The Monarch's Son. Valerie Parv

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      Alarm flared through Lorne. “Then why did she faint?”

      The doctor paced to a large window overlooking the villa’s expansive grounds. “Exhaustion would be my diagnosis.”

      “From her ordeal?”

      The doctor turned back to him and shook his head. “From more than that, I would say. She’s run-down and slightly anemic. When she came around, she was groggy enough to be honest and admit she hasn’t taken a holiday for years. I gather she hasn’t had much sleep since arriving in our beautiful country.”

      Bracing himself, Lorne said, “I imagine she spends her nights partying with other travelers her own age.”

      “I doubt it,” Dr. Pascale observed dryly. “She’s staying at Shepherd Lodge.”

      “I see.” Lorne did see. Shepherd Lodge was run by an order of lay nuns who took strict care to see that their residents behaved themselves. The young women who stayed there endured the spartan rooms and requirement to do chores either to please parents who lived in the country or, in the case of foreigners, because it was clean and incredibly cheap. He had a good idea which of the reasons applied to Alison. On the beach she had mentioned staying as long as her money lasted.

      “I’ve given her something to help her rest,” the doctor continued. “Do you want me to arrange transportation for her back to the Lodge when she wakes up?”

      Lorne was in no doubt what answer the doctor expected. Alain Pascale might be getting on in years but he was nobody’s fool. “You know perfectly well I can’t send her back to that bleak place if she’s unwell,” he observed testily. “They have a rule against residents remaining in their rooms during the day. You have to be almost dying to be exempted.”

      “Then she can remain in the Rose Suite for a day or so until she recovers?”

      Wondering if he needed his head examined, Lorne nodded. “For a day or so. Have someone notify the matron at Shepherd Lodge that their resident is staying at my villa so they have no need to send out a search party.”

      The doctor’s eyebrows lifted. “And you got mad at me for harboring suspicions. They’ll have nothing on the rumors doing the rounds once that message is received.”

      Lorne gave a heavy sigh. “You’re right as usual. Have my aide tell them Alison has taken up a post with my household as…as Nori’s companion for the remainder of our vacation here.”

      Alain had the grace not to grin, although he looked pleased by the decision. “You’re assuming that she’ll accept, of course.”

      Lorne wondered if he looked as stunned as he felt. “Of course she will, if I command it.”

      The doctor shrugged. “You of all people should know Australians can be infuriatingly independent. Miss Carter seems to be no exception. I’d ask her nicely if I were you, then she might say yes.”

      Asking nicely wasn’t something Lorne was accustomed to doing. As the sovereign ruler of Carramer, his word was quite literally law. For the first time it came to him to wonder if it hadn’t been one of the stumbling blocks to happiness with his late wife. Since he would never know the answer, he dismissed it from his mind. “I’ll think about it,” he said ominously.

      “I recognize a dismissal when I hear one,” the doctor said easily. “I’ll stick around overnight in case your young lady needs me again.”

      “She isn’t my young lady,” Lorne said irritably. “Although I seem to be stuck with her for the time being.”

      “Approach her with that attitude and it won’t be a problem. She’ll be gone so fast your head will spin,” the doctor pointed out. “Most virile young men wouldn’t consider accommodating a beautiful young woman to be a hardship.”

      Lorne favored him with his most regal glare of disapproval although he knew it was wasted on the doctor. “Most virile young men don’t have a country to run.”

      “Or a bad experience with an Australian beauty behind them,” the doctor observed with remarkable insight. “Remember, not all women from that country are like Chandra. Some of them enjoy living in Carramer.”

      Alain Pascale’s wife, Helen, was one of them, the prince knew. A nicer, more generous person was impossible to meet. Even in her late sixties, she was still a beauty, and although she returned regularly to visit relatives in her native country, her loyalty to Carramer was unwavering.

      “Neither are they all like Helen,” Lorne countered. “She may be Australian, but her heart belongs to Carramer.”

      The doctor laughed. “Give me some of the credit at least. When you’re as much in love as Helen and me, even after forty years of marriage, it hardly matters where you live as long as you’re together.”

      Jealousy gripped Lorne so fiercely it was like a physical pain, but years of royal training enabled him to mask the reaction. He kept his expression impassive as he bade the doctor good evening. “You may have only one patient, but I have a million of them and I need to get some work done, vacation or no,” he explained.

      At the door the doctor paused. “You may have a million subjects, but you’re still a man with a man’s normal needs and desires. Maybe you needed to have a woman wash up at your feet to remind you of the fact. Good night.”

      Before Lorne could frame a scathing reply, the doctor had gone and Lorne was alone. Never before had his private apartment seemed so vast or lonely, he reflected somberly. Maybe the doctor was right. It was time he got to know one or two of the beautiful women who were regularly paraded before him at official functions. One of them would never capture his heart unless he gave them a chance. Somehow the idea had less appeal than he thought it should.

      “Good, you are awake. Papa said no one was to disturb you until you woke up by your own self.”

      It took Allie a moment to connect the child at the foot of her bed with her surroundings, then she sat up with a jolt as memory came rushing back. She had almost drowned in the undertow known locally as the serpent and had been rescued by Prince Lorne himself. She remembered collapsing at his feet, then awakening briefly to find herself being checked over by a kindly doctor who said he would give her something to help her rest.

      “What time is it?” she asked the wide-eyed little boy watching her intently.

      He made a face. “I don’t know, I’m only four. You went to bed even earlier than me, Miss Carter.”

      She couldn’t help smiling and realized how much better she felt. “I did, didn’t I, Nori? I’d like it if you called me Allie. It’s the name my friends use, and I hope you’ll be my friend, too.” She levered herself onto one elbow and patted the space beside her. “Jump up.”

      He didn’t need a second invitation. “You talk funny.”

      “I’m from Australia. That’s why I sound funny to you.”

      He settled himself more comfortably beside her. “My mummy came from Australia. Is that like Heaven?”

      Something was wrong here. “Australia’s a place like Carramer, Nori,” she explained, adding gently, “is your mummy in Heaven?”

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