Her Unforgettable Royal Lover(18)
“Sounds good to me,” she said, relief at having a concrete plan of action edging aside the dismay. “But do you really think we can swing an appointment with a specialist anytime soon? Or even find one with expertise in amnesia?”
“I’ve got a friend I can call.”
He didn’t tell her that his “friend” was the internationally renowned forensic pathologist who’d autopsied the victims of a particularly savage drug cartel last year. Dom had witnessed each autopsy, groaning at the doc’s morbid sense of humor as he collected the evidence Interpol needed to take down key members of the cartel.
He made the call while Natalie conducted another raid on his wardrobe. By the time she’d dug out a pair of Dom’s flip-flops and running shorts with a drawstring waist, one of Budapest’s foremost neurologists had agreed to squeeze her in at 11:20 a.m.
Five
The short-notice appointment with the neurologist necessitated a quick change in the day’s agenda. Almost before Natalie had downed her last bite of apple pancake, Dom hustled her to the door of the loft and down five flights of stairs to the underground garage.
It’d been dark when she’d arrived the previous evening, so she’d caught only glimpses of the castle dominating the hill on the Buda of the river. The bright light of morning showed the royal palace in its full glory.
“Oh, look!” Her glance snagged on the bronze warrior atop a muscled warhorse that guarded the entrance to the castle complex. “That’s Prince Eugene of Savoy, isn’t it?”
Dominic slanted her a quick look. “You know about Priz Eugen?”
“Of course.” She twisted in her seat to keep the statue in view as they negotiated the narrow, curving streets that would take them down to the Danube. “He was one of the greatest military leaders of the seventeenth century. As I recall, he served three different Holy Roman Emperors and won a decisive victory against the Ottoman Turks in 1697 at…”
She broke off, her eyes rounding. “Why do I know that?”
She sank back against her seat and stared through the windshield at the tree-dappled street ahead. Dom said nothing while she struggled to jam together the pieces of the puzzle.
“Why do I know the Hapsburgs built this palace on the site of the Gothic castle originally constructed by an earlier Holy Roman Emperor? Why do I know it was reconstructed after being razed to the ground during World War II?” Her fists bunched, drummed her thighs. “Why can I pull those details out of my head and not know who I am or how I ended up in the river?”
“Recalling those details has to be a good sign. Maybe it means you’ll start to remember other things, as well.”
“God, I hope so!”
Her fists stayed tight through the remainder of the descent from Castle Hill and across the majestic Chain Bridge linking Buda and Pest.
Their first stop was a small boutique, where Natalie traded Dom’s drawstring shorts, soccer shirt and flip-flops for sandals, slim designer jeans, a cap-sleeved tank in soft peach and a straw tote. A second stop garnered a few basic toiletries. Promising to shop for other necessities later, Dom hustled her back to the car for her appointment with Dr. Andras Kovacs.
* * *
The neurologist’s suite of offices occupied the second floor of a gracious nineteenth-century town house in the shadow of St. Stephen’s Basilica. The gray-haired receptionist in the outer office confirmed Natalie’s short-notice appointment, but showed more interest in her escort than the patient herself.
“I read about you in the paper,” she exclaimed to Dom in Hungarian. “Aren’t you the Grand Duke of…of…something?”
Swallowing a groan, he nodded. “Of Karlenburgh, but the title is an empty one. The duchy doesn’t exist any longer.”
“Still, it must be very exciting to suddenly find yourself a duke.”
“Yes, very. Is Dr. Kovacs running on time for his appointments?”
“He is.” She beamed. “Please have a seat, Your Highness, and I’ll let his assistant know you and Ms. Clark are here.”
When he led Natalie to a set of tall wingback chairs, she sent him a quick frown. “What was all that about?”
“She was telling me about a story she’d read in the paper.”
“I heard her say ‘Karlenburgh.’”
He eyed her closely. “Do you recognize that name?”
“You mentioned it this morning. I thought for a moment I knew it.” Still frowning, she scrubbed her forehead with the heel of her hand. “It’s all here, somewhere in my head. That name. That place. You.”
Her eyes lifted to his. She looked so accusing, he had to smile.