Kate Milner had done the unthinkable. She’d fallen in love with Marc DeLoria all over again.
Oh, she’d tried to convince herself that all she’d wanted was a little adventure with Marc. For that reason, she’d been playing the primo seductress when, in fact, she wanted his heart as much as she wanted his body. And three nights ago, he’d proven to her that he was the consummate lover—and a man who had no designs on being tied to a serious relationship.
How many women had fallen hopelessly in love with him, only to be left behind? She couldn’t begin to imagine, but she also wasn’t ready to give up. Some day, someone was going to lay claim to his heart. Why not her?
Because the only commitment that interested Marc was his commitment to his kingdom. Kate was a diversion, someone to keep his mind off his troubles during a few stolen moments. Yes, he’d said he respected her, thought she was special, even beautiful, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about his feelings for her beyond that. It was crazy for her to expect anything else, especially since she hadn’t seen much of him at all for the past few days. Once more, he’d become the elusive king, choosing to keep himself secluded doing heaven only knew what. She only knew that it hadn’t involved her.
She had to accept the realization that their one night together might be all that they would ever share. Had to accept she would probably be one of many women who had tried to win him over, without success.
At least her day at the clinic had been relatively successful, and somewhat quieter than the past few days. But unfortunately, that had allowed her time to think about Marc and worry about how long she would continue to hope that her relationship with him might evolve into more. That wouldn’t happen if he continued to avoid her. At least his mother and Cecile had been great company. Although she’d enjoyed being with them, it wasn’t the same thing as having time alone with Marc.
She was simply too tired to think about it at the moment. Now nearing 6:00 p.m., she’d seen her last patient an hour ago and had remained to catch up on some paperwork before she called Mr. Nicholas for her ride back to the guesthouse. One thing she did know—she would never, ever go near the front entrance again, even though Marc had ordered guards posted at every access. And she felt somewhat guilty that that had been necessary.
Kate charted the last of her notes at the desk in the small office Dr. Martine had arranged for her this morning. At least she was out of Renault’s line of fire now, with the exception of passing him in the hall. And at least he hadn’t tried to make a pass. Otherwise, she might have introduced her knee to his family jewels.
The sound of voices startled Kate, since she assumed she was alone in the clinic. A woman’s voice and a man’s voice—namely, the queen mother’s and the king’s.
Kate pushed back from the desk and opened the door to find them standing outside the office, both looking extremely distressed.
Panic settled on Kate’s chest. “Is something wrong with Cecile?”
Mary attempted a smile. “Oh, no, dear. Cecile is fine. She’s with Beatrice.”
“Then why are you here?”
“Because of this.” Marc held up another newspaper. “Aside from my show of temper with the cameraman, it covers the ‘palace baby’ and cites an anonymous source who claims he or she has proof that the child is yours and mine.”
Kate closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose between her thumb and pointer finger. “I was afraid this might happen.”
“This is not your fault, Kate,” Mary said. “The media know no restraint where our family is concerned. Some people delight in creating false rumors to discredit us.”
Kate looked up to see indisputable anger in Marc’s expression and regretted not telling him about Jonathan’s comments. “The source is probably Renault. He made the first insinuations three days ago.”
Marc’s eyes narrowed. “Why did you not tell me after this happened?”
“Because I didn’t want to upset you further.”
“You can bloody well believe I am upset.”
“Settle down, Marcel,” Mary scolded. “Kate does not deserve your anger. She was only doing what she thought was best for you.”
Kate turned her attention to Mary because it was too painful to look at Marc. “Is there anything I can do? Maybe an interview?”
Mary gave her a sympathetic look. “No, my dear. We will have to allow this gossip to run its course until we can come up with our own retraction.”
“Or the proof that Cecile is Philippe’s child,” Marc added.
“And what purpose would that serve?” Mary asked.
“To clear Kate’s name. And mine.”
Kate felt as if she were being pulled into a human tug-of-war. “Don’t worry about me, Marc. I can cope with this.”
He sent her a hard look. “Can you?”
Mary wrapped her arm around Kate’s shoulder and gave her a squeeze. “She most certainly can, Marcel. Kate is a mature, strong woman. I have no doubt she will deal with the situation with grace.”
Kate wished she had Mary’s confidence. “I’ll do whatever you instruct me to do. I promise I won’t speak to anyone without consulting you first.”
“Of course, dear. We trust you. We simply wanted to forewarn you and have Marcel escort you back to the palace.” Mary dropped her arm from Kate’s shoulder and stared at Marc. “And you will be courteous to the doctor. In the meantime, I will return home to check on our charge. I’m certain Beatrice would appreciate someone to relieve her.”
Kate saw her chance to escape. She didn’t want to talk to Marc until he’d had time to calm down. “Give me a minute and I’ll be ready to go. I can help.”
“I need to see you first. Alone.”
Marc’s command caused Kate to stiffen from the fury she sensed building just below the surface of his composed demeanor. She wasn’t afraid of Marc; she was afraid she couldn’t find the words to reason with him. But she had to try.
“Okay. I can do that,” she said.
“Take your time,” Mary said as she headed away. “I will tell the guards to remain posted outside and have Nicholas return for you after he has delivered me to the palace.”
Once Mary was out of sight, Kate gestured toward the office. “Let’s go in here so we can have some privacy.”
Marc stepped inside the room and reclined against the desk, arms folded across his chest. Kate closed the door and leaned back against it for support.
“You should have told me about Renault. We might have prevented the rumors from escalating, or at least been better prepared.”
“The damage was already done by the time the press got to me,” Kate said. “And again, I didn’t say anything about Renault because I knew you had already reached the boiling point.”
“It’s been three days, Kate. You could have told me in that length of time.”
Her own anger rose to the surface. “How was I supposed to do that? You haven’t been around. It’s hard to tell someone something when that someone refuses to talk.”
“I’ve had a lot on my mind.”
“So have I, Marc.”
“I know. And that, too, is my fault.” His anger melted into resignation. “I should probably claim Cecile is