‘It doesn’t feel like home though.’ There was the indignity of being placed on a golf buggy and driven back to the palace and then a very shaky walk up the stairs.
‘I’ll carry you,’ he offered, but for some reason that just upset her even more.
‘You can leave me now.’
‘Not yet,’ Alessandro said. ‘The doctor wants to see you.’ He shooed out the maid, because he knew that she hated to be fussed over, and then started to pull at her boots as she attempted her buttons.
‘I can manage,’ Allegra said.
He was not remotely impressed. ‘Believe me, I am getting no kicks out of this,’ he said, and that eked a smile. ‘There’s no perverse pleasure in taking your vomit-stained blouse off.’ He picked up the lace nightdress and it was clearly too complicated so he went to a drawer and pulled out one of his T-shirts instead. Even though it must have been laundered to the strict palace guidelines, still she was sure that she caught the scent of him as he slid it over her head.
‘Bed.’ He pulled the sheets back and she climbed in; her brain seemed to be thumping away at her skull as he opened the door and let the old doctor in. He examined her very thoroughly and she could smell his horrible breath as he shone a light in both eyes then spoke in deep tones to Alex. She heard the words commozione cerebrale and if she hadn’t been lying down she would have fainted, but then Alex looked over and gave her a smile.
‘That’s “concussion” to you!’ He smiled at her melodrama and then thanked the doctor. Left alone he sat on her bed. ‘You have to rest for a couple of days—there will be a nurse to come in and check you hourly throughout the day and night.’
‘Is it really necessary?’
‘Apparently.’
* * *
Allegra woke a little later. The flowers the little girl had given her in the café yesterday had been placed in a small vase by the bed and they had perked up with the water, the blue petals like tiny stars. She gazed on them slowly, replaying the day’s events, awareness creeping in that Alex was in the room too. She looked over to where he sat in an armchair dozing—just as beautiful as ever. And even though they were planning a wedding, he was still just as unattainable as ever. She could never have his heart—he had told her the day they met that he didn’t do love, that it simply wouldn’t happen with him, but it was hard to finally accept it. The nurse came in and took her blood pressure and shone the little light in her eyes and then left them alone.
‘I’m alive apparently,’ she said as his dark eyes peeked open. She was terribly embarrassed, could sort of remember the stupid things that she’d said out on the field to him, tried to remember if she’d declared undying love or anything equally awful.
‘I’m sorry if I made a fool of myself.’
‘Stop apologising.’
‘I can’t actually remember what I said.’
‘Something about what a merry widower I’d make.’
‘You’re supposed to be in London.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’
‘What about Sheikh...’ She couldn’t remember his name.
‘He’s a family man—he understood completely when he heard you had had an accident. He sends his best wishes for a speedy return to full health.’
‘I’m fine.’
‘No,’ Alex said, ‘you’re not. It’s not just the fall.’ He put on a side light and looked over to where she lay and even if her fringe mainly hid them, there was so much trouble in her eyes. ‘When I met you that day—’
‘Don’t.’ She closed her eyes, didn’t want to hear how she hadn’t lived up to expectations, how he could never have guessed the trouble he was taking on. ‘I was boring till I met you.’ She opened her eyes and saw that he was smiling.
‘I doubt that.’
‘Honestly!’ She blinked. ‘I’m the quiet one in my family.’
‘It must get pretty noisy around Christmas.’
‘It does,’ Allegra said, thinking of the wonderful times she’d had with her family, the rows and the singalongs, the parties and the whole drama that was part and parcel of being a Jackson. ‘I can’t stand to hear your parents being derisive about them, that it’s such a joke that my father might invite—’