lifted a hand in a gesture that was at once supplication and exasperation. ‘My apologies. I did not mean to bark at you.’
He was concerned about Katerina, she realised with a belated flash of insight. Behind that rigid exterior he was just like any man worried about a reckless teenager in his care.
Recalling some of her own wilder moments, she felt her over-developed sense of empathy well up, and another dangerous surge of sympathy for him. She quashed it mercilessly. He did not need her sympathy. Jay had offered him as a target because of his very lack of sympathetic qualities.
‘I’m sure she’ll be okay,’ she said and, ignoring his command, continued to pick up the dressings.
‘Are you?’ He bent to help her, folding his long legs as he reached beneath the table. ‘It isn’t easy.’
‘Being her guardian?’ she asked, catching her breath as his shoulder brushed against hers.
‘Being young,’ he countered, concentrating on his task. ‘Being so visible. Having every mistake you make the subject of common gossip.’
He was holding a pouch containing an antiseptic wipe as if not quite sure what to do with it.
‘Shall I take that?’ she offered, holding out her hand.
Alexander Orsino looked up to discover that Laura Varndell was regarding him solemnly, her wide silvery blue eyes apparently brimming over with compassion, concern.
He had no need of her concern. No need of any assistance. He wasn’t helpless and to demonstrate the fact, in the absence of the maid, he would deal with her grazes himself.
‘Sit down,’ he said, tearing open the pouch containing an antiseptic wipe before sitting down beside her. ‘Give me your hand.’
For a moment she stared at him in disbelief, then wordlessly—which was probably a first—she did as she was told, holding out her hand for his attention. It was long, finely boned—a hand, wrist, made for the sparkle of diamonds. But it was bare of any kind of adornment other than nail polish.
He supported it, holding it gently as he dabbed at her knuckles with the antiseptic.
She was trembling almost imperceptibly, doubtless still feeling the after effects of her reckless behaviour, and he found himself wanting to tighten his grip, reassure her.
‘Tell me, Miss Varndell,’ he said, by way of distraction, ‘do you make a habit of tackling burglars?’
‘I couldn’t say. I’ve never been in that situation before. The truth is, I didn’t stop to think.’
‘Well, on this occasion I’m glad you didn’t,’ he said, glancing up and momentarily left struggling for breath as he looked straight into her huge, solemn eyes. ‘Will you promise me that next time you think you’re witnessing a crime in progress you will walk away? Call the police?’
‘If I’d done that today you wouldn’t have known that your niece had made a break for freedom,’ she pointed out.
‘Even so. Promise me.’
‘I’ll try,’ she offered, hooking a strand of pale blonde hair behind her ear to reveal a tiny gold earring in the shape of a star. ‘But only if you’ll stop calling me Miss Varndell, as if you’re addressing a public meeting. I prefer Laura.’
He preferred formality. It was a useful way of keeping his distance. Except, of course, Laura Varndell had already breached his highest defences. Few outsiders ever made it into this room.
Stalling for time, he looked for another antiseptic wipe, took his time about opening it before he turned to face her, lifting her chin with the touch of his fingers, turning her face to the light. She had silver-blue eyes, clear, almost translucent skin that was the gift of cool, northern skies, and stars in her ears. And as she lifted her head, and her flaxen hair slid back from her neck, he found himself imagining how it would look encircled by the wide collar of pearls that had once belonged to his mother.
Which was enough to bring him back to earth.
And, faintly embarrassed to be caught staring, he said, ‘It’s nothing. No real damage.’ But he touched the moist cloth to her cheek to clean away a smear of dust. ‘What did you do?’
Her eyes widened. ‘Me?’
‘You seem very knowledgeable about the dangers of restricting teenage girls. Were you reckless? At seventeen?’
‘Oh, I see.’ Her lips parted as she laughed. ‘I really don’t think I should tell you that. I’m on Princess Katerina’s side in this and I’d hate to prejudice her case.’
‘In other words, yes.’ She didn’t answer. ‘Did you escape down drainpipes?’ he persisted. ‘Go to clubs and parties your parents had forbidden?’
Her smile faded. ‘I had no parents to forbid me. They were killed when I was a child.’
He stilled. ‘I’m so sorry, Laura.’
She’d finally touched him with this common bond between them, and for a moment he wanted to say that he understood her loss, her pain—
‘It was a long time ago and really I barely knew them,’ she said quickly, before he could speak. He recognised the defence mechanism. ‘They were always away a lot, and then I was at boarding school, but in answer to your question, yes, Your Highness, I was frequently reckless—although I never climbed down a drainpipe.’ Her lovely eyes appeared to cloud momentarily. ‘I’m afraid of heights.’
‘But not much else, I’d suspect,’ he said.
‘Then you’d be wrong,’ she said, jacking the smile back into place, determinedly shaking off whatever shadow had crossed her thoughts. ‘I’m absolutely terrified at this moment.’
He regarded her quizzically. He knew she was a little shaky, had felt the almost imperceptible tremble of her hand as it lay in his, but outwardly she was calm, composed.
‘Why?’ he demanded. ‘You’re not like that silly girl, afraid of me.’ It was not a question.
‘Well, actually I am, just a bit. But only because I know you’re going to be angry with me.’
He leaned back, surprised. ‘Why would I be angry with you?’
‘Because I’m going to ask you to give Katerina another chance. Ground her, if you must,’ she rushed on. ‘She’s been foolish; of course she has. But even princesses need a day off now and then. An opportunity to be ordinary.’
‘Ordinary?’
‘You know. Girl-in-the-street ordinary.’
‘Oh, please.’
‘Has she ever been on a bus or the underground?’ she demanded. Then, as an afterthought, ‘Have you?’
Scarcely sure whether to be amused or affronted, he said, ‘I’ve never found it necessary.’
‘The chauffeur is on call twenty-four hours a day,
