Royal Holiday Bride

by Brenda Harlen

  Thinking of home now, he reached inside the pocket of his jacket for his cell phone. Hearing his mother’s voice on the other end of the line brought an immediate smile to his lips.

  They spoke briefly for a few minutes before he ventured to ask, “How’s Dad?”

  “Well enough to be in the pool flirting with another woman.”

  The lightness of her tone eased some of his worry. “How is the physiotherapy going?”

  “I thought he should be coming to the end of his treatment schedule, but Rita assures me that he’s continuing to make progress. Personally, I think she enjoys the flirting as much as your father does.”

  “Whatever works,” Dante said, echoing the doctor who had forced the king to face some hard truths about his future if he didn’t take immediate action to improve his health.

  It was the same doctor’s advice that had finally convinced Benedicto to step down from the throne. Since then, the former king’s blood pressure had leveled out, decreasing the likelihood of any more strokes and increasing the doctor’s optimism for his recovery.

  “How was the ball?” his mother asked now. “Did you meet Princess Marissa?”

  “Good and yes,” he responded to her questions in turn.

  “And?” she prompted.

  “We have a date tomorrow.”

  “I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist you,” Arianna said.

  “I’m not sure that’s the case at all,” he confided. “Her mother seems more interested in a potential union than the princess herself.”

  “I can’t say that surprises me,” she admitted.

  “You know the Princess Royal?”

  “Our paths have crossed on a few occasions over the years.”

  “Why do I get the feeling there’s something you’re not telling me?”

  “There’s lots of things I don’t tell you,” she said without apology. “Because you have more important things to worry about. Including the fact that Dr. Geffen gave the board her resignation today.”

  Dante swore under his breath.

  “She’s not the only one we’re going to lose if we don’t get the hospital redevelopment plan back on schedule,” Arianna warned.

  “Tell me what I can do to help.”

  “The fundraising committee has some great ideas for drawing people and money to the auction.” There was a momentary pause before she continued. “It was suggested that Princess Marissa’s endorsement—and ideally her attendance—would succeed in focusing more attention on the cause.”

  Because Princess Marissa was famous not just for being royal but for her dedication to ensuring access to quality medical care for all children.

  “Then make sure they know that Princess Marissa will be there.”

  There was another pause as his mother absorbed this information. Then she said, “Don’t you think you should talk to Marissa about that first?”

  A sign on the edge of the road caught his attention. Beside the familiar blue H were the words Port Augustine Children’s Hospital.

  “I’m on it,” Dante promised her and disconnected the call.

  Dante didn’t actually expect the princess would be at the hospital on a Saturday afternoon, but he thought that if he could find a young female nurse or orderly on a break, he might be able to charm her into giving him a cursory tour of the facility. Except that instead of heading directly to the cafeteria, he followed the signs to the pediatric intensive-care unit first.

  Siobhan Breslin had been airlifted from Mercy Medical Center in Ardena to PACH for surgery to repair an atrial septal defect. He’d been informed that the operation was a success, but since Dante was at the hospital, anyway, he thought he would check her status himself.

  He found the neonatal intensive care but wasn’t sure where to go from there. He thought about asking a nurse to direct him, but recognized that doing so could lead to questions he wasn’t prepared to answer. When he caught a glimpse of Fiona, the baby’s mom, he decided that Siobhan’s condition was being monitored by enough people without his interference.

  Making his way down another corridor, he found himself in front of a nursery. The words Juno’s Touch were etched in the glass.

  His mind automatically shifted from babies to red-haired, green-eyed goddesses and wondered at the irony of fate that the harder he tried to put the mysterious woman out of his mind, the more impossible it seemed. He didn’t even know her real name—he didn’t know anything about her. It was supposed to have been an interlude, one night in which he forgot about the obligations and responsibilities inherent to his title. One night to make love with a woman who made no demands and had no expectations of him.

  His meeting with the Princess Royal and the recent conversation with his mother had clearly reminded him of those expectations, and he resolved to forget about the goddess and focus on the princess.

  The sound of heels clicking on the tile floor drew his attention away from the nursery. When he turned, he found himself face-to-face with his future queen.

  Chapter Five

  The princess dropped into a curtsy, the gesture as elegant as it was automatic.

  “I didn’t realize you were visiting the hospital today, Your Majesty.”

  “It was an impulse,” he admitted. And though he was just as surprised to see her here, he also recognized that this chance meeting might be the perfect opportunity to gain some insights into her role at the hospital. “But PACH is one of the most renowned children’s hospitals in the Mediterranean and I was curious to see what you’ve done here before we finalize plans for expansion of our pediatric wing.”

  She scanned the ID tag that was pinned to her dress, releasing the locks on the door that controlled entry and exit to the nursery. “I’d heard that the expansion plans had been put on hold indefinitely.”

  “Some unexpected budget shortfalls have caused delays, but the plans remain unchanged,” he assured her, deliberately downplaying what was yet another unfortunate situation attributed to his rule.

  “Then you should definitely take a closer look around,” she said. He accepted the invitation by following her through the door.

  She went to one of the sinks along the back wall and soaped up her hands. “If you have specific questions, you should talk to Dr. Marotta,” she advised. “I don’t think he’s here today, but I’d be happy to set up an appointment if you wanted to meet with him at another time.”

  Her offer sounded both genuine and heartfelt, and he was grateful. “Thank you.”

  She smiled as she rinsed and dried her hands. “We have a wonderful facility here and I’m always happy to show it off.”

  The princess then took a sterile gown from the cupboard and slipped it on over her dress before moving to one of the bassinets. She said something else, but her voice was pitched so low that he knew her words were intended only for the impossibly tiny baby she lifted into her arms.

  “He’s a little guy, isn’t he?”

  “You should have seen him when he was born,” Marissa said. “He was just over three pounds then, but he’s almost five now and getting bigger and stronger every day.”

  She scanned her ID tag at another door and Dante followed her into a room decorated in muted tones of blue and green with thick sage-colored carpet. There were prints on the walls—copies of famous works by Sisley and Pissarro and Monet—and classical music playing softly in the background. About a dozen rocking chairs were set up around the perimeter of the room, interspersed with tables offering books and magazines.

  The princess then settled into a chair near the door and gestured for him to take the one beside her.

  On the far side of the room, he saw a white-haired grandmother rocking a baby wrapped in a pink blanket. Beside her was a younger woman in a nurse’s uniform holding another pink bundle. “Is it okay for me to be in here?”

  Marissa settled the infant against her shoulder and set the chair in motion. “This is a community room for volunteer cuddlers of both genders to spend
time with the premature babies.”

  “Volunteer cuddlers?”

  She smiled and he felt that strange tug again—an inexplicable combination of attraction and recognition.

  “There have been numerous studies done that confirm the benefits of human contact on every aspect of a preemie’s development—cognitive, social and emotional,” she explained. “That’s the foundation of Juno’s Touch.”

  “Juno’s Touch?” he echoed again, his blood stirring in a way that reminded him how very much he’d enjoyed the goddess’s touch the night before, until he firmly banished the memories from his mind.

  “The Roman goddess Juno was the embodiment of the traditional female roles of wife and mother,” the princess explained. “She was also the protector of the state, so it seemed appropriate—since our children are the future of not just the state but our world—to name the program after her.”

  It was a logical explanation, but still he wondered, “Who came up with the title?”

  She seemed surprised by his question and maybe a little wary. “The board of directors approved it.”

  “But who proposed the name?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course not. I was just curious,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. Then, in an effort to change the subject, he asked, “So that’s all you do here—just cuddle the babies?”

  She smiled and he realized that he had underestimated the princess again. Her demeanor might be reserved and her style somewhat bland, but she truly was a beautiful woman. And her beauty had nothing to do with her aristocratic bone structure or flawless ivory skin. Instead, it was revealed through the natural grace of her every movement, the easy curve of her temptingly shaped lips, the unexpected glint of amusement in the depths of her golden eyes. It was a beauty that came from deep within, from the honesty and integrity and compassion that were as much a part of her as the royal blood running through her veins.

  “I know it doesn’t seem like much,” she acknowledged. “But it’s a simple program that renders enormous benefits.”

  “But why do you need volunteers? Why don’t the mothers cuddle their own babies?”

  “A lot of them do,” she told him. “Some of them spend twelve to eighteen hours a day at the hospital with their children. But that’s not an option for everyone.

  “There are so many causes of premature birth, and often the new mothers need to focus on healing themselves before they can take care of their babies. Or their babies might be in the hospital for weeks or months and they have other children at home who need their attention. For those mothers, the existence of this program gives them a much-needed break while still giving their babies much-needed attention.”

  “You really enjoy being part of it, don’t you?”

  Her smile was a little wistful this time. “There’s nothing in the world like cuddling a baby. Maybe it’s not rocket science, but this little guy needs me more than he needs an aerospace engineer, at least at this point in his life.”

  “It’s obvious that you’ve found your calling,” he said. “So why aren’t you married with a dozen kids of your own already?”

  “If I was, I’d hardly have any free time to spend here,” she responded lightly.

  “Which doesn’t answer my question.”

  She lifted one shoulder—careful not to jostle the sleeping baby. “As old-fashioned as it may seem, I was hoping to fall in love and get married before I started having babies.”

  “I wouldn’t say that it was old-fashioned so much as naive, especially for a woman in your position.”

  Her eyes flashed with fire. “You mean that a twenty-eight-year-old spinster should have given up such romantic dreams?”

  He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “I wasn’t referring to either your age or marital status but your royal title.”

  And as quickly as her ire had risen, it faded again. But the brief flare of temper was further proof that the princess wasn’t nearly as unassuming and obedient as her mother wanted to believe.

  “In that case, I apologize for jumping to conclusions.”

  “I apologize for being ambiguous.”

  She smiled again, her forgiveness coming easily in the wake of her frustration. “It wasn’t your fault. I’m probably a little overly sensitive about the subject.”

  “If it helps, I’m no more thrilled than you are about the prospect of getting married for all the wrong reasons,” he confided.

  “At least you get to choose who you will marry,” she said.

  He frowned at that. “Are you saying that you don’t?”

  “Tesorian law provides for the parents of a princess to enter into a contract for marriage on her behalf, so my mother has the right to choose my husband.”

  “But she wouldn’t force you to marry someone if you were truly opposed.”

  Even as he spoke the words that he hoped—for her sake—were true, he realized his error. During his brief acquaintance with the Princess Royal, he’d realized that she was a woman who liked to be in control, who would wield any power she possessed just to prove that she could.

  “I hope that’s an issue I won’t ever have to face,” she said sincerely.

  “Does that mean you’re not opposed to marrying me?” he asked her. When her brows lifted, he hastened to clarify. “Hypothetically, of course.”

  “I couldn’t say for sure one way or the other, even hypothetically, because I don’t know you.”

  Dante smiled. “Then we’ll have to change that.”

  Marissa didn’t stay at the hospital for very long after the king had gone. Usually there was nothing that soothed her soul as easily or completely as spending time with the babies, but tonight, there were thoughts and questions swirling through her mind that no amount of rocking and humming could quiet. One of those questions needed to be answered before she saw the king again the next day, so she detoured by Michael and Hannah’s new home on the way to her own.

  “Aunt Marissa!” Riley threw her arms around her waist and hugged her tight.

  Marissa dropped a kiss on the little girl’s head, then touched her lips to her brother’s cheek. He looked a little unsettled, she thought, and realized that she might have come at a bad time.

  “I should have called first,” she apologized as Riley grabbed her hand and dragged her toward the living room.

  “Of course not,” he denied automatically. “We’re always happy to see you.”

  The sentiment was confirmed by Hannah’s quick smile when she saw Marissa enter the room. “This is an unexpected surprise,” she said, abandoning the books she’d been sorting to give her sister-in-law a quick hug.

  “We’ve got a surprise, too,” Riley informed her.

  Marissa looked from her niece, who was positively beaming, to her brother, whose expression reflected joy and terror in equal measures, to his wife, who seemed happy, if a little bit nervous, and thought she knew what that surprise was. But she didn’t want to spoil Riley’s fun, so she said, “What kind of surprise?”

  “A really big surprise. Well, it’s not really big yet. Actually, it’s really, really tiny, but it’s going to get really big,” Riley explained. “Can you guess?”

  “Hmm,” Marissa said, tapping a finger against her chin. “Is it a color or a number?”

  Riley giggled and shook her head, causing her pigtails to swing from side to side. “No—it’s a baby! Mommy’s having a baby and I’m going to be a big sister!”

  Though the joy and terror in Michael’s eyes had been a clear giveaway to Marissa—a man who had lost his first wife shortly after childbirth was entitled to be a little bit unnerved when his new wife announced her pregnancy—hearing the words filled Marissa’s heart with a happiness that eclipsed everything else.

  “That is a really big surprise,” she assured Riley. Then to Hannah, “When did you find out?”

  “Just now,” her sister-in-law confessed, showing Marissa the stick with the plus sign in t
he window.

  “Then this is a bad time,” Marissa concluded. “You must want to celebrate—”

  “We’ll celebrate later,” Michael said, giving his wife a meaningful look and a secret smile. “Because right now, it’s Riley’s bath time.”

  “I don’t want a bath—I want to celebrate,” Riley protested.

  “We’ve got about eight months to celebrate and make plans,” Hannah told the little girl. “But you’ve only got half an hour until your bedtime, so if you want to read the next chapter in your new book, you better get into the bath ASAP.”

  “Okay.” Riley tugged on her father’s hand. “Come on, Daddy—ASAP.”

  “Yes, Your Highness,” Michael said, and let his daughter drag him out of the room.

  Marissa smiled as she absorbed the news. She already had three beautiful nieces: Sierra, Gabriella and Cameron’s now eighteen-year-old daughter, who was about to start her first year at the university in San Pedro; Jaedyn, Sierra’s eleven-month-old baby sister; and Michael’s five-year-old bundle of energy and inquisition known as Riley; but she was thrilled to learn that there wasn’t just one but now two more babies on the way.

  She was genuinely thrilled for both of her brothers and their families, and just the teensiest bit envious. “A baby,” she said again.

  “I know.” Hannah grinned. “I’ve been hoping…but I was afraid to hope. And then, on my way home today, I decided just to pick up the test. Now we can stop wondering and start planning.”

  “You’re going to be a fabulous mother—you are a fabulous mother.”

  “Thanks, but Riley makes it easy. Or maybe it was the fact that I didn’t come into her life until she was almost four. This one—” she instinctively laid a hand on her still flat belly “—isn’t likely to come out walking and talking, so I’ve got a lot to learn over the next eight months.”