The Royal Wager: Persuading the Playboy King / Unmasking the Maverick Prince / Daring the Dynamic Sheikh

Yet he couldn’t have a casual affair with Kate; it would have to be all or nothing. And he couldn’t consider a serious relationship because, in all honesty, he’d never really had one before. Solid relationships took time to evolve, and at present he did not have an abundance of spare hours. Even though he was expected to marry one day—as Philippe had been expected to—Marc wasn’t certain when he’d be ready for that day.

He recalled the wager he had made all those years ago and the reunion with Dharr and Mitch that would take place next spring. The bet had once been a reason to avoid marriage, but now he viewed it as ridiculous ramblings of youth. His reasons to avoid marriage now were much more compelling and complex. And he couldn’t let his attraction to Kate sway him, for both her sake and his.

But he did have a yearning for the beautiful doctor that knew no true logic. The remembrance of her kiss, the flush of her breasts, the taste of her against his tongue stirred his body back to life. He rubbed a hand down his bare abdomen, imagining her hand there and much lower. He grew hard as a brick when he fantasized about having her in his bed, sliding into her body, holding her close in his arms. But as much as he desired her physically, he longed more for her trust and respect.

And that could prove to be the greatest challenge of all.

Kate entered the clinic the next morning prepared for her first official day at work. Or as prepared as she could be, considering she’d had relatively little sleep over the past three days. Last night was no exception, thanks to Cecile—and to Marc. But she couldn’t be angry with either one of them, especially not after she’d observed Marc’s late-night interaction with Cecile. She’d remained hidden in the doorway of the room adjacent to the nursery when she’d heard him come in and watched in fascination as he walked Cecile around the room, comforting her until the baby had finally gone back to sleep. And Marc had left the room not knowing Kate had been there witnessing his care and concern.

To Kate, Marc had seemed like a natural father comforting his daughter. Even if it turned out that he wasn’t the father, at least Kate was assured that Marc would step into the role with little effort if necessary.

But right now she had to get her mind on to the business of healing.

After checking in with the clinic’s receptionist, Kate was directed to follow Isabella, the nurse who had eyed Marc as if he were chateaubriand during their first meeting. After they entered a small lounge, she told Kate, “You may place your things in the locker,” then immediately left, as if she couldn’t quite take being in the same room with the new doctor. Maybe she viewed Kate as competition, a ridiculous assumption, Kate decided. She’d never been anyone’s competition. And she also needed to remember that the woman’s name was not Nurse Lustful so that she wouldn’t accidentally slip up.

Kate settled into the routine without much trouble, considering she had acclimated herself to the surroundings the day before. The schedule again was hectic as Kate moved through the exams with Caroline, fueled solely by adrenaline, since she hadn’t had the opportunity to have lunch. By the time the afternoon ended, she’d seen almost twenty patients but fortunately she hadn’t seen Renault—until she kicked off her shoes and collapsed into the office chair with a cup of weak coffee and a headache that throbbed with each beat of her pulse.

Renault eyed her stocking-covered legs exposed by the skirt she wore, and her bare feet propped on the desk. His perusal made Kate feel as if she’d taken off all her clothes. “Is there something you need, Doctor?” She regretted the words the minute they left her mouth when he sent her a sleazy grin.

“You seem as if you have had a rough day. Perhaps I should ask if there’s anything you need from me?”

Your absence. “I’m fine.” Kate lowered her feet to the floor and slipped her shoes back on, but she still felt grossly naked due to his continued assessment. “I was just leaving for home.”

“Where is home, Dr. Milner?”

How should she answer? She didn’t like the thought of mentioning a hotel in the presence of a man who fancied himself a Don Juan. She wasn’t too fond of mentioning the palace either, but at least he would realize she had guards at her disposal. Of course, she could say it was none of his business. She opted to affect courtesy and give him a partial truth. “I’m staying at the palace for the time being, until I can find a place of my own.”

He took the chair across from her. “I believe there is a cottage available next door to my apartment. It is not far from the hospital.”

Living on the other side of the continent from him would be too close for Kate. “Thanks for the suggestion.”

“I also have a spare bedroom, if you are interested.”

Not on your life. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

He nailed her with his demonic eyes. “I believe it would be a very good idea. We could get to know each other better.”

“I prefer to keep our relationship on a professional level.”

“That is not as enjoyable, ma chèrie. But I assure you that my intentions are very honorable.”

The scoundrel didn’t know the first thing about honor. “Again, I appreciate the offer but I need extra room for myself and my daughter.”

Kate picked up her bag and moved from behind the desk, ready for a quick exit until Renault came to his feet and asked, “How is your daughter? Did her laboratory tests turn out well?”

“She’s fine. Very healthy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I find it somewhat coincidental that she looks very much like the DeLoria family. Is there any relation?”

“Of course not,” Kate snapped, probably to her own detriment. “Why would you think that?”

“I suppose you could say that I’ve noticed how the king looks at you. Are you lovers?”

Are you a jackass? “No, we’re not lovers. We attended the same university in America. We’re friends.”

“Only friends?”

“Yes. I need to go.”

He moved in closer like a snake in the grass. “First, I would like to say I am pleased you are working with me. Running this clinic can present quite a challenge. At times I wish that I had pursued my goal to become a surgeon.”

No one wished that as much as Kate at the moment. “You would’ve made a good surgeon, I imagine.”

“I am flattered, but why would you believe this about me since you have not seen me in action?”

Kate was going to enjoy the heck out of this. “Your hands are made for surgery. Small. Easy to fit into tight spots. And you know what they say about small hands and feet. Guess that’s why you tend to overcompensate in other areas.”

She headed out the door, smiling all the way down the hall as she reflected on the shock and chagrin on Renault’s face.

Little man, big ego, bigger mouth.

After exiting through the service entrance, Kate was surprised to find Mr. Nicholas hadn’t arrived to take her back to the palace. When she’d called a few minutes before, he’d said he was on his way. She decided to check the main entrance in case she’d misunderstood his instructions.

She crossed the hospital’s vestibule and pushed through the double doors leading outside. Suddenly, hordes of reporters surrounded her, led by one balding, rotund gentleman holding a tape recorder. “Miss Milner, I have a few questions.” His English was impeccable but his clothing was not. He looked as though he’d slept in his suit, but then Kate probably didn’t look much better.

“Doctor Milner,” she corrected, craning her neck in hopes of finding the Rolls waiting at the curb to rescue her, but it wasn’t to be.

Cameras flashed and videotape rolled when the man said, “Could you please state your relationship with King DeLoria?”

Not again. Why couldn’t everyone mind their own business? She had no idea how to handle this situation, but decided honesty would be her best course. After all, she had nothing to hide—except her feelings for the king. She hoped her face wouldn’t give her away. “We’re former university colleagues.”

“Are you lovers?” another man asked.

First Renault, and now this. Where was Marc when she needed him? “We’re friends and nothing more.”

“Then you deny the rumor that your child was fathered by the king?” one woman shouted from the center of crowd.

Where had that come from? She suspected she already knew the answer. Dear Dr. Renault. “Yes, I deny that,” she snapped, then added more sedately, “Before three days ago, when I arrived in Doriana to accept the hospital position, I had not seen King DeLoria in almost a decade.”

The bald guy shoved the recorder close to her mouth. “But are you not staying at the palace with him?”

“I’m staying at the inn.” Kate breathed a huge sigh of relief when she saw the Rolls pull up. “I have to go now.”

She tried to shove her way through the crowd, which was larger now, since several villagers and tourists had stopped to check out the commotion. The crush of people seemed to close in on her with every step, threatening to steal her oxygen as she struggled to reach the bottom of the stairs. Then a hand grabbed her wrist and pulled her forward, while a contingent of bodyguards moved in and attempted to push the onlookers and press corps away.

Marc.

She’d never been so grateful to see anyone in her life. But she didn’t reach the safety of the car before one man swung around to capture the king on film and, in doing so, whipped his video camera into Kate’s forehead. Her head snapped to one side. Pain shot from the place of impact, bringing tears to her eyes and clouding her vision. Yet she could see well enough to witness Marc drawing back his fist and then landing a punch in the cameraman’s nose, sending the man backward into the arms of two guards.

Marc wrapped his arm around Kate’s shoulder and herded her through the stunned crowd toward the car where Nicholas stood by, holding open the door and sporting a satisfied smile. “Good show, Your Manliness.”

A regular sideshow, Kate thought as Marc ushered her into the car. Only three days spent in this quaint country and she’d already started a riot. Well, she’d wanted some adventure and it looked like she’d gotten it.

Once they were settled into the seat side by side and the door had been closed, Marc leaned forward and told Nicholas, “Take the back route to the palace.” Then he hit a button on the console that raised the smoky tinted glass, concealing the rear seat from the driver’s view.

Marc turned to Kate, a mixture of anger and concern flaring in his cobalt blue eyes. “How badly are you hurt?”

Kate touched her fingertips to her forehead, right above her left eye. The spot was only slightly tender. “I’m okay. I’ll probably just have a bruise for the next few days.”

“I’ll have Louis come to the palace to examine you.”

“I’m a doctor, Marc. Nothing’s cracked. No indentation. Just a bump. I have a very hard head.”

“Obviously. I will have Dr. Martine examine you regardless,” he repeated.

Kate was simply too tired and too rattled to argue. “Suit yourself.”

He shifted in his seat and leveled a serious stare on her. “Why were you not waiting at the service entrance?”

Kate bristled at his severe tone. “I went there first. When I didn’t find Mr. Nicholas, I decided to check the front in case I was wrong about the location. I had no idea I’d be bombarded with questions.”

Marc sighed. “This is my life, Kate. Your connection with me opens you up to scrutiny. What did they ask?”

Kate didn’t want to anger him more, but he deserved to know the truth, at least about the impromptu press conference. She would tell him about Renault’s speculation later. Much later. “They asked about our relationship. Then they insinuated Cecile is our child, yours and mine, if you can believe that.”

Marc reached into the briefcase resting at his side and withdrew a newspaper, then handed it to Kate. “This is where they came up with that theory.”

Kate couldn’t read a word of the print, but the somewhat blurry photograph of the king carrying a baby into the hospital, a woman by his side—in this case Kate—needed no interpretation.

She tossed the paper aside. “This doesn’t prove anything.”

Marc turned away and stared out the window. “It’s enough to raise suspicions. And damn the vulture who took it.”

Kate noticed Marc’s hand resting between them, the bruised and puffy knuckles. She caught his wrist and worked his fingers back and forth, all the while watching Marc’s face for any signs of pain. He just sat there staring straight ahead, his jaw clenched tight.

“You’re going to have some swelling,” she said. “But I don’t think you’ve done too much damage. I’m not sure I can say the same about the camera guy’s nose, or your reputation.” She sent him a shaky smile. “I can see the headlines now—King Saves Damsel in Distress.”

“And hopefully will not be charged with assault.”

“Can they do that?”

“I’ll have my staff deal with it.”

Kate allowed a few moments of silence before she said, “I’m sorry, Marc. I should have been more careful.”

He pulled his hand from hers as if he couldn’t stand to touch her. “This isn’t your fault. It’s mine. I should have prepared you for this.”

“How would you do that? Teach me Camera Dodging, 101?”

For a moment she thought he might smile. Instead, he streaked both hands down his face then his gaze came to rest on her forehead. “Are you certain you’re all right?”

“I’m positive. Promise.”

Surprisingly, Marc moved closer and settled one arm along the back of the seat. “I would not have forgiven myself, Kate, if something more serious had happened to you. And what did happen was bad enough.”

“It was stupid for me to think that if someone suspected we were more than friends, it wouldn’t really matter.”

He took her hand and twined their fingers together. “It does matter, and I’m the foolish one, Kate.”

“Why is that?”

“Because I have inadvertently involved you in this scandal.” His intense eyes sent Kate’s heart on a marathon. “Because I know I shouldn’t do this, but I’ll be damned if I can help myself.”

Inclining his head, Marc captured her bottom lip between his lips before kissing her deeply, tenderly. His mouth melted into hers like cinnamon candy, a taste she detected on his tongue that played against hers so sweetly, softly.

For a fleeting moment, Kate rationalized that his kiss was a result of his frustration and anger, the means to let off steam and the reason why it continued and grew more passionate with every ticking second. But when he slid his palm down her rib cage, to her hip and then back up again, she couldn’t lay claim to any rationality for either of them. All she recognized at that moment was a heady warmth oozing from every pore and a desire for Marc DeLoria’s full attention that knew no limits.

What else would explain her lack of resistance when he cupped her knee, which was exposed by her skirt that had ridden up to her thighs? What else except a total absence of common sense drove her legs to part in invitation while they were driving in a car? What else could have incited the low moan climbing her throat when he slid his palm beneath the hem of her skirt?

She was very aware of what Marc intended when he kept going until his fingertips hovered at the junction of her thighs. And when he fondled her through the nylon, all thoughts slipped away.

She was growing hotter by the minute, closer and closer to losing it as Marc increased the pressure, both with his mouth firmly joined with hers and his hand working wonders between her thighs. Feeling brazen and bold, she slid her palm up his thigh and to his groin where her fingers contacted the ridge beneath his slacks. She touched him the same way he now touched her, through fabric that created a frustrating obstacle but not enough to stop either one of them from the erotic, forbidden exploration. She didn’t think anything could stop them.

“We’re here, Your Highness.”

The grating sound of Nicholas’s voice filtering in from the overhead intercom broke the spell and the kiss. Marc pulled his hand away, slid to the other side of the car and leaned his head back against the seat, his chest rising and falling with his ragged respiration. Kate had trouble catching her breath as well. She already missed his touch, his heat, his mouth that had shown no mercy on her senses.

As they rode through the gates, Marc’s rough sigh broke the silence. “My mother told me she offered you the guesthouse. I’ll see that your things are brought here.”

At least this time he hadn’t apologized for losing control since Kate wasn’t the least bit sorry. “But won’t that be worse, me staying on the grounds?”

“The press probably knows you’re at the inn. You’ll be afforded more protection here.”

The media knew where she was staying because she’d told them, another huge mistake. “If you think that’s best for the time being, then I don’t have a problem with it.”

Marc turned his head toward her. “But we still have one other problem.”

“What’s that?”

“I’m not strong enough to resist you.”

That brought on Kate’s smile. “I’ll try to behave myself.”

“I’m not concerned about your behavior. I am concerned about mine.”

Kate was concerned most about her growing feelings for him. “Look, you just punched out a reporter. You can deal with me.”

Marc returned her smile with one of his own—a smile that could move the mountains surrounding them. “That is the problem, Kate. I want to deal with you in a very intimate way, and that should be more than obvious to you now. If we had not arrived here when we did, I can promise you I would have done much more, regardless of the fact we were in a moving vehicle with only a glass separating us from prying eyes.”

And Kate would have let him.

He leaned over and kissed her cheek immediately before Nicholas opened the car door. “I’m not certain I will be able to overcome that problem.”

Kate sincerely hoped he didn’t.

In the middle of the night, after Cecile was tucked safely in bed, Marc escorted Kate to the inn to retrieve her belongings with a bevy of armed guards as their chaperones. Regardless, he’d done well to keep his hands off of her in the privacy of the car, but once they returned to the deserted guest cottage, he questioned how long he could maintain his resolve.

Marc considered leaving her alone, but he truly didn’t want to leave, especially after Martine had told him that although Kate’s wound didn’t appear that serious, someone should watch her in case she showed signs of a concussion.

Presently, she showed Marc a pair of shapely legs encased in nylons as she strolled around the small living room to examine the odds and ends on the bookshelves in the corner. Those damn panty hose had saved him from doing something totally inadvisable earlier that day, before Nicholas had delivered his untimely interruption.

“Another great collection of books,” she said, keeping her back to him. “Just wish I could read more French. But I am doing some studying.”

Marc was doing some studying of his own—namely the curve of her buttocks and the dip of her waist—as she replaced one volume above her head.

“I could teach you a few words.” The words running through his mind now would not be deemed appropriate for common usage. But in bed….

She smiled at him over one shoulder. “I’m doing better at the clinic, picking up a few phrases. I’m sure the more I’m exposed to the various languages, the more I’ll learn.”

Marc wanted to expose her to more than words. He wanted to expose her to his hands, to his mouth, to his body.

He tried to relax on the floral sofa that now felt as hard and uncompromising as his escalating erection. With every move Kate made, his muscles clenched with the effort to maintain control. But when she turned to him and began pulling the tails of her blouse from the skirt’s waistband, he was as hard as he’d ever been in recent memory.

“I think I’ll take a shower now,” she said.

Marc thought he should show himself to the door before he showed her how much she was affecting him. “Are you feeling well enough to do that?”

“I feel fine.”

How well he knew that. “Perhaps I should stand outside the bathroom door in case you should become dizzy.”

She strolled to the sofa and stood above him. “Perhaps you should join me in the shower.”

He groaned. “I thought you were going to behave.”

“I thought you were going back to the palace.”

“I am.”

“What are you waiting for?”

He waited for his mind to commandeer his libido. Waited for her to toss him out. Waited for logic to come forth and issue a protest strong enough to stop the overpowering need to touch her.

When none of those things happened, Marc caught her wrist and pulled her forward between his parted legs. He slid his hands up her sides, relishing the feel of her curves against his palm, needing to feel more of her, and soon, duty be damned. His reputation be damned. They were alone, and no one would have to know. If he couldn’t have all of her, he could at least give her what she needed. He could gain some satisfaction from satisfying her—if that was what she wanted—and he assumed it was, considering her eyes held the cast of desire.

He ran his palms up her thighs, this time beneath the skirt. “I believe I have some unfinished business.”

She brushed his hair away from his forehead. “What unfinished business would that be?”

“What I started in the car.”

She smiled. “Really? I thought you said—”

“I know what I said. I’m tired of fighting this.”

“Then don’t fight it.”

Marc pulled her down on the sofa into his lap, effectively cutting off all conversation with a kiss that was as intense as the one they’d shared in the car. Kate released an unmistakably sexual sound against his mouth that encouraged him to keep going. She tightened her hold around his neck as he nudged her legs apart and slid one hand along the inside of her thighs, contacting the frustrating barrier bent on keeping him from his goal. Whoever invented panty hose should be bound and gagged with nylon for at least a week.

But that did not deter him. Barriers were made to be broken, and he sufficiently broke through this one with a tug and tear at the seam, revealing she wore nothing beneath them. Kate’s gasp didn’t stop him either; the press of her hips toward his hand indicated she wanted this as badly as he wanted to give it to her.

Her legs opened more, leaving her completely open to him. Yet as he broke the kiss to watch her face, he considered stopping. He had her at an unfair advantage, and she had him at a crossroad where he greatly questioned his determination not to take her completely, right there, on a sofa. But to stop now would be unimaginable. Not until he gave her the release she deserved, even if he could not have his own.

He found the small bud that blossomed beneath his touch as he caressed her. “Does this feel good?”

Her eyes drifted closed. “It feels…great.”

“I cannot argue that,” he told her, even as a myriad of arguments against this very thing warred within his conscience. He chose to ignore his concerns and focus only on Kate and her pleasure.

Marc claimed her mouth again as he slid one finger inside her and stroked her, inside and out. He burned to know how it would feel to have her surrounding him when the orgasm claimed her. He settled for only imagining when she climaxed in strong, steady spasms much sooner than he’d expected. But why should that surprise him? They had engaged in enough foreplay to keep them both balanced on the brink of spontaneous combustion.

Had Marc not been resigned to giving Kate only this much, the feel of her might have been his undoing, literally, because in a matter of moments, he could have his slacks undone and his body seated deeply within her heat. His mind insisted he stop now, stop with just this prelude. Instead, he kept touching her, wringing out every last pulse of her climax as he considered giving her another, this time with his mouth…until she said, “I want you, Marc. All of you. Now.”