Читать книгу A Royal Wager - Кристи Голд - Страница 13
ОглавлениеAfter 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.”
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.
Propelled by his weakness for this woman, Marc closed the distance between them in two strides and braced his palms on the desk on either side of her. He sought her mouth in a rush, as if he couldn’t survive without exploring the territory once more. She opened to him, played her tongue against his, pushed him to a point where he could easily dispense with all formality and clothing to get inside her immediately. But he rejected that notion. If he could touch her, taste her, tempt her, then that would be enough. It would have to be enough.
After breaking the kiss, he settled his face in the hollow below her throat, pressing his lips there while inhaling her enticing fragrance.
“Marc, I thought you said we couldn’t.” Her voice was a teasing, breathy caress at his ear.
“Shouldn’t,” he murmured then slid his tongue down the cleft between her breasts, stopping where the opening of her blouse ended and buttons began, knowing he should not go any farther. But knowing what he shouldn’t do did nothing to quell the urge to do what he wanted to do. To her, with her.
Kate threaded her hands through his hair, back and forth in long, torturous strokes. “Maybe we should go somewhere more private.”
He straightened and slipped the first button on her blouse, ignoring the persistent voice telling him to stop. “I’ve locked the door.” He released two more buttons, keeping his gaze fixed on Kate’s eyes, searching for any sign of protest. He saw nothing but need. “I gave orders that we are not to be disturbed.”
“Very resourceful,” she said, followed by a shaky smile that indicated nervousness, but not reluctance.
Finally, Marc parted her blouse, exposing her bra, which he unhooked with a quick flip of one finger beneath the front closure before pushing it aside with both hands. His gaze roved over her breasts, round and pink tinged to match the flush on her face when he lifted her up and seated her on the desk’s edge.
As he traced a path around one rosy tip with his finger, Kate watched his movements, her chest rising and falling in rapid succession. “Tu es parfaite,” he whispered. “Perfect.”
Dipping his head, he drew one nipple into his mouth, relishing the feel of her against his tongue. He wanted more. He wanted it all. He wanted to undo her slacks, slip his hand inside, experience her wet heat. He wanted to open his own fly, give himself some blessed relief, and thrust inside her.
When Kate released a soft, sexual sound, reality forced its way into his psyche and he took a step back. “We have to stop this, Kate.”
“Why?”
Marc had so many reasons, but he began with the most important. “I have nothing to protect you against pregnancy, and God knows I do not need another complication.”
Kate’s face fell as if it had the weight of the world attached. “Complication? So that’s what I am to you?”
“No…that’s not…” What in the hell could he say? Yes, she was a complication. His overwhelming desire was very complicated, as were his feelings for her that he did not dare examine. “Look, Kate, I’ve done what I said I would not do. I’ve proven my weakness for you against my better judgment.”
“Weakness for me, or for women in general?”
That brought seething anger to the surface of Marc’s attempts at a calm facade. “I’ve spent almost a year being celibate, and it was not due to a lack of propositions. I’ve met many women over that time, in many different places, and not one has tempted me the way that you do. Only you, Kate, and no one else.”
She looked a bit more relaxed, if not totally pleased, as she redid her bra. “And what do you propose we do now? Ignore our attraction to each other?” She paused with a hand on the blouse and looked at him thoughtfully. “Or were you just trying to prove a point?”
“If that were true, Kate, I would not have stopped.”
She sent a direct look at his distended fly. “Then you’re determined to be the king of steel, is that correct?”
Steel would be a more-than-adequate description in terms of his erection, but not when it came to his strength as far as Kate was concerned. “I cannot make love to you Kate. If I do, then I am in danger of hurting you in the process.”
“You can’t hurt me, Marc. I know what this is all about. Chemistry. Attraction. Not ever-after.”
“But you have no idea what my life is about. If anyone even suspects we’re involved, you will suffer for it.”
“I’m not a wilting flower. And as I told you before, I’m only looking for some adventure.” She didn’t sound all that convincing. “But I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Right then, he would have gladly taken her down to the floor and finished what they’d started—what he had started. Instead, he turned away and headed for the door.
He needed to remember who he was—a king with a consuming need to be accepted. But his need for Kate was beginning to overshadow everything else.
He could not let that happen. It might destroy everything he had sought to accomplish in terms of his reputation. But worse, it could destroy her.
Without facing her again, he said, “I will see that Nicholas returns you safely to the hotel.”
And then he would retire for the evening, alone, to chastise himself for his complete lack of control.
Even after Marc had been gone for several minutes, Kate could still feel his mouth and hands on her breasts, could still hear him say that he couldn’t make love to her, that she was a complication. She refused to be a complication.
Probably just as well he’d stopped, Kate decided as she adjusted her clothing before leaving the office. And she was crazy to think that she didn’t want him with every fiber of her being. She did take some comfort in knowing that he wanted her, too. At least from a physical standpoint. Unfortunately, she had tried to fool herself into thinking that she only wanted some adventure with Marc, a few goes at hot and fast lovemaking. In reality, she wanted to be more than his friend, more than his lover. Yet Marc wasn’t the kind of man who required more than temporary affairs—without complications.
Kate’s feelings for Marc were very complicated and she would have to analyze them later. Right now she needed to put aside her predicament, will away the shakes and see about Cecile. With that thought, she opened the door only to be met head-on by the queen mother.
“Hi, Mary,” Kate said in a too-loud voice laden with fake cheerfulness.
“Hello, dear.” Mary’s gaze roamed over Kate from head to toe. “Have you seen my son?”
Oh, she’d seen him all right, and he had definitely seen her. “He left his office a few minutes ago. How’s Cecile?”
“She’s an angel and down for her afternoon nap.”
Searching for a quick escape, Kate pointed toward the back staircase leading to the nursery. “I think I’ll go check on her now.”
“I would prefer you take a walk with me.”
Oh, boy. “Any place in particular?”
“The gardens. It’s a beautiful day and a good opportunity for us to have a little talk.”
Kate assumed her face probably flashed guilt like a billboard, triggering the queen mother’s request. Mary most likely suspected something was brewing between Kate and the king. Kate saw no way out aside from running away, but that would further encourage the queen mother’s suspicions.
When Kate said, “Lead the way,” surprisingly Mary linked her arm with Kate’s and guided her down the gilt and marble corridor, then through a pair of double French doors that led to the rear palace grounds.
They remained silent as they strolled along a rock path lined with rose bushes and neatly trimmed hedges. When they reached a stone bench, Mary sat and patted the place next to her. “Join me, Kate.”
Kate complied, keeping her gaze trained on a tree where a bluebird flitted along the branches, wishing she could sprout some wings and fly away.
Mary’s sigh floated over the gentle breeze. “I suppose you now have the results of Cecile’s blood test.”
At least she hadn’t quizzed her about Marc, Kate thought. But she wasn’t sure it was her place to deliver the news that would most likely be a reality jolt. However, she couldn’t lie to this woman who had been nothing but kind to her since the beginning. “Yes, I have the results.”
“Well?”
Kate shifted until she faced Mary, taking the woman’s hand into hers. “Cecile has Philippe’s and Marc’s blood type.”
Mary drew in a long breath and released it on a weary sigh. “Then she is most likely my grandchild.”
“Unless there is someone else in the family that could be a possibility.”
Mary shook her head. “No. The line ends with Marcel. His father had only one niece, his deceased sister’s child, and she is in Canada, happily married with two children. I have no one else in my family.”
Kate ached at the loneliness in Mary’s voice and grasped for words that might ease her pain. “And now you have Cecile. And Marc.”
Mary studied their joined hands. “Marcel has been a stranger to me for the past few years. He’s always been searching for something, although heaven only knows what.”
“Respect,” Kate said with certainty.
“I suppose you’re right about that.” Mary lifted her gaze to Kate. “Do you believe Cecile is his child?”
“He’s adamant that she isn’t.”
“But do you believe him?”
Kate wanted to, honestly she did. “What I think doesn’t matter,” she said, the same thing she’d told Marc earlier. “Cecile’s well-being is important, though. She needs your love.”
“She will have it,” Mary stated. “I am more concerned with my son. He has much to bear as a king.”
“I know, but he has broad shoulders.” In both a literal and figurative sense.
“He also needs the love of a good woman.”
Kate shrugged. “I’m sure there’s a princess somewhere who would be more than willing to give him that.”
Mary patted Kate’s hand. “My dear, we are running relatively low on monarchs in this day and time. Marcel needs someone who understands him. Someone who can settle him down. A nice, educated woman would fit the bill.”
The expectant look on Mary’s face took Kate aback. “Again, I’m sure someone will turn his head.”
“Someone already has, and that someone is you.”
Kate’s breath hitched hard in her chest. “Mary, I really don’t think—”
“You need not think, Kate. You only need to be there for him. The rest will take care of itself. Unless you do not care for him.”
Kate looked away, knowing the guilt had returned. “I’m very fond of Marc. I have been since the day I met him nine years ago.”
“But can you love him?”
In many ways, Kate already did. In many ways, she always had. “Right now, Marc needs a friend, and I’m willing to be that to him.”
“Friendship is a good place to begin.” Mary stared off into space while the afternoon sun washed the gardens in a soft golden glow. “Marcel’s father was my friend and my confidant. My lover. The love of my life, even though it was ordained that we marry.”
“You mean some sort of arrangement?”
Mary smiled. “I know that must sound archaic to a modern young woman such as yourself. But I tend to believe that fate had a hand in our union. If only fate had not been so cruel as to take him from me much too soon.”
The sorrow in Mary’s voice, the mist of unshed tears in her eyes, caused a lump to lodge in Kate’s throat. After fighting back her own tears, Kate said, “You’re still young, Mary. You could find someone else.”
“There is no one else for me, my dear. I’ve loved only one man in my life, a wonderful man, and he has no equal.” She drew Kate into an unexpected embrace. “I wish for you that kind of rare and precious love, my dear Kate.”
Kate desperately wanted to believe in its existence, but with Marc? Only if he was willing to return that love.
Once they parted, she told Mary, “Thank you. Your story inspires me.”
Mary squeezed Kate’s hands. “And your presence here is very welcome, which leads me to a request.”
“Anything.”
“I would like you to move into the palace, or I should say onto the palace grounds.” She gestured beyond the path to a break in the hedge. “Over there, you will see a small cottage. Philippe used it as his own private retreat. We’ve removed his possessions, but it’s still nicely furnished. It would afford you some seclusion.”
Being so close to Marc both thrilled and concerned Kate. If he decided not pursue a relationship, then she would have to face him on a daily basis, and that could be very detrimental to her heart. “I’ll think about it,” she promised Mary, and she would think about it, probably most of the night. “In the meantime, I’ll be happy to remain here for the next few days to help take care of Cecile.”
“That’s not necessary, Kate. Beatrice will serve as her nanny. Besides, you will have enough on your plate when you begin your work tomorrow.”
“I don’t mind missing some sleep where Cecile is involved,” Kate insisted. Or where Marc was concerned. “She’s such a joy to be around.”
Mary stood and stared down at Kate with a knowing look, as if she could read Kate’s thoughts. “She is very fond of you, too, Kate. And whether he cares to admit it or not, so is my son.”
