This isn’t how I expected my first night alone with Elle to come about, but I can’t say I regret that circumstances brought me here.

It’s a shame Matthias had to suffer, though. The poor fellow has always been so loyal to my family and me, and I hate to see him upset—and hurt—when he was only following my father’s orders. Why didn’t he tell me he was under strict instructions to keep me within his sight at all times? Yes, I would have argued against such ridiculousness, but at least I wouldn’t have thrown a rock at the poor man.

But Matthias seems to be fine—just shaken—and now my attention is entirely on the woman in front of me.

“We really need to figure out a way to get you to the hospital,” she tells me again. She crosses her arms—trying to be firm with me, I suspect—but her eyes tell a different story. I saw the way her gaze traveled over my chest when she was cleaning my wound.

“Enough of this nonsense,” I say. “You can see for yourself that I’m fine.”

“If you’re fine, then maybe you should go back to La Playa.”

My mouth curls up. “You are the doctor. If you feel confident that I’m well enough to be released, then I’ll let that responsibility settle on your shoulders.”

She shakes her head at me and rubs one hand across her eyes. “I should let you go so you can deal with the consequences. Maybe then you’d learn your lesson.”

“Come, now. We both know you’re too good of a doctor for that. You’d never willingly leave a patient to suffer.”

To my surprise, she doesn’t try to argue my point—and considering I truly meant it as a compliment, I’m pleased she’s willing to accept the truth of my words.

“Fine. You can stay,” she says. “But I swear, if you try one inappropriate thing, I’m sending you back to La Playa and letting Owen deal with you.”

“Hm,” I say, grinning. “I suppose he might have a few ideas about how I might self-medicate my pain away.”

“If Owen tries to give you anything I’ll kill him.” But then her face softens slightly. “Are you in a lot of pain? Do you need something?”

In truth, my entire body aches. I suspect I’ll have some nasty bruises by tomorrow. My head throbs slightly, and the wound on my chest stings. But it’s nothing unbearable.

“I’ll survive,” I tell her.

Her eyes are serious. “Any pain in your head or neck? I need you to be honest with me.”

“Just a little ache in my head. Nothing terrible,” I tell her.

Her brow wrinkles, but when she speaks, she is talking more to herself than to me. “I don’t like head pain…” She bites her lip, as though she is thinking to herself.

I understand her apprehension, and though a part of me enjoys the thought of her fussing over me all night, I don’t want to worry her so much that she tries to send me off to the hospital again.

“Some water might help,” I tell her cheerfully. “And I wouldn’t refuse an aspirin, though I’d certainly continue to survive without one.”

She’s still chewing on her lip, probably considering her options, as she nods and goes to retrieve what I requested. When she returns a moment later, she seems to have made up her mind about something.

“I need you to tell me the moment something changes,” she says. “If your head pain gets any worse, or if your vision starts to get blurry. And if you feel even the slightest bit of anything in your neck—”

“I’ll alert you immediately,” I say, taking the medicine and the bottle of water from her. “I promise.” It looks like she’s resigned herself to the fact that I’ll be staying here for the night.

She’s frowning again, and I notice her eyes have dropped once more to my bare chest. When she glances up and sees I’ve caught her staring, color rushes to her cheeks.

“You’re going to need a shirt,” she says.

“If you insist,” I tell her. “But honestly, I think I might be more comfortable like this. It is quite warm in here. And I’m not sure I like the idea of having any fabric weighing down on this.” I gesture at my wound. “Of course, if you find my bare chest distracting—”

“I’m not distracted,” she says. “I was trying to help.” Her cheeks grow even pinker. “Go ahead and take the aspirin.”

I do, and she turns and starts tidying up the room, including the gurney where she’d been seeing to Matthias. My eyes follow her as she moves, and I wonder if she realizes how graceful she is, even doing something as simple as this. After a few minutes, she seems to realize I’m watching her, and she turns, looking suddenly self-conscious.

“It’s rude to stare,” she tells me.

“I wasn’t staring. I was admiring.”

That almost earns me a smile as she rolls her eyes. “Try to keep it in your pants, Your Highness.”

“If you insist. But that is really no fun at all.”

She ignores my comment. “I guess I should get you something to eat if you’re going to be here all night.”

There’s only one thing I’m hungry for now—but I doubt Elle is offering herself up as part of the menu.

She returns with a loaf of bread, a jar, and a knife.

“I hope you’re okay with peanut butter sandwiches,” she says.

“I suppose I can give it a try,” I say. “I’ve never had peanut butter before.”

She blinks at me. “You’ve never had peanut butter?”

“It’s a very American food,” I say. “You won’t find it in most places in Europe. And my family’s chefs never thought to use it in any of their recipes.”

“Well, I hope you like it, because it’s all I have at the moment.” She spreads some of the peanut butter on the bread, folds it into a sandwich, and tries to hand it to me.

“Ladies first,” I say. “I can make my own sandwich.”

“You’re injured,” she says. “Take the damn sandwich.”

“If you insist.” I take the offered sandwich and grin. “I think I might like having you here to take care of me.”

She gestures toward me with the knife. “Don’t get any ideas. I’m here to make sure you don’t die. That’s it.”

“Don’t worry,” I say, still smiling. “I’ve had all the ideas already. There aren’t any more to get.”

My little jest earns me an exasperated look, but she finishes making a sandwich for herself. When she’s done, she glances around for a place to sit and settles on the gurney opposite mine.

“There’s plenty of room over here,” I tell her.

“Thanks, but this is fine.” She nods toward my sandwich. “What do you think?”

I haven’t taken a bite yet, but I do so now. And then almost immediately take another.

“Peanut butter is delicious,” I say.

She smiles—one of the first genuine smiles I’ve seen from her. “I thought you might like it.”

“I love it,” I admit. “In my experience, most American cuisine has been…questionable. But this might change my opinion. I’m going to have to ask Matthias to look for some when he goes to get supplies.” At the thought of my valet, though, my mood drops. “Do you really think he’s going to be all right?” I’d never forgive myself if something happened.

“Hopefully, he’s smart enough to come back if he starts feeling worse,” she says. “I might check on him in a bit.” She nibbles at the crust of her sandwich but doesn’t seem particularly hungry. “What exactly happened out there? Why did you think someone was after you?”

It all seems so foolish now.

“When you’re a prince, there are always risks,” I say. “My country is very wealthy, and there are those who might try to kidnap me for ransom.” While other children in Montovia were learning how to get along with each other in the schoolyard, my siblings and I were taught how to handle certain political situations a member of the royal family might encounter. “And there are many dangerous creatures in the rainforest as well, and that’s not even considering the possibility of running into drug lords or general criminals who might decide to set upon a man walking by himself in the jungle. I’ve been trained to defend against such situations.”

She raises an eyebrow. “And did that training include falling down a steep slope to escape?”

“I never claimed to be particularly graceful. And I hit my target, didn’t I? Poor fellow.”

She shakes her head at me again, but she’s in a much better humor now. “Poor fellow is right. Being forced to follow you around the world and make sure you don’t get yourself into too much trouble.”

“I assure you he’s compensated quite well.”

She gives a short laugh. “You couldn’t pay me enough to make me even consider that job.”

“Come, now,” I say. “I’m not all bad. Surely you can think of at least one positive thing about me.”

She takes another bite of her sandwich, considering, but her eyes are bright with amusement as she looks at me. She’s playing along with the game.

“Well,” she says, “You seem to care genuinely for your valet.”

“Is that the only thing you can think of?”

She makes a show of thinking about it. “Your English is very good. And your Spanish didn’t sound half bad, either.”

“Most children in Montovia learn at least three or four languages going through school. That is hardly anything special. Really, Doctor—if those are the only positive things you can say about me, it’s no wonder you find me so distasteful.”

“You also dress well.”

“And you ruined one of my best shirts.” I glance down at my chest. “Though you seem to appreciate the new view much better.”

“First of all, you ruined your own damn shirt when you took that dive down the hill. And secondly, I don’t care one way or another about your chest. In fact, I’m perfectly neutral about it. But you’re very confident. There, I’ll give you that.”

“From some people, that might be a compliment. But I’m not sure it is, coming from you.” My sandwich is almost done, but though it’s quite delicious, I’ve become distracted by our conversation. “Come, Elle. Can you not name one real thing about me that you like?”

* * *