The Prince She Never Forgot. Scarlet Wilson
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СКАЧАТЬ cringed. The whole thing was probably giving him palpitations. It didn’t take much these days.

      Alex waved his hand. ‘Leave this to me.’

      He didn’t need Rufus getting over-excited. What on earth was Ruby doing? She’d barely put her feet across the front door.

      He bit his lip as he climbed the stairs at a rapid pace. She wasn’t used to things like this. Maybe he should try and exercise a little patience. Ruby wasn’t used to royal palaces and protocols. She was here because he’d asked her to be. She might have a job to do, but she was also his guest.

      He reached Annabelle’s rooms quickly. The door was open wide, giving a clear view of the palace gardens and the sea. Ruby was sitting on one of the window seats, but she wasn’t admiring the view. One of Annabelle’s stuffed toys was in her hands. It was a koala left by the Australian ambassador after his last visit. Ruby was looking around the room carefully.

      He stood behind her, looking at her outline, seeing every curve of her body. It sent a rush of blood around his own body.

      He hadn’t quite imagined how this would feel. Ruby, sitting in his palace, with the backdrop he’d looked at every day for years behind her. It almost seemed unreal.

      ‘Ruby, what are you doing in here?’

      She sighed and turned to face him. The first thing that struck him was her big brown eyes. So dark, so deep, so inviting... He really needed to get hold of himself.

      ‘There are rooms right next door to Annabelle’s. It would be best if I stayed there.’

      ‘Why?’ The rooms he’d chosen for her in the West Wing were brighter, more spacious. The ones next to Annabelle were smaller, usually reserved for staff. ‘The other rooms are nicer. They have more space.’

      She waved her hand. She didn’t look happy. Was she already regretting coming here?

      ‘I need to be next to her, Alex. You forget—I live in London. These rooms will be a penthouse compared to my flat. I need to see her, Alex. I need to see her in her own environment. I need to see how she functions. I need to see how she communicates with those around her. She’s three. I need to watch her in the place where she’s most comfortable. I’m not just here to assess whether she can actually speak or not. I need to assess her ability to understand—her cognitive abilities. I need to see how she interacts with those around her.’

      She held out her arm across the immaculately kept room.

      ‘Is this Annabelle’s world?’

      There was tinge of sadness to her words. As if to her the beautiful rooms were clearly lacking.

      ‘Where is she now?’

      Professional Ruby. The one he’d never really experienced before. She wasn’t having wishful thoughts about him. She was concentrating on the job she was here to do.

      He glanced at his watch. ‘She’s with her nanny. She goes to the local nursery for a few hours twice a week. Her nanny thought mixing with other children might be good for her. She’s due back any minute.’

      Ruby nodded and smiled.

      Alex continued. ‘This isn’t a big country. Annabelle will go to the local school with the other children, just like I did. My father always believed that to lead the people you had to be part of the people.’

      ‘He sounds like a very wise man.’ She turned and looked out over the sea. ‘Where is your father? Is he here?’

      He hesitated. They kept details about King Leopold closely guarded. But this was Ruby. He trusted her with the details of his daughter—why not his father?

      ‘He’s not here. He’s in Switzerland.’

      ‘Switzerland?’

      ‘His stroke was severe. We have a hospital in Euronia, but we don’t have ICU facilities.’

      She walked towards him, concern lacing her brow. Clearly no one had told her about the protocol of remaining ten steps away from the Prince. He was glad. He could see a tiny smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. Had they been there before?

      If asked, he would have said that every part of her face had been etched on his brain. But these were new. It was disconcerting. A part of Ruby he hadn’t kept in his head.

      She put her hand on his chest. He could practically hear the alarms going off around the building.

      ‘Ten years on your father still needs ICU facilities?’

      He was trying not to concentrate on her warm skin penetrating through his shirt. ‘Yes—and no. He did at first. His recovery was limited and slow. He was moved to a specialist rehab unit. But now he has frequent bouts of pneumonia and he needs assistance with breathing. He has to be kept near an ICU. Euronia doesn’t have those facilities.’

      ‘You could get them.’

      Her voice was quiet. She knew exactly what she was saying. It was enough. The rest of the words didn’t have to be said out loud. No one else around him would do this.

      ‘I could,’ he said gently. ‘But my father wouldn’t want people to see him the way he is now. It would break his heart.’ His voice was strained. Even he could hear it.

      It was so strange to have Ruby standing right here in front of him, in his daughter’s room. He’d imagined her in many different scenarios over the years, but this had never been one of them.

      In his darkest moments, when everything had seemed insurmountable, he’d always been able to close his eyes and go back to Paris, the fireworks and Ruby.

      A perfect night. With a disastrous end.

      She’d suited her red coat and hat that cold night. And for the last ten years that was the way he’d remembered her.

      Ruby—with the sparkle in her eyes, the flirtatious laugh and the easy chatter. Every time he thought of her there were fireworks in the background. Fireworks that matched her personality and her vitality.

      But today, in the sun, the pale green chiffon complemented her dark brown curls and brown eyes. The dress covered every part of her it should, but he hadn’t expected her to look quite so elegant.

      It was just the two of them. No palace staff. No interruptions.

      ‘I’ve met so many different people, Ruby. I see masks, façades, the whole time. I’ve never seen any of that with you. Ten years ago I saw someone who was devastated at not getting her dream job—someone who wasn’t afraid to say that to a stranger. All the people who have assessed Annabelle...’

      He shook his head.

      ‘None of them have felt genuine to me. Oh, they might be professionals in their field. They might have letters after their names. But most of them only tell me what they think I want to hear. Others try and blind me with science. I don’t think any of them have ever wanted to find out who the real Annabelle is. They might be interested in the theory or psychology of why a three-year-old won’t talk...’

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