by Kristi Gold
Renault’s smile was cynical. “I assure you, Dr. Milner, I know all the workings of procreation. You have still not answered my question. To whom does this child belong?”
Think quick, Kate. “Actually, she belongs to me.”
Renault raised one bushy eyebrow. “Martine did not mention you have a child.”
“Well, I do, and this is her. Cecile.”
He stroked his pointy chin. “Ah, Cecile. A very fine French name. Is your husband French?”
“I don’t have a husband.” And that wasn’t a lie.
“The baby’s father, then?”
“He’s not in the picture.” An understatement in the first order.
Renault gave Kate a slimy visual once-over, fitting for a human slug. “I must say, you are in very fine shape given the age of this child. I admire you for that. In fact, I admire everything about you.”
Kate resisted telling him where to stuff his admiration. “Thank you.” She had to get away before he asked more questions. “I really need to get her home for her morning nap. But first, I have a few tests I need to run.”
“Is she ill?”
“No. Just routine labs.”
“I would be more than happy to assist you.”
“I believe Dr. Milner is quite capable of working alone, Renault.”
Kate turned to see Marc sporting a look that could wither the overhead light.
Renault didn’t look the least bit concerned over Marc’s presence or his sharp tone. “I am most certain, Your Highness, Dr. Milner is quite capable in all that she endeavors. I was simply trying to be accommodating.”
Marc balled his hands into fists at his sides. “She doesn’t need your assistance, I assure you.”
Renault turned back to Kate, bowed slightly and kissed Cecile’s hand. “You are a lovely girl, Cecile.”
Kate wanted to cheer when Cecile pulled her hand away and hid her face against Kate’s shoulder. Either she had stranger phobia or good instincts. Kate assumed the latter, considering she had taken to Kate, Marc and his mother without hesitation.
Before Renault passed Marc at the door, Marc told him, “You will practice the utmost in decorum where Dr. Milner is concerned or you will answer to me. Is that clear?”
Renault sent Kate a lecherous glance, then glared at Marc. “Quite clear, Your Majesty. I do not intend to tread on another man’s territory.”
With that, he was gone and Marc looked as if he could blow a fuse when he faced Kate again. “Did he do anything inappropriate?” he demanded.
Kate considered telling him about Renault’s intimations but decided to wait until later when she was assured they were alone. “His kind are a dime a dozen and I know how to handle them.”
“And you will tell me if he is the least bit out of line.” It wasn’t a request.
“I promise I’ll tell you if I have to hurt him.” She handed Marc the baby and smiled. “Now you go with your…king, Cecile, and I’ll be back later today.” She kissed the baby’s cheek one last time and reined in her urge to do the same to Marc. “Be a good girl, sweetie. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“I’m certain she’ll look forward to your return.” Marc leaned toward Kate’s ear and whispered, “And so will I, so hurry.”
Then Marc left the room, leaving Kate standing alone in a state of confusion. Couldn’t Marc make up his mind? He was making her head spin with his no-we-can’t and yes-we-will attitude. He did want her; that was becoming apparent to Kate each time they were together. Yet he kept saying he couldn’t have her. But if Marc’s resistance completely waned, how far would she allow things to go, since she recognized it wouldn’t be more than a fling? Did she dare make love with him?
Yes. No question about it. She wasn’t looking for a knight’s rescue, only a night of incredible lovemaking. A little adventure. She wanted to experience true freedom in his arms without worrying about pleasing anyone aside from herself—and Marc DeLoria.
She shivered thinking about it, thinking about him, thinking about all the ways he could take her places she’d never been before.
Imagine that, making love with a king. Now if only the king would cooperate.
Five
After Kate conducted the lab tests, Dr. Martine asked if she could possibly see some patients—minor cases, most involving common colds and well-baby checks. She agreed and was accompanied by a very nice Australian-born nurse named Caroline, who aided Kate in interpreting conditions of those who spoke only French or Castilian, and there were more than a few.
By that afternoon, Kate was high on adrenaline but still concerned about the language barriers. She made a mental note to get out the tapes and books to study when she had a spare minute. If she ever had a spare minute. She also needed to call home soon. She hadn’t spoken with her mother, hadn’t even told her that she’d accepted the position. Kate refused to perceive that as a problem. It was high time for her family to learn to live without her constant attention.
Fortunately, Renault had been scarce during the day, which was probably the reason why the clinic had been running so far behind, not that Kate had minded his absence or treating his patients. She’d welcomed rejoining the world of medicine—and avoiding confronting Marc with the knowledge she now held—the test results.
After arriving back at the palace, she waited in Marc’s private study with that knowledge while Mr. Nicholas summoned the king. It could be a while, Nicholas had told her, since Marc had gone out for a drive. Kate assumed this was Marc’s only means to relax—or to escape. And when he found out that Cecile shared his rare blood type, he might climb back into his coveted car and keep driving.
Kate milled around the office, pulling various books from the shelves, mainly from nervousness instead of real interest. Most involved business acumen, as far as she could tell, since all were written in French. Except for one well-worn English volume of Hamlet that looked as though it had been handed down through the generations. Ironic, Kate decided, since to be or not to be was definitely the question of the moment in terms of Marc’s possible parental ties to Cecile.
Yet he’d been so adamant he wasn’t Cecile’s father that Kate almost believed him. In some ways she still did, since she really had no reason not to take him at his word. She also knew that accidents happened, and unless Cecile’s mother came forward, they might never know the truth.
When the phone shrilled, Kate nearly jumped out of her functional black shoes. She waited while the phone rang again for someone to answer. Maybe she should answer it. It could be Marc’s private line and he might be calling her to say he’d been detained. If not, she would have to take a message.
But how should she answer? The DeLoria Residence? The King’s Office?
On the fourth ring, Kate leaned over the desk, grabbed the receiver and settled for a simple, “Hello.”
A long silence ensued until a breathy feminine voice asked, “Is this Marc’s secretary?”
Kate was overcome with an insane spark of jealousy. “No, this is not Marc’s secretary.”
The woman released a grating laugh. “Then you must be my replacement. I do hope you are taking advantage of Marc’s expertise. He is quite a skilled lover, isn’t he? Has he taken you to the little mountain cabin yet?”
Kate had no desire to confirm or deny anything to this woman, especially since she appeared to be one of Marc’s erstwhile lovers. “May I ask who’s calling?”
“Why, darling, this is Elsa,” she fairly purred.
As if that should mean something to Kate. “Well, Elsa, is there something I can do for you?” Darling.
“I am calling to see if Marc received the gift I had delivered to the palace.”
Gift? Surely she didn’t mean… “Does this gift happen to have blue eyes and blond hair?”
“Why yes, darling, it does. A little reminder of our time together. Tell Marc to enjoy.”
The line went dead and Kate could only stare at the receiver before slamming the phone back on
its cradle.
Obviously she had been wrong to believe Marc. Obviously this Elsa was Cecile’s mother, if you could actually call her that. What kind of woman would just drop her baby off at a gate and then leave? A heartless, cruel woman who didn’t have a maternal bone in her body.
Kate’s heart felt weighted with the knowledge that her questions had now been answered. Marc had fathered a child by some flighty femme fatale who had no business being a parent. And Kate dared Marc to deny his daughter now.
Marc couldn’t deny he was in a huge hurry to see Kate. He entered the palace through the back access at a fast clip, Nicholas dogging his every step. “Where is Dr. Milner now?”
“She is waiting in your study, Your Eagerness.”
Marc muttered an oath. “This is no time to joke, Nicholas. Did she seem concerned about anything?”
“Actually, she did seem a bit on edge.”
Striding down the corridor toward his office, Marc pulled his sunshades off his eyes and tossed them and his keys to Nicholas. “Have someone park the car, and make sure I am not disturbed until I say otherwise. Is that clear?”
Nicholas stopped outside the study and saluted. “I live to serve you.”
After sending Nicholas a harsh look—which the man did not seem to heed—Marc opened his office door to find Kate leaning back against his desk, her arms stiff at her sides and her eyes reflecting displeasure. Obviously Renault had used his torrid tactics to try to bed her, or she had confirmed Cecile’s blood type as his match and still believed he wasn’t being truthful.
After closing the door behind him and tripping the lock, Marc decided to begin with his concerns over her colleague. “Did Renault do something to you?”
“I didn’t see him again after your left. I did see a few patients after I typed Cecile’s blood.”
“Then you have the results?”
“Yes, and I also have a message for you.” Her tone was clipped and cool, devoid of welcome.
“A message?”
“From Elsa, darling. She called a few minutes ago. I answered the phone because I thought it might be you.”
Why in the devil was Elsa calling him? He’d made it quite clear that he wanted no contact from her, not that his demands had ever stopped her. “What did she want?”
Kate strolled around the room for a moment before facing him again. “She wanted to know if you received her gift, the one with blue eyes and blond hair. She had it delivered to the palace. So I suppose you could say the mystery of Cecile’s mother is solved.”
At first Marc was perplexed, until he realized what Elsa had been referring to. He couldn’t stop the chuckle, not a good thing to do considering the acid look Kate sent him. If her eyes were dueling pistols, he’d be a dead man.
Marc pushed away from the door, crossed the room and reached behind the armoire to retrieve the “gift” in hopes of clearing up this whole misunderstanding.
Grabbing the edge of the frame, he withdrew the photograph and presented it to Kate. “This is Elsa’s gift. An eleven-by-fourteen glossy from her recent photo shoot. You will note that she has blond hair and blue eyes.” And practically no clothes on aside from a skimpy swimsuit.
Kate took the picture from him and stared at it for a time before bringing her gaze back to Marc. “She considers this a gift?”
“Elsa considers herself a gift to all mankind.” He took the photo back and hid it away again behind the armoire before returning to Kate, maintaining some distance even though he wanted to kiss away her doubts. “She thought I would be interested enough to keep it as a reminder of our brief association. She was mistaken. I’ve meant to have Nicholas discard it, but I’ve not had the time with everything that’s been happening of late.”
“But you don’t deny you were lovers.”
“No, I cannot deny that.” He also couldn’t deny the jealousy in Kate’s tone, nor could he deny that on some level that pleased him.
She narrowed her eyes. “And there’s no way she could be Cecile’s mother?”
“There is as much chance of Elsa being a mother as there is a chance that her breasts are real.”
A hint of a smile teased at Kate’s full lips, but it didn’t quite form. “How can you be so sure?”
He offered his own smile, hoping to lighten the mood. “I happen to know when a woman has natural attributes.”
She frowned. “I meant about her not being Cecile’s mother.”
So much for his attempt at humor. “If Elsa had been pregnant, she would not have abandoned the baby. That much I know.”
“Then she’s not just another pretty ego?”
“Elsa is very self-absorbed and she would not risk an end to her modeling career with an unplanned pregnancy. She made it quite clear she never wanted any children. And if by some chance she’d chosen to have a baby, she would have turned it into a publicity campaign, especially if that baby were mine.”
Kate remained silent for a few moments as if attempting to digest the information. “Okay, I guess I believe you.”
She might as well have slapped him. “You guess? Have I not given you enough proof?”
“You’ve provided proof that Elsa probably isn’t Cecile’s mother. But I have the proof that odds are Cecile is either yours or Philippe’s child.”
As he’d suspected. “Then she has our blood type.”
“Yes. I confirmed the results with Dr. Martine.”
He saw mistrust in Kate’s eyes, and he hated that. “You must believe me when I tell you that Elsa was the last woman in my life for well over a year, and I have exercised the greatest care. The baby is not mine.”
“It doesn’t really matter what I believe.”
“It does to me.”
“Why?”
A difficult question, and one he had avoided asking himself. “Because you’re a very special person, Kate. I need you to trust me. I know that you hold the truth in very high esteem.”
Kate’s gaze faltered. “I’m not beyond telling a lie, Marc. In fact, I told one today. A big one.”
“You’ve lied to me?”
“Not you. Renault. When he came into the exam room, he started asking questions. I told him Cecile is my daughter.”
He could not have asked for a better plan. “That’s brilliant, Kate.”
“It is?”
“Yes. Perhaps now there won’t be any speculation in terms of Cecile’s parentage until someone comes forward with the truth.”
“If someone comes forward.”
Marc did not foresee that happening, at least not soon. It would be up to him to clear his name. “I doubt that will be the case, but it’s still imperative that we find out who the mother is. Chances are, my perfect brother was not so perfect after all.”
She sent him a severe look. “Are you doing this for Cecile or for yourself? Do you want to prove that Philippe wasn’t as innocent as he seemed? And if you do that, how will it affect your family?”
Kate’s honesty threw Marc mentally off balance. He hadn’t considered how the truth might affect his mother if they proved Philippe was Cecile’s father. “I need to put this issue to bed once and for all, for everyone’s sake. How I’ll handle the rest remains to be seen. First, I must attempt to find out the mother’s identity.”
“And how do you propose to do that?”
He had no right to ask, but Kate was his only hope. “With your help.”
“My help?”
“I’m only asking that you keep your ears open for any gossip. Perhaps search the hospital’s records for any mysterious woman who gave birth six to eight months ago. The staff in the palace might be forthcoming with information about my brother since you’re—”
“A commoner.”
“Yes, in a manner of speaking.”
“Then you’re asking me to do a little investigating in my spare time.”
“Only if you feel comfortable in doing so.”
“As long as we’ve absolutely ruled out your lover.”
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He took a step forward. “Former lover. It’s over between us, Kate.”
She slowly ran a fingertip along the edge of the desk, fueling Marc’s all-consuming desire for her. “Obviously you still have something she wants.”
“She wants attention and not necessarily only from me.”
Kate leaned back against the desk, using her arms as a brace, thrusting her breasts forward, driving Marc to distraction. “Are you sure about that? She’s very vocal about your skills as a lover. So are you, Marc?”
A fool? A man too weak to resist her charms? “Am I what?”
“A skilled lover?”
Marc was only certain about one thing—he couldn’t ignore Kate’s query, asked in a sensual voice that threatened his control. Couldn’t ignore her simple black slacks and plain white blouse that would be easy to remove. Couldn’t ignore the tightness in his groin when she streaked her tongue over her lower lip.
“I do not make it a habit to speculate on my skill,” he said, clinging to his last strand of restraint.
“Maybe I should judge for myself.”
“You have no idea what you’re asking, Kate.” He did know all too well she recognized the power she had over him at that moment, and he found that incredibly hard to resist.
She swept her dark hair away from her face with one hand. “You’re wrong, Marc. I know exactly what I’m asking, and so do you. Does your expertise live up to the hype? Are you a good lover?”
“Good is an interesting term. Good only comes when you do not aspire to be great.”
“Do you aspire to be a great lover, Marc DeLoria?”
“I refuse to settle for mediocrity in any of my endeavors.”
She challenged him with a look, dared him with a sultry smile, enticed him with words when she said, “Then prove it.”
Marc was losing his tenuous hold on his common sense. He only knew that if he didn’t get away from Kate now, he would kiss her—deeply and without reservation. Touch her without hesitation. Without consideration of the consequences. He had no call to want her as much as he did. He had too much to consider in light of his position and too little to offer her beyond mutual pleasure. But he did want her, and he’d be damned if he had her—or damned if he didn’t.