‘I hope we don’t have to dust and hoover it,’ she whispered to Zoe, and Zoe giggled. The tension eased.

Only then Stefanos strode out of the vast front entrance and the tension zoomed back again.

‘Ooo er…’ Elsa muttered, and Zoe clutched her hand and gave another shaky giggle. Striding down the great granite steps towards them, Stefanos looked like something out of history. Romantic history.

‘He’s a real prince again. Do you think he wears a sword?’ Zoe whispered, awed.

‘Hey, he is,’ Elsa said as he got closer and they could see the great golden hilt emerging from its scabbard. ‘Be good, Zoe.’

‘It’s only Stefanos. He won’t hurt us,’ Zoe said, and it was the child who was trying to reassure the adult.

Some nanny she made, Elsa thought. Telling her charge to be scared.

Actually, she wasn’t a great nanny at all. She looked down at her scuffed trainers-she’d needed comfy shoes for the flight and these were all she had. For the last four years she’d lived in jeans and sweatshirts. If her royal duties demanded better clothes, they’d need to wait until pay day.

Zoe, however, looked beautiful. In her sparkly new clothes, her dark curls held back with diamanté butterfly clips, her pretty blue sandals adorned with butterflies, she looked every inch a child of royalty.

Underneath her carefully chosen clothes were scars which were still healing, but her new clothes hid them and gave her confidence. As this man coming towards them was giving her excitement.

‘I’m going to be a princess,’ she whispered.

‘And I’m going to be a nanny,’ Elsa whispered back.

‘Stefanos said we could still look for starfish,’ the child said, picking up on her nerves and, amazingly, trying to reassure her.

‘He did, didn’t he,’ Elsa said and fought for a bit more backbone-the courage to pin a cheerful smile in place and turn to greet her employer.

What in the world was she doing here? And why did the sight of the man strolling towards her make her knees feel as if they were turning to jelly?


‘Welcome to Khryseis, Princess Zoe.’ Stefanos strode towards them and he greeted Zoe first. He took her hands and stooped to kiss her cheeks. It might be a normal Greek greeting but here, now, it seemed a truly royal gesture. Zoe looked suitably amazed.

‘I’m not a real princess,’ she told him, as if admitting a falsehood.

‘You are,’ Stefanos said gently. ‘Your father was the Crown Prince Christos and you’re his daughter. This is where you belong.’

‘It’s a really big palace.’

‘It is.’

‘Elsa says we might have to dust and hoover,’ she ventured, and Stefanos turned to Elsa and his dark eyes lit with laughter.

‘Welcome to you, too,’ he said and it was her turn to have her hands grasped and her cheek kissed. Was this the way royalty greeted nannies? ‘I promise you no hoovering-and I’m so glad you decided to come.’

Whew. This was a formal gesture, she told herself wildly. He’d kissed her cheek and smiled at her. Why that had the capacity to make her insides melt…

She’d been isolated for too long. She was starting to feel…Like she had no business in the world feeling.

‘Zoe was never coming alone,’ she managed.

‘No,’ he said, but something in his tone said that such a concept wasn’t unthinkable. ‘She’ll be so much happier with you.’

‘She…she will.’ It was really hard to breathe while he was smiling at her-while he was so close-but she had to start as she meant to go on. ‘And thank you for making us feel right at home, by the way.’

‘Sorry?’

‘By wearing your casual gear,’ she said, and managed to smile. ‘It makes me feel I’ll fit right in.’

His eyes met hers, laughter meeting laughter. But he couldn’t respond how he wished. He was aware their conversation was being listened to, even if she wasn’t.

There were only three staff members within sight, but every window was open and the palace curtains were inched back enough to allow the servants to hear. He’d deliberately not lined the staff up to meet Zoe, but the islanders’ desperate need for a new royal family had to be met.

‘Would you like to see your bedrooms?’ he asked them both.

‘Um…bedrooms,’ Elsa said. ‘Plural?’

‘I want to stay with Elsa,’ Zoe said urgently and Stefanos smiled a reassurance.

‘I don’t blame you. Come and see what we’ve organised. You’ll need to meet a couple of people first. The housekeeper. The butler. We’ll leave the rest of the staff for you to meet tomorrow.’

‘Oh, goody,’ Elsa whispered, and Stefanos smiled in sympathy.

‘There’s a photo shoot here after lunch,’ he added apologetically. ‘Christos was well loved on the island and there’s huge interest and pleasure that his child is coming home. To ban all photographers would have had cameramen scaling walls, so I’ve permitted a representative from each of the island’s media outlets.’

‘You have more than one?’ Elsa said, incredulous.

‘It’s not a complete backwater,’ he said gently and she flushed.

‘You have multi-media outlets and you have only one doctor?’

‘I know-priorities that need fixing. They will be fixed, but I haven’t managed everything in two weeks.’ He took Zoe’s hand and grinned down at her encouragingly. ‘You want to see your bedroom? You have a four-poster bed with curtains.’

‘Yes, please,’ Zoe said breathlessly. She turned with him and they headed up the grand entrance steps.

Leaving Elsa to follow.

I’m the nanny, she told herself, trying not to feel bereft and hopelessly out of her comfort zone. Staying in the background is what I’m supposed to do.

Stefanos and Zoe reached the top step and paused, looking back to her.

They looked fabulous, she thought. Prince Regent and his Crown Princess. Zoe looked lit up like a fairy on top of a Christmas tree, holding her big cousin’s hand with confidence.

‘Are you coming?’ Stefanos said gently. She met his gaze and realised that once again he’d guessed how she was feeling.

Zoe still needed her, she thought wildly. She wasn’t being put out to pasture yet.

‘I’m coming,’ she called. The chauffeur was lifting their bags out of the boot and she grabbed the top one. The heaviest.

‘Leave that to the staff,’ Stefanos told her.

‘I’m the staff,’ she said determinedly and, to her amazement, he chuckled.

‘I don’t think so,’ he said. ‘I expect the staff to conform to a certain standard in their uniform. I need to tell you that your standard falls a long way short until we can get you outfitted as befits your status…as a friend of the Crown Princess.’

Then his tone became gentle and the laughter faded. ‘You’ve worked hard already,’ he said, looking down at her from the top step, and he spoke loudly and clearly enough for his voice to carry into all those open windows. ‘You’ve cared for my little cousin-for our Crown Princess-with all the love at your disposal. It would be my honour to grant you a holiday for as long as you want. Your nominal title is nanny to Zoe, but my command to you personally-to you both-is to have fun.’

CHAPTER SEVEN

THEIR apartments were stunning-two apartments with an adjoining door. Rooms almost big enough to house a tennis court.

‘They’re built for the Crown Prince and Crown Princess,’ Stefanos told them while Zoe and Elsa stared in incredulity.

‘This is something out of a museum,’ Elsa murmured. ‘You know the ones I mean? This is the bed where Charles the First spent the night before the Great Wiggery Foppery of Seventeen Sixty-Two.’

‘The Great Wiggery Foppery?’ Stefanos asked, bemused.

‘Or maybe it was the Great Gunfire Pirouette with Catherine Wheels,’ she told him, desperately striving for humour in the face of splendour that was just plain intimidating. ‘I’m Australian so my knowledge of royalty is distinctly hazy, but my grandma had a book on Bedrooms of the World. I read it when I was seven and I had chickenpox. They all had descriptions like Queen Anne had dropsy in this very bed and threw up on this very pillow. And no, don’t ask me what dropsy is.’

‘Are we really going to sleep in here?’ While Elsa was covering her nerves with nonsense, Zoe was awed into hushed delight.

‘They’ve changed the sheets since the great dropsy plague,’ Stefanos said gravely. ‘I think it might be safe to sleep in them again.’

Zoe giggled.

Which was the whole point of the exercise, Elsa reminded herself. If she could keep Zoe giggling…

But for how long?

‘We’ll sleep in this one,’ Zoe said, and proceeded to clamber up onto what was surely intended as the Crown Prince’s bed. It was vast, with four golden posts, a golden canopy and rich burgundy curtains drawn back with gold tassels.

‘Then Elsa will sleep in the other one,’ Stefanos said, motioning through the open door to a bedroom almost as large and a bed almost as luxurious.

The giggling stopped. Zoe’s bottom lip trembled.

‘No,’ she said. ‘This is too big by myself. We sleep in the same room at home. Why can’t we sleep in the same room here?’

‘We can,’ Elsa said. ‘There’s no need to worry Prince Stefanos, though. We’ll fix it.’

‘You’ve been sharing a room with Zoe?’ Stefanos asked.

‘I have.’ She met his gaze with open defiance.

‘So you had only one bedroom in that little cottage?’

‘Zoe has nightmares,’ she said. ‘Even if we had ten bedrooms we wouldn’t use them.’

‘I’m not sure the staff will approve of a trundle bed in here. They’re wanting Zoe to be real royalty.’

‘So Zoe gets the four-poster and I get a trundle.’

‘There needs to be some delineation.’

‘I’m her friend and her guardian.’

‘Yes, and her nanny.’

‘So I am,’ she said, figuring that here was a line in the sand-her first test. Zoe would not be made to suffer from the demands of royalty. ‘So it’s back to the trundle. Zoe will not sleep alone.’