Island Doctor To Royal Bride?

He’d picked the resort carefully. It was exactly what he’d wanted. A place he could completely relax and refocus. He knew after finishing his last job in a busy ER that he’d need a chance to reflect and change pace. His final patient in the ER had brought home to him just how important it was to spearhead the changes his country needed in healthcare. Corinez was a playground for the rich and famous. But not everyone who lived and worked there was rich and famous, and healthcare was something that frequently came bottom of the list on people’s daily expenses. After his last case his father had promised him a few weeks’ leeway before he returned to help try and develop free maternity care within Corinez.

He’d prepared for this role his whole life. He’d always known this time would come, as had his brother and sister. There was no doubt that Anthony had the hardest role—as the oldest child he was expected to take over from their father when he abdicated next year.

Philippe nodded as one of the personal concierges set a cocktail down next to him. This was his time to reflect, to plan, to take stock of what he’d learned from around the globe and apply it to the services and people in Corinez.

He had to—because paradise had changed a little over the last few years. Corinez had always been known as an island paradise. For the rich it was well known as a tax haven—the casinos flourished. Lots of celebrities had homes in Corinez. But over the last few years things had changed. The recession had hit areas of Corinez like every other country and, while the fabulously rich still existed, the people who struggled were becoming more noticeable, and those were the ones that Philippe wanted to focus on. He firmly believed that everyone was entitled to healthcare. He wanted to introduce a system in Corinez similar to the NHS in the UK. He had to start somewhere and now, more than ever, he knew that maternity care was the place to begin.

So why was he spending his time thinking about the beautiful Malaysian doctor he’d met yesterday?

Most of his dreams last night had been haunted by her dark hair, serious brown eyes, slim frame, pink shirt and dark figure-hugging trousers. He could remember every detail.

When he’d first watched her, he’d admired her easy manner as she’d interacted with the little girl. But from the second she’d realised he was there he’d almost been able to see the shutters go down over her eyes. He’d been surprised by her instantly suspicious gaze. The truth was—he wasn’t used to it.

He’d spent his life in two roles. Prince Philippe or Dr Aronaz. Neither of which was usually met with suspicion. But he hadn’t introduced himself to Arissa as either. Which for him was unusual. He was trying hard to keep a low profile. But now he was here?

The clientele were clearly exclusive. He’d recognised an actor hiding from a scandal. An unscrupulous politician. An author who seemed to spend all day furiously typing her latest novel. And several well-known business associates who were obviously trying to take some time to relax—even though they had phones pressed permanently to their ears.

Truth was, he really didn’t want to spend time with any of these people. Particularly the blonde actress who seemed to be trying to attract his attention right now. His last experience of a relationship with an actress hadn’t gone so well. She’d relished dating a prince. She’d loved the attention. The constant media coverage. What she hadn’t loved was how dedicated Philippe was to his work. Or that his plans for the future had included even more work. When he’d refused to choose her over his day job she’d dumped him mercilessly. He wasn’t afraid to admit he’d been hurt. He might even have loved her a little, but her hour-long interview about him on prime-time TV had killed that feeling completely. He was wary now. He wasn’t ready to put his heart on the line in such an obvious way again. Here, he could just be Philippe, not a prince of Corinez. That felt surprisingly refreshing.

He looked around again. What exactly was he going to do? There was a gym—been there, done that. A business centre—no way. A beauty salon—no. A masseuse—he shuddered. He’d never been one for a stranger’s hands on his skin. As for the tennis and squash courts? It was hard to play tennis or squash solo. He stretched out his arms, feeling the sun continue to heat his skin. Arissa’s face flooded into his brain again.

He’d seen the disappointment on her face yesterday when she’d realised Dr Reacher wouldn’t be joining her. Philippe hadn’t even asked what impact that might have on her. To be honest he’d been a little stung by her sudden dismissal.

He wasn’t used to being treated like that. Sure, like any doctor he’d dealt with drunk or difficult patients. As a prince he’d dealt with arrogant or obnoxious dignitaries. But Arissa? That was something a little different. It was almost as if he’d done something to offend her—and he was sure that he hadn’t.

He straightened on his sunlounger. There was a chance she could be responsible for the clinic on her own. His legs swung off the bed automatically. He took one glance at the bright orange cocktail and shook his head as he grabbed his T-shirt. He could still keep a low profile. He could introduce himself to Arissa with his Dr persona while just leaving out the part he was a prince. Temur Sapora was an island just like Corinez, albeit on the other side of the planet. Thoughts started to form quickly in his head. He could help out while learning more about their health system—treat it as a research trip. He could give her references, leaving out his last job at a hospital in Corinez. If she called there, she would find out instantly he was a prince. The others would only mention him as Philippe Aronaz.

He strode through to his suite, quickly changing as he wondered who he was trying to convince. His real focus was that slight frame and those deep brown eyes. He smiled as he strode out of the door.

No one would turn down a free doctor—would they?

CHAPTER THREE

ARISSA WAS TIRED. More than tired. The next two days were going to be the busiest. The annual carnival was due to start tomorrow and it looked as if she was going to be the only doctor available for the clinic.

It was unfortunate. She’d hoped to use technology to review some of the cases like Adilah’s. There were seven kids on the island with some kind of blood cancer that she could discuss with a specialist back at her training hospital. She’d really wanted to use time to ensure they were getting the best treatments available. But now, as the only doctor at the clinic, she was unlikely to get time to do that.

She stared at the stack of photos in front of her. The clinic had negotiated sponsorship into research regarding the new ointment made from natural substances found on the island that seemed to have remarkable healing abilities. Part of her role was to help with the documentation. But it seemed that the doctor that had been here before her had fallen behind. The work was vital—the sponsorship helped keep this clinic open and full of supplies. She’d need to play catch up. It would have been possible with two doctors—particularly when Harry had been so interested in the subject matter—but now, with just her?

It didn’t help that she couldn’t find the digital files on the computer. If her predecessor had saved them he must have used the weirdest filing system in the world.

A shadow fell over her desk and she looked up just as her stomach rumbled loudly. Lunch. She’d forgotten about that too.

She frowned as she recognised the face. She couldn’t help herself. ‘Lost again? Or do you need a doctor?’

He was dressed in light trousers and a pale blue shirt. Relatively smarter than his jeans and T-shirt yesterday.

‘Do you?’ Was his reply.

Her brain tried to compute, but hunger and fatigue were making her grumpy. ‘What?’

‘A doctor? Do you need one—you know—to replace Harry for the next two weeks?’

The frown stayed in place. ‘Well, of course I do. But it’s not likely. So—’ she pushed herself up from the chair ‘—what exactly do you want, Mr...?’ She couldn’t remember his name from yesterday.

He held out his hand towards her. ‘Dr—Dr Aronaz. Here to help—if you want it.’

She stared at the outstretched hand and, slowly, put her hand out to meet his. His grip was firm, his hand warm. She ignored the little buzz up her arm. ‘What kind of a doctor are you?’

‘Mainly ER, but I do have some surgical experience, and I’ve had some obstetric experience too.’

‘Where did you work?’

‘I’ve worked lots of places.’

‘I need specifics.’ She couldn’t help but fire questions at him. While she was desperate, she wasn’t that desperate. She didn’t want some lazy, rich guy who’d flunked out of every job that he’d had.

‘I spent a spell in an ER in Chicago. I can give you my head of department’s number. Before that I was in Italy in Verona, before that I was in Sarajevo in Bosnia.’

‘Where did you train?’

A smile started to dance around the corners of his lips at her rapid-fire questions. ‘I trained at Harvard.’

Of course. Money was practically stamped all over this guy. She shifted her feet. But there was something else. It was old-school money.

Somehow she knew he hadn’t had to work as hard as she had to get grants and loans to pursue her dream of being a doctor. In fact, she was quite sure he hadn’t had to do that at all.

She was still working to pay off her loans. Goodness knew when that would finally come to an end. But it had been worth it for her. She’d achieved her dream. Her dream of being a doctor. A good doctor—a focused doctor who did the best she could for her patients. She’d even managed to introduce a system for babies who’d been abandoned like her. The safe haven project held a big piece of her heart.

People who’d trained at Harvard probably couldn’t begin to understand that. She hated that money made the world go round. As a capable and competent doctor whose reputation went before her, Arissa had had more than one offer of a job if she’d agreed to work entirely privately. She’d also had a few very rich businessmen try and convince her that she wanted to work in their specialist clinics. It was almost as if they didn’t understand why anyone wouldn’t chase the money, and come exactly where the high salaries were.

But the biggest part of the population didn’t have a high salary. As it was, she considered her normal doctor salary to be good. She didn’t want to fold and end up working for the rich and famous.

She didn’t need the drama. She didn’t want the attention—no matter how fleeting. She was an ordinary person. And that was what she wanted to be—an ordinary person, leading an ordinary life. She’d been particularly careful not to let the media know she’d been an abandoned baby herself when she’d set up the safe haven project—she didn’t want her story to be the news. This was all about the mothers and babies of now.

She folded her arms across her chest and stared up at Philippe. Mr Old-School Money. He shook his head a little. ‘What’s wrong? Looked like I’d lost you there. Did I say something to offend you?’

She paused, trying to find words.

Philippe filled the uncomfortable gap. He looked around. ‘I’m not quite sure what services you offer in the clinic, but I’m sure my ER experience will be sufficient to give a good service. Harry told me a little of the reasons he was coming here. He was excited about a research project on healing. I’m happy to help with that too. I carried out a few research projects as part of my training.’

It almost sounded as if the guy was trying to schmooze her. And why should he? He’d just offered his doctor services for free for the next two weeks, she should be jumping all over him. But...there was just something she couldn’t put her finger on. As if there were something he wasn’t quite telling her.

Arissa’s instincts had always been good. She’d learned not to ignore them.

‘What kind of projects?’ She didn’t quite mean the way the words came out—as if she didn’t quite believe him.

But he kept his cool even though he looked slightly amused by her questioning. ‘I did one in West Africa looking at polio and smallpox vaccination, encouraging uptake. It was hugely successful. I did another in London, working at a specialist centre that diagnosed PoTS—you know, postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome. Fascinating.’

She pressed her lips together. He’d gone from one end of the spectrum to the other. If the guy actually showed her his résumé she was pretty sure it was far more impressive than hers.

A pager started sounding at her waistband.

Oh, no.

He wrinkled his nose. ‘What is it?’

She started moving, crossing her room and grabbing her jacket and keys. ‘We need to go. We need to go now.’ This was exactly the reason she could do with another doctor. She tried not to smile as she turned her head. ‘If you want to start—Dr Aronaz—you start now.’

* * *

Philippe was slightly confused. He watched as Arissa changed her flat shoes for a pair of runners and pressed the button on her pager to stop it sounding. A pager in a community clinic? He wasn’t quite sure what that meant. Community clinics didn’t normally cover any kind of emergency service.

Arissa didn’t hang around. She was out of the door in a flash. For the briefest of seconds he’d felt as if he’d had to convince her to let him work alongside her. He still wasn’t entirely sure she had agreed to it. What was it about him that put her hackles up?

For another few seconds there he’d thought she was almost smiling at him. But, it had vanished in an instant. And she was already climbing into the old-style Jeep that sat outside the clinic. He didn’t hesitate. He climbed in next to her.

‘Where are we going?’

She didn’t answer as she started the car and pulled out onto the road, glancing at her watch.

He looked around him. ‘Do we have any supplies?’ If they were heading to some kind of accident they’d want a minimum amount of supplies.

She pressed her lips together. ‘There’s an emergency kit in the back. Hopefully we won’t need it.’

He leaned back into the seat, still trying to work out what was going on. The streets of Temur Sapora blurred past. Arissa kept glancing at her watch, going around a few corners practically on two wheels. Philippe gripped the handle on the inside of the door. Wherever it was they were going, she wanted to get there quickly.

He frowned as they pulled up outside a fire and rescue centre. The front door was down, the rescue truck visible through the upper windows. It didn’t look as if it was going anywhere. Whatever they were doing it didn’t involve other emergency services.

Arissa jumped out of the car and ran over to the wall. A few seconds later another black car pulled up alongside them. A fire and rescue guy jumped out too; he nodded at her. ‘Arissa.’ His footsteps slowed. ‘Let’s see what we’ve got.’

Philippe was more confused by the second. ‘What on earth are we doing here?’

Arissa looked over her shoulder towards him. ‘Lim, this is Dr Aronaz. My temporary workmate for the next two weeks.’ She pulled a key from her pocket. ‘Okay?’

Lim gave a nod and stood alongside Philippe, staring at the red panel on the brick wall expectantly.

There was a noise. Something he didn’t expect. His stomach clenched. Was that a baby crying? Lim glanced at him, realising his confusion.

He pointed to the pager on his belt, then gestured towards the red panel that Arissa unlocked and pulled towards her.

‘This is our safe haven. A place that someone can come and leave their baby. No questions asked. As soon as a baby is left, our pagers go off. We aim to get here within five minutes.’

Philippe couldn’t move. He was fascinated. Arissa slowly pulled out the red panel in the wall, and he realised it was a carefully constructed shelf. Inside was a squirming baby, wrapped in a thin cotton blanket. Arissa lifted the baby out gently. ‘Hello, honey,’ she said quietly, gathering the baby in her arms, and stroking its head with one light finger. The baby instinctively turned its head towards her finger—rooting. Trying to find food. This baby was hungry.

Philippe stepped forward, his curiosity too much for him. Arissa nodded. ‘Get me a pack,’ she said to Lim, who disappeared and grabbed something from the boot of the Jeep.

Arissa carried the baby over to the Jeep and laid it down gently in the back, opening the blanket and giving the baby a quick visual check. The umbilical cord was tied with a piece of string and the baby was still smeared in some vernix. ‘It’s practically a newborn,’ Philippe said, looking over her shoulder.

‘Do you have much experience with newborns?’ she asked.

He gave a little shrug. ‘I’ve delivered three babies in the ER.’

She zipped open a tiny pack, pulling out a tympanic thermometer, a collection of wipes, and a tiny finger probe. ‘Give me a hand,’ she said quickly.

The baby started to squirm. Lim stood back and let Philippe move forward. He pulled a pen torch from his back pocket—it was amazing the things you kept on you when you were a doctor—and leaned forward, doing a quick check of the baby’s pupils. They had no idea how this baby had been delivered, or if there had been any trauma. ‘Both pupils equal and reactive,’ he said, doing a manual APGAR score in his head. The skin colour was good, muscles reactive, the baby kicking as he examined it. He slipped on the finger probe and glanced at the screen for a reading. ‘Do you have a stethoscope?’ he asked Arissa. She smiled and pulled a bright pink stethoscope from her pocket.

‘Don’t you believe the monitor?’ she asked.

He smiled as he took the stethoscope. ‘I like to do things the old-fashioned way,’ he said. The monitor reading said a pulse of one-forty and an oxygen saturation of ninety-eight per cent. This baby was doing fine.

He listened for a few seconds, checking the lungs, making sure the baby hadn’t inhaled anything untoward during delivery, then listening to the heart, checking for any heart murmurs or any other abnormality. He hoped Arissa couldn’t see the beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. An abandoned baby, albeit in a safe place. This was bringing back so many memories for him—of a baby that wasn’t healthy and pink like this one.

The baby let out an angry yelp as he lifted the stethoscope away from its chest. He did one final check. ‘Well, she seems like a perfectly healthy little girl.’ He inadvertently tucked the stethoscope into his back pocket. ‘I just hope mum is doing so well.’ His stomach squirmed as he said those words.

Arissa turned her eyes to Lim, who gave them both a nod. ‘I’ll put the word out. You okay?’ he asked.

Arissa nodded as she wrapped the baby back up and put her to her shoulder. ‘I think we’ll be good. I’ll take her back to the hospital and get her admitted and fed.’

Lim unlocked the door to the fire and rescue station and came back out a few minutes later with a car seat in his hand. He nodded towards them both. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Will let you know if we hear anything.’

He climbed into his black car and disappeared into the distance. Philippe turned to Arissa, his mind whirling. He pointed to the red panel on the fire station. ‘What on earth is this?’

Arissa tossed her car keys towards him. ‘It’s a safe haven. We set it up last year. Someplace safe that a woman can leave her baby. No questions. No prosecutions. An alarm goes off as soon as the panel is opened.’ She shook her head as he frowned and looked above the panel. ‘Not at the station,’ she said and pointed to her belt. ‘To our pagers. There’s always a doctor and a member of the fire and rescue crew who have the pagers. One, or both of us, aim to get here within five minutes.’

Philippe was still surprised. ‘How many babies does this happen to?’ Why hadn’t he heard of this before? This was exactly the kind of thing he needed to know about. Ideas were already forming in his head.

Arissa gave a shrug. ‘There’s only been three since we started. But having a safe haven to leave a baby is organised in lots of places.’ For a second he thought something flickered across her face but she pressed her lips together, then started talking again. ‘When I was a little girl, there was a baby left outside the old clinic. It was there all night. The clinic isn’t staffed overnight and I’m not sure that people knew that. Anyway, the baby nearly died. My mother told me about it. Everyone was upset. They never found out whose child it was. But the story stayed with me. And over the years I’ve often thought it should be something that we should start here.’ There was something in the way she said the words that sounded a little off. From the little he knew of her, Arissa normally seemed quite comfortable, but those words had come out hard and stiff.

But Philippe was frozen to the spot as the memories flooded through him again. So many things about this were familiar. Only a few weeks ago something similar had happened in Corinez. But Corinez had a different climate from Temur Sapora. The baby left in Corinez had suffered from hypothermia. It had been touch and go. Philippe had been on duty. He’d spent the next two days trying to revive the child and had failed. He’d never lost a child before and it had moved him in ways he’d never expected. It had seemed such a random act. And it had enforced for him even more the glaring need for free maternal healthcare in Corinez. Had the mother not presented at hospital because she couldn’t afford to pay the bill? Maybe she had no help at home. Maybe she hadn’t known she was pregnant, or hadn’t told anyone. Whatever the reasons were, try as he might, he hadn’t been able to track her down to ensure her safety. He’d asked questions around the hospital. It hadn’t been the first abandoned baby—but it had been the first who’d been exposed to adverse weather conditions. Maybe it was time to set up a scheme like they had in Temur Sapora?

‘They have these all over the world. In France, the USA, Italy, Hungary, Russia, Japan, Switzerland and the Philippines. They have a whole host of names—baby windows, baby cots, cradles of life, safe havens. But they all have the same function. A safe place for a mother to leave a baby.’

She fitted the car seat into the back of her own car and climbed in next to the baby. Philippe looked at the car keys in his hand and gave a little shake of his head as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

‘The fire station here isn’t always staffed and it’s in a quieter street. That’s why we decided this was a more appropriate place than the clinic. If someone wants to leave their baby, they won’t do it while the world is watching. Our clinic is right in the middle of the main street. The rest of the crew who work here are on call. So, someone will always be able to attend quickly to any baby left in the safe haven.’

He started the engine. ‘I take it I’m driving you both to the local hospital?’ His brain couldn’t stop turning over and over.

Arissa was bending over the baby strapped into the back seat. She looked up and smiled. ‘Well, look at that, little Dee, our new doctor is a resident genius.’

He sighed and smiled as he shook his head. ‘Dee?’

She nodded as he followed the signs on the road to the local hospital. It was only a few minutes away. ‘This is our fourth baby. The first two were boys. We decided just to go with the alphabet. Our first was called Amir, our second Bahari. Our third baby was a girl. We called her Chi-tze, and this time, we’ll pick a name beginning with D.’

Now he understood. ‘The babies never have a letter or a note? Something to tell you what their name is.’

He was doing his best to keep his eyes on the road. But he couldn’t help but glance over his shoulder at the woman with dark curls looking down at the tiny baby. He could see the compassion and empathy in her face, making his stomach twist in a way he just hadn’t expected.

She gave a sad kind of smile as she stroked the little girl’s face. ‘Not yet,’ she sighed. ‘I wish they would.’