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

Obviously she had already lost her head for letting him escort her. Only to the lobby, she reminded herself. She would say goodbye then go upstairs alone.

Marc followed Kate into the red-carpeted vestibule absent of people except for the forty-something man sitting behind the registration desk, looking totally disinterested in the king and his entourage’s sudden arrival. Had Marc told her the truth, or was his appearance at the inn a common occurrence?

She was too worn out to contemplate that now. She needed sleep. When she turned to dismiss Marc, he asked, “Do you have your room key?”

She fumbled in her bag, withdrew the key and held it up. “Right here, so I’m all set. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He took the key from her hand, easy as pie. “I’ll see you to your room.”

Of all the sneaky sovereigns. Maybe she should summon a bodyguard for her own protection. Not that Marc seemed like the kind to do her bodily harm. But he could certainly do things to her body that she’d never before experienced, that much she knew. He’d been doing it all day without even touching her.

“I can make it to my room just fine.” Kate tried to recover the key but before she could, he quickly tucked it into his pants pocket. She didn’t dare try to go after it, since rifling in the king’s pocket would probably be the ultimate breach in etiquette. Mighty fun, though.

Taking her by the elbow, Marc guided Kate up the staircase. Once they reached the room, he faced her and said, “Are you afraid of me, Kate?”

“Of course not.” She was more afraid of herself and her own vulnerability where he was concerned.

“You have no need to be.” He held up his hands, palms forward. “I promise my intentions are honorable.”

“That’s too bad.” Who said that? Surely not Kate the Crusader—able to thwart all come-ons with a single put-down. But he hadn’t been coming on to her at all. Maybe subconsciously she was wishing he had. What else could explain her suggestive remark?

Leaning forward, closing the space between their faces, he said, “In what way would that be bad?”

“I was just spouting off, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” he repeated in a rough, seductive whisper.

That wasn’t all, Kate thought as he came closer and closer, in slow motion it seemed, his lips only inches from hers.

She wanted this so badly. Wanted to feel his mouth on hers, wanted to know that he did see her as more than a physician, more than a friend. Know that the thought of his being her lover wasn’t absurd after all.

But instead of kissing her, Marc framed her face in his palms and tipped his forehead against hers. “We can’t do this, Kate.”

She glanced to her right to see one bodyguard positioned at the landing, facing the descending stairs. “I understand. We have an audience.”

“It’s not only that. Nothing can happen between us.”

Kate lowered her eyes at the same moment her heart took a dive. “I know. I’m not exactly suitable.”

“You’re wrong.” He tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at him. “You are a beautiful, remarkable woman, Kate. And it would be incredibly easy to kiss you right now, to back you into your room, remove all your clothing and make love with you all through the night. But because of who I am, I don’t have that luxury. I still have too much to prove.”

“What do you have to prove?”

“That I’ve not bedded every woman from Belize to Great Britain.”

“You haven’t?”

His smile was cynical. “No. I’ve escorted quite a few women in my time, and I’ve not been a long-term celibate, but there have not been as many lovers in my life as most have assumed.”

Long-term celibate? She wanted to ask him how long had it been since he’d had a lover. But it really didn’t matter. He couldn’t be hers. “So you’re saying that you can’t be involved with anyone?”

“Not at this time. Not until I can establish myself as a serious leader, and then only when I’m ready to settle into a marriage. I doubt I will be ready for that for quite some time.”

Kate stepped back and wrapped her arms around her middle to mask the sudden chills. “Well, thanks for letting me know.” She hated the disappointment in her tone but had to admit she liked what he had said—that he did find her desirable. That he had actually had the same thoughts she’d had all day. But that didn’t change the fact that their relationship would have to remain platonic. And she might as well accept it, beginning now, even if she didn’t like it.

Again he touched her face. “Kate, it is as much for your sake as it is for mine. The people of Doriana are basically kind, but they can also be judgmental when it comes to their leaders. I wouldn’t want you to get hurt.”

Kate could certainly accept that, but she already did hurt a little knowing that she couldn’t have him, not that she’d ever really believed she could.

After checking her watch, she tried to smile. “It’s really late. Have a good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He took her palm and raised it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “Sleep well, Kate.”

He brushed another kiss across her cheek, then turned and walked away, leaving Kate stunned into silence, tingling at the place where his lips had been.

Kate recognized that a secret part of her still loved the man buried beneath the facade—the carefree man who existed before the kingdom had carried away his freedom.

Even if she could only be Marc’s friend, nothing could stop her from attempting to lighten his spirit, ease his burden, help him have a little fun, a little adventure.

After all, that’s what friends were for.

The shrill of a phone had Kate bolting upright from deep sleep. Disoriented, she thought she was back in the hospital on-call room. She fumbled for the phone and answered with the habitual Dr. Milner, as if she were still a resident.

“I’m sorry to bother you so late, Kate, but I’m having a problem with Cecile.”

Cecile? The baby. She wasn’t at the hospital; she was in a foreign country. The man on the other end of the line wasn’t someone on staff; he was the king. A distressed-sounding king at that.

Kate sat up and glanced at the bedside clock. Almost midnight. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not certain. Beatrice and I have tried everything to calm her before she wakes my mother, but I’m afraid we’re failing miserably. Could you suggest anything?”

“She’s had a bottle?”

“Several. The last one landed on my forehead.”

Kate fought back laughter over the image of a six-month-old using a royal forehead as target practice. “Her diaper’s dry?”

“Yes. Beatrice has changed her several times. All those bottles, you know.”

“And rocking her—”

“Hasn’t done any good. She’s determined to protest, very loudly.”

Oh, well. So much for sleep. “I’ll come and see what I can do.”

“Are you certain?”

“I’m sure.”