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

Marc released a gruff sigh. “My mother was about to say that the night he died, I was in Germany on a diplomatic mission. He suffered severe internal injuries in the car crash. He lost too much blood and I didn’t arrive in time to give him some of my own.”

Kate’s heart went out to Marc in that moment. She couldn’t think of anything to say to ease his guilt, so she said nothing.

“Dr. Martine can provide all the medical records since he’s the royal physician,” Mary said. “We can trust him to be discreet.” She paused before adding, “And I assume we can trust you as well, Dr. Milner?”

Marc moved closer to Kate, a purely defensive gesture. “Mother, Kate is a physician. She is accustomed to confidentiality.”

Mary arched a thin brow. “Kate? How well do you know each other?”

Oh, heavens. If she didn’t set the record straight, the queen mother might assume she was Marc’s lover. Worse, she might believe Kate had parental ties to the child considering the timing. “Actually—”

“Kate, forgive my mother. She might be descended from genteel British aristocracy, but she has the bluntness of a barrister pleading a monumental case.”

The queen mother patted his cheek, a true display of fondness that took Kate by surprise in light of their recent confrontation. “And so do you, mon fiston .”

“In case you haven’t noticed, Mother, I am no longer your little boy.”

“Yes, you are a man now and clearly responsible for your actions.”

“Kate and I knew each other at the university,” Marc continued, obviously not willing to react to the innuendo, much to Kate’s relief. “I assure you that we have not seen each other in years.”

“We were college lab partners,” Kate interjected. “Only friends.”

Finally, Marc smiled. “And she’s come to Doriana to join our hospital staff.”

The baby wriggled and gave a whine of protest. Kate wanted to do the same since she hadn’t exactly agreed to take the job. “I think we should wait until morning to do the tests. She’s been through enough today.” And so have I, Kate thought.

The queen mother patted her neat silver chignon, her features mellowing when she smiled at Kate. “Welcome, my dear. We are very pleased to have you.”

Kate considered insisting that she hadn’t made her final decision, but with the queen mother and king looking at her expectantly, she felt as if she had no choice.

She would agree to take the position—for the time being. If it got too hot in the castle kitchen, if it turned out the baby was Marc’s and he’d left some woman high and dry, alone and pregnant, she would have to reconsider. She couldn’t respect a man who would do that, even if she did crave his company.

“Thank you. I’m very glad to be here.”

For now.

Marc spent the remainder of the afternoon making numerous queries, only to learn that no one seemed to know who had delivered the baby at the gates. He called Louis Martine and explained the situation, then arranged to meet him early in the morning at the hospital for Kate to run the tests. Louis had assured him that he would practice prudence when it came to gathering records and assisting in trying to determine the baby’s parentage. Marc had no choice but to trust him. He could not say the same for the rest of the hospital staff, Renault particularly, so they would have to proceed with caution.

Frustrated and exhausted, Marc set off to locate his mother and Kate, who had insisted on staying to care for the baby. Beatrice directed him up the stairs to what was once his and Philippe’s nursery, but which had long ago been transformed into a guestroom. He entered to find Kate sitting in a rocker, holding the sleeping child against her shoulder. She put a fingertip to her lips as she rose and laid the little girl in the nearby crib. The baby stirred a bit and Kate remained there for a while, patting the child’s back and cooing like a dove. After a time, she turned away and signaled him to join her in the hall.

Once there, she shut the door behind them and sighed. “I think she’s finally down for the count. It took a while. Apparently she’s used to someone rocking her to sleep.”

Marc rubbed his neck, trying to work away the tension coiled there, to no avail. “I suspect her mother had that duty, whoever she might be.”

“I’m sure you’re right. And obviously Cecile’s been well cared for. She looks very healthy. I’ll do a full exam tomorrow, just to be sure.”

Marc glanced at the closed door. “I’m surprised at how quickly you’ve made the room into a nursery again.”

Kate shrugged. “I didn’t do anything but play with Cecile while the staff moved in the furniture.”

“My mother must have called in all her favors to have a crib delivered so quickly.”

“The crib was yours.”

“I had no idea my mother kept it.”

“She obviously cares a great deal for you,” Kate said softly.

Marc acknowledged that his mother had always cared about him, but after the events of the day, he questioned whether she respected him. “By the way, where is she?”

“She had a terrible headache so I insisted she go to bed. I’m sure it’s stress.”

No doubt due to the situation, and him. “I hope we clear this up soon. She’s been through quite a lot over the past year with Philippe’s death. And now this.”

He saw true sympathy in Kate’s emerald eyes. “Yes, she has been through a lot, and so have you.”

How unselfish for her to consider his feelings, Marc thought. A rare occurrence in the household. “I’ve adjusted.” He’d been forced to adjust. No time to consider anything but duty. No time to really grieve.

“Are you sure you’ve adjusted?” she asked.

No, he wasn’t, yet the time to assess his situation would probably continue to elude him. “Of course.”

Kate hid a yawn behind her hand. “I’m so sorry.”

Marc felt like a selfish fool. “No apology necessary. You must be exhausted from your trip.”

Her ensuing smile tripped Marc’s pulse into a frenzy. “Yes, I am tired. Beatrice has agreed to sleep in the room adjacent to the nursery in case Cecile wakes during the night. Do you think Mr. Nicholas could drive me back to the hotel?”

Marc wasn’t ready for her to leave. He wanted to spend more time with her even knowing it was selfish on his part, and totally ill-advised. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like to stay here considering the lateness of the hour?”

“My clothes are at the hotel and I really need a bath.”

Marc did not need to imagine her in the bath, but he did—in great detail, right down to the curve of her hip, the shading between her thighs, the roundness of her breasts where his gaze now came to rest.

Kate pointed to a dark smudge above her right breast. “Strained peas. Little Cecile is a healthy eater but she loves to toss food. Her aim is pretty darned good.”

Marc reached for a lock of Kate’s dark hair. “Yes, I do believe I see a few remnants here.”

As he twined the soft strands in his fingers, their gazes remained fixed as Kate said, “I’m only a phone call away if you need anything.”

Marc needed something from her now—although he couldn’t act on that need. He dropped his hand and stepped back. “I will personally see to your return. I’ll drive you myself.”

Her expression reflected wariness. “Are you sure? You look pretty beat.”

“I promise I will stay awake long enough to make certain you are delivered safely to your room.”

And he promised himself that he would leave her at the door because if he did not, he would find it very difficult to leave her at all tonight.

Three

A cool breeze whipped over Kate’s face as they traveled the darkened streets of St. Simone in Marc’s classic convertible chick magnet. No slick, mean, manly machine had ever turned her head. She preferred comfortable sedans and comfortable shoes, which reminded her of the less-than-comfortable pumps squeezing her feet like a sadistic vise. She was tempted to kick them off but thought it best to leave on all articles of clothing, in case Marc got the wrong idea.