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He grabbed her hand in his. ‘What say we get away from all this? Do you want to find something to eat? To drink?’
Her eyes flickered towards the far-off sign where she was to meet her friends. People were still tightly packed around it. There was no way she would be able to find her friends, then fight her way back through the crowd to Alex. The choice was simple.
‘Food sounds good.’
The crowd around their feet had dispersed a little. The excitement of the countdown and the end of the fireworks display had sent people dispersing into the surrounding streets.
He jumped down and reached his arms up to catch her around her waist as she sat on the top of the wall, and he placed her gently on the ground.
Getting through the crowd was much easier with Alex in charge. No one seemed to argue with a broad-shouldered, six-foot-four man. He swept her along easily, pulling her behind until most of the crowd was behind them.
For a few seconds she thought there was a strange group of men behind her—all in black, with earpieces. But seconds later they’d vanished and she forgot about them.
By the time they reached Avenue George V the street was still busy but the crowd was gradually beginning to thin out. There were a number of open restaurants and cafés still serving customers. Alex hesitated a second outside of the door of the Four Seasons, then pulled her over to one of the other nearby restaurants with tables on the street.
He pulled out a chair and gestured for her to sit down. She rubbed her hands together and smiled at his good manners. It had been a while since she’d met anyone who’d pull out a chair for her.
‘Are you cold? We can sit inside.’ He pointed at her fingers.
‘No, it’s fine.’ The restaurant looked claustrophobic, packed with people. It was strange, but outside seemed more private.
A waiter appeared quickly and nodded to Alex.
‘What would you like, Ruby? Wine? coffee?’ He picked up a menu. ‘Food?’
She smiled. ‘I’ll have a cocktail.’ Her eyes scanned the menu. ‘I’ll have a Royal Pink Circus—and the biggest piece of cake they’ve got.’
Alex grinned and reached forward and grabbed the menu. ‘What is that? Hmm...vodka, champagne, raspberries and violet syrup. Interesting choice.’
He turned and spoke in rapid French to the waiter.
Under the warm light from the restaurant she got a clear view of the man she’d just kissed. Under dim lights he’d been gorgeous. Under street lights...wow.
She couldn’t help but smile. No phone. No camera to record the moment. Typical. Her friends would never believe this. His blue eyes stood out even from across the table, complemented by the lightly tanned skin she hadn’t noticed before and the shadow along his chin.
‘So, what plans do you have?’
She shrugged. ‘I don’t have my phone so I can’t contact my friends.’ She waved her arm. ‘But it’s fine. I know where I am from here. I can find my way back to my hotel.’
She gestured towards the Four Seasons.
‘For a second I thought you were going to take me in there.’ She glanced down at her red wool coat, jeans and boots. ‘Somehow I don’t think I would have got inside.’
He gave a little shake of his head. ‘Oh, you would have got inside.’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘But I wasn’t talking about right now. How long are you in Paris?’
Mysterious Alex was getting better by the second. He actually wanted to know if she was staying.
‘Just another two days. We go home on Friday. What about you?’
‘I don’t really have a fixed timetable. I can go home any time. Do you want to do some sightseeing for the next two days? See a little more of Paris before you go home?’
Her heart gave a little leap. She was here with a group of friends, but Polly wouldn’t mind if she spent some time with a sexy French guy—in fact after this last year she’d probably encourage her.
She nodded as the waiter appeared. ‘That sounds fun.’
He set down the raspberry cocktail in a sugar-frosted glass. She took a tiny sip. The alcohol was stronger than she’d expected and the bubbles from the champagne flew up her nose. She choked and laughed.
‘Wow! This Royal Pink Circus is a doozy!’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Alex as he took a sip of his beer.
‘You know—extraordinary, spectacular. A doozy.’
Next came the cake. If it could even be described as that. This was no delicate petit-four. This was honest-to-goodness the biggest piece of cake in the universe. Seven layers of sponge, cream, raspberries and sauce.
She picked up her fork and took a bite. ‘Oh, wow...’ She leaned back in the chair. It had been hours since she’d had dinner. Alex was smiling at her again, with a twinkle in his eye. ‘Would you like a piece? This is to die for.’
He shook his head. ‘Don’t let me deprive you. I’m getting enough pleasure seeing the look on your face.’
‘Didn’t you order anything?’ She waved at the empty space in front of him, poising her fork above the cake again.
‘I did, but I asked the waiter to bring your cake first.’
She swallowed another heavenly spoonful, ‘I could get used to this kind of consideration, you know.’
Something flickered across his face that made her wonder if she’d made some kind of dreadful faux pas.
But Alex just nodded in agreement. ‘And I think I could get used to Ruby Wetherspoon, who knows how to eat a piece of cake.’
She licked her fork. ‘What? Do the people around you not eat?’
He lifted his eyebrows as the waiter reappeared and put a plate down in front of him, with the biggest BLT and portion of French fries she’d seen in a long time. She reached over and grabbed a fry.
‘Not like you,’ came his amused reply.
She shrugged. ‘They certainly don’t skimp on portions here. I’ll need to remember this place. What’s it called?’ She looked at the name and screwed up her face. ‘Too difficult. I’ll just need to remember it’s next to the fairytale hotel.’
‘The fairytale hotel?’ He’d started to eat and was making short work of the fries.
She nodded her head sideways. ‘Yeah, next door. Isn’t that the hotel every little girl wants to stay in when she comes to Paris?’
‘I thought that was Cinderella’s Castle at Disneyland?’
‘Yeah, well. I’m older now. Tastes change.’ She eyed her cocktail again. ‘You know, you’re going to hate me. But this is going straight to my head. Do you think I could order a coffee instead?’
He gave a wave of his hand and ordered her a coffee.
The cocktail might be a little strong, but the cake was perfect. The restaurant was perfect. The ambience in the street was perfect. And Alex...? Even more perfect.
‘Have you been up the Eiffel Tower yet?’ he asked.
She nodded, then leaned across the table and whispered, ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I thought I was going to be sick. It was okay looking into the distance, but when I looked down...’ She made a swaying motion in her seat and shook her head. ‘Bad idea.’
He laughed. ‘And have you been to Versailles and the Louvre?’
She nodded. ‘I queued for ever to see the Mona Lisa.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘What did you think?’
She wrinkled her nose. ‘Honestly? Smaller than I expected—and a bit dark. But do you know the strangest thing? I still wanted to reach out and touch it.’
‘She mesmerised you. Just like she did Leonardo. What about Notre Dame? Have you been there yet?’
She nodded again.
He held up his knife and fork. ‘How long have you been here?’
‘Just a few days. We’ve tried to cram in as much as possible.’
‘Is there anywhere you’d still like to see?’
‘Of course! This is Paris.’ She counted off on her fingers, ‘I still want to visit the Sacré Coeur and Montmartre—oh, and the Père Lachaise cemetery.’
He took a drink of his beer. ‘So, I offer to take you sightseeing and you want to visit dead people?’
He slid down in his chair a little—he seemed to be relaxing more and more as their conversation continued.
‘Well, I guess I bring out the best in you.’
She laughed. ‘It’s supposed to be beautiful—enchanting. Haven’t you ever walked around a cemetery before? In the summer it can be so peaceful. I actually quite like wandering around and looking at the inscriptions in the gravestones. There’s a few in our local church that have a skull and crossbones on them, showing that people had the plague. It’s fascinating.’
His smile spread from ear to ear. ‘Ruby, every time I think I might know you a little you say something else that surprises me.’
‘Is that bad?’
He shook his head. ‘No, it’s good. Very good.’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘I’m sure I can find some things in the next two days for us to visit.’
‘But today’s New Year’s Day. Everywhere will be closed.’
‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll work something out.’
She was so wrapped up in him—in the way he was smiling at her, the way he was flirting with her—that she almost didn’t notice the men in long black coats until they were almost on top of them.
One of them put a black-gloved hand sternly on Alex’s shoulder, bent down and spoke quietly in his ear. She couldn’t make out a word.
‘Alex? What’s wrong? Who is this?’
The expression on his face changed instantly. First it was a flare of anger, then it was a pure panic. He stood up, sending his chair flying.
‘Alex?’
The black-coated man barely even acknowledged her presence.
‘Ruby, I’m sorry—I have to go.’ He fumbled in his coat for his phone. ‘Give me your number. I’ll call you.’
Her hands went automatically to her bag. No phone. She’d lost it.
‘I don’t have my phone, and I can’t remember what my number is.’
She felt like an idiot. Everyone should know their mobile number. And she did—she had it written down at home—but right now she couldn’t tell him if her life depended on it.
‘What’s wrong, Alex?’
He shook his head. He wasn’t focused on her any more. He looked shocked.
‘It’s my family. Tell me where you’re staying. I’ll send you a message.’
She rattled off the name of the low-budget hotel where they were staying. He mumbled something to the man behind him.
‘I’m sorry. I need to go. I’ll send you a message later.’
He walked around to her side of the table and bent to kiss her. It was the briefest moment, but his lips came into contact with hers in the lightest of kisses. A brush like a butterfly’s wings.
And then he was gone.
Surrounded by black coats, disappearing down the street.
The fairytale was over.
January
Ruby crashed through the door with her shopping bags, work folders and uniform over her arm.
Polly was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, eating a plate of noodles. She nodded towards the kitchen. ‘Come and sit down, Ms Misery. Noodles in the pot and wine in the fridge.’
She was knackered. Honestly and truly exhausted. Between the long hours and the killer commute every day, this job was proving tougher than she’d ever thought. But today had been a winner. Today she’d finally believed that her work had helped a patient regain a little part of his speech. ‘No’ had been the finest word she’d heard in a while.
She poured the wine and tipped the rest of the noodles into a bowl, kicking off her shoes and thudding down sofa next to Polly. ‘What are you watching?’
‘Just the news. How was your day?’
She put the first spoonful of noodles into her mouth. It was like a chilli explosion. Polly had a penchant for spicy foods, and as she was the cook in the house Ruby was getting used to it. She took a few quick gulps of wine to try and quell the burn.
Her eyes flickered to the screen and she inhaled quickly, coughing and spluttering as her noodles went down the wrong way.
Polly turned and laughed, leaning over and slapping her hand on Ruby’s back. ‘Was the chilli kick that strong?’
But Ruby couldn’t answer. Her eyes were streaming. She swallowed as best she could. ‘Turn that up,’ she said, pointing at the screen.
‘What?’ Polly mumbled, her mouth still full of food.
‘Turn it up!’
She started throwing cushions and newspapers around, searching for the TV remote, which seemed to have an innate ability to hide whenever she left the house. Finally she spied it, hiding part-way under the sofa. She pointed it at the TV and pressed the volume button hard.
Polly just stared at her open-mouthed.
‘There are unconfirmed reports that King Leopold of Euronia is seriously unwell.
‘The normally quiet principality has seen a flurry of activity in the last few days as private jets have been seen landing at the state airport. Crown Prince Alexander has returned home after a recent sojourn in the US, where he was apparently working with MIT and Harvard University.
‘Prince Alexander, the only child of widowed King Leopold, is rarely seen. He is an astute businessman who is passionate about his country. Rumours have circulated in the last few years about King Leopold’s declining health and his lessening public engagements.
‘Crown Prince Alexander was seen returning in a private jet in the early hours of New Year’s morning, quickly followed by dignitaries from the surrounding area. We’ve been told to expect a statement in the next few minutes.’
‘It’s him,’ Ruby croaked, pointing at the screen. ‘It’s Alex.’
It was almost as if an elephant had sat on her chest, stopping her breathing.
Polly dropped her fork and bowl on the table. ‘What?’ She glanced from Ruby to the TV and back again. ‘Him? He’s your Alex? Crown Prince...whatever?’
‘Apparently.’
Her throat had dried like an arid desert. She picked up the wine and gulped it down as if it were a glass of water, grimacing as it hit her tastebuds.
Her brain was in overdrive. Tiny words, tiny phrases, looks that had fleeted across his face and disappeared in an instant. Tiny pieces of a jigsaw puzzle she’d had no idea even existed.
A close-up picture of Alex emerging from a plane appeared on the screen and she gasped. He looked awful. He was still handsome, but his tanned skin was pale and there were lines around his eyes—even their blueness had dimmed.
He hadn’t called. He hadn’t left a message at all. At first she’d been irritated. Then, she’d been angry. Finally, she’d admitted to herself she was devastated.
But this was something else entirely. Her fairytale in Paris had never included a real live prince.
Polly started chattering in her ear. ‘No wonder you were miserable. What a catch. Ruby—you kissed a prince!’ She stared back at the screen. ‘I wonder what’s going on.’
The newsreader interrupted the next report mid-story. ‘We’re going to cross live now to Euronia for an announcement.’
A sombre-faced grey-haired, black-suited man stood on a podium. A sign appeared beneath him: ‘Palace Principale’.
‘What does that mean?’ asked Polly.
‘I have no idea.’ Ruby shook her head.
The man started speaking. ‘After consultation with the Crown Council, the principality of Euronia would like to announce that, with immediate effect, Crown Prince Alexander de Castellane will be taking over as Regent of Euronia as His Majesty King Leopold is no longer able to exercise his royal functions. The Crown Prince Alexander will now be known as Prince Regent.’
The picture cut back to the newsreader as he glanced up from reading the piece of paper in his hands. ‘There are unconfirmed reports that King Leopold has suffered a catastrophic stroke, but no one at the palace is willing to comment on his medical condition. We’ll bring you an update whenever we get one.’
Polly turned to face Ruby. ‘Wow. Just...wow.’
Ruby felt sick. Her heart had squeezed when she’d seen the expression on Alex’s face. How on earth must he be feeling?
She wanted to be angry with him—she really did. Why couldn’t he have told her who he really was?
But deep down she knew the answer to that.
A real live prince wouldn’t be looking for a girl like her.
Not in this lifetime anyway.
CHAPTER ONE
Ten years later
‘RUBY?’ THE DEPARTMENT receptionist shouted at her again.
Too many things were circulating in her brain. She needed to refer one child to someone else, another to an oral surgeon, and speak to the dietician about another.
She turned round and was nearly knocked over by a giant flower display. Her stomach tied itself up in little knots.
Rena smiled as she tried to hold up the giant display. ‘You’ve got flowers again. Even more gorgeous than the last time. And, oh, so expensive.’ She looked thoughtful for a moment. ‘It’s been a little while since the last bunch. Do you realise that, on and off, it’s been six years you’ve been getting these mysterious flowers? Right from when you started here. Surely you must have guessed by now who they’re from?’
Ruby shook her head. ‘I have no idea. The cards never say anything specific.’ She pulled out the latest one. ‘See? “Thinking of you and wishing you well.”’
Rena frowned at the card in her hands. ‘Have you tried phoning the florist to find out who sent them?’ She was a regular amateur detective and could usually find a missing set of case notes in less than five minutes.
‘Of course I have. But these places are used to things like this. They don’t give anything away.’
‘Well, whoever it is, money certainly isn’t an object. These must have cost a fortune.’ Rena reached up and touched one of the coloured petals. ‘They smell gorgeous.’ She frowned. ‘Who have you seen lately that could have sent these?’ She paused and bit her lip. ‘Maybe it’s Paul? Maybe he’s trying for a reunion?’
Ruby shook her head. ‘Paul would never send flowers like these.’ Then she smiled. ‘Paul would never send flowers full-stop. Which is why we’re not together any more. That, and a whole lot of other things.’
Paul could never live up to the memory of Alex. Sometimes it felt like a figment of her imagination. Something so special that only she could remember. The only person she ever spoke to about it was Polly.
She’d tried to forget about him—she really had. She’d even lived with a lovely guy called Luke for a couple of years. But things just hadn’t worked out between them, and in her heart she knew why. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn’t forget about her mysterious prince.
Rena smiled and touched Ruby’s arm. ‘Well, you’ve obviously got a devoted, secret admirer. It’s romantic. It’s mysterious. I could probably work it into a book somewhere.’
Ruby laughed. ‘Rena, you write about murder and mayhem. I’m not sure I want to end up in one of your books!’
She cast her eyes over the flowers again. Stunning. Really stunning. Beautiful tropical colours. Red, pinks, yellows and oranges. Like a burst of sunshine on a rainy day.
She swallowed. The flowers had stopped for a few years. Right around the time when it had been all over the news that Prince Alex had married Princess Sophia of Leruna. A perfect fairytale princess. Dainty and blonde—nothing like Ruby. A baby had followed quickly afterwards. Followed by her tragic death due to breast cancer.
All that crammed into the space of two years. And not a single bunch of flowers over that time.
The coincidence played on her mind. The deliveries had started again around eighteen months ago. Could the flowers have been from Alex all along?
Something coiled deep inside her.
She walked over to the window and stared outside at the pouring rain of London. Another wasted five minutes thinking about her prince.
Her prince. What a joke. She’d never used those words out loud and never would. It was bad enough that they circulated around her brain.
Alex might have had tragedy, but he’d also had a life. Promotion for Ruby had come at a price. She’d been working so hard these last few years. Trying to change the lives of children who had been born with speech difficulties. It had left no time for her, no time for relationships, and no time to think about having a family.
The responsibilities of being in charge of a department in one of the best hospitals in London were relentless.
Sometimes she felt like a hamster, running in a wheel that she could never get off.
A porter brushed past, sending the scent of the beautiful flowers to meet her. It brought her back to reality quickly.
There was no point dreaming. She was nobody’s princess.
And it was time to get back to work.
* * *
She was dashing around like a mad woman. Everyone in this hospital was the same. It had taken five different attempts for him to finally get some directions.
He stopped for a second to breathe. Ten years. Ten years since that night in Paris.
How different his life might have been. If his father hadn’t been taken ill he would have met Ruby a few hours later in Paris and taken her sightseeing. That thought still made his stomach tighten.
She looked almost the same. Her dark curls were a little shorter. Her figure was just as curvy. But the expression on her face was more serious. Tired, even. And there were little lines around her eyes.
He didn’t even want to look in the mirror lately. Although only ten years had passed since they’d last seen each other he was sure he’d aged about twenty.
The flowers he’d sent were sitting on the desk behind her. She wasn’t even looking at them. Everyone else was oohing and aahing over them. But Ruby was too busy. Ruby was focused.
He watched her hurry around; she had a pile of cards in her hands.
‘Seventeen new referrals,’ she said to a nearby colleague, ‘and Caroline is stuck in a traffic jam in the middle of London. How on earth are we going to get all these children assessed?’
He sucked in a breath. He’d never doubted for a second that Ruby would be dedicated to her work. But would it stand in the way of what he wanted her to do?
She tucked a curl behind her ear. It made his fingers tingle. He’d done that once.
‘Can I help you?’ someone asked him.
He shook his head. It was now or never.
He stepped forward. ‘One of those referral cards will be from me.’
Ruby spun around to face him. The professional mask fell as quickly as the cards from her hand. His accent was unmistakable; she couldn’t fail to recognise it.
‘Alex,’ she said. Nothing else. Her eyes locked on to his.
‘Ruby.’
She tilted her head to the side, as if she were contemplating a million different questions, before sucking in a deep breath and giving a visible little shake of her head.
Ten years. Ten years since he’d run his fingers through those soft dark curls and looked into those chocolate-brown eyes. Ten years since he’d felt the silky softness of her skin, tasted the sweetness of her lips.
Every sensation, every touch, every taste flashed in front of him in an instant.
But Ruby wasn’t caught in the same spell that he was.
She bent down to retrieve the cards and he knelt to help her. It was inevitable that their hands touched as they reached out towards the same card.
She pulled her hand away as if she’d been stung. ‘Why, Alex? Why are you here?’
It was as if someone had reached into his chest and twisted his heart. There it was. In a few simple words a whole multitude of hurt. No one else would hear it. No one else would understand. But Ruby’s deep brown eyes were fixed on his and he could see everything there. She looked wounded. Ten years on and her hurt was still easily visible.
But what did she see when she looked at him? He wasn’t Alex the twenty-four-year-old any more—the bachelor Crown Prince with the world at his feet. He was a father. He was a widower. He was Prince Regent. The Prince continually in waiting.