The Royal Doctor’s Bride

by Jessica Matthews

  His admission took her by surprise. “Angry with yourself? Why? You weren’t responsible for what happened any more than I was.”

  “I didn’t listen to my instincts and as a result you were this close…” he pinched his forefinger and thumb together “…to getting hurt. It was unforgivable to put a woman I’d sworn to honor and protect at risk. I felt as if I’d failed you.”

  As her proud husband humbled himself, her anger melted into forgiveness. She sank beside him and rested one hand over his.

  “You can’t plan for every eventuality or protect me from every possible danger,” she said softly. “It’s sweet of you to try, but you can’t predict what will happen and you can’t feel guilty if something does. It isn’t healthy for either of us.”

  “I’d rather be too cautious than not cautious enough.”

  “There has to be a happy medium and it’ll take time to find it. Meanwhile, you can’t surround me in bubble wrap.”

  “Maybe not, but you can’t disappear like you did either.”

  “You said to avoid places with strangers and unfamiliar territory,” she pointed out. “My house didn’t apply.”

  He raised an imperious eyebrow.

  “Next time, I’ll tell someone my exact destination,” she promised on a long-suffering note, certain there would be instances when she’d chafe at the restriction. “But once you knew where I was, did you really need to check on me? Or did you think I wouldn’t go home on my own?”

  “You’re my wife,” he said simply, as if that was all the excuse he needed. “I felt certain you were safe and knew you’d return eventually when tempers cooled, but being here meant I could talk you into coming home sooner rather than later.”

  “Hmmm.” She pretended to consider her options as she ran her finger down the placket of his shirt. “If you take time to persuade me, we won’t get home until later. But if you’d rather leave sooner…” She nudged a button out of its hole.

  He stilled her hand, then shot to his feet as he pulled her with him. “We’ll go later,” he said as he led her to the bedroom. “Much later.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  GINA twisted her charm bracelet as she stood at the ballroom entrance on Friday night and surveyed the crowd already assembled. Other than Ruark, she didn’t know a soul, although she recognized several guests because she watched television and read newspapers. Her father may have been a prince, but she wasn’t accustomed to rubbing elbows with the rich and famous. In spite of her ancestry, she was merely a staff physician at a struggling hospital in a mid-to low-income neighborhood.

  As she glanced at the man beside her—the man who was too handsome for words in his black tuxedo—she realized she was wrong. She wasn’t only a physician. She was the Prince of Marestonia’s wife, a princess, a countess in her own right. This may be her first fancy charity ball, but she belonged there as much as anyone else did.

  Yet she couldn’t deny she felt more at home in her ER, wearing scrub suits and tennis shoes instead of gorgeous gowns and jewelry.

  Ruark took her hand and threaded it through his. “You’re fidgeting.” He’d leaned over to speak in her ear, appearing as if he’d uttered an endearment rather than a gentle rebuke.

  “Sorry,” she whispered back. “Can’t help it.”

  “Try.”

  “But everyone’s staring.”

  “They always do when a beautiful, poised woman makes an entrance.”

  Having checked herself in the mirror before they’d left, she couldn’t deny she looked fantastic. The hairdresser had worked wonders, an expert had applied her makeup, and her simple white evening gown glittered under the crystal chandeliers. As Ruark had mentioned he would, he’d helped her settle on her mother’s single strand of pearls and matching earrings.

  As for being poised, if she hadn’t had Ruark’s supporting arm, she’d probably have fallen off her high heels.

  “This is quite awesome,” she said, noting everything from uniformed waiters and fresh flowers in abundance to elaborate ice sculptures and champagne fountains. “Very glitzy and glamorous.”

  He glanced across the way, studying the scene as if he were seeing it for the first time. “It is,” he agreed.

  “I hope the women’s shelter project receives a ton of money tonight. Every time a battered woman comes into the ER, I have this overwhelming urge to hunt down the man responsible and give him a dose of his own medicine!”

  “I had no idea I’d married such a Valkyrie,” he said with a smile. “You’ll be pleased to know that women and children’s causes are dear to my mother’s heart as well.”

  He motioned ahead. “I see a few people we have to greet. Shall we?”

  This was it. “Lead on.”

  Ruark guided her into the throng where he introduced her to the host of the ball and his wife, then the Marestonian ambassador.

  The distinguished white-haired man kissed her hand as he bowed. “Your Highness. What a supreme pleasure to meet you.”

  She blushed. “Thank you, Ambassador Janssen.”

  He turned to Ruark with a twinkle in his eye. “Now I understand the rumors of a whirlwind romance. But they were not just rumors, were they, for you to land such a lovely bride?”

  Ruark laughed. “One must do whatever is necessary to eliminate any and all competition when such a prize is at stake.”

  “You have done the royal house and your country proud.”

  “Thank you.”

  “The two of you must come to Marestonia soon for a wedding trip. The people are eager to welcome the two of you and will feel slighted should you delay.”

  Ruark bowed ever so slightly. “As soon as we’re able to rearrange our schedules.”

  Apparently satisfied by Ruark’s response, the ambassador moved away.

  “I had no idea there was a Marestonian embassy in the vicinity,” she said, “much less that an ambassador of your country would attend a ball for a national cause.”

  “There isn’t,” he admitted. “However, several of the organizers of this event have ties to Marestonia and Avelogne. As word got out that we were attending, the guest list grew to include more of our countrymen from across the US. You, my dear, were the draw card. I suspect the charity will do quite well as a result.”

  “Oh, my.” The news only increased the pressure she was under to present Ruark and herself in a good light.

  “For the record, you dazzled the ambassador.”

  “Really? How could you tell?”

  “A man knows these things,” he replied.

  “Dazzled or not, was he politely telling us the natives are restless and you need to hurry home?”

  “We,” he corrected her. “We need to hurry home, but that’s a worry for another day. Would you like to dance?”

  She grinned. “I thought you’d never ask. Just don’t try anything fancier than a waltz.”

  “One waltz, coming up.”

  The next few hours were like living out a fairy tale. The musicians were exceptional, the food mouthwateringly delicious, and the company beyond compare. Having the man she loved at her side made everything else fade into the background.

  Gina danced with Ruark as well as several of his compatriots. She met senators and cabinet members, CEOs of several Fortune 500 companies, and several other ambassadors, including Ambassador Antoine Lauwers of Avelogne.

  “Prince Ruark,” he said as he took Gina’s hand and beamed at her, “I congratulate you on finding Prince Arthur’s gem.”

  Ruark smiled. “Thank you.”

  “May I once again extend the Queen Mother’s and King Henrik’s invitation to visit Avelogne. Both the royal family and the people of Avelogne would be thrilled to honor the Princess Gina and her husband.”

  Gina paraphrased Ruark’s earlier response. “Should we find ourselves able to rearrange our schedules, we’ll consider the invitation.”

  The ambassador meandered away as an old friend of Ruark’s joined their group. After Ruark had in
troduced her to Jason Dumont, a man he’d known since primary school, Gina excused herself for a trip to the punch bowl. There, she simply watched the guests, wishing she could bottle this moment and share it with Cara and Molly. She easily imagined those two little girls staring at this scene in wide-eyed wonderment.

  Thank goodness things had turned out so well for their family. She shuddered to think of how different the situation could have been if friends like Mrs Klimus and relatives hadn’t been on the scene.

  As she glanced over at her husband and saw him laugh and joke with Jason, she wondered if he missed his family, friends, and the culture he’d grown up with. Probably no more than his family missed him. Even with the telephone and Internet, his mother probably hated having an ocean separate them.

  Had her grandmother missed her father after he’d moved here and started his new life? No doubt she’d taken his decision to relinquish his claim to the throne as a personal rejection. For the first time she felt the heartache that her grandmother must have suffered because of one poor, misguided woman.

  Perhaps it was time to accept the olive branch her father’s family had extended. It would have been so nice after he’d died to have had the support system the Roy children now enjoyed. Maybe it wasn’t too late after all…

  But before she would rectify that situation, she had to do something that was far more personal. She had to find a way to tell Ruark she loved him. She could only hope that the care and concern he’d shown for her these past few weeks meant that his cynical views had softened and that love had grown in his heart, as it had in hers.

  Jason clapped Ruark on the shoulder. “You always did have remarkable taste in women but you’ve outdone yourself, my friend. She is a treasure beyond compare and all I can say is you’re a lucky dog.”

  Ruark grinned, delighted by his old school chum’s approval. “I am, aren’t I?”

  “Are you certain she doesn’t have a sister hidden away?”

  Ruark chuckled at his hopeful tone. “I’m positive.”

  “She’s definitely one of a kind. No wonder you snapped her up without giving us a clue you were in a relationship. When did you two meet and how in the world did you keep your romance a secret?”

  “We both attended a medical seminar in California some months ago.” Ruark glossed over the details, purposely avoiding any reference to how he’d conducted his supposed romance. “And the rest, as they say, is history.”

  “Yeah, you’ve definitely made history,” Jason remarked. “I’d heard rumblings of how the problems between Avelogne and Marestonia prompted your marriage, but after seeing you two tonight, anyone with one eye and half a brain would know the gossip isn’t true.”

  Ruark wasn’t surprised by the rumors—they’d been bound to surface. However, Jason’s observations had piqued his interest and he hoped his friend would elaborate. “Oh?”

  “Yeah.” Jason grinned. “I noticed as soon as I saw you across the room. You look at your wife as if you can’t bear to let her out of your sight. You obviously love her.”

  Love her? Impossible. He cared about her and appreciated her, but that was all. Unfortunately, he couldn’t disagree. Some confidences couldn’t be shared even with old friends. If people thought him in love with his wife, then he’d accomplished his mission.

  “I have to say,” Jason continued, “after your experience with that actress, I never expected you to tie the knot.”

  “Neither did I,” Ruark agreed, because it was true. Had duty not come into play, he’d still be a bachelor. Regardless of how Jason interpreted what he’d seen, he might not love his wife, but he was happy with his marriage.

  Contented with the thought, he caught a glimpse of Gina as the crowd parted. She’d been remarkable this evening and had charmed everyone she’d met, as he’d known she would. With her tawny-colored hair and brilliant green eyes, she was a vision in her iridescent white gown, and she was his. He met her gaze and smiled.

  Jason reached out and grabbed a bottle of imported beer from a passing waiter. “I’d stay and chat, but I have my eye on a gorgeous redhead and she looks like she’s lonely. Give my regards to your wife and if you ever need a godfather, I’m available.” He winked as he saluted Ruark, then disappeared into the throng seconds before Gina rejoined him.

  “Where did Jason go?” she asked.

  “Hunting,” he replied. At her puzzled frown, he explained. “For a redhead.”

  “Ah.”

  “Is Cinderella ready to leave her first ball, or would she like to stay longer?”

  “It’s well past midnight,” she pointed out. “If we won’t commit some horrible breach of etiquette, I’d like to go. As much as I’ve enjoyed myself, I wouldn’t mind slipping out of the spotlight.”

  “Then we’ll go.” He was more than eager to cut the evening short. Sharing Gina with so many people had begun to fray his patience. Not only that, but he had a special day planned for tomorrow—today, actually—and he didn’t want anything to mar his surprise.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead.”

  Gina groaned at the sound of Ruark’s voice. He sounded entirely too chipper for…she glanced at the clock with one eye…9:00 a.m. He was obviously used to functioning on less sleep than she was because they hadn’t gotten home until after two.

  Closing both eyes, she stretched. “What’s the rush? It’s Saturday.”

  “Exactly. We have places to go, things to do.”

  Suddenly a T-shirt and a pair of shorts landed on her face, and startled her completely awake. “What?”

  Ruark stood above her and grinned, wearing a disreputable pair of jeans and faded cotton shirt. “Come on. We’re wasting time. Everyone’s waiting. We can’t get started until you get up.”

  A quiet knock at the door summoned him. He returned with a steaming mug of coffee and placed it on the nightstand. “Henri sent this. You have five minutes or you’re coming with me in your pj’s.”

  She jumped out of bed at his threat. “What’s going on?”

  “You’ll see,” he said cryptically.

  Gina dashed into the bathroom to rush through her morning routine and exchange her nightgown for the clothes Ruark had so graciously chosen for her. She was halfway down the stairs when he met her in the foyer.

  “What’s going on?” she asked.

  “It’s moving day,” he said.

  She stopped short. “Moving? We’re moving?”

  “Not in the sense you’re thinking.” He escorted her to the game room, which was a few doors down from his office. Inside, she saw Hugh, Joachim, and Henri dismantling the slate pool table.

  “You’re moving the pool table?” she asked, wondering why he’d insisted on her presence.

  He nodded. “Remember how you said you didn’t have a place to call your own? Now you have one. This will be your room to organize and use as you see fit.”

  Gina took in the cathedral ceiling, the window overlooking the flowerbeds in the backyard, the beautiful oak hardwood floor. “It’s mine?” she asked, hardly able to believe he was giving up one of his masculine domains for her.

  “All yours. As soon as we clear out what you don’t want, we can either bring in furniture from your other house or purchase new.”

  “But your game room,” she protested.

  “We aren’t doing away with it entirely,” he said. “We’re only relocating it to the empty area over the garage.”

  Touched by his gesture, she was momentarily speechless. “Oh, Ruark. I don’t know what to say. I’m completely overwhelmed. This is so sweet of you.”

  He grinned, looking remarkably boyish. “Overwhelmed or not, we’re operating on a time schedule here. We have to turn the moving van back to the rental company by 8:00 p.m. so before we can cart anything in, this room has to be emptied out.”

  “Wouldn’t it be easier if I took the space over the garage?”

  “Not only would you be too far away from the rest of the house but it’s an inappropriate location fo
r my wife to receive guests. This,” he emphasized, “is your room.”

  Thinking of some of the women she’d met last night, she realized he was right. “OK. I’ll keep the cabinet and the small table. The rest can go. Including the mounted antlers and the bearskin rug.”

  “Are you sure? Antlers and a bearskin rug are great conversation starters,” Ruark teased.

  “Then you might want them in your office.”

  “You heard her, guys. We’re hauling them upstairs.”

  With much groaning and moaning, the four men heaved the furniture to its new home. The pieces of slate were the most difficult to maneuver. When Ruark’s corner slipped and slammed into his shoulder, nearly knocking him off his feet and down the steps, Gina’s heart leaped into her throat.

  “This isn’t a good idea,” she warned. “We should have waited for a crew of experienced movers.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Ruark huffed as soon as they reached the top and unceremoniously dropped their load. “This isn’t any worse than lifting weights at the gym.”

  Hugh and Joachim wiped sweaty foreheads with their arms, looking as alarmed as she felt at Ruark’s close call with disaster. “Your Highness,” Hugh began, “perhaps we should consider recruiting a few more hands for the job?”

  “The heaviest piece—the pool table—is done. We can handle the rest.”

  Gina didn’t know if Ruark was determined to show off or simply too stubborn to admit defeat, but she added her muscles to the mix. Before long, the room’s contents had been transferred and they were on their way to her old house.

  There, she selected several of her favorite pieces, including a roll-top desk, sofa and chairs, an heirloom cedar chest and an elaborately hand-carved wardrobe that had belonged to her parents. She also boxed her frog collection, determined to place the ceramic frog wearing a jaunty expression and a crown on his head in a prominent place because it reminded her of Ruark.

  By five o’clock that evening, other than a fresh coat of paint and new window treatments, the Princess’s Room, as Henri had dubbed it, was ready.