Читать книгу The Royal Wager: Persuading the Playboy King / Unmasking the Maverick Prince / Daring the Dynamic Sheikh - KRISTI GOLD - Страница 7

One

Nine years later

Marcel Frederic DeLoria had become a king.

Kate Milner had known him only as Marc, a seriously charming young man. A seriously inept biology student by his own admission, the reason why Kate had tutored him their freshman year at Harvard. And now he was the ruler of Doriana, a small European country.

Incredible.

Of course, the fact that she was standing in a storybook castle thousands of miles from home, preparing to see him again almost a decade later, seemed highly improbable, too. That made Kate smile.

But her smile immediately dissolved when he appeared at the end of the ornate palace foyer, a starched and polished middle-aged gentleman at his side. The mirrored walls, reflecting bursts of light from the crystal chandeliers, seemed to shrink as he drew closer, his confidence and calculated control almost palpable, even at a distance. His hair was still the same golden brown, somewhat longer than before, Kate realized, the fine layers windswept away from his face. Although he stood only slightly over six feet tall, he seemed more imposing now than when she’d known him before, with a broader chest and equally broad shoulders encased in a short-sleeved, form-fitting navy knit shirt that enhanced the considerable bulk of his biceps. He also wore a pair of faded jeans that outlined his narrow hips and solid thighs—the kind of clothes he’d worn in college, much to Kate’s surprise. He was, after all, nobility.

Good grief. Had she really expected him to be decked out in a jewel-encrusted crown and red velvet robe? That he would be clutching a scepter instead of a pair of sunglasses? Silly that she would even consider such a thing. But she’d expected he at least would be wearing an expensive suit, not attire that could be found in a chic women’s magazine ad extolling the virtues of cosmopolitan casual on hard-body hunks. Not that she was complaining.

When he came to a stop a few feet away, Kate was suddenly gripped by the sheer power of his presence, her pulse accelerating in response. She clung tightly to her composure when she contacted his piercing cobalt blue eyes—eyes that no longer held the mirth she had often witnessed during their previous time together. She saw something there that she couldn’t quite peg. She also sensed an edge about him, a definite change that went far beyond the physical aspects.

One thing Kate did know, he gave no indication whatsoever that he recognized her. But why should he? Kate had changed, too, hopefully for the better.

The attendant took a brusque step forward and executed a slight bow. “Dr. Milner, I am Bernard Nicholas, His Majesty’s primary aide.”

Kate had the illogical urge to salute—or curtsy. She opted for a smile. “A pleasure to meet you.”

Mr. Nicholas turned his attention to the silent, stoic king. “Your Majesty, may I present Dr. Katherine Milner, our latest candidate for the hospital position.”

Marc moved forward and extended his hand, which Kate took after a slight hesitation. “Welcome to Doriana, Dr. Milner, and please forgive my appearance. I wasn’t given much notice in regard to your arrival.”

His voice sounded much the way Kate remembered, European sophisticated and distinctly seductive, only deeper. Yet he didn’t look at all pleased, didn’t even hint at a smile. In fact, his courtesy seemed almost forced. Considering the early hour, and his unshaven face, she couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he’d just left the company of a woman, quite possibly a woman’s bed.

His extracurricular activities shouldn’t concern her. Yet the feel of his large masculine fingers wrapped around hers brought about a keen sense of awareness, the kind of awareness that came when confronted with a man she had been far too fond of. But Marc DeLoria was no ordinary man; he never had been. And obviously he had no recollection of their time together.

Kate decided he simply needed a reminder. “It’s very nice to see you again, Your Majesty.”

He released her hand and frowned, fine lines deepening at the corners of his eyes, but they didn’t detract from his magnificent face. “Have we met before?”

“Actually, the last time we were together, we were dissecting a deceased frog.”

Confusion worked its way into his sedate expression followed by a fleeting glimpse of the carefree charmer she had once known. “Katie? The tutor?”

Kate’s gaze faltered for a brief moment as she became the circumspect girl again. She forced away that notion, forced herself to look at him straight on. “Yes, that’s me. Katie, the tutor. But I prefer Kate now. Or Dr. Milner, if that’s more acceptable considering your current circumstance.”

“My current circumstance?”

He actually had to be reminded of that, too? “You’re a king.”

“Ah, yes. That circumstance.” He stared at her for a long moment, as if he couldn’t quite believe she was there. Kate couldn’t quite believe it, either.

After a bout of awkward silence, she finally said, “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Yes, quite a while.” Although his smile had yet to form, he at least looked a little less perplexed when he gestured to a nearby room. “Shall we conduct the interview in the library, Doctor?”

Obviously he had no intention of taking a walk down memory lane. “Of course.”

When Marc stepped to one side of the room’s entry, Kate passed by him and caught a whiff of fresh air and fragrant cologne—clean, expensive, heavenly. Even though she shouldn’t react so strongly, he still made her breathless. She’d always been that way to some degree in his presence.

Gathering her wits, Kate slowly turned around to survey the mahogany shelves lining the room. “This is quite a collection of books.”

“My mother’s favorites.” He indicated a small settee near the window. “Please, have a seat.”

Kate slid onto the green brocade sofa while Marc took the burgundy wingback chair across from her. When Mr. Nicholas positioned himself near the now-closed door, Marc told him, “That will be all.”

The man stood steadfastly in place like a sentry, shoulders square, feet slightly apart, hands behind his back. “Beg pardon, but I believe it would be best if I remained, considering our guest is a lady.”

“This is not the eighteenth century, Mr. Nicholas. You are dismissed.”

“The Queen Mother—”

“Would understand the need for privacy.”

“But—”

“I assure you that Dr. Milner’s virtue is not in peril.” Marc turned his attention to Kate. “Would you prefer not to be alone with me?”

She shrugged. “I don’t see it as a problem at all. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.” She secretly hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

Marc sent another warning look at the attendant. “Tell Madame Tourreau to bring Dr. Milner some refreshments.”

“As you wish, Your Reverence,” Mr. Nicholas said, then took his leave.

Kate turned her attention to Marc, who looked anything but pleased. “Your Reverence?”

“Please ignore Mr. Nicholas. He’s been with the family for quite some time and he has a penchant for making up titles. You should be flattered, though. Normally he doesn’t do this around strangers, unless he feels they might appreciate his extremely dry and somewhat annoying British sense of humor.”

“Oh, I see. It’s sort of a game between you two.”

“One game I would prefer not to play.”

Kate could only imagine the games he did like to play—sensual games—and she really wouldn’t mind playing them with him.

Business, Kate. No games, just business.

Marc crossed his legs at the ankles, his elbows resting on the chair’s arms, hands clasped across his midsection. “So tell me, Dr. Milner, how did you discover we’re seeking physicians in Doriana?”

Kate toyed with her hem, surprisingly drawing Marc’s gaze. Considering her disheveled state, he probably wondered if the royal cat had dragged her across the regal doorstep. Her lavender silk suit showed creases resulting from hours of travel. Her hair had lost every bit of its curl and now hung down in board-straight strands to her shoulders. When his gaze came to rest on her mouth, she assumed she had a pink lipstick smear across her teeth.

Kate resisted the urge to run a finger over her incisors. “I saw the story in the alumni newsletter, right after your coronation,” she said, pulling his attention back to her eyes. “You mentioned that your first order of business involved recruiting doctors, so I contacted the hospital, and now here I am. By the way, I was very sorry to hear about your brother’s car accident.”

She saw a flash of sadness in his eyes before it vanished as quickly as it had come. “Did you attend medical school at Harvard?”

Considering his swift change of subject, Kate made a mental note not to bring up his brother’s death again. “Actually, I returned home to Tennessee and went to Vanderbilt. I needed to be close to my family.”

“Was someone ill?” he asked with concern.

“Not really.” Only needy, and very overprotective as always, which was one of the reasons why Kate had decided to apply for the position—the other was sitting before her. She’d grown tired of being the perfect, reliable daughter—the person both her parents depended upon for everything. She loved them dearly, but at times she wished she’d had siblings to ease some of her burden.

Marc crossed his arms over his chest, looking commanding and no less sexy. “You say you needed to be close to your family yet you have traveled thousands of miles away to work in our hospital?”

“I’ve been looking for a change of pace.” A change of scenery. A change in her life.

“What is your medical specialty?” he asked in an all-business tone, confirming that he was only interested in the interview.

“Family practice,” she said. “But I enjoy treating children the most. I’ve always loved children.”

“They’re our hope for future generations,” he replied. “We’ve made some strides in pediatric health care, but not enough for my satisfaction.”

“I’d enjoy that challenge, Marc. I mean, Your Highness.” Her first breach of royal protocol, and probably not her last. “I’m sorry.”

“No apology necessary, Dr. Milner.”

“I really prefer you call me Kate. I’m just a simple kind of person.”

“But you’re also a physician,” he said. “Not many can lay claim to that.”

Kate felt the bloom of a blush on her cheeks. She’d never been well versed in accepting flattery graciously, but then compliments hadn’t been a common occurrence in her life. “Speaking of doctors, how soon do you plan to reach a decision on who you’ll be hiring?”

“The decision will come when we find the right candidate. And on that thought, could you tell me about your experience?”

“Exactly what experience are you referring to?” How could she have asked such a stupid question? Easy. The man was sucking her brain dry of lucid thought with his high-powered aura.

She noted a spark of amusement in his eyes and the first signs of a smile, but not enough to reveal the dimples framing his mouth. “Medical experience, of course. Unless you have other experience that you believe might interest me.”

If only that were true. “Medically speaking, I’ve only recently completed my residency. I haven’t been in private practice at all.”

His dark gaze pinned her in place, even though she wanted to fidget. “I assume you’ve been adequately trained.”

She lifted her chin a notch. “In one of the top programs in the country.”

“Then I would say you could handle our hospital clinic.”

“I’m sure I could.” Now for the nitty-gritty. “And the pay?”

Marc leaned forward, bringing with him another trace scent of cologne. “If we come to an agreement, I would be willing to match whatever salary you were making in the States.”

“Believe me, my salary barely enabled me to make ends meet. Long hours, low pay. I still have some student loans to take care of.”

“I could at least double it,” he said. “More if necessary.”

This deal was getting sweeter by the minute. “Why would you do that?”

“Because we are in need of good doctors. And after all, we’re old friends.”

“Lab partners,” she corrected. “I never really considered us friends.”

He leaned back, but kept his eyes fixed on hers. “Why is that, Kate?”

“That’s fairly obvious, considering you’re a king and I’m, well, me.”

“But when we knew each other before, I wasn’t a king.”

And she’d been far removed from royalty. She still was. “No, you were a prince. I was never all that comfortable around you because of that.”

“Do I still make you uncomfortable?” he asked in a deep, deadly voice that held both challenge and temptation.

Very. “Not really. I’ve had interviews before. I consider this opportunity an adventure.”

“Then I’m to assume you’re looking for adventure?”

“And a job.”

“We have the job covered. So what type of adventure are you looking for, aside from your career?”

The question hung in the air for a time until she finally said, “I’m not sure. Do you have any suggestions?”

The dark look he sent her said he probably had plenty. “Unfortunately, Doriana is a rather sedate place in July. But if you’re here during the winter season, you could take advantage of our ski resorts. We have some challenging slopes, if you’re not afraid to attempt something that could be deemed dangerous.”

Now why had that sounded like an invitation to sin? “I’ve never tried skiing, but it sounds like fun.”

“I wouldn’t object to teaching you as repayment for what you taught me. I doubt I would have passed biology had it not been for you.”

She certainly wouldn’t object to anything he wanted to teach her. “Are you good?” Great, Kate. “At skiing, I mean.”

His eyes seemed to grow even darker, effectively dispensing the last of Kate’s calm. “Yes.”

“I imagine you’re probably very good at everything you do.” Imagined it in great detail, she did. “Aside from biology, that is.”

“I would imagine the same applies to you, Kate, considering how well you handled me during that first year.” She made a shaky one-handed sweep through her hair. “Funny, I don’t remember handling you at all.”

He assumed an almost insolent posture, his gaze now centered on her lap where she ran her fingertips up and down her purse strap. “Well, if you had literally handled me, I would not have forgotten, I assure you.”

If he only knew how many times she’d imagined “handling” him in her wildest fantasies. How many times she had imagined this moment when they were again face-to-face. How strongly she was reacting to him on a very primal level.

Following a brief span of tense silence, reality finally drilled its way into Kate’s psyche. She could not let him get to her again. Not this time. All those years ago, she had fallen hopelessly in love with him, knowing he could never feel the same—a mistake she didn’t dare repeat.

But that was then, and this was now. She had matured beyond the point of having puppy-love crushes on unattainable men. She had only fond feelings for Marc DeLoria.

Okay, maybe fond wasn’t a good assessment. She was unequivocally ready to jump his aristocratic bones. But she wouldn’t.

Marc DeLoria was a dynamic king, a magnetic man. And from all news accounts, he was also a rounder, a rogue and one of the world’s most notorious playboys. She needed to remember that—even if she was still seriously attracted to him, whether she wanted to be or not.

Kate tried to appear nonchalant when her overheated body was anything but unfazed by his continued perusal. “Anything else you need to know about me?”

“There is something I would like to do with you, if you’re not too tired from your trip.”

Her heart rate did double time. “What would that be?”

“Show you the hospital, as soon as I change into something more appropriate.”

Darn. For a split second, Kate had hoped he was going to propose something more exciting. “I would really like to see the facilities.”

“And I see no reason why the position could not be yours if you so choose.”

She frowned. “Just like that?”

He rubbed a hand along his shaded jaw. “Frankly, you’ve already been highly recommended by the hospital’s administrator. Our meeting is only a formality.”

“I’ll definitely consider your offer,” she said. “But first I’d like to take a look around and make sure it’s the right place for me.”

“Speaking of that, do you have a place to stay?”

“I have a room at the St. Simone Inn.”

“You should stay at the palace as our guest. You would be much more comfortable here.”

No, she wouldn’t. Not with him occupying the same castle, even if it did have a hundred rooms, which she suspected it did. “I appreciate your hospitality, but I would prefer the inn.”

“Please let me know if you change your mind.” His voice had the appeal of hot buttered rum, rich and warm going down.

“I sure will.” Her voice sounded a little too down-home with a too-high pitch.

After a brief knock, a stout, gray-haired woman breezed into the room with a tray of tea and cookies. She kept her eyes averted as she served Kate first.

Marc declined the tea, but after the woman retreated, he took one of the treats and held it to her lips. “Try the rollitos. They’re Spanish cookies, one of my two favorite indulgences.”

She wasn’t sure she could swallow. “Really? What would the other be?”

Marc’s smile arrived slowly but it quickly impacted Kate’s control at the first sign of his deep dimples. “A person should be allowed to have a few secrets, Kate. Even a king.”

Kate bit into the cookie but she didn’t taste a thing. Considering Marc’s overt sensuality, she suspected he had a lot of secrets. She also suspected his other favorite indulgence had nothing to do with food and everything to do with his desires as a man. A man who was much too tempting for his own good. For Kate’s own good.

Since his days at Harvard, Marcel DeLoria had spent almost eight years seeing the world and its wonders. For the past nine months, he had seen what it was like to have every molecule of his character examined as if he’d been placed under a high-powered microscope, not on the proverbial throne. But in all his experiences, he had never seen anything quite as surprising as the woman sitting across from him in the back seat of the Rolls-Royce.

Years before, he’d known her as a shy, intelligent student who had hidden behind too-big clothing and owl-like glasses, not the confident, stylish woman she had become. He admired her self-assurance as much as her physical conversion. And he definitely needed to quit admiring her altogether lest she catch him in the act.

As they continued through St. Simone en route to the hospital, Marc turned his attention to the quaint, colorful shops lining the cobblestoned streets. Streets practically void of automobile traffic, yet heavy with tourists and locals who had stopped to watch the motorcade pass. Would he ever grow accustomed to such spectacle? Probably not.

At times, he longed to walk among the villagers as an ordinary man, stop by the bakery and pick up his second-favorite indulgence—in terms of food—éclairs. At times, he craved putting on his old college sweatshirt and jeans to join in a game of rugby with the local team. At times, he wished he had never been born into royalty.

“This town is incredible, Your Highness.”

The soft lilt of Kate’s voice brought his attention back to her, brought to mind more of Marc’s recollections of their time together. He remembered being enamored of its quiet charm—a southern accent, she had once told him. But he had never viewed her as more than a friend. And somewhat of a savior. Had it not been for her, he might never have finished that first grueling year at Harvard.

She pointed out the window. “What’s that building over there?”

Against his better judgment, Marc moved to the seat beside her, maintaining a somewhat comfortable distance. “That is St. Simone Cathedral. My parents were married there.”

She turned her incredible green eyes on his. “It’s beautiful, all that stained glass.”

“I tend to take the village for granted,” he told her, striving for casual conversation when what he wanted to do with his mouth had nothing to do with talking.

“I guess that’s understandable,” she said. “Beauty is easy to overlook if you face it on a daily basis.”

When she turned back to the window, Marc decided she was very beautiful as well. He supposed many would view her as merely cute, with her upturned nose, graced with a slight spattering of freckles, her rounded face, not the more striking, sharper features common among what some considered the world’s greatest beauties. But her large eyes—a near match in color to the pines blanketing the Pyrenees—and her chestnut hair falling about her shoulders, were very pleasing attributes, in his opinion.

Although he tried to tear his gaze away from her, Marc found himself taking another visual excursion. The tailored lavender silk suit she wore fit her to prime perfection, showcasing a pair of elegant legs that would garner any man’s attention. She was relatively small—small hands, small feet and best he could tell, not endowed with ample curves or breasts. But he’d always believed that some of the best things in life came in small parcels. He imagined Kate was no exception.

Even though he shouldn’t, he saw her as attractive woman that he would like to know much better. Perhaps eventually in the tangle of warm satin sheets—not in the cold confines of a college laboratory. But that was impossible.

As much as the man in Marc desired Kate Milner, the king that he had become prevented him from acting on that desire. He must remain strong in light of his need to be taken seriously as his country’s leader.

Still, it would be very easy to press the button on the console, raise the windowed partition separating them from the driver and Nicholas, and allow some privacy away from prying eyes.

A fantasy assaulted him then, sharp as shattered glass—images of sliding his mouth up her delicate throat, working his way to her lips and engaging her in a provocative kiss. In his mind, Kate would be receptive to his affections, encouraging him onward as he slipped his hand beneath the hem of her skirt, moving up, up until he touched her, first through damp silk, then beneath the barrier so he could experience her heat. He would tempt her with his fingers, tantalize her with his mouth and endeavor to make her moan, make her want him inside her. He would gladly comply without regard to who he was or where he was. Without consideration of the consequences. He would make love to her until they were both sated, if only temporarily…

The vehicle came to an abrupt halt, effectively splintering the images but not the results of Marc’s journey into a wicked fantasy. He was hard as slate below his belt and could do nothing to hide his predicament short of grabbing a handful of ice from the built-in bar and shoving it into his lap. He only hoped that Kate would not notice before he had a chance to compose himself, and that his dress coat would amply conceal his sins once they exited the car.

Marc straightened his shoulders and assumed his royal demeanor while continuing to battle a strong desire for Kate Milner that made absolutely no sense. He wrote the libidinous stirrings off to a lengthy celibacy—a situation born out of necessity due to his brother’s tragic death that had thrust Marc into the role of reluctant ruler.

He adjusted his tie, tugged at his collar and sent Kate a polite smile. “It seems we have reached our destination.” And not a moment too soon. Otherwise, he might have forgotten who he was and what he lacked—a life he could call his own. A life that had no room for courting women, stealing kisses and touches or forbidden fantasies.

Seeming not to notice his discomfort, Kate glanced out the window at the simple two-story building. “It’s a very nice hospital.”

Marc detected a hint of disappointment in her tone, aiding somewhat in his body’s return to decency. “It’s very small and admittedly somewhat lacking in modern equipment. But I’m determined to remedy that soon.”

Health care was of the utmost importance, not only to Marc but also to his people. Doriana needed better facilities, more doctors. Had the hospital been modernized, Philippe might still be alive, and Marc would still be feeding his wanderlust instead of attempting to prove himself.

Kate offered an understanding smile. “These things take time.”

Marc couldn’t agree more, but he felt as if he were running out of time.

When Nicholas opened the door, Marc took Kate’s hand and helped her from the car. Her slender fingers cradled in his palm spurred another random fantasy that involved another pleasurable touch. How could he continue to be around her and still maintain control?

On sheer willpower alone.

But after Kate slid from the limo and his hand came to rest on her lower back, contacting the delicate dip of her spine encased in silk, Marc’s willpower went the way of the wind, replaced by an instantaneous shock to his senses—one that he had to disregard in order to save face.

He focused on the substantial crowd that had gathered, held at bay by a contingent of bodyguards. As always, he was forced to play the royal role with a regal facade and an official smile. Kate paused at his side when he stopped to shake the hands of a few subjects. The crowd voiced their pleasure with applause and several women pointed, but not at him. They were pointing at Kate, whispering behind their hands.

Marc realized all too late that they mistakenly believed Kate to be his current paramour, understandable since he again had his palm firmly planted on her back.

Marc took a much-needed step away from Kate, but not before he was joined by Dr. Jonathan Renault—resident hospital irritant—who had worked his way through the chaos.

“Good day, Your Majesty,” Renault said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Marc did not trust the man, and even less so when Renault blatantly assessed Kate from forehead to toes. “Good day, Dr. Renault,” he said with strained civility.

When Marc tried to usher Kate away, Renault stopped him cold by saying, “Je voudrais faire la connaissance de votre nouvelle petite amie.”

Petite amie. A direct intimation that Kate was Marc’s mistress. And to add to his total lack of propriety, he’d had the nerve to request an introduction.

In another time, in another place, Marc would have gladly punished the bastard with a slam of a fist into Renault’s prominent jaw. But Marc’s title prevented what would be considered a crude, common act. Crude, yes. Common, yes. Unjustified? Not in Marc’s opinion.

“For your information, Dr. Renault,” Marc began, an intentional trace of venom in his tone, “this is Dr. Katherine Milner. She is a very skilled physician, and quite capable of managing the entire clinic by herself.”

Although Kate looked somewhat confused, Renault didn’t appear at all affected by the pointed comment. Instead, he sent Kate a seamy smile and took her hand. “Enchanté, Dr. Milner. I would be happy to have you join my staff.”

Kate quickly pulled out of his grasp, giving Marc great satisfaction. Obviously she recognized the lecher beneath the lab coat. “Nice to meet you, Doctor,” she said with little enthusiasm.

Renault winked. “And I will look forward to seeing you again.”

With that, he strode away with a self-important lift of his pointy chin and a swaggering gait.

Kate leaned over until her lips were practically resting on Marc’s ear. “What did he say to you?”

“Keep walking.” Marc took her by the elbow and continued on to the hospital entry. Once they were on the steps, he lowered his voice and said, “He suggested we are lovers. A totally absurd assumption, but then Renault is somewhat lacking in restraint.”

Yet Marc wondered if something in his own demeanor, the way he had looked at Kate, the way he’d touched her so casually, had encouraged the speculation, not only in Renault but also in the minds of his people.

If that were the case, he would have to be more careful from this point forward. He could not allow anyone to believe that he had taken Kate Milner as his lover, even if he longed to do that very thing.