St Piran's: Prince on the Children's Ward

‘It used to drive our mother out of her mind with worry.’ She rested her head against the glass. ‘It’s been so long since I surfed.’

‘That surprises me. I can’t imagine you working in a city.’

‘That’s where the job was.’ Was. Tasha felt a ripple of panic but masked it quickly. ‘Anyway, it feels good to be home. Familiar.’

‘There’s a private path from the terrace that leads straight down onto the beach. It’s the reason I bought this property. You can surf from the front door. Did you bring your wetsuit?’

‘Of course.’ Tasha thought about the suitcases in her car. She was like a snail, she thought, carrying her world around on her back. And what was she doing, talking surfing with him? The point of this wasn’t to be intimate or cosy. Deciding that it was never too soon to start inflicting a little extra pain, she gave a sympathetic smile. ‘Shame you can’t join me.’

‘Thanks for the reminder.’ The irritation in Alessandro’s voice confirmed that her arrow had found its target.

‘At least I’ll be able to get out there and surf, and I’ll give you a report,’ Tasha said kindly, feeling a flash of satisfaction as she saw his jaw tighten. Oh, boy, are you going to suffer. She was about to twist the knife again when he shifted position and she saw pain flicker in his eyes. His naturally olive skin was several shades paler than usual and she could see the strain in his face. The physician in her at war with the woman, Tasha strolled over to him. ‘Moving you from the hospital to here must have been a painful experience.’

‘It was fine.’

He hadn’t uttered a word of complaint but she knew that he must have been in agonising pain. ‘I’ll try and help you find a comfortable position.’

‘I’m perfectly comfortable. And I don’t need your help.’

‘That’s why you’re paying me, remember? To help you. You need a nurse to look after you.’

‘I needed a nurse because they wouldn’t discharge me from hospital without one. Not for any other reason.’ Jaw clenched, Alessandro manoeuvred himself onto the sofa, the pain involved leaving him white-faced. The muscles of his shoulders bunched as he took his weight on the crutches. ‘I don’t need to be looked after.’

Tasha found herself looking at those muscles. Pumped up. Sleek and hard. She frowned. So what?

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