200 Harley Street: The Soldier Prince. Kate HardyЧитать онлайн книгу.
done differently. What he should have done differently. But it didn’t change what had happened. Or do anything to lessen the guilt. He’d phoned every single wife, every single mother, and apologised for not taking better care of their loved ones while they were under his leadership. They’d all been grateful that he’d phoned, amazed that a prince would bother to share his memories of their husbands and sons. They’d cried. They’d even thanked him.
And it hadn’t made a scrap of difference. He still hated himself for making those mistakes. For not bringing all his men safely home.
‘Others weren’t so lucky.’ He sighed. ‘Those who were injured have the best possible care. Those who …’ There was a lump in his throat and he couldn’t say the rest of it.
‘Marco, you were in a war zone. People get injured. They die. You can’t blame yourself for that.’
‘They were acting under my orders.’
She shrugged. ‘I take it other people were injured, or killed, following the orders of someone else?’
‘Well—yes,’ he admitted.
‘And do you blame the officers for those deaths?’
He sighed. ‘I guess not.’
‘Then don’t blame yourself. If it hadn’t been your orders, it would’ve been someone else’s. I think you’re suffering enough without adding guilt to it. You just did your job, Marco.’
How had she become so wise? he wondered.
To his relief, she changed the subject back to his injury. ‘The first few days of physio, you’re just going to do some gentle exercises. These will help to prevent your tendons becoming stuck in your scar tissue.’
‘Stuck?’
‘Then Ethan would have to operate again. And the outcome might not be so good second time round.’
‘Right.’ He paused. ‘I’m under orders to do what you tell me.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘And a prince takes orders from ordinary people?’
Score one to her. ‘The rule is, medical orders outrank military orders.’
‘What about royal orders?’
He shrugged. ‘As far as I know, royal orders from Sirmontane only work inside my country. And right now I’m in your country, not mine.’
‘Touché.’ She sighed. ‘Sorry. I don’t mean to snipe at you.’
‘But I lied to you about who I was. I can understand you being angry about that.’
‘It’s not so much that you didn’t tell me who you were, it’s the fact that you left without a word.’
‘So did you,’ he pointed out.
She blinked. ‘I did not. You were the one who left, not me.’
‘But you left the camp without a forwarding address.’
She frowned. ‘How do you know that?’
‘Because I came back for you when my grandfather pulled through his operation,’ he said.
Her cheeks went pink. ‘I didn’t know that. And, anyway, what happened between us was obviously just the equivalent of a holiday fling. It was over years ago, and we’re both very different people now.’
He caught her gaze and held it. Was it over? The attraction was still there, for him. And the way her pupils grew slightly larger when she looked at him made him think that maybe, just maybe, it was the same for her. ‘Are we?’ he asked softly.
‘Yes.’ She looked away. ‘I worked hard to get this job. I’m not going to let anything put that in jeopardy. You’re in London for a few days—maybe a few weeks, until your tendon is healed enough—and then you’ll be back to doing whatever it is princes do.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Which is?’
‘How should I know?’
She sounded ever so slightly flustered.
Interesting.
Was it seeing him again? Had it brought back memories? Did she remember what it felt like to kiss him? Was she, like him, tempted to find out if it was still the same between them?
‘And it’s none of my business what you do,’ she said.
‘I was in Afghanistan,’ he said softly. ‘There’s a media blanket in place to keep my regiment safe. They don’t report anything about me, so my team isn’t targeted. Nobody knows I was hurt out there, and nobody knows I’m here. Well, apart from my team back at the base, my family, and the clinic staff here.’
‘And you want to keep it that way.’
He nodded. ‘To keep my team safe. I guess the media will find out eventually that I’m here.’
‘Not from me or anyone else at the clinic, if that’s what you’re asking. There is such a thing as patient confidentiality. And we’re very strict about that, I can assure you,’ she said crisply.
‘Thank you.’ He took her hand with his good hand, and squeezed it lightly before letting her go again.
Mistake.
Because his body remembered the feel of her skin against his. Intimately. And it reacted instantly.
Oh, hell.
Just as well she wasn’t looking at anything other than his busted hand. He took a deep breath, willing his body to calm down. This wasn’t what was supposed to happen. He was supposed to be following her instructions, not lusting after her.
‘Now, you need to do these exercises every hour,’ she said.
All businesslike and bossy. And Marco rather liked this new side of Becca. She was professionally confident, rather than the shy teenager she’d been.
‘You need to keep the splint on, but you can take the hand strap off while you’re doing the exercises. You start with three reps of this one.’
‘Three reps?’ He smiled. ‘You sound like a gym instructor.’
She frowned. ‘Stay out of the gym. Any pressure on this hand while it’s healing and you’ll be looking at permanent disability.’
‘I’ve already had that talk from Ethan. Though he says I’m allowed in the gym to do sit-ups and squats with a stability ball, provided I keep my body balanced and don’t use my left hand.’
‘That figures,’ she said. ‘Bodyweight exercises only.’
‘And walking lunges.’
She went pink again. ‘So was that you in the gym, the other day?’
She’d recognised him without seeing his face clearly? That was even more interesting. ‘I didn’t see you there.’
‘I wasn’t there. Just passing the glass door on my way out of the pool. And I assume Ethan told you to stay out of the pool?’
‘And put a bag over my arm when I have a bath or shower so I don’t get the splint wet. Yup.’ He looked at her. ‘But I could spectate at the pool. Do you swim a lot?’
‘It’s in my schedule.’
So she wasn’t going to let him push her into telling him anything about herself. Interesting.
‘It’s a cliché, you know,’ he said, enjoying himself.
‘What is?’
‘Having a temper to go with your hair colour.’
‘I don’t have a temper.’
‘Don’t you, Becca?’ he asked softly. ‘Or are you just gentle with your husband and children?’