A Royal Wager: Persuading the Playboy King / Unmasking the Maverick Prince / Daring the Dynamic Sheikh. KRISTI GOLD
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and very little sleep during medical school and residency. She’d also learned to dress quickly, which she did, in jeans, T-shirt and sneakers, sans bra. If she had to tend to a baby in the middle of the night, comfort would have to take precedence over class.
By the time she retrieved her standard black medical bag and hurried through the front door of the inn, Mr. Nicholas was waiting for her outside the limousine. He greeted her with a polite smile and, “Good evening, Dr. Milner. Quite a nice night for a drive.”
Kate returned his smile. “A really nice night for sleep.”
“I am sure the king will be very happy to see you,” he said as he opened the back door.
Pausing with her hand on top of the car, Kate said, “He’s having a tough time, huh?”
“I believe His Brilliance has been bested by a baby.”
Kate chuckled at Nicholas as she climbed inside the Rolls.
She’d seen true affection in the man’s eyes when he’d delivered the dig at Marc’s station.
They rode in silence as Nicholas wove the car along the winding roads leading to the palace. The route was illuminated by the moon, higher in the sky than it had been when she’d been with Marc earlier.
Marc.
She’d hoped to avoid him until morning. In reality, he’d been in her dreams—an odd, surreal dream where he was riding to her rescue on a massive white steed—totally naked. Such a shame that the phone had awakened her before she got to the good part. Now she really needed to get a grip.
On arrival at the palace, a very forlorn, disheveled Beatrice directed Kate to the nursery. She entered the room to find Marc wearing a gaping white dress shirt and navy pajama bottoms, sprawled out among the randomly discarded bottles and toys, his eyes closed and his head tipped back against the crib. Cecile sat in his lap, looking sassy and content as she chewed on a plastic duck, drooling like a leaky faucet.
A priceless picture. The portrait of father and daughter, and that thought gave Kate pause.
She couldn’t think about that now. She had to consider the baby’s well-being.
“Hey, little one,” Kate said softly. “What are you doing up so late?”
“She’s bent on torturing me.” Marc spoke without opening his eyes, his voice gruff from frustration and probably lack of sleep.
Cecile smiled a toothless grin and squealed with glee. Totally smitten, Kate set down the bag and grabbed the baby into her arms. Only then did Marc come to his feet, giving Kate an up close and personal view of his bare chest—a really, really nice chest…
Examine the baby, Kate silently admonished. You’re here to see about the baby.
Kate turned her attention to little Cecile, whose eyes looked clear, bright and alert. No signs of obvious illness. In fact, Cecile looked happier than she had all day.
Kate glanced at Marc over the top of the baby’s head. “My diagnosis is that little Cecile is suffering from separation anxiety.”
“She’s not the only one who’s suffering,” Marc said then moved to Kate’s side to lay a gentle hand on Cecile’s forehead, belying his annoyed tone. “Are you certain she doesn’t have a fever?”
The parental concern in Marc’s voice surprised Kate. “I take it you didn’t check it.”
He looked more than a little alarmed. “I would not even attempt such a delicate matter.”
Kate rested her cheek against Cecile’s and found it cool. “I’ll take her temp but I imagine it’s normal. She doesn’t look at all feverish. She could be teething, though.”
Marc held up his pointer. “I have no doubt about that since she has spent the past hour or so chewing my fingers until I located the duck.”
Kate smiled. “If you don’t mind, look in my bag and get me the thermometer.”
Marc complied and held it up. “Is this it?”
“Yes. Bring it here.”
He eyed the instrument with disdain. “Isn’t this rather large for such a small child?”
“It’s made for infants.”
“I’ll leave the room.”
“Why? It’s painless.”
Marc shifted his weight from one leg to the other, looking uncomfortable. “That would be the opinion of one who did not have to suffer the indignity.”
Kate realized Marc had never seen a digital thermometer before. Smiling, she slipped it in the baby’s ear. After the beep sounded, she checked the reading. “Normal.”
Marc’s expression heralded his relief. “Now why in the devil didn’t they have those when I was a boy and my mother thought that every sniff warranted a check?”
“The wonders of modern medicine.” Kate glanced at the bag resting on the dressing table. “Are those her things?”
“Yes.”
She strolled around the room, bouncing Cecile gently in hopes that she might become sleepy. “Look through it and see if you can find a security blanket or toy. She might need that to go to sleep.”
Marc rifled through the contents and withdrew a clear plastic bag. “This is all I can find aside from her clothes.”
Kate strolled to his side to examine the object—the probable answer to the sleep dilemma. A pacifier. “Take it out and wash it off with hot water, then bring it back to me.”
Without a word, Marc went into the adjacent bathroom and then came out a few moments later, holding the pacifier by its pink plastic ring as if it were radioactive.
When Cecile caught sight of it, she whimpered and opened and closed her tiny fists as if to say, “Hand it over now, Buster!” Marc relinquished it to her and she popped it into her mouth, then laid her head against Kate’s breast.
Kate paced the room a few moments longer as the baby’s eyes grew heavy, then finally closed. Carefully she laid her in the crib, covered her with a blanket, and turned down the lamp, leaving the room in darkness except for a small night-light near the door.
She turned to discover Marc had disappeared. Obviously he’d carted himself off to bed. Obviously she was wrong, she realized when she stepped into the corridor, closed the door and turned to find him standing there—right there—one shoulder cocked against the doorframe.
He sent her a sleepy and overtly sexy smile. “You’re a genius, Kate.”
She shrugged. “Not really. I used to baby-sit to earn extra money, so I’ve had some practice with the nighttime ritual. And pacifiers.”
“Ah, so that explains why Cecile responds to you so well. Your skill with children is very apparent. You must be a remarkable doctor.”
“Thank you. I think you handled the situation well. Not many men would’ve stayed up with a baby that wasn’t theirs?” She hadn’t meant to say that, much less end the sentence on a question.
“She’s not mine, Kate,” he said adamantly, then more gently, “but she is quite the charmer when she wants to be. She actually smiled at me a few times.”
If only Kate could believe that Cecile was fathered by someone else. Hopefully they would soon learn the truth, if not through medical means, then through an investigation if the mother or father didn’t come forward. And how could a mother give up such a beautiful child? Unless she didn’t have the means to care for her. Marc definitely had the means.
“I do hope she stays asleep for a few hours,” Marc added. “Oddly enough, I’m now quite awake.”
So was Kate. Sleep was the last thing she wanted, with