The Marine and The Princess

“Have you known Mark long?” she asked.

“Long enough,” the doctor replied, taking a wooden tongue depressor out of his bag. “Open your mouth and go ah.” Shining a tiny high-intensity flashlight in her mouth, he noted, “Looks good. How long have you known Mark, Your Highness?”

“His brother, Joe, married my best friend Prudence.”

“Ah, Joe.” Dr. Rosenthal nodded as he tossed the tongue depressor in a ritzy garbage can with the royal seal on it. “The charmer in the Wilder family.”

“And Mark?” Vanessa asked. “What’s he?”

“The proud one,” Dr. Rosenthal instantly replied.

“Really? Why’s that? Because he’s a Marine?”

“Don’t you have someplace else to be, Doc?” Mark said, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking.

“The doctor has to phone my father before he leaves,” she reminded Mark.

“How much sleep have you been getting a night?” the doctor asked her.

“Four, maybe five hours, if I’m lucky,” she replied.

“And your appetite?”

“He ate most of my breakfast,” Vanessa noted with a regal tilt of her head in Mark’s direction.

“Hey, there was enough on that platter to feed a family of five,” Mark said in his own defense. “And she hardly touched any of it.”

“Mmm. You do show signs of nervous exhaustion,” Dr. Rosenthal told her. “All kidding aside, I do think a break would do you good.”

“There, you see?” Vanessa shot Mark a triumphant look. “The doctor agrees with me.”

Mark felt the first twinges of guilt tugging at his conscience. The good doctor was in on the plan, of course. A former Marine himself, Abraham Rosenthal hadn’t asked any questions and had only been told information about Mark’s mission on a need-to-know basis.

“Shall I call your father from my office or from the phone here?” the doctor asked.

“Here would be best, I believe,” Vanessa replied. “What do you think, Mark?”

It was the first time she’d ever consulted his opinion on anything and Mark found that he liked the inquiring look she gave him, as if she cared what he replied. Which was ridiculous. She was used to giving orders as much as he was. She clearly wasn’t a woman who kowtowed to others. She was a princess, for heaven’s sake, nothing like the women he usually went for—the voluptuous cheerleader type.

Not that the cheerleaders were empty-headed—Cindy was a court stenographer, Rusti a telemarketer. And they hadn’t been without class. But they’d been more interested in pleasing a man than in just about anything else.

And Mark had loved that about them. Well, not love. He didn’t do love.

When he eventually did marry, it would be to a woman who understood the demands of a career Marine officer. Plenty of women were impressed by the uniform, but not many were willing to stick around for the life-style. His older brother, Justice, was a prime example of that. He’d married his high-school sweetheart right after entering the Marine Corps at age eighteen only to have her divorce him a short while later.

Joe had married a woman accustomed to the life of a Marine. After all, Prudence’s father was a sergeant major. But Joe claimed that it hadn’t helped his case any.

Mark only knew that he planned on doing his family proud. As the only one who’d chosen the career path of a commissioned officer, he had a responsibility to his father to prove that he could rise to the highest ranks in the corps. The right kind of wife would help in that quest, someone quiet and not too demanding.

A princess definitely wouldn’t do. Way too high maintenance.

But, damn, she kissed better than any cheerleader he’d ever met.

Where the heck had a princess like her learned to kiss like that?

“Mark?” Vanessa said. “You didn’t answer my question. Do you think the doctor should phone my father from my room here at the hotel?”

“Affirmative,” Mark replied in his best crisp military voice.

“Remember, I don’t want to alarm my father into sending the royal physician over to check me out, I only want to delay my return home a few days.”

“He knows the drill,” Mark assured her, nodding at Abraham. And he did. He did his part with admirable alacrity.

“Well?” Vanessa asked nervously as the doctor hung up the phone from his transatlantic call.

“Enjoy your time off,” Abraham told Vanessa. “You heard me tell your father that you have laryngitis as well as a sinus infection with ocular involvement. He agreed that it would be best if you stayed where you are for the time being. I said it would take a week before you’d be safe to fly.”

“Thank you!” Vanessa looked as if she wanted to throw her arms around the good doctor and hug him, but instead she held out her hand for a formal handshake.

“Your father said if you’re not better in a week he’ll send the royal physician and come to New York himself,” the doctor warned her. “You’re going to have to check in with him in a few days. And I’m to give him an update tomorrow.”

Vanessa looked worried. “Will that be a problem for you?”

“No. Not as long as Mark keeps me informed on your health.”

“I’ll make sure she gets plenty of rest,” Mark said.

Eyeing them both in exasperation, she reminded them, “Gentlemen, the point of this entire exercise is for me to get some freedom, not some rest.”

“See you get both,” Dr. Rosenthal ordered before letting himself out.

“You’re going to need different clothes,” Mark said. They were the first words he’d spoken since Dr. Rosenthal had departed five minutes ago. She would have suspected he was pouting about her having dumped him on his too sexy fanny earlier, but Prudence had once told her that Marines never pout. They get even.

Which, honestly, did make Vanessa just a tad nervous. But it also excited her. The prospect of matching wits with Mark had her blood racing.

“You’ll need a disguise, so no one will recognize you,” he was saying.

“I’ll be sure to leave my tiara here,” she noted mockingly.

“You do that. Do you own any jeans? I already know you don’t own any T-shirts.”

“I’m sure they sell T-shirts in the hotel gift shop.”

“Fine. Have Celeste play tourist and go down and buy one for you.”

“An excellent idea. And one I’d actually already thought of myself,” she added.

“Sure you say that now…”

“A Von Volzemburg never lies,” she loftily informed him.

“This from a woman who just told a huge whopper to her own father.”

A woman. He’d just referred to her as a woman instead of a princess. A small thing, no doubt, but it felt huge in her own mind. Vanessa hugged the idea of Mark thinking of her as a woman instead of a princess.

Goodness knew he’d kissed her the way a man kissed a woman. There had been nothing cordial or formal about the meeting of their lips. It had been sexy and exhilarating, passionate and intense. It had been better than the best chocolate ever concocted by the royal chocolatier—and that was saying something!

Vanessa considered herself something of a connoisseur where chocolate was concerned. But she was a novice at male-female relationships. Which was ridiculous for a woman her age. She was almost thirty, for heaven’s sake. But the rules for her code of behavior were much stricter than they were for anyone else. She’d led a sheltered upbringing to put it mildly.

“As I was saying, a Von Volzemburg never lies, unless they are fighting for their freedom. Back in 1456, King Frederick put a mark on the castle saying that it was infected with the plague. It kept the enemy forces away, and the castle survived.”

“Well, you’re not going to survive the streets of New York City if you don’t fit in,” he warned her.

“I understand perfectly.”

Half an hour later, Mark stared at her in disbelief. “I thought you said you understood the concept of a disguise. Those tight-fitting jeans are sure to catch the attention of every male under the age of eighty!”

She blushed. Okay, so the jeans were tight. She’d borrowed them from Celeste, who had no derriere at all to speak of. Now Mark made her feel like a stuffed sausage in the jeans.

Sending a scorching look his way, she grabbed another outfit from the closet and marched back to the bathroom. This time he couldn’t complain about the fit of her slacks. The Valentino haute couture black pantsuit had been hand tailored to her body. The understated elegance made it a perfect fit with the silk chartreuse blouse.

Opening the door, she posed against the doorway with chic nonchalance.

Mark was clearly not impressed. “Why don’t you just put a sign around your neck saying I’m A Rich Princess, Kidnap Me.”

This Marine was really starting to aggravate her now. “What kind of disguise are you proposing? Marx Brothers glasses and a mustache? Perhaps you’d like me to wear a Charlie Chaplin costume and swing a cane around?”

“Nothing that drastic will be required, although you are getting a little closer to what I’m aiming for here. Tone down the sex appeal.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You heard me. Tone down the sex appeal.”

“I’ll have you know that this suit was designed by Valentino.”

“I don’t care if it was designed by the pope, it makes you look too…” He made a motion with his hands.

Was that some kind of Marine sign language? “Too what?”

“Too good. Tone down your looks. Here, while you were in the bathroom I checked in my bag. I’ve got some sweats you can borrow.”

“Sweats?” she repeated as if he’d said a dirty word.

“Sweatpants and a sweatshirt.” He held them out for her. They were navy blue. Seeing that she made no effort to take them from him, he added, “They’re clean. I washed them before I packed them.”

“How reassuring. What’s that lump on the sweatshirt?”

“It’s a hood. We’ll put a baseball cap on your head, maybe add a flannel shirt, and presto, you’re no longer a princess.”

“No, I’m dressed like a bum.”

“Listen, Princess, we’re not aiming for any fashion awards,” he growled. “Our goal is to get out of here without being noticed.”

“And you don’t think someone dressed so disreputably in such an elite hotel isn’t going to garner attention?”

She had a point. Mark wasn’t pleased to have to admit that. He hadn’t been thinking clearly since he’d seen her in those skintight jeans. “All right. So wear the jeans and the T-shirt Celeste got from the gift shop.”

“You said I looked fat in those jeans.”

He gave her a startled look. “I did not.”

“You said, and I quote you here, that the jeans were ‘tight fitting.”’

“Yeah. So?”

“So that means I’m too fat for them.”

He rolled his eyes. “It means that you looked too good in them.”

“That’s not how it sounded to me.”

“Look, I’m not going to stand here and debate the issue with you.” He tossed the discarded T-shirt at her. “Put this back on along with the jeans and this sweatshirt. And tuck your hair under this Yankees baseball cap.”

“You’re a baseball fan?”

“Of course. I suppose you prefer cricket or polo maybe?”

“Actually I love basketball, but the NBA hasn’t been the same since Michael Jordan retired.” She had the pleasure of seeing his startled expression before she closed the bathroom door.

Vanessa did the best she could with what she had in hand. She’d discarded her jewelry but felt naked with nothing around her neck, so she put on the St. Christopher medal her mother had given her when she was a child. Studying her reflection in the mirror, she didn’t recognize herself. Which was a good thing, right? Anton, her security guard, wouldn’t recognize her either then.

Vanessa definitely wouldn’t win any fashion contests. She’d deliberately omitted her normal beauty routine and had opted for a natural-colored lipstick as her only makeup.

Opening the bathroom door, she informed Mark, “This is my final outfit. I’m not changing clothes again.”

“You’ll do.” Holding out his hand, he said, “Let’s go. I believe you mentioned something about a fast-food restaurant on that list of yours. You feel like eating tacos or burgers?”

“What about clothes? I can’t walk out of here with the things on my back and nothing else.”

His hand dropped to his side and his mocking smile returned. “Of course you can’t. Why don’t we pack up the royal luggage, and then we’ll go to Burger King?”

“Stop making fun of me.”

“Then stop being ridiculous. I already put some of your stuff in my bag. The more you carry the harder it is to slip out unnoticed.”

“You touched my things?”

She made him sound like a pervert who’d been pawing through her lingerie drawer. He was just following orders here. “Look, all I did was take some necessary items of clothing.”

“Show me.”

“Fine.” He yanked the zip open on his duffel bag and showed her what he’d packed.

“That won’t do.” She pulled out the sheer pink underwear and silk shirt. Marching over to the dresser, she proceeded to select other lingerie.

“We don’t have all day,” he growled.

She hesitated, still distracted by the thought of him touching her most intimate apparel. The image made her hot all over.

In the end, Vanessa wasn’t sure what she stuffed into his duffel bag, it certainly wasn’t much. Some sensible underwear, a few tops. She decided she could buy the rest. She had some American money with her.

“Are you ready, Princess?” he inquired mockingly.

“Yes, Captain, I am. Are you?”

“A Marine is always ready for whatever comes,” Mark automatically stated, but inside he was thinking that this mission was already turning out to be far more complicated than he’d anticipated.

Chapter Four

“Now what?” Vanessa whispered as she stood beside him next to the door leading from her bedroom to the hotel hallway. “Do you have a plan?”

“Of course I have a plan. I’m a Marine Corps officer. That’s what we do. Plan.”

“So what is the plan?”

“While you were getting dressed, I asked Celeste to order lunch for you. Room service should be coming along anytime now….”

“Actually the food is cooked by the royal chef in the hotel kitchen, and then a valet from the royal household brings up the meal. It’s royal protocol. To prevent anyone from tampering with the food.”

“What, no royal taster?”

He was half kidding but she replied, “He stays with my father at all times and doesn’t travel with me.”

Boy, did she live in a different universe than he did. Cracking open the door just a tad, Mark looked down the hallway. The elevator doors opened.

“Ah, here he comes. Get ready to move on my command.” Carefully closing the door, he waited as the valet went past that doorway to the main door leading to the elaborate suite. That’s where Anton was stationed. From there the royal guard had a clear view down both sides of the hallway. “We need to slip out while Anton’s attention is on that valet. Celeste said she’d distract him. I sure hope we can trust her.”

“I trust her with my life,” Vanessa said.

Mark wasn’t accustomed to trusting anyone other than a fellow Marine with his life. Sure he’d trust his own family, but they were all Marines, too. “Let’s go.” He hurried her through the door and down the hallway to the elevator.

Vanessa’s heart beat faster as adrenaline flew through her body. She was doing it, she was making her great escape! Her adventure was about to begin. She couldn’t wait.

Her hand was clasped in Mark’s as he kept their pace leisurely and deliberate. Running down the hall was sure to garner unwanted attention.

Never had a hallway seemed so long. Finally they reached the elevator doors. Vanessa tried not to grin like a fool. Freedom. She could almost taste it.

Eyeing the reflection in the mirrored panel above the elevator’s call button, Mark suddenly swore under his breath and tugged her into his arms.

“Play along with me,” he whispered urgently, his lips almost touching hers. “Anton is watching us. I have to kiss you, so pretend you’re hot for me and kiss me back.”

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