he could still do that to her. Still make her feel as if she was the only person around. Make all the noise and people around them just fade into the background.
Her mouth was instantly dry. She wanted to lick her lips, but was afraid of what that might suggest. It might let him know exactly what she was thinking. And none of her current thoughts could ever be acknowledged between them.
There was one way to break this spell.
‘Tell me about your wife, Alex. Tell me about Annabelle’s mother.’
There. He looked as if she’d just sucker-punched him. Truth be told, she really didn’t want to talk to Alex about his wife. She didn’t need to hear how beautiful or wonderful she’d been—the press had already let the world know that. She especially didn’t want her stomach to clench so hard she might be sick.
But this was it. This was the way to stop her thinking about her prince. Her prince. She was still doing it. It was natural.
And this was a natural question to ask Alex. If she wanted to assess Annabelle properly she had to know the family circumstances.
‘What do you want to know?’ His voice was hoarse.
She signalled to the waiter. ‘Can we have some water, please?’ She needed to do something with her own scratchy throat.
The sun was shining down on them, warming her arms and legs. This should be perfect. She was sitting in the most gorgeous setting. From this café she could look across the square at the port and see million-dollar boats bobbing on the sea in front of her. Across from her was the guy she’d thought about for the last ten years.
But she’d just managed to ruin the mood completely. It was time to stop things being personal—it was time to be professional.
‘What happened with Sophia? I’ve seen pictures of the two of you sitting on the fountain at the castle as children. You obviously knew her for a long time?’
He ran his fingers through his dark hair. She was conscious of the furrows in his brow, the lines around his eyes.
He took a deep breath. ‘Sophia was my oldest friend. Even though she lived in a neighbouring country our fathers were constantly doing state business together. She was always here.’
Ruby sipped the water the waiter had brought. Nothing would get rid of the dryness in her throat. ‘And...?’
He looked at her, then quickly looked away again—almost as if he was embarrassed to speak about Sophia in front of her.
She licked her lips. She wanted to tell him that she only needed to know about Annabelle. But her insides were churning. This was the moment when she’d hear the things she’d always known.
His voice had the slightest tremor. It was only because she was listening so intently that she noticed.
‘Sophia came to me after everything had happened. After my father had had the stroke and I’d been made Prince Regent.’ His hands went back to his hair. ‘Things were a mess. I was totally consumed by finances, by looking for new opportunities for Euronia. But Sophia was sick. I knew it as soon as saw her.’
He sat back in his chair. His body was rigid. One hand clenched in a fist.
‘I was furious. She hadn’t told me anything.’ He fixed his eyes on a point over her shoulder. ‘The speculation was right. She had breast cancer. It was terminal. Sophia came and told me after she’d tried a number of treatments. She’d already made her mind up that she didn’t want to do that any more.’
There was a sheen across his eyes and it made Ruby’s heart ache for him. But down in the pit of her stomach there was something else. A tiny smattering of jealousy that he’d felt so much for this woman.
‘So you got married?’
She tried to make it sound casual. But her voice was tight and she knew it. She just hoped he wouldn’t notice.
Alex gave the slightest nod of his head.
‘Sophia came to me. She told me her diagnosis. She told me the one thing she wanted in the world was to have a baby before it was too late. I couldn’t say no to her. I just couldn’t. I loved her. People had speculated for years that we would marry—but it never entered our heads. Sophia had plans—she had big plans. She was so creative...she loved art and design. But she also had a really inquisitive nature. She was torn between design and journalism. She loved to write. She had sketches and sketches of dress designs.’
He sighed,
‘And then...’ he lifted his hand ‘...the cancer.’ He shook his head. ‘It was as if all her dreams just evaporated. She’d already made up her mind before she came to see me. If we had a child together it would seal the fate of our two kingdoms. Sophia was an only child. When she died her whole dynasty would die with her. She didn’t want that to happen.’ His voice steadied. ‘Neither of us wanted that to happen.’
He pressed his lips together.
‘You probably already know this, but when Sophia’s father dies Annabelle will be Queen of Leruna. If he dies before Annabelle comes of age I’ll be Regent to the two principalities.’
His lifted his eyes and met her gaze full-on. The implications were huge. He was telling her he’d made a pact with his childhood friend. They’d married. They’d had a child together. They’d cemented their relationship and safeguarded the future of two countries. How noble.
She was trying hard not to be bitter. And there was still a tiny flicker of hope. He hadn’t said Sophia was the love of his life. He’d said he loved her. That was different.
Ruby felt her voice wobble. ‘She was really young to have breast cancer, Alex.’
‘I know.’ He paused. ‘She had the gene.’ It came out in a whisper.
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘Sophia had the gene?’ Everyone had heard about ‘the gene’ by now—the mutation linked with breast and ovarian cancer. ‘What about Annabelle?’
He shook his head. ‘I had her tested. She’s not affected.’
Her breath left her in a whoosh. ‘Oh, wow. You must be so relieved.’ She toyed with the glass of water in her hands. ‘I know it’s a silly question, but was there nothing else they could do? It’s just that...wouldn’t the pregnancy have made a difference to her cancer? I thought they recommend that you don’t get pregnant if you have that type of cancer?’
His face was serious. ‘Sophia was very single-minded. She knew that she would die eventually. Having a child was the most important thing to her in the world. She could have had some type of chemotherapy while she was pregnant—but she refused. She did have some immediately following delivery. But she was so weak. So tired. She only took the treatment to prolong her time with Annabelle. Once she realised how sick it was making her, and how it really didn’t make any difference to the outcome, she decided to stop everything. She wanted some time with Annabelle.’
‘And did she have time with Annabelle?’
Ruby was trying to work out the impact on the child. Annabelle couldn’t have been much more than a baby. Was there any chance that what had happened then might have had an impact on her future? It seemed unlikely. There was lots of debate as to when a child formed its first memories. Most researchers thought it happened around the age of three. But Ruby had seen a lot of things in her work that had made her question that.
‘She had a few months. She spent every possible second with Annabelle. By the end she was just too tired, too sick. Annabelle was in her arms when she died. She was only eleven months old.’
‘It must have been devastating for you.’
‘She was my childhood friend—the person I grew up with. If my father hadn’t had the stroke, if Sophia hadn’t had breast cancer, lots of things might have been different.’
Something flickered across his eyes. A tiny moment of recognition. An awareness. A regret.
‘I’m sorry, Ruby,’ he whispered.
Tears filled her eyes. It was an acknowledgement, however brief, of what had happened between them. He was laying everything out on the table for her. It was just the two of them. No one else to interrupt. No one else to interfere.
He reached over and touched her cheek—just as he had all those years ago in Paris. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear.
Silence. For the longest time. Lots of words unspoken.
His fingers stroked across her cheek. So many things wanted to spill out of her. But her frustration was dissipating. The years had passed. She couldn’t be angry with him any more. She’d lived a whole ten years of her life without him. He’d always been in the background of her mind. No matter how hard she’d tried to push him away. But her memories of Alex were memories of one New Year’s Eve and a moment in time.
The Alex she saw in front of her now was the one that really existed. A father. A prince with the responsibilities of a country—two countries. Someone who’d set aside his career ambitions to fulfil his duty to his country. Someone who’d just told her that he was sorry. That meant more than anything.
She’d been harbouring an illusion for the last ten years. Trouble was, the reality was better than the dream.
She felt a rush of blood to her cheeks, but Alex had reached across the table and taken her hand.
‘Thank you, Ruby. Thank you for doing this for me. Thank you for doing this for my daughter.’
She stood up quickly. His daughter.
‘It’s time to go. I need to get back and plan for the nursery with Annabelle and her nanny.’
He was being kind. He was being sweet. He was thanking her for doing her job.
Her job. The one he was paying her to do.
If Alex was disturbed by her abruptness he didn’t show it. He just signalled to the waiter and left some money on the table.
Her cheek was burning from where he’d touched her. It almost felt as if he’d left a mark on her skin.
She needed some distance. She needed some space.
Most of all she needed to remember why she was here—to assess a little girl. Nothing more. Nothing less.
CHAPTER FOUR
FOR A MOMENT earlier today Alex had been sure there was something in the air between him and Ruby.
He’d managed to persuade his security team to stay a comfortable distance away from them. He knew the palace must be suffocating for Ruby. But he’d never considered it might be suffocating to Annabelle.
Ruby was here to do a job. She’d already made an impact on his staff by insisting she stay in the staff quarters next to Annabelle. He’d tried not to smirk when he’d heard Rufus, his private secretary, scold her for calling him Alex.
‘You must address him as Your Highness or Prince Regent,’ he’d insisted.
But Ruby had laughed and waved her hand. ‘Nonsense. He’s Alex.’
There was a hum in the air around her. When she remembered, her manners could be impeccable. But most of the time she was just Ruby, and his staff were starting to warm to her.
Her focus on her task was obvious to all. She was unobtrusive, watching Annabelle and listening quietly. None of her assessment had put any demands on the child. After months of people trying to make Annabelle do things she clearly didn’t want to, or examining her ears, tongue and throat, it was a refreshing change.
Ruby. She’d been fixed in his mind for the last ten years. Her brown curls, dark eyes, red coat and a carefree attitude had wrapped their way around him like cotton candy around a stick.
But it was other things he remembered too. The laughter in her eyes, the flirtation, the buzz between them. That moment when their lips had touched and the fireworks had started going off in his head as well as in the sky. Ruby had sent a rush of blood around his body. He’d never felt a connection like that. He’d never had a kiss like that again.
He remembered the feel of her warm curves filling the palms of his hand underneath that red coat. The skin on her cheek where he’d stroked it. Every sensation of just being around Ruby.
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.
