The Prince Who Charmed Her

by Fiona McArthur

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  STEFANO STOPPED THE car and vaulted over his door to come round to hers. Flamboyantly he opened it and held out his hand. ‘Come. Let me show you my work.’

  Kiki looked at his fingers, outstretched, waiting, and handed him her handbag. Especially vulnerable after the recent disclosures, now was not the time to ler herself hold his hand. But scrambling from a low-slung sports car was a little more difficult than climbing down from the helicopter. She achieved it, although not with elegance, and eventually stood beside him. It would have been easier to take his hand. She ignored the tilt to his mouth and allowed him to lead the way.

  The foyer of the hospital was bright and airy, with serene watercolour seascapes and lush potted greenery. The receptionist appeared and bowed, and Kiki was reminded that this man was accorded deference. But not from her. He seemed to cope with that remarkably well, really.

  They were met by an auburn-haired woman with bright green spectacles perched on a snub nose. She had a stethoscope poking from the pocket of her white coat. ‘Your Highness. Welcome.’

  ‘Ah, Dr Herore, I hope you are well?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  He gestured to Kiki, who stood quietly by his side. ‘This is Dr Fender.’

  Kiki and the young doctor shook hands, and she could tell the woman was wildly curious about her, in a nice way, and that made it easy to smile.

  Stefano strode forward and they hurried to catch up. His whole demeanour had changed again and it was easy to see he loved his work. ‘How are my patients today?’

  ‘Jerome has been very silly and picked at his stitches. He will not listen to me, but perhaps now you are here...’

  ‘We will start there.’ He turned to Kiki. ‘Jerome is five.’ He slanted a glance at her. ‘An orphan, caught in a bomb blast. I have been reconstructing his face and chest. He has been very brave but is quite the mischief.’

  They walked the length of the corridor and turned into another wing. The wooden floors glowed with the deep red of cedar and Kiki wondered where they’d sourced these building materials on an island this size. It was a warm alternative to the marble everywhere else.

  In the children’s ward teddy bears, bright red cars and happy circus animals adorned the walls. With his back to them, a little boy was hunched over a red fire engine. By the set of his shoulders he wasn’t happy.

  Stefano stopped and tilted his head at the solemn figure. ‘Jerome, what is this I hear?’

  The child turned and even in the shadows his surly face lit up when he saw Stefano. But the ravages of war were still apparent in the criss-cross of tiny sutures that mapped his mouth and neck as he jumped to his feet and limped towards them in his striped pyjamas.

  ‘Papa,’ he lisped in broken English, and Dr Herore bent down and hushed him.

  ‘You must not call His Highness this.’

  ‘All is well, Dr Herore. Until he finds his new family I may be his papa. And how are you, my son? What is this I hear of scratching sutures?’

  The little boy hung his head and Stefano tilted his chin with one gentle finger.

  ‘No more of this. My good work and that of Dr Herore needs to be carefully nurtured. Like the plant you care for me. How is my plant?’

  The boy looked up with worship and reached for Stefano’s hand. ‘See the plant,’ he said, and Stefano allowed himself to be dragged towards the window. ‘It goes well, and when it is strong I too will be strong.’

  ‘This I believe—and see how pretty it is?’ They both gazed at the robust olive seedling in a red pot. ‘I wish this for you, too, so you must promise not to scratch your sutures.’

  ‘I will not.’

  ‘Good. Now, climb to your bed and I will wash my hands. This is my friend Kiki. She is a doctor too, and I would like to lift the bandages on your chest and show her how well you are healing. If that is all right with you?’

  ‘Okay.’ It seemed nothing could faze his good humour now that his hero was here.

  Kiki could barely restrain her smile. There was so much pleasure to be had from their conversation, but even in short acquaintance she could tell Jerome was far too serious to laugh at. She had not expected Stefano’s rapport with children. But then he had been good with Mikey too. It made her wonder why he had left having a family so late when he would obviously be a splendid father. The smile slipped from her face and she glanced away from the little boy.

  ‘Perhaps we will be able to leave the bandages down today and the dressing will not annoy you so much?’ Stefano looked at Dr Herore.

  She crossed her fingers and said softly while the boy’s back was turned, ‘It would help. He has been very patient, but the bandage is chafing him and he will not let us touch it.’

  When Stefano had donned the gloves that Dr Herore had laid open a nurse wheeled in a trolley with dressing equipment.

  Stefano spoke to Kiki but his words were for Jerome even though he didn’t look at the boy. ‘It makes me sad when Jerome does not let my fellow doctors and nurses look at his wound, because when I telephone for his progress they cannot tell me.’

  Jerome shifted guiltily on the bed, but Stefano continued to gaze steadily at Kiki.

  ‘He has been brave and strong since he came here. Now we have repaired his face and neck and used skin grafts for his chest he will be as other boys his age when we have finished.’

  ‘Except I will have learnt your English.’ The boy held his head still as he spoke.

  ‘It is not my English. We speak it here so that all you children may grow up with two languages at least. Now is the perfect time to learn.’

  Jerome shrugged. ‘I do not mind.’

  Luckily Kiki’s giggle drew a smile from the boy and not a frown.

  ‘She’s nice, your friend.’

  ‘I think so.’ Stefano was engrossed in lifting the edges of the thick dressing carefully. The little boy’s fingers clenched on the sheet but he didn’t move.

  Kiki stepped closer and slid her fingers across the sheet next to his.

  Jerome looked up with gritted teeth and tentatively reached out and held onto her fingers as if to draw strength. Kiki’s eyes stung as she studied the brave little face and saw his sheer determination to be good. When she glanced up she saw Stefano had stopped his easing of the bandages and was watching her.

  ‘Did I not say he was brave? But we will count to five—’ he wagged his fingers at Jerome ‘—in English, before we start so that he can be brave again.’

  Gradually the extent of the chest wound was exposed, and Kiki had to fight not to dig her own nails into the sheet. Everywhere across the boy’s sunken chest tiny sutures trailed over the livid skin like rows of tiny ants, pulling together what must have been an almost mortal wound.

  ‘Ah. It heals well. Your big heart is safe again.’ The wound was clean and dry, and the graft site looked well fixed. ‘Dr Herore will check the donor site later today, when you have had a break from people disturbing your wounds but you are on the mend, my brave friend.’

  When it was done Jerome let go of Kiki’s fingers as if he’d never needed them and turned his worshipping eyes to his hero. ‘That is good.’ Then he broke into Lebanese.

  To her surprise Stefano answered him fluently and the conversation flowed over her head.

  While Stefano spoke with Jerome, Kiki was drawn to a cot in the corner of the room, where a dark-haired little girl with a bandaged hand heavily disguised by white crêpe sat quietly. The little girl turned big, mournful eyes to Kiki and did not return Kiki’s tentative smile.

  ‘And what is your name, little one?’

  Dr Herore spoke from behind her shoulder. ‘Her name is Sheba and she is from the nearest village. Her mother comes daily. Sheba’s fingers were almost amputated in an accident, Prince Stefano has managed to re
attach, and we have great hopes she will regain full use.’

  ‘She seems heavily bandaged.’

  ‘This one we cannot stop from pulling at her wound, so it needs to be well out of her way. We are still worried it may become infected.’

  Just then a small-boned woman came into the room. Until she turned sideways to curtsey to Stefano Kiki didn’t realise she was heavily pregnant.

  ‘Ah, here comes mama now. Bongiorno, Rosa.’

  The woman was panting a little as she arrived, and Kiki wondered if she was in some pain. Her face seemed especially strained, even though she smiled at Dr Herore.

  ‘Ciao, Dr Herore. How is my little Sheba today?’

  They all looked at the little girl standing on tiptoes in her cot, reaching out for her mother, and such was the anguish on her little face Kiki could barely watch.

  ‘She misses you badly.’

  ‘Si.’ Rosa brushed away her own tears, heaved the little girl into her arms to comfort her and was almost strangled by the tightness of her daughter’s grip.

  Dr Herore dropped a hand on Rosa’s shoulder. ‘A few more days, until the risk of infection is gone, and she will be able to go home.’

  ‘I know. She is so lucky to come here. And soon my new baby will be born and Sheba will be home.’

  Stefano crossed the room and joined the conversation. ‘Take care, Rosa. You are rushing too much at the end of your pregnancy. You must be well for this little one too.’

  ‘Yes, Your Highness.’ Rosa looked totally overwhelmed by Stefano and Kiki glanced at him, confused by the many facets of this man she had thought special but still a man.

  The silence became a little awkward and Stefano settled it for everyone. ‘Time passes.’

  Though Kiki felt he was very aware he was disturbing the mother’s time. He nodded kindly, brushed the shiny hair of little Sheba, and placed his hand on Kiki’s arm.

  ‘Come, before we leave I will show you the viewing window into our theatres. I am very proud of them.’

  As they left Kiki glanced back at the children, at the warmth they all showed towards Stefano. As the distance increased she could just make out the mother and child locked in an embrace.

  ‘How did Sheba hurt her hand?’

  ‘A dog attacked her—thus the risk of infection has been very great. She has many intermittent antibiotics so she cannot go home yet, which is hard. Her mother will not miss a day and walks four miles to see her.’

  ‘Can’t you send a car to bring her?’

  He smiled at her censure. Shook his head at the idea of doing so. ‘I offered and she declined. I will get Dr Herore to ask again. But I must be careful of the old ways of the village.’

  ‘The children love you.’

  He shook his head. ‘They are away from their families. It is easy to grow attached to an adult they think will keep them safe.’

  She didn’t think that was it at all.

  They left the children’s ward behind and turned another corner to climb a tiny spiral staircase with intricate ironwork. The steps were narrow, and looked incredibly old and frail for a new building.

  Stefano saw her hesitate. ‘As you see, these stairs have been restored. They are safe.’

  ‘Okay. I believe you.’ She was beginning to understand that Stefano took his responsibilities very seriously. And he didn’t know he should have felt responsible for her.

  He ran his fingers up the iron handrail and there was something so gentle and reverent in the way he touched the cold steel she couldn’t help the memory of other times when she had watched his hands—on her...

  When he spoke she almost stumbled, jerked from the past, and he put out his hand to steady her.

  Luckily it was only for a moment, and his conversation remained on the steps. ‘They are from a section of the castle that crumbled in a landslide and had become dangerous. I had them transplanted to this spot. They are beautiful, are they not?’

  She ran her hand gently over the balustrade. ‘I’ve always wanted a spiral staircase.’

  He smiled down at her. ‘Come work for me and I could call it the Kiki Stairwell.’

  So now he would name a staircase after her? Tempting, but... ‘You never give up. I’m sure the others who spend so much time here would not be happy with such favour.’

  He shrugged. ‘It is my hospital. I do as I wish.’

  That was the man she knew was under there. ‘How disagreeable.’

  He stiffened, searched her expression, and then relaxed at the amusement on Kiki’s face. ‘Perhaps, sometimes, I am. Even need to be.’ It was a fact—not an apology.

  They reached the top of the stairs and turned onto a landing with windows on both sides of a narrow corridor. The outward-facing window opened over the roof and the lawns, and the inward-facing windows gave a superb view of a pristine operating theatre. Even from here Kiki could tell Stefano had every latest device for his patients, for comfort, and for the surgeon’s expertise.

  She couldn’t help but imagine working there. Working with him. ‘Wow. It’s fabulous.’

  Stefano looked quietly pleased by her response. ‘I knew you would appreciate the promise of facilities like these.’ He turned and his face grew more serious. ‘Even in the few days I saw you at your work in Sydney, barely trained in operating theatre techniques, you had the potential to be a great surgeon. Yet I find you on a pleasure ship?’

  ‘And you.’ She was flippant. ‘Ironic isn’t it?’ Don’t spoil the day, she thought. But they’d always be skirting the edge of this discussion.

  ‘So why did this irony occur?’ Stefano watched her. He could see she would choose not to enlighten him and he stamped back his impatience.

  She shrugged. ‘Things happen. Life throws you something you don’t expect and your path changes.’

  He wished she would tell him something he didn’t know. ‘And what changed your path, Kiki. Or who?’

  She turned her back. Stepped closer to the next window. ‘So, tell me about the type of operations you have here. Is this the only OR you have?’

  ‘Bah! You are like a clam.’ She was the most frustrating woman. He would never have believed it before.

  She shrugged. ‘And you are used to getting your own way. Not this time.’

  He looked at her. Her back was towards him. None of his people would have dared to turn their backs on him. It did not seem at all difficult forKiki to do so. But he would not have her different. He revelled in the difference.

  ‘So we continue the dance.’ Bah again.

  Then he shrugged and went on as if the conversation had never happened. He saw the slight loosening of her shoulders. So she was more tense than she appeared. He would watch for that sign again.

  ‘Operating theatres. We have two others—though one is really only used in emergencies.’

  She turned to face him. ‘What emergencies do you have?’

  ‘Most often the sudden influx of more than one patient. It is word of mouth. I have a representative in most medical facilities in trouble spots where children are at risk. They contact my team and when information is gathered they can phone me any time. We discuss if the child or children will be strong enough to withstand the journey. To remove a child from all they know is no light matter.’

  She could certainly see that. ‘Of course not. So who brings them?’

  Good. She was deeply interested. He relaxed a little as he let her into his world. The memories of many retrievals coloured his response.

  ‘I have a team who fly in and out when we hear of a case that would benefit greatly from our intervention. There is also a political team who work with governments and organise extradition, and a medical team that goes in on the ground to source the patient from whatever hospital they are in and stabilise for transport.’


  ‘Sounds efficient.’

  They were paid to be efficient. ‘Most times. Before they retrieve, my political team endeavours to trace parents and relatives, if we can find them alive, so they know the child has survived and is being cared for. We always leave a point of contact.’

  He watched her lean her nose against the glass, and not for the first time today he wanted to turn her cheek his way and kiss those stubborn lips of hers.

  ‘Your organisation sounds amazing, but still, a medical crisis for a child... Losing their families... The children must be terrified.’

  ‘I am very aware of that.’ Something crossed his face that made her look more closely at him, but he turned away and took a step closer to the viewing window, so that all she could see was his profile. Back off, I’m royalty, was stamped all over it.

  It was his turn to use the window to escape. ‘As you see, the other theatres are along here—but perhaps we should go. It is getting late.’

  She’d said something to upset him. The mood had changed, and it seemed there was nothing she could do about that now, as he marched her along corridors towards the entrance. In the distance she could see the children’s ward, and she wished she could revisit again just for a short time.

  But he had moved on more than physically. ‘I have asked the helicopter to meet us here. We’ll fly back to the palace for lunch—there is a group of people I must meet with—then leave for the ship straight after.’

  As they took off and soared across the tops of the olive groves it seemed surreal that her pilot was a prince, and she was the reason they were flying across these paddocks. How did she feel about that? Honoured? Chuffed? Excited? Certainly not oblivious.

  Well, she wouldn’t be human if she didn’t feel a little bit special. But it was only one day. She’d just have to be careful to protect herself, because her senses were going into overload with all this care he was taking of her.

  * * *

  She’d enjoyed morning tea in the intimacy of the family apartments, and she hoped, if she was lucky, lunch would be similar, only with Stefano present.

  How wrong could she be?