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...’
He put his hand on his chest, directly over hers. One set of fingers intertwined with another.
‘But none of them have cared in here about why she isn’t speaking.’
He could lean forward right now. He could lean forward and capture her lips the way he did ten years ago.
Ruby’s eyes were fixed on his. ‘Well, no wonder.’
‘No wonder what?’
‘No wonder you came looking for me.’
IT TOOK ANNABELLE four long days to acknowledge Ruby’s existence. At first she completely ignored her, preferring to communicate in her own way with her nanny.
The nanny, Brigette, was thankfully a dedicated and sensible woman. She’d spent all her life in Euronia and had been with the family since Annabelle’s arrival. The little girl trusted her completely, but once Brigette realised Ruby was here to stay and help with Annabelle it was clear she was glad of the assistance. She loved the little girl but felt frustrated that she wasn’t able to help more.
Ruby was patient. But Alex was hovering around her constantly, asking her questions, destroying her concentration and patience. Any time he appeared her senses went into overdrive. The timbre of his voice, the accent, could make her legs turn to mush.
She had to drive a little bit of her anger back into her head. Her anger that she was here for Annabelle—not for Alex. It didn’t matter that it might be irrational. It was the only thing currently keeping her sane.
He appeared at her shoulder, his scent drifting around her. She didn’t even turn around.
‘Alex, you need to leave me to get on with the job. That’s what I’m here to do.’
Annabelle was playing quietly in her room. Flitting between colouring at the table and drawing chalk pictures on her board. There was a television in her room, which she rarely watched, and a tablet on the chair next to her.
She was definitely an interesting study. She was a creative little girl. The drawers at her desk were filled with cardboard, paint, ribbon, glitter and glue. She was never happier than when she was covered in the stuff. But the life of a royal princess meant that she was continually being cleaned, tidied and paraded elsewhere.
The only time she showed interest in the tablet—which she could use easily—was when she watched clips of singing and dancing from films. Annie, The Sound of Music and Seven Brides for Seven Brothers seemed to be the favourites.
There was a mixture of melancholy and frustration that emanated from Alex when he watched Annabelle.
‘But I’m her parent. Aren’t you supposed to talk to me and give me a report?’
Ruby nodded and gave a little sigh. ‘I suppose... But I haven’t finished my full assessment of Annabelle yet. I can only give you my first impressions.’
She turned around to face him, conscious of the fact that