Her very own Mr. Darcy
As a rule, Gabrielle Cartier prefers the title “Dr.” to “Princess.” And when sexy surgeon Sullivan Darcy joins her humanitarian mission in the jungle, she’s desperate to explore their chemistry. Until sudden news of her brother’s abdication means Gabrielle must return home to rule!
Sullivan longs to offer Gabrielle the support she needs but the pain of loss haunts him. Yet she stirs long-dormant feelings in him, feelings that give him the courage to confront his demons...and the determination to win his princess!
Her own Mr. Darcy was pretty much looking like manna from heaven right now.
Gabrielle was lucky. She’d never had the same pressure her brother had—to find the perfect partner, settle down, marry and get ready to run a country.
Sixteen years of spotlight being the perfect princess in Mirinez had been enough. Medicine had been considered an “honorable” profession and she’d climbed on that plane to study medicine at Cambridge University breathing a huge sigh of relief. Since then she’d only returned for weddings, funerals and a few state events. Mirinez had lost interest in her. She hadn’t been in press reports for years. And that was exactly the way she wanted it to stay.
She pulled out a chair at the table and gestured for Sullivan to sit down. “Let’s focus on what needs to get done in the next two weeks.”
She shot him a smile. He stepped closer. His chest was barely inches from her nose and she caught a whiff of pure pheromones. Oh, she could pretty it up by saying it was a combination of soap, remnants of musk antiperspirant and some subtle cologne. But from the effect it was having on her senses it was 100 percent testosterone.
He didn’t seem worried about their closeness. In fact, she could almost bet that he thrived on it. The thin material covering his broad chest brushed against her arm as he sat down. “Like I said, tell me what you need, and I’m your guy.”
Dear Reader,
I really enjoyed writing The Doctor and the Princess—partly due to the fact I got to make up two countries, and partly because I got to write my first princess doctor!
Gabrielle isn’t supposed to take over her principality (and you do know that all made-up principalities are secretly Monaco!) but her brother has abdicated and she has no other choice. She hasn’t exactly shared the fact she’s a princess with her doctor colleagues, and the arrival of her security staff at the exact moment she’s about to get up close and personal with her own Mr. Darcy causes a stir.
Sullivan Darcy is the perfect hero, right down to his flaws. He’s a doctor who has served in the army and now works for Doctors Without Borders. The attraction between him and Gabrielle is pretty much instant. But beneath the surface Sullivan isn’t as smooth as he seems. He lost his dad two years ago and hasn’t taken time to grieve. His brain keeps pushing things away—he’s a doctor, he’s a guy, he shouldn’t be feeling like this. In this day and age depression is better recognized and known. It can affect anyone, of any sex, at any age and at any point in their life. That’s what I wanted to reflect in this story.
It turns out that Sullivan Darcy needs Gabrielle just as much as she needs him.
I love to hear from readers. Please feel free to contact me via my website, scarlet-wilson.com.
Love,
Scarlet Wilson
THE DOCTOR AND THE PRINCESS
Scarlet Wilson
Books by Scarlet Wilson
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A Touch of Christmas Magic
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The Doctor’s Baby Secret
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Harlequin Romance
Maids Under the Mistletoe
Christmas in the Boss’s Castle
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This book is dedicated to my Australian partners in crime—Rachael Johns and Emily Madden. Conferences have never been so much fun! Can’t wait for the next one x
Praise for Scarlet Wilson
“The book is filled with high-strung emotions, engaging dialogue, breathtaking descriptions and characters you just cannot help but love. With the magic of Christmas as a bonus, you won’t be disappointed with this story!”
—Goodreads on A Touch of Christmas Magic
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
EPILOGUE
EXCERPT FROM MIRACLE FOR THE NEUROSURGEON BY LYNNE MARSHALL
CHAPTER ONE
‘IT’S AN EMERGENCY, Sullivan, I swear.’
Sullivan let out a wry laugh as he shook his head and ran his fingers through his damp hair. ‘It’s always an emergency, Gibbs.’ He stared at the inside of the khaki tent.
Gibbs laughed too. ‘Well, this time it really is. Asfar Modarres collapsed. Some kind of intestinal problem. He was lucky we got him out in time.’
Sullivan started pacing. ‘Is he okay?’ He liked the Iranian doctor. He’d joined Doctors Without Borders around the same time as Sullivan. They’d never served together but he’d known him well enough to see his commitment and compassion for the job.
‘He should be fine. He had surgery a few hours ago.’ Gibbs sucked in a deep breath. Sullivan smiled. Here it comes.
‘Anyway, there’s two weeks left of the mission with only one doctor on site. We’re at a crucial stage. MDR TB is up to worrying levels in Nambura. We need another pair of hands.’
Sullivan shook his head as he paced. ‘I’m a surgeon, Gibbs. Not a medic. Last time I learned about TB I was in med school. I know virtually nothing about it, let alone the multi-drug-resistant strains.’
He wasn’t kidding. Ask him to wield a scalpel and he wouldn’t hesitate. As an army surgeon he’d operated on the most harrowing injuries, in the most dire of circumstances. No one had ever questioned his surgical abilities. He prided himself on it. But put him in a situation where he wasn’t the expert?
‘You’re a doctor, Sullivan—and that’s what I need. Anyway, there’s no one else I can send.’ Gibbs hesitated. ‘And there’s another issue.’
‘What?’
‘Nambura can be...difficult.’
Sullivan frowned. ‘Spit it out, Gibbs.’
‘The medic is Gabrielle Cartier. The two nurses Lucy Provan and Estelle Duschanel, the onsite pharmacist Gretchen Koch.’
Sullivan sucked in a breath and groaned. Four females on their own. Nambura tribes were very traditional. Some of the tribal leaders probably wouldn’t even talk to four Western women.
A female colleague had reported minor hostilities on a mission a few months ago. There was no way he’d leave the four of them there for the next two weeks with no back-up. His father would never have left fellow team members at risk and the same principles had been ingrained i
nto Sullivan all his life.
‘Okay, you got me. When can you arrange transport?’
Gibbs started talking quickly. ‘I’ll send you our latest information and protocols on MDR TB. You can read them en route. The helicopter will pick you up in fifty minutes.’
The line went dead as Sullivan stared at the phone. Fifty minutes. Gibbs had clearly already sent the transport before he’d made the call. It was almost as if he’d known Sullivan didn’t have anything to go home to.
His top-gun pilot father had died while Sullivan had been on his final tour of duty in Helmand Province. He’d flown home, watched his father buried with full military honours, completed his tour, then had signed up with Doctors Without Borders.
Three years later he’d only managed to go home for nineteen sporadic days. He still hadn’t emptied his father’s closets or packed up any of his things.
He flung the phone onto his bunk as he pulled his bag from the top of the locker.
Just as well he travelled light.
* * *
The music met his ears as the chopper lifted back up into the black night sky, flattening the trees all around him.
He tilted his head as he tried to recognise the tune and the direction from which it was coming. There was only one path from the landing spot leading through the trees.
He wound his way along it, the music getting louder with every step, until eventually he emerged into a clearing filled with familiar khaki tents identical to the ones he’d left a few hundred miles away and three hours ago.
He glanced around. The set-up rarely varied no matter where they were in the world. A mess tent. Bathrooms and showers. An operation centre and the staff quarters.
A flap was pinned back on the tent that seemed to be the epicentre of the noise. Sullivan’s curiosity was piqued.
She had her back to him. Which was just as well as his eyes were immediately drawn to her tanned bare legs. She was wearing a rose pink T-shirt tied in a knot at her hip, revealing the curves of her waist. Her dark hair was in a ponytail that bounced along with her movements. But it was the khaki shorts that had caught his eye. Judging from the frayed edging, they’d obviously once been a pair of trousers and he’d like to shake the hand of the person who had cut them.
On her feet was a pair of heavy black army boots and a pair of rumpled socks. And those legs just kept going and going.
She was bouncing on her toes now. She wasn’t just dancing to the beat of Justin Timberlake. Oh, no. She was singing at the top of her voice. And this wasn’t just a casual bop about the place. This was a whole dance routine.
He dropped his bag and folded his arms in amusement as she slid from one side to the other, mimicking the movements the world had seen a million times in the dance video. She had rhythm. She had style.
And she had his full attention.
There was no doubt about it. His blood was definitely flowing through his body a little quicker now. This emergency mission had just got a whole lot more interesting.
Something sparked in his brain. Recognition. He could practically feel the hormones surge through his body. He couldn’t stop the smile dancing around the edges of his lips. For the first time in a long time there was a spark. A something. If he could grab this sensation right now and bottle it, he would.
Who was she again? He filtered through the names Gibbs had given him. Gabrielle somebody? Although he’d been with Doctors Without Borders for three years, it was impossible to meet everyone. There were thirty thousand staff covering seventy countries. They saved lives by providing medical aid where it was needed most—armed conflicts, epidemics, natural disasters, and other crisis situations. There were also longer-term projects designed to tackle health crises and support people who couldn’t otherwise access health care. Every day was different. He’d just spent three months covering a burns unit. The mission before that had been in Haiti, offering free surgery. The time before that had been in a DWB hospital in Syria, dealing mainly with paediatrics.
She lifted her hands above her head, giving him a better glimpse of the indentation of her waist and swell of her hips in those shorts. He couldn’t help but smile. This girl knew how to dance.
If he’d seen her in a club he would have been mesmerised. Her hips sashayed to the music. Her head flicked from side to side. Her whole body was bouncing. If they’d been in a club, he might even have fought the temptation to step up behind her, press his body against hers and join in. But they weren’t in a club. They were in the middle of the Narumba jungle.
Her feet crossed in the clunky boots and she spun around. It was obviously meant to be a full circle, but she caught sight of the unfamiliar figure and stumbled midway.
His actions were automatic. He stepped forward and caught her elbow before she landed on the floor, pulling her up against him.
Her eyes were wide. Her skin soft. And the scent of roses drifted up around him. The hand that had shot out to break her fall had landed on his chest as he’d grabbed her.
For a second they were frozen in time. The music was pumping around them, the heat of the jungle rising between them, and the darkness of the night enveloping everything.
Her eyes were the darkest brown he’d ever seen. They suited her tanned skin and chocolate hair. It was only a split second, but the heat from the palm of her hand seemed to penetrate through his thin T-shirt straight to the skin on his chest. He sucked in a breath just as she stepped backwards.
* * *
‘Gabrielle?’
As if the stranger standing in front of her, looking like film-star material, wasn’t enough, the deep throaty voice sent a shudder of electrical pulses flooding through her system that started in the palm of her hand and shot a direct route to her fluttering heart.
It took a second to catch her breath again.
No, it took more than a second.
Darn it. He was smiling at her. A perfect straight-white-teeth kind of smile.
Her palm was tingling from where she’d made contact with the firm muscles on his chest. He was tall, lean and wide. She’d bet every part of him was as muscled as his chest.
He had a buzz cut—like someone from the army. In fact, she’d put money on it that he’d served in the military. He had that demeanour about him, that aura of confidence as he stood there in his khaki army-style trousers and a thin dark green T-shirt.
He held his hand out to her again. ‘May I have this dance?’ he joked.
She gave an inward shudder as her brain kicked into gear. She spun to turn the music down on her speakers. What must she look like?
In this area she spent twelve hours with clothes fastened up to her neck, not even revealing a glimpse of her ankles. By the time she got back to camp she needed an instant shower, a quick feed and clothes she could relax in.
She took a deep breath and turned around, regaining her composure and putting her game face into place.
She shook his hand and smiled. ‘Yes, I’m Gabrielle. But you have me at a disadvantage. We haven’t met before.’
He frowned. ‘You haven’t heard from Gibbs?’
She nodded and put her hand on her hips. ‘Oh, I heard.’ She lifted her hands in the air and made quotation marks, ‘You girls can’t stay there by yourselves. I’ll find you someone.’ She tilted her head to the side. ‘I’m assuming you’re the someone.’
He glanced around the tent as if he were sizing up the place. Then, in a move that only reinforced what she was thinking, he turned and looked outside at the camp, checking out the surroundings. Once he seemed satisfied he turned back to her. ‘I guess I am. I’m Sullivan Darcy.’
She couldn’t hide her smile. ‘Gibbs has sent me my own Mr Darcy?’
He raised his eyebrows as she continued. The accent was unmistakable. ‘US army?’
He nodded. ‘I was.
Now I’m with Doctors Without Borders.’
She walked over to a table and lifted some paperwork. ‘What’s your speciality? Medicine? Infectious diseases?’
He pulled a face. ‘You’ll hate this.’
Her stomach clenched. ‘Why?’
‘I’m a surgeon.’
‘Oh.’ Her stomach sank like a stone. In some circumstances a surgeon would be great but it was not exactly what she needed right now. She bit her bottom lip, trying to find the right words.
He stepped forward. ‘But if it helps I did a refresher and read all the protocols on the trip here. Just give me some instructions and a prescribing regime and I’m all yours.’
He held out his hands as if he were inviting her to step into them. For the first time in for ever the thought actually did cross her mind.
Missions were exhausting, the time off in between short and frantic. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt a buzz when she’d met someone. A connection. The chance to tease, the chance to flirt.
Her own Mr Darcy was pretty much looking like manna from heaven right now.
She was lucky. She’d never had the same pressure her brother had—to find the perfect partner, settle down, marry and get ready to run a country.
Sixteen years of being in the spotlight as the perfect princess in Mirinez had been enough. Medicine had been considered an ‘honourable’ profession and she’d climbed on that plane to study medicine at Cambridge University, breathing a huge sigh of relief. Since then she’d only returned for weddings, funerals and a few state events. Mirinez had lost interest in her. She hadn’t been in press reports for years. And that was exactly the way she wanted it to stay.
His green eyes met hers again. ‘That accent? French?’
She shrugged. ‘Close enough.’
She pulled out a chair at the table and gestured for him to sit down before he quizzed her any further. ‘Let’s focus on what needs to get done in the next two weeks.’
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