silky blue shirt and white trousers that molded to his powerful thighs.
He’d smelled good, too. Dottie noticed things like that and wished she hadn’t because it reminded her that beneath the royal mantle, he was human.
Already she feared she might not be the right person for this job. Dr. Rice, the head of her department at the Stillman clinic, had said he’d handpicked her for this assignment because of her own personal experiences that gave her more understanding. Fine, but in order to give herself time to get used to the idea, she should have been told she was coming to a royal household before she boarded the jet in New York.
The atmosphere here was different from anything Dottie had known and she needed time to adjust. There was so much to deal with—the stiffness, the protocol, the maids and nannies, the teachers, the tutors, a prince for a father who’d been forced to obey a rigid schedule his whole life, a princess without a mother… .
A normal child would have run into the room and hugged her daddy without thinking about it, but royal etiquette had held Zoe back from doing what came naturally. She’d appeared in the doorway and stood at attention like a good soldier.
The whole thing had to be too much for a little girl who just wanted to be a little girl. In the end she’d broken those rules and had taken off down the hall, her dark brown curls bouncing. Despite his calling her name, she’d kept going. The precious child couldn’t handle any more.
Dottie’s heart ached for Zoe who’d ignored her father’s wishes and had run out of his office with tears flowing from those golden-brown eyes. She must have gotten her coloring from her mother, who’d probably been petite. His daughter had inherited her beauty and olive skin from her father, no doubt from her mother, too.
The vague images Dottie had retained of him and his brother through the media had been taken when they were much younger, playboy princes setting hearts afire throughout Europe. In the intervening years, Zoe’s father had become a married man who’d lost his wife too soon in life. Tragic for him, and more tragic for a child to lose a parent. Unfortunately it had happened.
Dottie was the enemy of the moment where Zoe was concerned, and she’d would have to be careful how she approached her to do the testing. Soon enough she would discover how much of Zoe’s problem was emotional or physical. Probably both.
With a deep sigh she ate the lunch a maid had brought her on a tray. Later another maid offered to unpack for her, but Dottie thanked her before dismissing her. She could do it herself. In fact she didn’t want to get completely unpacked in case she’d be leaving the palace right away. If the little princess had a problem outside of Dottie’s expertise, then Dottie would soon be flown back to New York from the island.
At five o’clock the phone rang at the side of her queen-size bed. It was Hector. The prince wished to speak to her in his office. He was sending a maid to escort her. It was on the tip of Dottie’s tongue to tell him she didn’t need help finding the prince’s inner sanctum, but she had to remember that when in Rome … Already she’d made a bad impression. It wouldn’t do to alienate him further, not when he was so anxious about his daughter.
She thanked Hector and freshened up. In a minute, one of the maids arrived and accompanied her down a different staircase outside her private guest suite to the main floor. The prince was waiting for her.
Out of deference to him, she waited until he spoke first. He stood there with his hands on his hips. By the aura of energy he was giving out with those jet-black eyes playing over her, she sensed he had something of significance to tell her.
“Sit down, please.”
She did his bidding, anxious to hear about the result of the examination.
“Once we could get Zoe to cooperate, the doctor found an inordinate amount of wax adhering to her eardrums from residual fluid. She hated every second of it, but after they were cleaned out, she actually smiled when he asked her if she could hear better. The audiologist did tests afterwards and said her hearing is fine.”
“Oh, that’s wonderful news!” Dottie cried out happily.
“Yes. On the way back to the palace, I could tell she did understand more words being spoken to her. There was understanding in her eyes.”
Beneath that formal reserve of his, she knew he was relieved for that much good news. A prince could move mountains and that’s what he’d done today by getting her into an ear specialist so fast. In fact, he’d made it possible for Dottie to come to Hellenica instead of the other way around. What greater proof that the man loved his daughter?
“This is an excellent start, Your Highness.”
“When do you want to begin testing her?”
“Tomorrow morning. She needs to have a good night’s sleep first. After what she’s been through today, she doesn’t need any more trauma.”
“Agreed.” She heard a wealth of emotion in that one word. Dottie could imagine the struggle his daughter had put up. “Where would you like to test her?”
Since the prince was still standing, Dottie got to her feet to be on par with him, but she still needed to look up. “If you asked her where her favorite place is to play, what would she tell you?”
After a moment he said, “The patio off my bedroom.”
That didn’t surprise Dottie. His little girl wanted to be near him without anyone else around. “Does she play there often?”
She heard his sharp intake of breath. “No. It’s not allowed unless I’m there, too.” Of course not. “My work normally goes past her bedtime.”
“And mornings?”
“While we’ve been at the palace, I’ve always had breakfast with her in the queen’s suite. Zoe’s the most comfortable there.”
“I’m talking before breakfast.”
“That’s when I work out and she takes a swimming lesson.”
Dottie fought to remain quiet, but her impulse was to cry out in dismay over the strict regimen. “So what times does she get to play with you on your patio?”
He pursed his lips. “Sunday afternoons after chapel and lunch. Why all these questions?”
She needed to be careful she didn’t offend him again. “I’m trying to get a sense of her day and her relationship with you. When is her Greek lesson?”
“Before her dinner.”
“You don’t eat dinner with her, then?”
“No.”
Oh. Poor Zoe. “You say she was attending a preschool until two weeks ago?”
“Yes. The sessions went in two-hour segments, three times a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday. But lately I haven’t insisted for the obvious reasons.”
“When does she play with friends?”
“You mean outside her school?”
“Yes. Does she have friends here at the palace?”
“No,
