The Royal Doctor’s Bride

by Jessica Matthews

  As Henri silently exited, Ruark captured her queen.

  “Darn!” Gina muttered, a cute little wrinkle appearing on her forehead.

  He grinned. “Don’t lose heart. You still have your king.”

  While she contemplated her next move, Ruark watched her. The way she worried her lower lip with her teeth, drummed her fingers on the tabletop while touching the heads of her pieces with the other, amused him. She seemed determined not to let him win, or at least not win easily. True, she was a little rusty, as she’d claimed, but if they played on a regular basis, it wouldn’t be long before she became a formidable opponent.

  A few moves later, he pronounced, “Checkmate,” and the game was over.

  Gina leaned back in her chair. “I demand a rematch.”

  “OK, but first Henri’s refreshments are waiting.” He eyed the platter. “Good thing, because I’m starved.”

  He probably wouldn’t have been if he’d taken time for the light meal Henri had prepared before the ceremony, but after reading the latest news from Marestonia on the Internet, food had been the least of his worries. Making their marriage official had been all he’d cared about. He’d been ninety-nine percent sure Gina wouldn’t cry off, but that final one percentage point had nagged at him until he’d seen her at the back of the chapel.

  He’d never known relief like at that moment.

  He retrieved the champagne and handed a glass to Gina. “How about a strawberry?”

  “I’d love one.” She bit into the fruit he offered.

  “You really don’t play all that badly,” he said, taking a strawberry for himself. “Did your father teach you?”

  “Yes, although I’m not doing justice to his instructions.” She chuckled. “When I said I was rusty, I didn’t know I was this awful. I’m rather embarrassed.”

  “Would you rather try your luck at something else? Cards, backgammon, poker?” Oh, the possibilities of poker…

  “I prefer chess, unless you’re tired of my novice skills.”

  He grinned. “As long as I win, I don’t mind.”

  Two games later, with the food nearly gone and the wins all Ruark’s, Gina yawned. “One more match,” she begged.

  He shook his head, quite aware of his wife’s reluctance to go upstairs. “You’re half-asleep. You can see if you can best me tomorrow.” He tugged her to her feet. “Run along. I’ll be there shortly.”

  She nodded, then padded from the room as her dress swooshed gently with each step. After seeing her only in shapeless scrub suits, the moment she’d walked into the chapel wearing a dress that clung to her slight curves and revealed a pair of shapely legs, he’d been stunned. His imagination definitely hadn’t done her justice. And knowing that, he’d been hard pressed not to stare at her like a besotted fool.

  He downed the last of the champagne, wishing he’d imbibed enough to fall asleep the moment his head hit the pillow. How would he manage to keep his hands to himself as promised, when her light, floral scent tantalized him and her softness called his name?

  Fifteen minutes later, after stalling as long as he could, he flicked off the light switches and trudged upstairs in a state of combined anticipation and frustrated dread.

  In his room, he found Gina already in his four-poster bed, the sheet pulled to her waist. She’d left the bedside lamp on for him—such a wifely act—and he caught a glimpse of her negligee’s lacy bodice and the bare skin above it.

  Determined to act naturally in spite of his body’s immediate response, he stripped down to his shorts, flicked off the light, then slid into bed.

  For several moments, he lay there, as stiff as a board, aware of Gina doing the same, before he reached a decision.

  He rolled toward her, raised himself on one elbow and said, “Gina?”

  “Yes.” Her voice sounded tentative.

  “You were beautiful tonight.”

  He heard the smile in her voice. “Thank you. You were quite handsome and dashing yourself.”

  He scooted closer and felt tension radiating off her. “If you don’t relax, you’ll wake up stiff and sore in the morning.”

  Her soft sigh made him smile. “Probably.”

  “So, in the interests of our health…” In a lightning-fast move, he slid one arm under her neck and positioned her against him as he settled onto his back.

  She gasped, one hand splayed across his chest. “What…what are you doing?”

  He bussed her cheek. “Holding my wife so we can both sleep. Goodnight, Gina.”

  “Goodnight, Ruark.”

  For the next few minutes, he waited for a sign to indicate she’d fallen asleep, but none came. Her breathing hadn’t changed and she wiggled every so often as if to find a comfortable position.

  Her hand stroked his abdominal muscles and he gritted his teeth in a vain attempt to maintain control. What in the world had he been thinking? This whole exercise was to allow her to adjust to being in his bed, not drive him over the edge with desire.

  As Ruark lay beside her, his promise warred with his hormones, but he forced himself to freeze. Although he wanted to bury himself inside her, he wouldn’t because he couldn’t bear to see the wounded look in her eyes if he did. He’d made a vow to her and pride demanded he honor it.

  “Ruark?” she asked softly.

  “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse.

  “Did we do the right thing?”

  Concentrating on holding his body in check, he didn’t follow her question. “With what?”

  “Getting married. Especially under our circumstances. Was it the right thing to do?”

  Aware of her body plastered against his and the frustration he was suffering, he wondered that himself. No, he decided. Getting married wasn’t the problem. Giving her time to adjust to the concept of having a husband and everything it entailed was.

  He couldn’t complain, though, because he’d brought this on himself with his momentary lapse into chivalry!

  “It was.” He was certain.

  “Convince me,” she said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  RUARK stilled. “Convince you?” he echoed.

  She shifted her position until she was half-draped across his body and one smooth leg had found its way between his. “Yes.”

  He didn’t want to misunderstand and start something he wouldn’t be allowed to finish, so he restated her request. “You want me to convince you that we did the right thing by getting married.”

  “The circumstances were rather unusual,” she pointed out. “I know we married out of duty, for the good of the people in two countries, but I just want some reassurance the result wasn’t a mistake.”

  His confused fog lifted. “You mean, a mistake for us. Personally.”

  “Yeah.”

  She obviously wasn’t able to put her fears into words or was too afraid of his answer if she did. Oh, he knew what she wanted to hear—it was the same thing every woman wanted. They expected flowery speeches and the I-can’t-live-without-you-because-I-love-you remarks, but he owed her complete honesty. At this point, he certainly couldn’t profess to love her and probably never would. Love, as far as he was concerned, was simply a euphemism for lust, and he had plenty of that where she was concerned.

  “We did what we had to do,” he stated firmly. “A lot of people will benefit from this marriage, true. We knew that going into it. But we’re benefitting, too.”

  She didn’t comment, but he sensed she was listening carefully. “We each have someone to share our lives with,” he said simply. “Someone who’ll listen and be supportive, someone to come home to at night.”

  Realizing how his description could also apply to a pet, which hadn’t been his intention, he grinned and tried to lighten the mood. “Someone who prefers white cake and leaves all the chocolate for me.”

  She chuckled. “If you say so.”

  “Someone I can beat at chess.”

  “Give me a few weeks to practice and then we’ll see who beats who,” she said witho
ut heat.

  “Regardless of who wins, chess is something enjoyable we can do together. Best of all, we won’t have to find a date ever again, much less suffer through the rejections and heartbreaks.”

  She laughed. “You? Rejected? Heartbroken? Oh, please. I’m sure it was the other way around.”

  “Au contraire.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  He didn’t, but felt he should. Perhaps once he explained, Gina would understand why he held the opinions he did. “This is ancient history, mind you.”

  “How ancient?”

  He shrugged. “Seven, eight years, but it started long before then. Having a title gets in the way of a relationship. It’s tough to find a woman who doesn’t have an agenda or who can look past my heritage to the man underneath. I learned to be cautious.”

  “Royalty 101?”

  “Something like that.”

  “But someone slipped past your defenses.”

  “Yeah.” He rubbed his chin. “I met this woman during my residency. To me, Grace was perfect. I loved her and she loved me. Or so she claimed.”

  “Claimed?”

  “We dated for several months. One day she said she loved me, but two weeks later someone better came along, and she left.”

  “Someone better? How is that possible? You’re a prince, for heaven’s sake.”

  He grinned. “Spoken like a loyal wife. Anyway, her ‘someone better’ was a movie producer who could advance her career more than a prince who practically lived at the hospital. It was my own fault because I should have seen it coming.”

  “I didn’t realize you can predict events.”

  “The signs were in plain sight, but I ignored them. You see, we didn’t have anything in common. Other than attending charity events or her movie opening nights, we led separate lives.”

  “Have you seen her lately?”

  “No. Last I heard, she was on her third marriage and still waiting for her big break.”

  Gina fell silent as she searched for something appropriate to say. Discussing his former love life while he was in bed with her could be considered tacky, but sometimes it was easier to reveal things in the dead of night rather than in the light of day. In any case, hearing of his experiences explained so much. Now Gina understood why he had such a cynical view about love, why he continued to stress the importance of having mutual interests, of being companions, of sharing a life.

  She snuggled against him. “I wish I could feel sorry for this Grace person, but I can’t. Anyway, enough about her. I want to hear more about our personal benefits.”

  “More personal benefits. OK, let me think. Here’s one. I don’t have to worry about choosing the wrong tie because you’ll tell me what matches and what doesn’t. And I’ll reciprocate when you choose the wrong earrings for your dress.”

  “Fair enough. What else?”

  “You have a French chef preparing the most delectable meals on this side of the Mississippi while I won’t have to argue with Henri over the menus any longer.”

  “Something’s not quite right with that one, but I’ll let it slide,” she said dryly, smiling. “Is that all you have?”

  “Well…we can share transportation to and from work to save on energy costs,” he finished brightly.

  “Now you’re reaching.”

  “Yes, but I’m saving the best for last.” He moved his head to whisper in her ear. “I find you extremely, extremely beautiful, Gina.” His voice became rougher, almost raspy, as if he was using all of his energy to keep from acting on that attraction. “And you’re my wife,” he finished on a distinct note of possessiveness.

  She, on the other hand, was grateful the room was too dark for him to see her grinning like an idiot. “I’m flattered.”

  She felt his shrug. “It’s the truth.”

  “In that case…for the record…the feeling is mutual.” There, she’d said it! At the same time, though, she sensed his appeal went beyond his handsome face and his ability to turn her inside out with a mere kiss. She may not have known him for long, but she’d caught glimpses of his character that were as much if not more alluring.

  She may not appreciate being married out of duty, but once she’d gotten past the shock and analyzed his motives, his willingness to place other people’s needs above his own—his unselfishness—she’d been impressed. And when he’d stood behind her with her incident with Frank Horton, when he’d done all he could to give her a wedding ceremony she’d never forget, how could she not be attracted to him on more than a physical level?

  The question was, what should she do about it? Postpone the inevitable, or allow her wedding day—and night—to be everything it should be? What had he said? People wouldn’t care how their romance started, only how it ended?

  Why couldn’t she heed Henri’s advice to enjoy each other? Considering their shared physical attraction, their joining was as inevitable as the sun rising and setting.

  “We’ll only have one wedding night,” she said, hoping he’d hear the invitation in her voice.

  Obviously he had, because he froze. “True,” he admitted. “But you wanted to wait.”

  “I changed my mind.”

  “Once we start, there’s no going back,” he warned.

  “I know. I won’t regret this in the morning,” she stated firmly, but he still didn’t move. “If you’re afraid I’ve drunk too much champagne and don’t know what I’m saying, rest easy. I only had one glass.”

  Determined to convince him of her sincerity, she reached up to cup the side of his face. “You said we’d play this part of our marriage by ear. Well, I heard the music and now I’m ready to dance.”

  In an instant he’d reversed positions until she was half-undereath him. She sensed rather than saw him lower his head until his lips touched her cheek. Slowly, deliberately, provocatively, he nibbled his way to her ear and trailed his lips down her neck until he reached her collarbone. “Shall we tango…or waltz?” he mumbled against her skin.

  “Both.”

  Time froze under his tender assault. The nightgown she’d purchased that morning disappeared, unneeded and unwanted. Each long stroke, every caress pulled her deeper under his magical spell. Oh, yes, she managed to think…their marriage may have been born out of duty and would be scrutinized by many, but nights like this were not a mistake.

  “Your Highness, you must allow me to prepare your breakfast.”

  Caught in the act of pouring a packet of instant oatmeal into a bowl, Gina smiled at Henri, who’d burst into the kitchen with a look of horror on his face. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m perfectly able to fix my own.”

  “Of course you are, but it is my pleasure to serve you,” the chef said smoothly as he waved her aside. “Would you like toast, fresh fruit, bacon and eggs to accompany this?”

  “Just the oatmeal,” she told him. “And a refill of this.” She raised her mug. “It’s the best I’ve ever tasted.”

  When she’d awoken that morning, she’d only seen Ruark’s indented pillow and a cup of coffee on her nightstand. She normally didn’t take time to brew any at home before she reported for her shift and, in fact, didn’t need the shot of caffeine to start her day, but having a cup ready and waiting when her eyes popped open would definitely spoil her.

  Henri beamed as he grabbed the pot and topped up her cup. “Thank you, Your Highness. I’ll bring your breakfast to the dining room shortly.”

  Clearly dismissed, Gina meandered into the dining room and sat at the huge banquet-sized table. Within minutes Henri delivered a bowl of oatmeal sprinkled with fresh blueberries. He’d also brought a plate of assorted fruit and two slices of whole wheat toast cut in perfect triangles, as well as the morning newspaper.

  “Let me know if I can prepare anything else, Your Highness.”

  “This will be all. Tell me, has Ruark already eaten?”

  “Hours ago, ma’am. He’s an early riser,” Henri explained. “I heard him mention he had correspondence
to attend to, so I’m certain he’s in his den if you’re wondering where to find him.”

  She was, but didn’t want to interrupt him. “Thank you, Henri.”

  Accustomed to eating alone, she perused the headlines, ate half of what Henri had supplied, then headed for her bedroom. She hadn’t made the bed or tidied the room yet, and she still had two suitcases’ worth of clothes to unpack.

  To her surprise, she found a woman her own age performing all the chores Gina had planned to do after breakfast. The bed was made, the room tidied, and her suitcases were open and half-empty.

  “You didn’t need to do this for me!” Gina exclaimed, disconcerted to have someone else doing such personal tasks.

  “It is my job, Your Highness. I’m happy to do it. I am Inga, by the way. I usually come three days a week to help Mrs Armstrong, but now I’ll be here every day.”

  Mrs Armstrong was the kindly housekeeper responsible for the house’s pristine condition, which couldn’t have been easy considering the number of people who lived and worked on the property. While Gina was glad the woman had help and Inga had a full-time job, she hoped no one thought she was too lazy to lend a hand or, worse, had extremely high housekeeping standards. As far as she was concerned, a house wasn’t complete without several dust bunnies in residence.

  Gina watched Inga hang up a pink blouse in the closet. “Thank you, Inga,” she said politely. “I’ll try not to make too much of a mess for you. Meanwhile, I’ll get out of your way.”

  “The garden flowers are lovely right now,” Inga commented. “Perhaps you’d like to see them before the day gets too hot?”

  She couldn’t hang around the kitchen or her bedroom, and she didn’t want to interrupt Ruark, so strolling around the yard seemed a good idea. If she was lucky, she might even find a few weeds to pull. “I will.”

  But outside the rose bushes were perfectly pruned, the zinnias, petunias, and vinca were well watered, and the small herb garden beautifully tended. Not a weed was in sight, thanks to the two employees who sported Gary’s Gardens on the back of their uniform shirts.