The Prince Who Charmed Her. Fiona McArthur
didn’t wait to hear the rest. ‘Okay, Ginger,’ she said to the nurse. ‘Let’s help Marla up onto the trolley and we’ll take her down to the hospital for observation.’
Fifteen minutes later Stefano paced in front of the window in his brother’s suite. ‘Please get rid of those ridiculous shorts,’ he said. Stefano moved very slowly, with rigid control, frustrated at his brother’s propensity for disaster and his own for not preventing it—and at the fruitless urge to ask why he had to deal with this. He knew why.
At seven Stefano had pulled Theros from a deep ocean pool on their island and saved his life with a boy’s rough and ready resuscitation. Unfortunately Theros had been left with an injury to part of his brain from its time without oxygen. After that Stefano’s young brother had not been the most sensible of boys, and later had become a handsome and lovable but childish man.
But that had not stopped Theros from diving into mischief and danger whenever he could, and as often as he was able Stefano would be the one to rescue him.
‘Trouble. It will find you in the dark. Or in this case broad daylight. Is sex so tedious with your wife that you must risk her life with latex?’
Theros wrung his hands. ‘No. No. One of her friends gave the suits to us for her birthday … We were playing. Laughing. Suddenly she could not breathe. I did not know Marla was allergic to rubber.’
‘Latex.’ Stefano squeezed the skin under his nose with his fingers in a pincer grip to stop himself from losing patience. He never lost patience with Theros. His father had been right to say that if only he, Stefano, had been faster at getting help perhaps his brother’s brain would not have been damaged.
It was a legacy of guilt he could not shake. The job of protecting the family and Theros from ridicule had fallen to Stefano, and he had protected his brother well for many years—because he’d been willing to take up the mantle and carry it regardless of the impact on his own life.
His foray into medicine—the vocation that should have been Theros’s—had stemmed from that guilt, from his father’s distress and disappointment, and from his own lack of ability to prevent such a sequela for his brother. Even at such a young age he had vowed if such a situation ever arose again he would know what to do. Unexpectedly, medicine had also provided a true vocation, and something that soothed his soul.
His father, Crown Prince Paulo III of Aspelicus, had hired a sensible woman to supervise Theros while Stefano had been away at a medical symposium in Australia earlier that year, and to everyone’s surprise his simple little brother had found true love.
At his father’s urgent request Stefano had rushed home from the arms of Dr Kiki Fender—but too late.
Theros had already eloped. Then Stefano himself had been involved in a serious motor vehicle accident, and during his slow recovery months had passed.
To his unexpected relief Theros’s sensible wife had proved helpful in steering Theros on a more stable path, but even the most sensible could make an unfortunate mistake. So any notion of Stefano being released from his duty of care was a misconception. Theros would always need him, and he could offer no life to a vibrant and intelligent woman like Kiki, who was not accustomed to the strictures of royal duty.
In the harsh light of reality he knew that as heir to the throne he should let go of what had passed between he and Dr Fender in Australia. That was for the best.
But it seemed she had not forgiven him for his failure to return.
Theros coughed and Stefano returned to the present. His brother still waited for reassurance.
He took his fingers from his face and stared at Theros so he could be sure he was listening. Perhaps even absorbing the gravity of the situation.
‘Marla could have died. Almost did.’ He paused, let that settle in. ‘One of you must carry an injection, similar to that which the doctor had, in case she is exposed to this product again accidentally.’ He stared hard. ‘You are her husband and it is your duty to keep her safe. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, Stefano.’ Theros chewed his lip. ‘The doctor said she would be all right, though? They’ll let her out of the hospital this afternoon?’
Not surprisingly, Theros had an irrational fear of hospitals—which hadn’t been helped when Stefano had nearly died.
Stefano saw that fear, and his irritation with his brother seeped further away. His voice gentled. ‘For the moment the danger is gone. Yes.’
Theros climbed into his swim-trunks and sadly handed Stefano his latex briefs. ‘And she will be fine tomorrow, won’t she? We’re going to Naples to climb Vesuvius. You’re coming with us.’
‘My leg is a little painful.’ Why must his brother love adventures that required exposure to the public? It would be so much easier on the island of Aspelicus, their island home off mainland Greece, and he had so many things that required his attention there. But his father had asked him to watch over them on this short cruise that Theros had promised his wife.
Ashore, his man could be with them. And while they were touring it would be a good time for him, Stefano, to reacquaint himself with Dr Fender.
After finding Kiki where he least expected her, he had pressing matters to attend to. First an apology for his non-return. Past ghosts to lay.
The problem was that the woman he’d left behind in Australia had stayed like a halo around his heart. He, of all people, knew it wasn’t sensible to desire a woman who did not understand or deserve the ways of royal commitment. As heir, in his country’s crises he was the one who was called.
But still he smarted from the thinly veiled contempt in her sea-blue eyes, because he remembered the warmly passionate, fun-loving side of sweet Kiki.
The gods must be laughing at this insult to his pride. If they had been destined to meet again this was not how he would have orchestrated the moment.
Less than an hour ago—still achingly beautiful, yet transformed—she’d hated him.
She’d always been confident, sassy, and so different from the women he was usually introduced to. Of course he’d been recklessly drawn to the young doctor during his Sydney study tour to promote groundbreaking surgery at his small hospital. What a week that had been.
He would admit he had not behaved thoughtfully during their intense time together. Neither of them had. Everything had progressed far too quickly. They’d immersed themselves in each other for a torrid affair of incredible closeness, tucked away from the world in her tiny flat when they weren’t at the hospital.
Until another crisis created by the man in front of him had required his immediate presence on Aspelicus and he had left her bed and flown out that same night.
He had spent the last few months recovering from his own accident—months of rehabilitation after he’d almost lost his leg. He’d barely been able to look at himself in the mirror, let alone consider showing himself to a woman.
But that excuse had gone now and his treatment of Kiki Fender had recently made him feel ashamed. It was another burden of guilt he found he could not move on from, because it had taken him almost five months before he was able to rule his own life again. A loss of control he never wanted to experience again.
By the time he had begun to search for her, at least to attempt an explanation, she’d been untraceable.
At first he had tried the hospital in Sydney, then her home phone, mail to her old lodgings. He did not know her friends or family. She had disappeared without a trace. Ironically to this very ship.
Tomorrow he would finish this and then fulfil his destiny for his country. Seek her forgiveness, allow himself to let go, and move on to secure the succession.
But for the moment his man-boy brother needed reassurance. Theros was playing with the legs of the latex suit he’d found under the chair and Stefano reached out and took them from him gently. ‘Manos will