possible her ear canals are no longer draining as they should.”
That made sense. His hands formed fists. Why hadn’t he thought of it?
Her well-shaped brows lifted. “Not even a prince can know everything.” She’d read his mind and her comment sent his blood pressure soaring. “Will you arrange it? Sooner would be better than later because I can’t get started on my testing until the procedure has been done. That child needs help in a hurry.”
As if Alex didn’t know … Why else had he sent for her?
He didn’t like feeling guilty because he’d let the problem go on too long without exploring every avenue. Alex also didn’t like being second-guessed or told what to do. But since it was Zoe they were talking about, he decided to let it go for now. “I’ll see that a specialist fits her in today.”
“Good. Let me know the results and we’ll go from there.” She turned to leave.
“I haven’t excused you yet, Mrs. Richards.”
She wheeled back around. “Forgive me, and please call me Dottie.” Through the fringe of her dark, silky lashes, her innocent blue gaze eyed him frankly. “I’ve never worked with a parent who’s a monarch. This is a new experience.”
Indeed, it was. It appeared Alex was an acquired taste, something he hadn’t known could happen. He wasn’t a conceited man, but it begged the question whether she had an instant dislike of him.
“Monarch or not, do you always walk away from a conversation before it’s over?”
“I thought it was.” She stood firm. “I deal with preschoolers all the time and your little girl is so adorable, I’m hoping to get to the bottom of her problem right away. I’m afraid I’m too focused on my job. Your Highness,” she tacked on, as if she weren’t sure whether to say it or not.
She was different from anyone he’d ever met. Not rude exactly, yet definitely the opposite of obsequious. He didn’t know what to think of her. But just now she’d sounded sincere enough where his daughter was concerned. Alex needed to take the advice his mother had given him as a boy. Never react on a first impression or you could live to regret it.
“I’m glad you’re focused,” he said and meant it. “She’s the light of my life.”
The briefest glint of pain entered her eyes. “You’re a lucky man to have her, even if you are a prince.”
His brows furrowed. “Even if I’m a prince?”
She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I meant—Well, I meant that one assumes a prince has been given everything in life and is very lucky. But to be the father of a darling daughter, too, makes you that much luckier.”
Though she smiled, he heard a sadness in her words. Long after he’d excused her and had arranged for the doctor’s appointment, the shadow he’d seen in those deep blue eyes stayed with him.
DOTTIE stayed in her room for part of the day, fussing and fuming over a situation she could do little about. I haven’t excused you yet, Mrs. Richards.
The mild rebuke had fallen from the lips of a prince who was outrageously handsome. Tall and built like the statue of a Greek god, he possessed the inky-black hair and eyes of his Hellenican ancestry. Everything—his chiseled jaw, his strong male features—set him apart from other men.
Even if he weren’t royal, he looked like any woman’s idea of a prince. He’d stood there in front of his country’s flag, effortlessly masculine and regal in a 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
