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?”
The child nodded and his eyes grew luminous. “Papa says we can’t visit her but she’s very happy.”
Allie’s heart felt as if a giant hand had clamped around it. So Lorne’s wife had been Australian, too, and had died not so long ago. She remembered the cold way Lorne de Marigny had identified her nationality. Allie must have reminded him painfully of his loss. He must have loved his wife a great deal to react so strongly, she thought on a wave of sadness. What must it be like to be so loved? “I’m sure your daddy’s right, sweetheart,” she assured the little boy tremulously.
He nodded, then brightened. “Do you have a pet kangaroo in Australia?”
He was so sweetly earnest that she wanted to hug him, but hesitated. Was one allowed to hug a crown prince, even if he was only four years old? She settled for placing an arm around his small shoulders. He responded by nestling into the crook of her arm, triggering a surge of maternal longing deep inside her. “No, I don’t,” she said with a laugh. “Kangaroos are wild animals that live in the bush, not in people’s houses. But I have cuddled a koala. They’re adorable, like you.”
He looked disgusted. “I’m not ’dorable. But I’d like to cuddle a koala.”
“They’re only found in Australia and a few zoos in other places. Tell you what,” she said on a sudden inspiration, “I have a toy koala in my luggage back at Allora. I promise I’ll send it to you as soon as I get back there.”
“There’s no need. Nori has plenty of toys,” came a stern injunction from the doorway.
Allie turned to see Lorne standing there, looking like thunder. It was very attractive thunder, she couldn’t help thinking, as memories of him carrying her up the beach returned unbidden. He was dressed in a light-blue polo shirt with a monogram on the pocket and navy pants, the fine cut of the clothing emphasizing the athletic figure underneath. She pulled the bedclothes up higher in an instinctively defensive gesture.
At the sight of his father, little Nori scrambled off the bed and ducked under his father’s arm out of the room. Lorne said something to him about a nanny waiting with breakfast, and the child scampered off.
“I would rather not have my son’s head filled with fantasies about Australia,” the prince said grimly.
What had she done? “I only promised him a toy koala,” she explained. “I brought one with me in case I needed a gift, so it’s no problem.”
He folded his arms across his broad chest and angled his body against the door frame, a picture of masculine disapproval. “Perhaps not to you. But Nori already thinks of Australia as a kind of Disneyland where everything is more exciting than in his own country.”
The child probably associated all Australians with his mother and endowed them with the same magic, Allie thought. She wondered if Lorne knew just how much the little boy missed his mother. Without knowing more of what had happened, she didn’t feel free to bring it up. And she had already made enough mistakes where Lorne was concerned, starting with treating him as a commoner instead of the most powerful man in Carramer.
“About yesterday, Your Highness,” she began formally, although the effect was reduced somewhat by their relative positions. “I’m sorry for intruding. Thank you for having your doctor treat me and for letting me recover here, but I should get back to Allora.”
“Alain—Dr. Pascale—has prescribed several days’ rest for you,” the prince informed her. He didn’t sound pleased about it. “He tells me you’re run-down and slightly anemic.”
It was said as if he found her a complete nuisance. Her temper flared. “I didn’t plan on collapsing at your feet, Your Highness. I’m sure I can recuperate just as well at my hostel if you’ll let me dress and be on my way.”
She dimly remembered the doctor helping her to change, after having had clothing brought to her room, presumably from some royal storehouse. Turning her head, she could see several garments folded neatly over a stand under a window. One of the other teachers at the school where she worked would have called the situation “landing on her feet.” Looking at the prince’s forbidding expression, Allie wasn’t so sure. “I’ll make sure you get your clothes back safely,” she added.
The