KRISTI GOLD - The Royal Wager - Persuading the Playboy King / Unmasking the Maverick Prince / Daring the Dynamic Sheikh

The sound of voices startled Kate, since she assumed she was alone in the clinic. A woman’s voice and a man’s voice—namely, the queen mother’s and the king’s.

Kate pushed back from the desk and opened the door to find them standing outside the office, both looking extremely distressed.

Panic settled on Kate’s chest. “Is something wrong with Cecile?”

Mary attempted a smile. “Oh, no, dear. Cecile is fine. She’s with Beatrice.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Because of this.” Marc held up another newspaper. “Aside from my show of temper with the cameraman, it covers the ‘palace baby’ and cites an anonymous source who claims he or she has proof that the child is yours and mine.”

Kate closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and pointer finger. “I was afraid this might happen.”

“This is not your fault, Kate,” Mary said. “The media know no restraint where our family is concerned. Some people delight in creating false rumors to discredit us.”

Kate looked up to see indisputable anger in Marc’s expression and regretted not telling him about Jonathan’s comments. “The source is probably Renault. He made the first insinuations three days ago.”

Marc’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you not tell me after this happened?”

“Because I didn’t want to upset you further.”

“You can bloody well believe I am upset.”

“Settle down, Marcel,” Mary scolded. “Kate does not deserve your anger. She was only doing what she thought was best for you.”

Kate turned her attention to Mary because it was too painful to look at Marc. “Is there anything I can do? Maybe an interview?”

Mary gave her a sympathetic look. “No, my dear. We will have to allow this gossip to run its course until we can come up with our own retraction.”

“Or the proof that Cecile is Philippe’s child,” Marc added.

“And what purpose would that serve?” Mary asked.

“To clear Kate’s name. And mine.”

Kate felt as if she were being pulled into a human tug-of-war. “Don’t worry about me, Marc. I can cope with this.”

He sent her a hard look. “Can you?”

Mary wrapped her arm around Kate’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “She most certainly can, Marcel. Kate is a mature, strong woman. I have no doubt she will deal with the situation with grace.”

Kate wished she had Mary’s confidence. “I’ll do whatever you instruct me to do. I promise I won’t speak to anyone without consulting you first.”

“Of course, dear. We trust you. We simply wanted to forewarn you and have Marcel escort you back to the palace.” Mary dropped her arm from Kate’s shoulder and stared at Marc. “And you will be courteous to the doctor. In the meantime, I will return home to check on our charge. I’m certain Beatrice would appreciate someone to relieve her.”

Kate saw her chance to escape. She didn’t want to talk to Marc until he’d had time to calm down. “Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go. I can help.”

“I need to see you first. Alone.”

Marc’s command caused Kate to stiffen from the fury she sensed building just below the surface of his composed demeanor. She wasn’t afraid of Marc; she was afraid she couldn’t find the words to reason with him. But she had to try.

“Okay. I can do that,” she said.

“Take your time,” Mary said as she headed away. “I will tell the guards to remain posted outside and have Nicholas return for you after he has delivered me to the palace.”

Once Mary was out of sight, Kate gestured toward the office. “Let’s go in here so we can have some privacy.”

Marc stepped inside the room and reclined against the desk, arms folded across his chest. Kate closed the door and leaned back against it for support.

“You should have told me about Renault. We might have prevented the rumors from escalating, or at least been better prepared.”

“The damage was already done by the time the press got to me,” Kate said. “And again, I didn’t say anything about Renault because I knew you had already reached the boiling point.”

“It’s been three days, Kate. You could have told me in that length of time.”

Her own anger rose to the surface. “How was I supposed to do that? You haven’t been around. It’s hard to tell someone something when that someone refuses to talk.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“So have I, Marc.”

“I know. And that, too, is my fault.” His anger melted into resignation. “I should probably claim Cecile is my child and allow the council to do as they see fit with me.”

Kate was only now beginning to recognize that a scandal of this proportion—real or fabricated—could do irrevocable injury to Marc’s standing as a leader. She should have realized that he was no different from any man in power, even if he had been born into the responsibility. “They can’t oust you, can they?”

“No, but they can make it difficult for me to accomplish anything from this point forward. I rely on their complete support. Without it, I am only a figurehead.”

“Then fight them.”

“What would be the point?”

Kate sent him an incredulous look. “What would be the point? Because you’re good at what you do. Because you want to make your country a better place. You care about your people. Everyone knows that.”

“You’re making a huge assumption.”

Stubborn man. “I’m not illiterate, Marc. I read the papers. I’ve followed your rise to power. I know how much you’ve been admired in your diplomatic endeavors, and your recent reputation as a strong leader.”

“You’ve forgotten my reputation of being a womanizer. That seems to have taken precedence in my adulthood.”

“Until Philippe died. Since then, you’ve gained respect from world leaders.”

“I’ve achieved nothing, Kate, at least in the eyes of my people. They will not forgive this.”

Kate threw up her hands and released a frustrated sigh. “Okay, Marc. Give up, if that’s what you want to do. I’m certainly not going to stop you. Just don’t expect me to stand by and watch you self-destruct.”

Though it was the hardest thing she’d ever done, Kate turned away from him. She saw no sense in trying to convince him to fight, not when he seemed so against undertaking the battle—one he would have to face alone, by his choice.

Kate only got as far as the door when Marc slammed his palm against the facing, preventing her from opening it. “I need you to understand, Kate.”

She turned and saw a pain in his eyes that stole her breath. “I do understand, Marc, more than you give me credit for. I just can’t stand the thought of you throwing in the towel. You can’t back down now, not when you have so much to lose.”

“Right now, I would gladly walk away, but you’re right. I owe it to my country to fight. I owe it to Philippe’s memory.”

“You owe it to yourself, Marc. This is only a temporary situation. We’ll get through it together. We’re both strong enough, and we’re a good team.”

He touched her face with tenderness. “I don’t know what I have done right in this lifetime to have you on my side, especially after the way I’ve treated you of late. And I am sorry for that.”

“I know. I also know you’re a good man with a huge burden to bear. And you’ll be a good father to Cecile. She needs you, too, even if she’s not your child.”

“And I need you. More than you realize.”

Kate waited to experience the suffocation, the resentment of someone needing her. It didn’t come.

She doubted Marc was inclined to ask for help very often—partly from pride and partly from trying to prove he could go it alone. The admission seemed to be costing him a lot, evident in the uneasiness in his expression. And if she could help him, she would. She loved him that much.