‘I can handle it.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ she whispered. ‘But oh, Marc, it’ll hurt.’ She considered for a moment and then came to a decision. ‘Okay. Yesterday we worked on emergency principles. In a life or death situation a doctor can’t be sued. An overseas doctor can step in at need. Today’s probably not an emergency, but if you work as my official assistant—under supervision—there shouldn’t be a problem.’
Ellie’s assistant... It sounded good to him.
‘There’s nothing I’d like better.’
‘Then don’t smile at me like that,’ she snapped, suddenly angry. ‘Because when you do—’
‘When I do—what?’
‘When you do, I feel like I have no business to feel what I feel,’ she managed and her voice wobbled. ‘Marc, I have no intention of ever feeling like I did ten years ago, but we can work together. Let’s see to this appendix and then move on.’
* * *
Rebecca Taylor was thirteen years old and terrified. She was retching when Marc and Ellie walked into the ward. When the retching eased she cringed back into herself, folding into the foetal position.
‘Hey,’ Ellie said, stooping and brushing her hair from the girl’s face, removing the bowl, putting her face at the level of Rebecca’s. She had obviously been retching for a while; she was producing nothing. ‘Becky, hugs. This is horrid. We’re here to get it sorted, to get this pain to stop. Do you mind if Dr Falken takes a look at you? He’s a surgeon. He’s also my friend, and he’s good.’
The words gave Marc a jolt. He’s also my friend, and he’s good. It was a normal thing for one doctor to say of a colleague. Why did it sound different coming from Ellie? Why did it sound...more?
He glanced at Becky’s parents and saw their shoulders ease. The way Ellie had introduced him was a reassurance all on its own.
And, through her pain, Becky’s attention was caught. ‘He’s the doc from yesterday? The one they’re all talking about?’ Despite her distress she looked across at Marc. ‘He’s...he’s cute.’
‘He is, isn’t he?’ Ellie said smoothly. ‘And he’s a very good doctor. He’s a surgeon, which I’m not, and we think you may have appendicitis, which is something surgeons are good at. I’ll stay with you, but is it okay if Dr Falken examines you?’
The fear surged back. ‘Mum?’
Becky’s mum took her daughter’s hand. ‘You can do this, Becky,’ she whispered. ‘Relax and let Dr Falken fix the problem.’
‘Let’s see your tummy,’ Marc told her. ‘Becky, I need you to tell me if my hands are cold. I’m known for warm hands but sometimes my central heating lets me down. Chris has told you she thinks it’s appendicitis? You know you don’t need your appendix. You would if you were a rabbit and ate grass but I can’t see you as a grass-eating type of girl. If you let me check your tummy, and I find that Chris is right, it’s simply a matter of popping you to sleep, nicking the appendix out and popping it into a jar so you can gross out your friends. Then you get a couple of weeks off school while your mum and dad spoil you rotten. Would that be okay?’
He had Becky mesmerised. She gave him a weak smile and managed to roll so her tummy was available for inspection. ‘You heard that, Mum?’ she whispered. ‘Would that mean a new video game? Of my choice?’
‘I guess,’ her mum said with a wavering smile at her husband. ‘If that’s what the doctor says.’
‘That’s what both doctors say,’ Ellie told them. ‘Thanks, Becky. Okay, Dr Falken, rub those hands until they’re warm and let’s get on with it.’
* * *
Marc gently probed Becky’s abdomen. She let him press and then cried out in pain as he released the pressure.
Rebound.
Ellie had thought she was doing Marc a favour by asking him to help, but now the favour was reversed. Rebound was a sign that the appendix had burst. She could send Becky to Sydney but the longer they waited the more the infected matter would spread.
So once again Marc was in the operating theatre. This time Ellie gave the anaesthetic while Chris assisted.
Becky was a healthy thirteen-year-old. Anaesthetising and intubating was relatively straightforward. Ellie had time to watch.
There was no doubting this man was good. His fingers were nimble, sure, skilled as he removed the mess of an appendix. There was no hesitation. If she’d had to operate she’d have struggled. Someone more skilled might well have had to go in after her.
Oh, to have someone like this working beside her.
And that made her think. To work beside Marc every day...
That had been a dream from a long time ago. Some time during their honeymoon—a few days spent on the beach at Bondi—they’d planned a future where they set up a hospital together, where they worked side by side, where they were partners in every sense of the word.
But then the world had stepped in, as it had stepped in again now.
What Marc was doing was brilliant. He’d removed the gangrenous appendix and was cleaning the cavity with scrupulous care. He couldn’t have been more careful if he’d been operating on the King himself.
The King himself... That was what he was.
His role must be vital, Ellie conceded, but part of her was thinking, What a waste. To lose the skill those fingers possessed...
‘All done,’ Marc pronounced. While Ellie had been mostly silent, lost in her own thoughts, he and Chris had been chatting like long-term workmates. Now he took the prepared sutures from Chris and grinned. Procedure done, he had time to relax. ‘Want to watch my needlework?’ he demanded. ‘My mama taught me. If you’re going to be a doctor then you learn the basics, she told me, and she had me stitching samplers when boys my age were out playing football. I thought it was sissy.’
‘There’s nothing sissy about you now,’ Chris said soundly and glanced at Ellie. ‘I can see why Ellie fell for you.’
‘For my needlework? Maybe,’ he said and his smile died. ‘Not so much for my partner potential.’ He went back to concentrating on giving Becky a hairline closure that would hardly mar her bikini line.
And Ellie thought... Ellie thought...
She thought about this town. She thought about her nice, controlled life.
And she thought it was time she got back to not thinking about Marc at all.
* * *
With Becky regaining consciousness, with IV and antibiotic lines set up, with Chris and Becky’s parents in attendance, there was nothing more for Marc to do. Ellie, on the other hand, had a queue for a now very late afternoon clinic.
She was stressed, she was tired—she’d hardly slept the night before—and she needed to get away from Marc. His presence had her so confused she couldn’t think.
‘Can I help here too?’ he asked.
‘Thanks, but I can cope.’ She hesitated, knowing she’d sounded brusque. ‘But maybe you’d like to collect Felix after school? If you like I can phone his teacher and have him expect you. You can spend a couple of hours telling him about his new future.’
‘Thank you,’ he said gravely. ‘I’d like that.’ And then, ‘Ellie, I need to go back to Falkenstein tomorrow. Can we have dinner tonight?’
‘I do evening surgery on Tuesday.’ She glanced at her watch, and he saw her hand suddenly tremble. ‘Marc, I’m sorry but I need to go.’
And what was he to say to that?
She was heading back to her medicine.
As mother to the Crown Prince she’d be entitled to a life of luxury. There’d be no need for her to do a thing for the rest of her life except support her son.
He’d tell her that, but he knew already how she’d take it. She’d look at him and return to the medicine she loved.
How jealous was he?
He wouldn’t see her again for a month. She was moving out of
his life again.
It did his head in.
He’d vowed to take this woman to him, for as long as we both shall live. The divorce papers should have negated that, but somehow they hadn’t. More than anything in the world he wanted to gather her in his arms and claim her. It felt as if she belonged.
‘Goodbye then, Ellie,’ he managed and she looked at him calmly, gravely.
‘The next few weeks will be hard for you.’
She understood? Of course she did. This woman knew how desperately he’d wanted to be a doctor. And now, instead of the medicine that was a part of him, he was facing the overwhelming responsibilities of head of state. ‘They’ll be fine,’ he managed, even though he knew they’d be hard to the point of unbearable.
‘We’ll be thinking of you. Me and Felix. Best of luck in learning to be King.’
‘I—’ He stopped and smiled ruefully. ‘Thank you.’
‘It can’t be harder than first-year internship.’ She tried a smile in return. ‘The first time you faced a rowdy drunk needing stitches was trial by fire. What could be worse than that? As doctors we’ve all been there. All else pales.’
‘Ellie...’ He could hardly get his voice to work.
‘You’ll do brilliantly,’ she said, and then to his astonishment she stepped forward and kissed him. It was a feather touch, a mere brushing of lips on lips, and she pulled away fast before he could respond.
‘Best of luck,’ she said and she smiled at him. ‘You’ll make a great king, Your Majesty. See you in Falkenstein.’
CHAPTER SIX
ELLIE HAD BEEN on a plane four times in her life. They’d been short flights to Sydney to attend conferences, sitting in the cheap seats. This flight was different. To say she was nervous would be an understatement.
But Felix wasn’t nervous at all. Newly out of his wheelchair, he gloried in this new adventure. He spent hours with his nose glued to the window, explaining to Ellie that Siberia was underneath and he was sure he’d just seen a polar bear. He made friends with everyone. He slept for eight hours in his gorgeous first class bed, his braced leg straight out and safe, and as the plane landed in Falkenstein he was quivering with excitement.
Ellie was quivering too, but it wasn’t with excitement.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, we’re privileged to be carrying members of Falkenstein’s royal family on this flight. If you could all please stay seated until they disembark...’
The announcement took her breath away.
Members of the royal family. Members, plural.
Felix was still on crutches, but he was clean and brushed and as prince-like as she was able to get him. He might almost qualify as a baby prince.
Ellie was wearing her customary black trousers, white shirt and black jacket. She’d twisted her curls into a knot, as severe as she could make it. Royal family? Ha!
‘This is nothing to do with me,’ she told herself. ‘I’ll stay in the background.’ She took a deep breath, put her hands firmly on Felix’s shoulders and led him out of the plane. And in that instant she knew staying in the background would be impossible.
A red carpet lined the steps. A crowd of dignitaries and media was waiting below.
And Marc was there.
The first time she’d seen Marc he’d been wearing a simple suit, shirt and tie. His dark hair had been in need of a cut. He’d just finished med school and that was what he’d looked like. She’d thought he looked gorgeous. But now...
It wasn’t fair, Ellie thought, as she blinked in the sunlight, trying to get her head around this new Marc. If she’d seen him like this the first time she’d met him she’d have run a mile.
Because this man was beyond gorgeous.
She knew he’d been part of Falkenstein’s army, working as a medic, so she should have expected the uniform, but this was no ordinary uniform. Tassels, gilt, medals...
Oh, for heaven’s sake... She wanted to get back into the plane, now.
But Felix had no such reservations. Over the past weeks he’d spent time on the phone to his new-found father. He’d decided he approved, and Marc in uniform clearly met with more of the same.
‘Wow! Papa!’
Marc waved and grinned and formality went out of the window. He ran lightly up the plane steps, reached Felix and scooped him off his feet to hug him. Crutches clattered aside, unneeded.
The assembled media went nuts. A hundred-odd cameras were pointed in their direction.
She almost abandoned Felix to his fate. Almost. But this was her baby. She wasn’t about to hand him over and run.
Marc was setting him down, holding his shoulders with pride—as if he’d been Felix’s father all his life.
Which she supposed he had been, biologically speaking, but still...
And then he smiled at her and she forgot to think of Felix. Who could think of anything past that smile?
‘Hey,’ he said and his smile was a caress all by itself. ‘Ellie. Welcome to Falkenstein. How was the flight?’
‘It was awesome,’ Felix answered for her. ‘I saw a bear and I watched two movies. I had a whole bed and I have a bag full of free stuff. Toothpaste. Earplugs. You want to see?’
‘Absolutely,’ Marc said, still smiling at Ellie. His smile was a question, though. ‘But first, Ellie, I’m sorry but the press got wind of your arrival. Which explains the media, the limousines down there, and my uniform. This is the anticipated arrival of the heir to the throne.’
‘You could have warned me,’ she muttered. ‘I look...’
‘You look great.’
‘Says the guy with the gold tassels.’
‘They come with the job description.’
‘I’m a prince now,’ Felix interjected importantly. ‘Can I have tassels? And medals?’
‘Yes to the tassels but you need to earn your medals,’ Marc told him. ‘Starting now. We need to look royal and wave to the cameras. Ellie...’
‘I’ll go back inside,’ Ellie muttered. ‘You two get all the pictures you want. I’m an outsider.’
‘You’re not,’ Marc said gently. ‘You’re the mother of the heir to the throne of Falkenstein and you’ll be accorded all honour. As is your right. Felix, you do need to earn your medals, but your mother should have them pinned to her right now.’ And, before she knew what he was about, he took her hand and tugged her around to face the media below. Felix stood before them with Marc’s hand on his shoulder. Mother and father and son.
One royal prince in his regimentals. One child who’d one day inherit the throne.
One scared doctor in a suit that needed replacing, with shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep, with all the worry of the world in her heart.
But Marc’s arm came around her waist and he smiled at the cameras and there was nothing for it. Ellie smiled too.
She was so far out of her comfort zone she felt as if she might be about to fall off.
The only thing securing her was Marc’s arm and that felt dangerous too.
Prince Marc, Crown Prince of Falkenstein. Dr Falken. Her ex-lover and ex-husband.
None of the descriptions seemed to fit. All she knew was that, for now, he was holding her and she needed that hold to steady her.
How had she ever got herself into this mess?
* * *
They drove in a limousine to the castle. A sober-faced, dark-suited bodyguard sat beside a uniformed driver. Two dark cars drove front and rear, and armed outriders rode motorbikes beside them.
‘Is this necessary?’ Ellie managed.
‘Royalty comes with a price,’ Marc told her. ‘Constant security is part of it. But don’t worry. For the next few weeks all you need to do is take a holiday. Enjoy yourself.’
‘Like that’s possible in a million years,’ she muttered
and then Felix bounced in with information about the flight. He and Marc proceeded to chat about Siberia and bears and an alien movie while Ellie pressed her nose against the window and wondered what she’d got herself into.
The country seemed beautiful. Falkenstein was a tiny kingdom, bordered by massive mountain ranges. The villages they were passing through were full of weathered stone cottages, beautiful churches, quaint shops.
‘We have modern centres,’ Marc told her, interrupting his conversation with Felix to cut across her thoughts. ‘But this approach to the castle is tourist country. We play to it.’
‘And why wouldn’t you?’ she murmured. Then the cavalcade rounded a bend and the palace was just...there.
As if it were hanging in the clouds, it was a fairy tale high on the cliffs, its white stone glistening in the afternoon sun, all turrets and spires and multi-coloured pennants waving gaily in the breeze.
It was vast. It was beautiful.
It took her breath away.
‘Wow,’ Felix breathed and Ellie thought she couldn’t have said better herself. ‘Do people really live here?’
‘I live here,’ Marc said ruefully.
‘And do you have servants and butlers and...stuff?’
‘Yes, we do.’
‘Awesome,’ Felix breathed. ‘Wait till I tell the guys back home. Do you have horses and swords and dungeons?’
‘I believe we do.’
‘Wow. Mum, isn’t this awesome?’
‘Awesome indeed,’ Ellie managed and glanced across at Marc.
He was the Crown Prince, complete with tassels and medals and epaulettes and whatever else those decorations on his dress uniform were.
He was smiling with what might even be understanding, but she wasn’t in the mood for understanding. No one could possibly know what she was feeling right now.
The only word she could think of was panic.
‘If you look down to your left, you’ll see a modern red-roofed building beside the river,’ Marc told her, and she looked, even though the castle kept drawing her gaze, terrifying the life out of her.
A building with a red roof. Okay, she had it. It seemed to be set in some sort of park leading down to the river.
Reunited with Her Surgeon Prince Page 7