Название | Princess of Convenience |
---|---|
Автор произведения | Marion Lennox |
Жанр | Современные любовные романы |
Серия | |
Издательство | Современные любовные романы |
Год выпуска | 0 |
isbn | 9781408945568 |
‘Why?’
‘You don’t think I want to be a prince?’
‘Most people would jump at the chance.’
‘I’m not most people,’ he said grimly. ‘Who was it said that power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely? I watched my father and my brother and I want no part of it.’
‘Médecins Sans Frontières is hardly a life career,’ she said thoughtfully. ‘Doctors Without Borders… They go to the most desperately needy places in the world. I’ve heard that most people burn out after one or two years. You’ve been doing it for three?’
‘It’s not long enough. I’m hardly burned out.’
‘Maybe you could stay here and work on the Alp’Azuri medical infrastructure,’ she said, and for a fraction of a moment she let her guard slip. ‘It’s hardly on a par with most western countries. In truth, it’s appalling.’
And he got it. He heard the pain of someone speaking from personal experience. She saw the recognition in his eyes. Recognition of tragedy.
‘There is that about you,’ he said softly, on a note of discovery. ‘You’re running.’
‘I am not running,’ she snapped, angry with herself for revealing more than she wanted. ‘Any more than you, practising medicine in Somalia when your people need you here.’
‘This is not my country. These are not my people.’
‘No?’
She took a deep breath. What was she doing? she thought suddenly. What drove this man was nothing to do with her.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said at last while he stared at her with anger showing clearly on his face. ‘OK. This is not your country and you’ll be leaving it almost immediately.’ She hesitated, trying to find some safer ground. Her perceptions were swinging wildly. This man was a prince. This man was a doctor who fought for lives in third-world countries.
He’d make a wonderful doctor, she thought suddenly and glanced down at his hands. Big, caring, skilled…
Move on, she told herself fiercely. Once again there was that twisting inside that she scarcely understood. She had to find some safe ground.
‘And your mother?’ she managed. ‘What will she do?’
He smiled, albeit faintly. ‘My mother has an apartment on the Left Bank. And before you accuse me of deserting her as well as my country, she has Henri.’ He saw her look of surprise and explained. ‘Henri left the palace when my mother left my father thirty years ago. He’s been with my mother ever since, her loyal and devoted servant. Where she goes, Henri goes.’
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