From Doctor To Princess?. Annie Claydon

back to normal, then he wasn’t.

      There wasn’t a great deal of choice in the matter, though. The King of Montarino was accustomed to being obeyed, and when he had visited his only son in the discreet private ward of the hospital, he’d made it clear that he was taking no arguments. He’d smiled at Hugo, in much the same way as any father would, and told him that his duty to his country was clear and very simple. He had to get better.

      In order to make sure that his son’s recovery went smoothly, the King had recruited a doctor who would stay with him at all times over the next month or so. Hugo had still been drowsy from the anaesthetic and his back hurt from having lain still while the pacemaker had been inserted into his chest, but he had got the message. His father didn’t trust Hugo to look after himself, and so he was appointing a minder to do it.

      He hadn’t told Hugo much about this minder, other than that she was a woman, eminently qualified, and that she was due to fly out from London today. The last detail was another smart move on his father’s part, because Hugo knew most of the doctors in the small principality of Montarino, particularly those who were well qualified in cardiology. He might well have been able to wriggle out of the arrangement with any one of them, but this woman was an unknown quantity.

      He wondered briefly whether she’d come equipped with tranquillisers and physical restraints. And, more to the point, whether she’d been briefed about the requirement for discretion. Hugo assumed that she had, because discretion was one of the codes that his family lived by, and his father never let anyone forget it.

      ‘That’ll be her...’ His bodyguard sat in the front seat of the car, and had the advantage of an unobscured view. Hugo squinted through the tinted windows, and saw the chauffeur walking across the forecourt towards the airport’s short-stay car park. Beside him was a young woman with mid-brown hair and a supple sway to her walk, which made the short hairs at the back of Hugo’s neck prickle slightly.

      Probably another one of his father’s carefully reasoned choices. Hugo had to admit that he wasn’t known for saying no to beautiful women, but unusually the King had misjudged the situation this time. A career woman, particularly a doctor, wasn’t someone that he could contemplate giving any part of his heart to.

      ‘She doesn’t look too formidable.’ Ted spoke in English, turning slightly in his seat to display the hint of a smile.

      ‘I wouldn’t bank on looks. She’s managed to keep hold of her suitcase, and I imagine that Jean-Pierre did everything he could to wrestle it away from her.’ Hugo turned the corners of his mouth down. The first thing his father’s chauffeur would have done was to try to relieve their guest of her luggage and wheel her suitcase for her.

      ‘I must be getting slow, I missed that.’ Ted had done nothing of the sort; he just hadn’t seen fit to mention it. In the five years that he’d been with Hugo, since his retirement from the British police force, the two men had learned to read each other’s thoughts and trust what they saw. It had been Ted who had happened to mention that he’d heard that the doctor was being picked up from the airport this morning, and Hugo had made the expected decision to go with the car to greet her. Sizing her up before anyone else at the palace got the chance to speak with her couldn’t be a bad thing.

      Ted got out of the car, walking to the rear passenger door and opening it. For all the world as if he were according Hugo the respect his position required, rather than helping him with the weight of the door. Hugo climbed out of the car, ignoring the tingle of pain that reached from his chest down his left arm.

      Now that she was closer, Dr Penelope Maitland didn’t seem as formidable as her old-fashioned name might lead one to suppose. She was all curves and movement, looking almost girlish in a tan jacket over a cream summer dress, creased from travelling. Her light brown hair glinted in the sunshine, and bare, tanned legs gave her the fresh, outdoorsy look of someone going on holiday.

      Maybe the gorgeous Dr Penelope was a rare mistake on his father’s part. This woman looked as if she was more likely to spend her time here enjoying the pleasures of Montarino, not nagging him about his health. When her honey-coloured gaze met his, there was a spark of recognition and she smiled. A carefree kind of smile that sent tingles down his spine and allowed Hugo to believe that she didn’t have it in her to make his life difficult.

      Then she stopped in front of him, letting go of her suitcase long enough for Jean-Pierre to grab it and wheel it around to the boot of the car. ‘I’m Dr Maitland. I’m told that I shouldn’t curtsey.’

      Her voice was like honey but her tone was like steel. Clearly Dr Penelope wasn’t going to be quite as much of a walkover as her appearance suggested.

      ‘Thank you. I’d prefer it if you didn’t.’ Hugo held out his right hand, glad that the pacemaker was on the left side of his chest, and didn’t hamper the movement of his right arm. Her grip was as firm as her tone. ‘Welcome to Montarino. I’m Hugo DeLeon.’

      ‘Yes, I know.’ She shot him a questioning look, and Hugo wondered whether she was going to rebuke him for coming to meet her. He mumbled the usual invitation to call him Hugo, wondering if he’d get to call her Penelope. The name seemed suddenly as if it would taste sweet on his lips.

      ‘Please call me Nell...’

      Hugo smiled his acquiescence. Nell sounded soft and sweet too, even if it was a little shorter.

      ‘You must be tired from your journey. We should be going...’ Hugo’s discreet gesture to Jean-Pierre prompted him to get into the car.

      She raised one eyebrow. ‘Yes, we should be going. I’m surprised to see you out and about so soon.’

      Her words had an edge to them. If anyone should be feeling tired she clearly expected that it should be him, and Hugo had to admit that he was surprised at the effort involved in making a simple car journey.

      ‘I’m grateful for the fresh air.’

      At the moment, the fresh air was making his head spin. Hugo stood back from the open door of the car and she hesitated and then got in, sliding quickly across the back seat before Hugo could even think about closing the car door and walking around to get in on the other side.

      All the same, he welcomed the move. On this side, the seat belt wouldn’t need to rest painfully on his left shoulder. Hugo got into the car, and Ted closed the door before he could reach for it.

      ‘Have you been to Montarino before?’ Hugo had years of practice with small talk.

      ‘No.’ Nell shook her head, regarding him thoughtfully.

      ‘It’s very small, only eight miles across, but very beautiful. We have one city, half a mountain and, although we have no coastline, there are some beautiful lakes.’

      ‘That’s nice. I’ll have to come back sometime when I’m not working. I probably won’t have much time to see them this time around.’ Her mouth was set in a firm line, and Hugo’s heart sank. Clearly there was no hope of deflecting the redoubtable Dr Penelope from her intended purpose.

      * * *

      Four days ago, Nell Maitland had ridden home on the night bus, after the farewell party that her colleagues at the hospital had thrown for her. It had been the ultimate failure, after months of trying to work things out with the cardiac unit’s new head of the department, and save the job that she loved so much. And now...

      She was riding in a chauffeur-driven car, sitting next to a prince. It was an object lesson in how dramatically things could change in so little time.

      ‘I gather you have a strong tradition of attracting the best musicians.’ She smiled in response to Hugo DeLeon’s indication of the Montarino Opera House, and the car obligingly slowed to allow her a more detailed look.

      ‘We like to think that we can hold our own with the rest of Europe when it comes to our appreciation of the arts. You do know a little about Montarino, then?’

      Anyone could use the Internet. Although Nell had to admit that the photographs didn’t do the grand