The Prince She Never Forgot

‘Who says I needed rescuing?’ she quipped.

She didn’t care. She didn’t care about her wet clothes or how she looked. She wasn’t constantly looking over her shoulder for a camera. Ruby was just Ruby.

And it was at that moment that he realised. Realised this was bigger than he ever could have imagined.

Every thought, every memory of this fountain had been imprinted on his brain for thirty-four years. That famous photo had been shared firstly in the newspapers, and later around the world on the internet.

Every single time he’d looked at this fountain it had brought back memories of Sophia and their childhood. He could clearly remember sitting on the edge of the fountain with her, banging his heels on the stonework.

But now, and for ever, every time he looked at this fountain this was what he’d remember. This. A water-soaked, laughing Ruby with a twinkle in her eyes and a bright-eyed little girl watching at the side.

Some memories were worth changing.

CHAPTER SEVEN

THERE WAS DEFINITELY something wrong with her. She was getting used to these clothes. She was getting used to opening the closet and seeing the rainbow colours of the beautiful garments hanging up and just waiting to be worn.

Her blue jeans had been stuffed in the back of the cupboard, along with her baseball boots. It had only been two weeks and she didn’t even want to pull them out any more.

Even the pale green dress that she’d worn when she’d arrived—the best thing she had—looked like a poor cousin hanging beside all the designer clothes.

It made her skin prickle. She’d never been like this before. Every girl liked nice things. But she hadn’t expected to get used to it so suddenly.

What would happen in a few weeks, when she was back in London, in her flat, wearing her healthcare uniform again? She’d always worn that uniform with pride. What on earth was happening to her?

Alex had been keeping to his side of the bargain and spending a certain amount of time with Annabelle. She’d been trying not to interfere—no matter how much she wanted to.

It was important that there was time for just father and daughter. But the rest of the palace staff didn’t seem to understand that. She’d had no idea how busy Alex really was. It seemed that a country/principality didn’t run itself.

After watching the constant interruptions of their father/daughter time she’d appointed herself guardian of that little part of the day. She’d started to stand guard outside the door.

By the time Annabelle was settled into her bed and he’d read a few stories to her there was usually a queue of people standing outside the bedroom, waiting to see Alex. Not one of them ever got past her.

The hard wiring talk seemed to have done the trick. It had given him the gentle kick up the backside he needed to say no to people who weren’t his daughter. It was sad, but clear, that Alex hadn’t been able to spend as much time with Annabelle as he would have liked.

Now he made it his priority. And Ruby’s role was to make sure that father and daughter got that protected time together.

‘Knock-knock.’

The voice made her jump. She was sitting in the palace library, looking out over the gardens.

This had quickly become her favourite room. The beautiful wood and paper smell crept along the corridor towards her and drew her in like a magnet. The dark wooden bookcases filled with beautiful hardback books seemed to suck her in every time she walked past. The set of steps that moved on a rail to reach the books at the top almost made her jump up and down with excitement. Every time she entered the room she climbed a few steps and moved them on just a little.

She’d even taken to bringing her computer down here and answering any emails she received from work in her favourite environment. She needed to stay in touch with her colleagues to make sure things were running smoothly back home. There were only a few emails each day—mainly about patients, asking for a second opinion or a referral route for a patient with unusual conditions. Nothing she couldn’t handle from thousands of miles away.

She spun around in her chair. ‘Alex? Is something wrong?’

He smiled. ‘Do I only come and look for you if something is wrong?’

She leaned her elbow on the desk and rested her head on the heel of her hand. ‘Let’s see—maybe?’

She was teasing him. Sometimes he made it so easy. But most things were easy around Alex—except for the times when he was surrounded by palace staff. She could almost swear that Rufus stalked him from one end of the palace to the other.

‘Well, let’s change that. You’ve been here for a few weeks now, and apart from the palace grounds and a few walks into the city centre you’ve hardly seen anything of Euronia. How about we remedy that?’

He held his hand out towards her. She hesitated. Since the dress incident and the day at the fountain something had changed between them. It was happening slowly. Almost without her even noticing. But the way Alex looked at her was different.

Sometimes she caught him staring with the blue eyes of a man ten years younger, without the responsibilities of today on his shoulders. Those were her favourite moments.

Ten years of thinking about ‘what ifs’... It was easy to pretend that she hadn’t. That she’d been busy with work and life and relationships. But underneath all that there had always been something simmering beneath the surface.

Her first sight of him in her hospital department had knocked the breath from her lungs—not that she’d ever admit that. She had a hard time even admitting it to herself.

In her mind, Ruby Wetherspoon had never been that kind of girl. Dreaming of princes and happy-ever-afters. But her brain kept trying to interfere with her rational thoughts. It kept giving her secret flashes of holding hands, or more kisses. It kept making her imagine what might have happened on the rest of that night on New Year’s Eve.

But there was no point dreaming of the past. Today was about looking to the future.

She was beginning to feel a glimmer of hope that there could be a future. Her confidence around Alex was starting to grow.

She stood up. The only ‘what ifs’ were for the here and now.

She reached out and took his hand, his warm skin enveloping hers. ‘Where do you plan on taking me?’ She looked down, ‘And am I suitably dressed?’

He grinned. ‘You might need alternative clothes.’

‘Really? Why?’

He winked. ‘You’ll see.’

* * *

If the crew were surprised to see him accompanied by a lady they did their best to hide it. It had been a few months since he

’d been out on the yacht, and in the past he’d always gone alone.

He hadn’t even mentioned the yacht to Ruby, and her face had been a picture as they’d walked onto the dock.

She’d blinked at the gleaming white yacht. It was made of steel and over three hundred feet long.

He waved his arm, ‘Ruby, I’d like you to meet the other woman in my life—the Augusta.’

‘She’s huge.’ She could see all the staff on board. This wasn’t a one-man sailing boat.

He nodded and headed over to the gangway. ‘Five bedrooms and an owner’s stateroom with living room, bedroom, bathroom and veranda. She’s pretty much a guy’s dream come true.’

Her foot hesitated at the gangway. His heart gave a little twist. He hadn’t even asked her if she was afraid of water. Please don’t let this be a disaster. He’d already arranged for some swimming and snorkelling gear to be dropped off at the yacht.

But her hesitation was momentary and she steadied her balance on the swaying gangway by holding on to the rail.

‘Shouldn’t a boat have sails?’ she whispered as they walked over the gangway.

‘It’s a yacht. And it doesn’t need sails—it’s got four diesel engines. It can probably go faster than some cars.’

She grinned and stopped mid-step, ‘Well, aren’t we a bit snippy about our boat?’ She was clearly amused by his automatic response.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Snippy? What does that mean?’

She stepped a little closer. She’d changed into a pale blue dress and flat sandals. He could see the tiny freckles across the bridge of her nose and feel her scent invade his senses. It didn’t matter that the smell of the Mediterranean Sea was all around them. The only thing he could concentrate on right now was the smell of some kind of flowers, winding its way around him.

‘It means you don’t like anyone calling your yacht a boat.’ She waved her hand. ‘Boat, ship, yacht—it’s all the same to me.’

He laughed and shook his head. ‘What’s that word you use in the UK? Landlubber?’