Crowned: The Palace Nanny

by Marion Lennox

  She wanted to sob. Or maybe something louder. She’d actually quite like to stomp a bit. Toss the odd pillow.

  Yell.

  But Zoe and Buster were fast asleep. She should be, too. What else was she to do?

  She needn’t worry about breakfast. It would be on the table in a couple of hours, a choice of eight or so dishes, eat what you like and certainly don’t worry about the cost.

  She was Zoe’s friend and guardian, only Zoe already had a friend. After Christmas Zoe would try the little school that stood just by the castle gates. What was a woman to do then?

  Research her turtles and don’t deviate. Become a world authority. Stay facing in the one direction…

  Hope Stefanos could find a direction too, one that could fulfil his dreams, and hope with everything in her heart that his direction matched hers.

  She loved him.

  There wasn’t a lot she could do about it. Flying out of the door wailing, Wait for me, wait for me, would hardly be appropriate or sensible or even possible.

  So… Go back to sleep until it’s time for the royal day to begin.

  Start making Amy’s Christmas Cake.

  Wait for her prince to come home.

  It was a direct flight from Athens to New York. The details of his surgical list had been faxed through to him so he had a mass of reading to do on the way. He leafed through the first case and then the second-and then found himself staring sightlessly ahead. Superimposed on the printed pages was the vision of Elsa’s tousled curls, her bare feet, as she’d opened the door to say goodbye.

  More than anything else he’d wanted to sweep her into his arms, take her back to her bed and stay with her for ever and ever and ever.

  She’d knocked back his proposal of marriage. He was trying to understand her reasons.

  He’d spoken too early. One night in Athens hadn’t been enough. Her hip had been hurting. He needed to have her healed and then take her away properly-a weekend in Paris, maybe. Or a month in Paris.

  Or New York? There was his dream. Manhattan and Elsa. Or…more, he thought. Manhattan and Elsa and Zoe and Buster. His family-something he’d never thought he wanted, but now he had such a hunger for that he couldn’t see past it.

  But…He had to stay in Khryseis.

  And that was the problem, he thought. Elsa knew better than he did that marriage to her would make things better for him. But she’d knocked back his proposal. He had to make things better himself.

  ‘Excuse me, but are you Prince Stefanos of Khryseis?’

  The man in the next seat had been glancing at him covertly since take-off. Small, a bit unkempt, wearing half-rimmed glasses and the air of a scholar, he’d been reading notes that looked even more dense than those Stefanos had been studying.

  ‘I am,’ Stefanos said warily, because admitting to being royalty was usually asking for trouble.

  ‘So you’re the one who seduced our Dr Elsa from her studies.’

  ‘Pardon?’ What the hell…? This man looked angry.

  ‘She’s brilliant,’ the man said, ignoring Stefanos’s incredulity. ‘She has one of the most brilliant scientific minds in Australia. In the world. She and that husband of hers…the research they did on the preservation of the Great Barrier Reef was groundbreaking. If she’d kept it up it could have made her a professor in any of the most prestigious universities in the world. And then she just hands it over. Hands it over!’

  ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ Stefanos said.

  ‘Her work,’ the man said impatiently, and then suddenly seemed to remember his manners. ‘David Hemming,’ he said. ‘Professor of Marine Studies at…Well, never mind, it doesn’t matter. All I know is that I’ve never seen such a generous act. She had all the research done. All the hard work. She was just starting to see the academic rewards and suddenly a letter arrives out of the blue saying she can no longer go on with her studies but she doesn’t want her research wasted so here it is, take it and publish as you see fit, just take it forward. Well, I tell you there’s at least eight international experts now who are international experts only because of Dr Langham’s generosity.’

  ‘Dr Langham?’

  ‘We could never find her,’ he said morosely. ‘Only then we started hearing about starfish research-really interesting stuff-and dammit, there she was, only she was calling herself Elsa Murdoch. But, just as we were finding out what she was doing, dammit if she didn’t do exactly the same again. Package it all up and pass it on. No honours for her. Just good, solid research that’ll mean species will survive that were otherwise facing extinction. And now…’

  He’d been building up indignation, incense personified, and Stefanos got poked in the chest with a pencil. ‘And now she’s off again. But at least it’s turtles this time. Kemp’s Ridley, by what I hear, and you couldn’t get a better woman working on them. You know what? She sees the big picture. Already she’s contacting international institutions, trying to broaden our understanding. If she’s found this breeding site there must be more. She’ll use that to make them safe.’

  ‘How…?’

  ‘Pure energy,’ he said, stabbing Stefanos again. ‘Only don’t you let her give her work away this time. If she settles-if she’s allowed to settle-then I’m guaranteeing those blessed turtles will be safe for a thousand years, such is the commitment she generates. So you might have seduced her to your island but you make sure she stays. Or I and half the marine academics in the world will want to know why not.’

  And, with a final poke in the chest, he retired back to his notes.

  Leaving Stefanos winded.

  Stunned.

  The vision of Elsa as he’d last seen her was still with him-beautiful, almost ethereal, a freckled imp with her glorious sun-blonded curls. With her face creasing from laughter to gravity, from teasing to earnestness, from joy to…love?

  To loss.

  If he’d met her when she was twenty, when life was simple, when she was free to fall in love, then maybe he’d have stood a chance. He knew that. For he’d looked into her eyes and what he saw there was a reflection of what he believed himself. That she was falling in love with him as deeply as he was falling in love with her.

  Only life had got complicated. He’d thought it was complicated for him. How much more complicated was it for her?

  She’d buried a husband. She’d said goodbye to two careers. She’d taken on a child so injured that she’d needed almost a hundred per cent commitment, and that at a time when Elsa was injured herself.

  And along came Prince Stefanos, grudgingly changing direction this once. Hating the idea that he’d be handing over his work, his teaching, his skills, watching others take his work forward while he ceased to be able to contribute.

  She knew his commitment was grudging. She had so much generosity of spirit herself that she must know it.

  He’d enjoy family medicine, he thought, and doing everything else he could to help Khryseis, as a doctor and as the island’s Prince Regent. He must. He’d immerse himself into it all, convince Elsa that he was content.

  Only she knew him. He couldn’t lie to her. And it wasn’t entirely the work he wanted to do.

  Khryseis wasn’t big enough for the medical work he wanted to do.

  But…

  For some reason, the academic’s words stuck. Hit a chord.

  You know what? She sees the big picture.

  Khryseis was one of three islands. Put together…

  He needed to concentrate on these cases. He’d be operating hours after landing. He needed to read his notes.

  But there were things happening in his head apart from his most pressing concerns. Major things.

  The image came to him of the night he’d held the three tiny turtle hatchlings in his hand.

  I guess, if they walked far enough, the ocean is that-a-way, he’d said.

  Yeah, but changing direction’s easier, she’d whispered. I ought to know.

  Could he somehow change direction but get to t
he same place by another route?

  There wasn’t time to think this through now. Those kids were lined up waiting for him. But he had six weeks to think.

  How much did he want Elsa?

  And Zoe. And Khryseis. And turtles and cats and Amy’s Christmas Cake which, for some weird reason, was becoming a really big thing to look forward to.

  How much did he want them all?

  He lifted his third set of case notes and tried to read.

  But all he saw was Elsa.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  T HEY coped without him.

  It was a strange thing, caring for a child who’d been dependent for years but who was finally finding her wings. Zoe couldn’t wait to get out of bed in the morning, to meet her new friend, to play with Buster, to be allowed to start school. Medical constraints, always suffered stoically, were now a nuisance to be ignored. She bounced around the palace with growing confidence and pleasure, and by Christmas there wasn’t a member of the palace staff who wouldn’t have given their right arm for her.

  Zoe was gloriously in love with this new life.

  So was Elsa. Sort of.

  She and Helena were working through the issues with the turtles with cautious exhilaration. There was so much to be done. The turtles’ habitat had been destroyed once, and only part of it had regrown. Turtles were crossing roads to dig their nests. There were threats everywhere, and this for a world endangered species. Making them safe was imperative. Extrapolating the research was breathtakingly exciting. She could make a difference.

  There were so many things she could do.

  But she wanted to be with Stefanos. Every morning she woke rethinking his proposal. Was she crazy? She’d turned down a man she could love with all her heart.

  She knew it was more than that, but that was the problem. Her head knew things her heart didn’t necessarily agree with.

  ‘Will Stefanos be home for Christmas?’ Zoe asked for about the thousandth time since he’d left and, for the thousandth time, she replied.

  ‘He said he would be. He’s phoning us as often as he can, sweetheart, and he doesn’t seem to be changing his mind. And then he’s going to stay with you while I have my hip fixed.’

  ‘I don’t want you to go away.’

  She didn’t want to go away either, but it was organised. The day after New Year she’d fly to Athens and spend a month in hospital.

  She should be grateful. She was grateful. Zoe was happy and blooming. There were no money problems. She had work that truly interested her, and her hip was about to be treated.

  So why was a part of her so miserable?

  Happy Christmas, she told herself fiercely on Christmas Eve, as she helped Zoe hang her stocking in front of the vast fireplace in the great hall. Last year she’d used a sock in front of the fire-stove. This year the housekeeper had hand-stitched Zoe a gold and crimson stocking, with the most beautiful appliquéd Father Christmas and elves and reindeer.

  It looked beautiful on the great mantel. But, despite the massive Christmas tree the staff had set up-or maybe because of it-it looked really alone.

  ‘You should have a stocking too,’ Zoe said as she’d said every Christmas since they’d been together.

  ‘Stockings are for kids.’

  ‘You never get presents.’

  ‘Stefanos should be home. That’ll be a present for both of us.’

  ‘He should be here now,’ Zoe said severely. It was almost bedtime on Christmas Eve. She’d counted on her big cousin coming today. ‘He said he’d come.’

  ‘Maybe he’ll come in the night like Santa Claus,’ Elsa said. ‘Maybe we won’t see him come if we stay up.’

  ‘You think we should go to bed?’

  ‘Why not?’ She was weary of waiting, herself. She was riding an emotional roller coaster and didn’t know how to get off. If Stefanos didn’t come…He’d promised Zoe.

  He’d promised her.

  ‘Okay,’ Zoe said, infinitely trusting. She tucked her hand into Elsa’s and tugged her towards the stairs. ‘Let’s go to bed and make it come quicker.’

  He had so much to do he felt like Santa Claus, zooming across the world at midnight. Actually he was only flying from Athens to Khryseis on the seaplane, but he did feel a bit like Santa. He had so many gifts in his pack. He sat next to the pilot, gazed out at the blue-black sky and the stars hanging low and lovely in the heavens, and he felt that a little bit of magic was around.

  He needed magic. In his pocket was a ring almost worthy of the woman he loved-the ancient ring of Khryseis, plaited gold with three magnificent diamonds embedded in its depths.

  She wouldn’t take it unless she accepted the rest of his sleigh load, he thought ruefully. A woman of principle was the woman he’d chosen to give his heart.

  Would she take it? He’d done so much. If there was anything else he could do…Anything at all…

  He had a mad compulsion to tell the pilot to turn the plane around. So much was at stake. The woman he’d chosen as his life’s partner had knocked him back because of her principles. If he didn’t get it right this time…

  What else could he do?

  The lights of Khryseis came into view and the plane started its descent. He could see the palace from here, lit up like a fairy palace. That’d be the staff celebrating Christmas, he thought. The whole staff-the whole island-was overjoyed to have their royal family in residence.

  Or their royal princess and her nanny, he corrected himself. For a family required more.

  Would she accept him now? She must. For years he’d scorned the idea of a family. Now it seemed he couldn’t live without it.

  He’d met one feisty, beautiful nanny and his world had changed.

  ‘Coming in to land now, sir,’ the pilot said, looking ahead at the palace lights. ‘Seems someone’s keeping the home fires burning.’

  ‘I hope so,’ he murmured.

  ‘I think every person on the island hopes so,’ the pilot said enigmatically. ‘Welcome home, Your Highness.’

  ‘Santa’s been and Stefanos is home.’

  Elsa woke to find Zoe bouncing up and down on her bed, the long-suffering Buster being bounced with her. ‘Come and see, come and see, come and see. Santa’s been, Santa’s been, Santa’s been.’

  Despite the tumult of emotions she’d gone to bed with and woken with-Stefanos is home-she had to smile. Zoe had been just as excited last year when all she’d been able to give her were a couple of handmade toys she’d bought at a local market. This year should be fun.

  Stefanos is home.

  ‘It’s humungous,’ Zoe was saying. ‘You should see. How can Santa have brought it down the chimney?’

  Humungous? Nothing she’d stuffed in Zoe’s stocking could be described as humungous. And…

  Stefanos is home.

  ‘Stefanos…’ she said cautiously.

  ‘He got home really late. Christina told me he snuck in after all the staff went to bed-almost morning. Elsa, you have to get up and see what Santa’s brought me.’

  So Stefanos would be asleep. That gave her breathing space. She’d have time to enjoy Zoe’s stocking with her before she needed to face him.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want to see him, she thought, feeling really confused. Not exactly. There was a big part of her that ached for him.

  There was another part of her that was just plain custard.

  But he was asleep. Hooray. She threw back the covers, pulled on a robe and padded downstairs.

  She’d never get used to the opulence of this place. The staircase was wide enough to fit ten people abreast.

  ‘The king who built this place must have been as fat as a whale,’ she told Zoe. ‘Or he had ten kids to take by the hand every Christmas morning.’ Zoe giggled and they were both still chuckling as Zoe hauled open the double doors to the great hall.

  She stopped dead.

  How long since she’d believed in Santa Claus?

  When they’d gone to bed the Christmas tree
was a decorator item, set up by the staff as a tasteful ode to Christmas. Now…whoever had come during the night had turned the tree into an over the top muddle.

  The exquisite decorations and silver lights were still under there somewhere, but they were now almost hidden. Hung over the top of them were rows and rows of coloured popcorn, threaded together and hung in vast ribbons of garish colour. There were paper lanterns-every colour of the rainbow. Pictures of cats had been placed in tiny silver frames and hung as ornaments. There was a collection of motley socks hanging everywhere, all bulging.

  ‘The socks have got apples in them,’ Zoe said, awed, tugging her towards the tree. ‘That one’s a football sock and that one has a hole in the toe. And look at my present.’

  She was seeing it. Stunned.

  It was a trampoline, an eminently bouncy mat, built with a net canopy around it so a child could bounce without fear of falling.

  For a child who needed to be encouraged to stretch scar tissue…for a child who loved bouncing…it was the best thing.

  ‘And you have a stocking too,’ Zoe said, deeply satisfied. ‘Look.’

  She looked. On the mantelpiece hung three stockings. Zoe’s was bulging with nonsense gifts, a tin whistle, a boomerang-a boomerang?-a clockwork mouse…

  More pictures of cats.

  And there was a stocking labelled Elsa. A small parcel bulged in the toe, a document rolled and tied with a huge red bow was sticking out the end, and there were more pictures of cats.

  The stocking labelled Stefanos was empty.

  ‘We should have something for Stefanos,’ Zoe said anxiously. ‘Santa didn’t come to him.’

  ‘We have a couple of gifts in our room,’ Elsa said uncertainly. ‘We could sneak up and put them in his stocking before he wakes.’

  ‘It’s too late for sneaking,’ said a low gravelly voice and she yelped.

  The voice had come from behind the vast Christmas tree. Zoe darted behind in a flash.

  ‘Stefanos,’ she shouted. ‘He’s here. Elsa, he’s here, sleeping behind the tree.’

  ‘I always sleep behind the tree,’ a sleepy voice murmured, full of laughter. ‘For years and years. But I’ve never yet caught Santa Claus. Has he come?’