“Did you hurt anything else?”
She frowned and looked down at herself. “No. Why?”
He gave her another easy smile, this one perfected in med school to relax patients. “If you stumbled, you might have fallen, maybe hurt your hand in the fall, or hurt something else.”
She bit her lip, and the gesture reminded him so much of his sister Cat when she’d gotten caught doing something bad and knew she’d get away with it. Cat always got away with everything.
“The truth is that the Petty Officer caught me and saved me from falling. He held on while I regained my balance, and then insisted on carrying me when it was clear I hurt my ankle.”
He looked towards the door, then back to her. It wasn’t a question anyone liked asking, but he would absolutely ask it. “Did he…take any liberties with you?”
She immediately shook her head. “No, of course not. He’s been the perfect gentleman.” She flashed one of those smiles he’d seen in photographs and magnified on screens. It was a smile many men dreamed about receiving. Seeing it firsthand, however, he recognized exactly what it was.
A lie.
How many of those smiles had he given? It was easy to lose count after the first few; there were just too many of them when you lived in the limelight. He may not even have noticed it but, as the youngest of nine siblings and one of the quietest, he was naturally observant of everyone and everything around him. Being coddled as the ‘baby’ of the family—and usually hating the attention that came with it—meant he’d watched people carefully for any indications that their focus was turning to him so he could move, or shift the conversation away from him. Not to mention, few were forthright with a royal, so understanding someone’s true motives and their nonverbal behavior was essential to public survival.
All that meant he was instinctively noticing the woman in front of him and picking up on the unconscious cues she was revealing. Still, what could she have to lie about here, on this ship? Why was she even on this ship to begin with?
He didn’t push her about the lie, or about the truth, but he could ask her some questions. “Well, it doesn’t look injured or swollen, so I don’t think it’s sprained. Let’s take a quick x-ray to be sure.”
“I’m sure that’s not necessary.”
Interesting. Was she afraid of what he might find or what he wouldn’t? “Are you refusing medical treatment? If you’re uncomfortable with me, there are two other physicians assigned to this ship, as well as a few nurses. They’re all men, and unfortunately unavailable at this time.” They’d been temporarily reassigned to a hospital ship near their destination. “However, we can also have you airlifted off the ship—”
“No! I mean, that’s not necessary.” She shifted on the bed. “I’d rather not have an x-ray though.”
Even more interesting. “Are you pregnant?”
She spluttered a cough. “What?”
“If you are, you needn’t worry about the x-ray. It won’t harm the baby, since I’ll only be x-raying your ankle and foot. I do have a lead apron, however, that you can wear while—”
“I’m not pregnant!” She glanced at the doorway, then locked eyes with him and whispered loudly. “I’m not pregnant. I just don’t want the x-ray.”
He could order one for her and she’d be required to have it done under his orders. Still, medically, she seemed to be fine. He’d seen enough fake injuries to recognize one now, even from one of the world’s best actresses.
She wasn’t in the Navy, so he’d give her some leeway. “Did you sign a liability waiver before you came on board?”
She nodded and pulled something small from her pocket, an electronic drive for storing information. “I have everything signed and saved here, with the originals filed by the Navy official I worked with to arrange this.”
He slipped it into his pocket; he wasn’t fool enough to insert an unknown electronic device into their systems, even if she did seem genuine about the forms. “Who’s your contact?”
“Oh, um, Betty? From the press office?”
He happened to know a woman named Betty Andrews in the press office—as a royal, he had to deal with the Navy’s press office much more than most—but doubted Miss Salamanca had ever met her. He would, however, call Betty and follow up about this.
He didn’t let on about his doubts. Instead, he went to his stash of supplies to get what he needed and slowly made his way back. “How long are you staying on the ship?”
“At least a week. I’m going to be doing a new movie, playing a Naval officer, and I was able to arrange time on the ship to really get a sense of what goes on here. It’ll be great research.”
He frowned but nodded, and began to wrap her ankle. “Hmm. Well, we can wait on the x-ray for now, but come back in the morning. If it’s worse, I’ll do one then. For now, I’ll put a wrap on it and give you some ibuprofen for the pain.”
So many things bothered him about her explanation. First, the ship’s location was ‘Need to Know’. The press office, even the Chief Admiral, hell, even his own brother who was the Chief’s boss, shouldnevergrant access of this ship to a civilian unless it was of Naval or mission importance. Location of command ships had the utmost security clearance. Yet only someone with a high rank could place her on this ship.
Second, even if what she said was true, and she was playing a role as a naval officer, they had all-female ships in the fleet; it made much more sense for her to shadow an officer on one of those ships, rather than this one which was predominantly male. Though there were some female admirals and mission-essential civilians who would be coming on board in a few weeks, it would be long after Miss Salamanca was gone.
Third, even if she had secured time on this highly secret, mission-driven ship, why was she given a Petty Officer to escort her? Someone of higher rank, along with people from the security division and the press office, should escort her and ensure she didn’t end up someplace or see something that she shouldn’t.
