‘He offered to fund me, but I...’ She glanced up at the steep track and puffed out a breath. ‘I didn’t want that.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want his money. Or anyone else’s. I don’t have the qualifications to work in that area at that level—I just want to share my ideas with the people who are working on it in case it might be useful.’
So she had the ideas, but not the paperwork. And she was too proud to accept assistance. Irritation prickled the base of his spine.
‘I saw a picture of you at that ball,’ he confessed. ‘If I’d been that man I wouldn’t have been able to focus on a word you said because you looked so damned sexy.’
‘Well, he was polite and he did listen,’ she said archly. ‘And I borrowed that dress from one of the nurses.’
So what she’d said must have been good. ‘You should be in on that project.’
She laughed. ‘It’s not my place.’
‘But it’s your thinking.’
‘Other people are thinking the same. They’re the ones who can drive it.’
‘While your intellect is wasted and you don’t get the credit and challenge you deserve?’
‘Not wasted. I do good work with my patients,’ she said, defensive pride rippling from her as she straightened to her full height.
‘I know. That’s clear. But if you have more to offer, then can’t you do both? Couldn’t you work part-time on the research and part-time as a practitioner? Have you asked if you could?’
‘You make it sound so easy.’ She shook her head.
‘It should be. You ought to be able to maximise all your skills. You should tell the hospital that.’
‘It’s obvious you’re used to making decisions.’
‘It’s my job.’ He paused on the track beside her. ‘You initially wanted to study medicine rather than physiotherapy?’
She wasn’t as quick with her reply this time. ‘Yes, but the training was long and expensive and my mother had got sick. I could complete the physiotherapy course sooner and be a help to her. As it was I studied part-time in my final two years, so it took me longer to finish.’
Part-time because of her mother’s terminal illness. She’d been her sole carer. He knew that from the information his team had found. She put her patients—and her mother first. She was determined and proud. But he was determined too, and somehow he’d help her.
That tightness in his chest eased. ‘We’re nearly there.’ He took her hand and led her up the last few steps of the narrow, rocky track until it opened out onto the small summit.
The wind grazed his skin. He liked the hit of oxygen—he was always able to think clearly up here.
‘This is beautiful.’ Radiant, she gazed across the view.
‘Worth the effort?’
‘Beautiful moments are always worth the effort.’
Something settled inside him in that moment. Peace. She understood. That was what she did—helped create beautiful moments. With him. Probably with her patients too. She looked like a goddess, with her eyes sparkling and her skin luminescent.
Touched, he turned and looked to the horizon, but he kept her hand clasped his. From here they could see right down over the island. The kingdom he’d give his life for.
‘I haven’t been up here in so long.’
‘Why not?’
‘Busy.’ He gazed across the beautiful landscape and nodded in the direction of the capital. ‘Being there.’
‘It means everything to you,’ she said softly.
‘It’s what I am.’
‘It’s part of what you are,’ she replied. ‘But not all that you are.’
She was wrong, but he no longer had the desire to argue. He turned and kissed her, reverently drawing from her the response that revitalised his own cold system. Another moment. But that was all.
He made himself move. ‘I want to show you something.’
‘More than this?’
With a smile he led her to a tussock at the farthest edge of the summit and showed her a small stone cairn that had withstood the wind and now gleamed in the sun.
‘Oh...’ She crouched down, her smile blossoming. ‘You built this?’
He held out a water bottle to her. She took it and sipped while he took a stone he’d brought with him from his pack. With a permanent marker, he drew the date and his initial as she studied the stones already stacked into the mound.
‘They all have your initial on them,’ she said. ‘Doesn’t anyone come here aside from you?’
He shook his head. Not now.
‘Is it forbidden to the public?’
‘No!’ He laughed. ‘I just don’t think many people know about it. It’s hard to get to unless you have a helicopter and are confident about flying low through the mountain range...’ He glanced at the cairn. ‘My parents brought me here.’
Kassie knelt to examine the cairn more closely. ‘You always bring a stone? Only one each trip?’
He nodded.
‘That’s a lot of trips.’
It was. ‘Right from when I was small.’ He should have come more. It always revitalised him. Or maybe it was the woman alongside him who was injecting the energy into his veins.
‘A man of tradition.’ She smiled up at him, a teasing light in her eyes.
‘Is that such a bad thing?’
‘Not at all. Not if the traditions don’t stand in the way of progress.’
‘Most traditions don’t. I think they’re symbols—connecting us to both past and future.’
He watched as she turned back to study the oldest stones on the bottom of the ca
irn. Coarse grass had grown, obscuring some, but a couple were large foundation stones. The initials could still be read.
She traced an ‘A’. ‘Your mother?’
‘Antonia,’ he confirmed quietly. ‘It was her idea.’
‘She came here often?’
‘It was her favourite place.’
Kassie looked back at the stone. ‘Was she lovely?’
‘Yes.’ Giorgos hunched down beside her. ‘My father built the Summer House for her and she decorated it. It was her escape. She’d spend her holidays walking in these hills.’ He tossed the stone in his hand and caught it again.
‘Her escape?’
Kassie was looking at him with those deep brown eyes. Soft, bottomless, havens of emotion, revealing the caring nature that would be too easy to take advantage of.
‘Because she didn’t like the palace?’
‘No, she did like it, but there isn’t much privacy in public life.’
Her gaze skittered from his. ‘So your father built the holiday home for her?’
‘She spent a lot of time here when I was very young and he was working.’
‘It was an arranged marriage?’
‘Of course. But it worked well.’ His chest hurt. ‘They seemed happy to me.’
But his memories were few. He’d only been ten when she’d died.
‘You must miss her,’ Kassie said. ‘It must have been such a shock. No wonder you worry about Eleni’s pregnancy.’
He shook his head jerkily. ‘With my mother the complications were unforeseeable and unpreventable,’ he said roughly. ‘Just unlucky. It’s not a hereditary condition. Eleni should be as healthy as any other pregnant woman. She should deliver her child just fine.’
He’d already checked with the doctor.
‘That’s good.’
It was, but he didn’t want to talk about his mother any more—or his father, or his sister, or any of them. He wanted to suspend time and savour this moment with Kassie.
He rubbed his fingers on the rough stone in his hand. ‘You should place one to mark your visit,’ he said huskily.