The Bachelor Doctor's Bride

by Caro Carson

  “There must be something I can do to help,” Diana said.

  “Look, you may think I’m being a bitch, but I’m not. I’ve got responsibilities. When you passed out in the X-ray tent, the techs told me you missed cracking your head on the corner of the table by a fraction of an inch. I don’t knowingly put volunteers in harm’s way. It isn’t how I operate.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” Diana said mildly. She doubted she’d ever be friends with Patricia, but she could still think of her as a Dalmatian, particularly when Patricia tilted her head just the right way.

  Patricia stood and picked up her two-way radio and her notebook. “I don’t have time to find a new spot for you. Keep yourself busy today or go home, I don’t care.”

  She left her usual uncomfortable silence in her wake, as the other volunteers in the tent stayed busy. Diana turned to the friendliest-looking one. “Are there any dogs around here?”

  The woman shook her head. “No, but we’ve got kids out the wazoo.”

  “Are they bleeding? Not that I wouldn’t want to help, but I kind of go ‘timber’ when I get around that stuff.”

  The woman laughed. “Oh, I heard about you yesterday. No, the recovery ward should have them all nicely bandaged up. Here, I’ll show you which tent it is.”

  The only way to tell the area was pediatric was that the patients were children. Otherwise, it was all white walls and white bed linens. The patients had white bandages, but there was no blood. A few had IV needles, but that didn’t bother Diana in the least.

  Parents were attempting to entertain the kids with varying degrees of success. Portable electronic devices had died. Card games seemed to be more successful, but there was a shortage of games. There was a shortage of everything.

  Most especially, there was a shortage of happiness.

  “I was thinking of having a party,” Diana said casually, when she noticed a few children looking at her as she stood in the door. “What kind of party do you think we should have?”

  * * *

  The news started filtering into the adult treatment area around eleven o’clock.

  More nitroglycerin had been located, purchased, transported and stocked in the pharmacy, and the nicest young woman had taken over the pediatric recovery area.

  Everything she did was described as darling. She herself was darling. The sock puppets she’d made for the kids were just darling. She was also generous, clever and creative. Long before Quinn heard the first male gossip, that she was the hot chick who’d fainted twice yesterday, he’d already known the darling they were talking about was his.

  He hoped.

  It was nearly three before he could escape to the pediatric recovery ward.

  Quinn stood in the doorway and took in the scene. Where yesterday there had been fear and worry, today there were sock puppets. Dozens and dozens of them, one for each hand of the children in beds and the children running around. Some for the parents to use, so their puppets could talk to their children’s puppets.

  The eyes were made of plastic gems, and their bodies were made from the material of various pieces of Diana’s wardrobe. Quinn recognized the sequined cherries. She must have run out of socks and started cutting up her shirts to keep the supply of puppets going.

  He saw her before she saw him. She was leaning against a bed, using one of the curved needles from surgery to sew her next creation, and she was beautiful. Her shirt was plain white with no gems remaining on it, but she was still dazzling, full-color Diana.

  She looked good in pure white. The last bachelor MacDowell didn’t find the thought frightening at all.

  “Hey, mister. Are you going to listen to my heart?”

  Quinn looked down at the young boy who was pointing at the stethoscope around his neck. “Not today.”

  “Are you here for the party?”

  Quinn kept his eyes on Diana, waiting for her to look at him. Just one look, and he’d know if this new venture meant she’d decided to be selfish about him as well as her job.

  She looked. She smiled. And she bounced on her toes, just a little bit.

  Quinn walked straight to her and gave her a hug.

  She clung to him, hard, and he could feel her laughing in his arms. Or crying. Or both.

  The boy had trailed him across the room. “So didja come for the party?”

  “Yes. I’m here to get my party on.”

  “Oh, it’s not just a party,” Diana said. “It’s a dog party.”

  A dozen little puppets started barking, their high-pitched operators making little “arf, arf” noises. Quinn raised an eyebrow at Diana, who was wincing. “You find this worse than the real barking at your shelter?”

  “A hundred times worse. And it was my idea.” She picked up a tube sewn out of cherry-sequined material. “Stick out your hand. Can you tell what kind of dog it is?”

  Quinn couldn’t hazard a guess.

  She wriggled it onto his hand differently, and tufted up some strips of material in the center of its head.

  “It’s a Yorkie. They’re super cute, and I hear guys who own real ranches really like them.”

  Then Diana murmured in his ear, “But I’m much, much better to have around. I love you like crazy, Quinn MacDowell, and I’m gonna make you one happy man.”

  Epilogue

  Quinn had the whole family in on the secret.

  Diana thought he was still working on the coast with Texas Rescue, but he’d been home for two hours now. Two hours that he’d spent having not enough time to set up the party and too much time to second-guess his sanity.

  Diana’s real birthday had been Monday. She’d told him she loved him on Tuesday—thank God. She’d left with only the de-jeweled clothing on her back later that night, because she’d had to go back to work here in Austin. Today was Saturday, and Quinn had decided that a mere five days wasn’t too late to throw her a birthday party.

  The part of the equation that made him question his sanity was this: he’d met Diana four weeks ago. Four weeks and one day. Was it too soon to propose?

  Jamie, who’d eloped after knowing Kendry for four weeks, had said the timing was irrelevant. Braden had too wisely pointed out that only Diana could decide if it was too soon. Both brothers had given him their blessing to offer Diana their grandmother’s engagement ring. They’d chosen different rings for their brides, each for special reasons.

  Quinn hoped the girl who valued everything she’d been handed down from her mother would value the ring from his father’s mother.

  She would. Of course she would. She’d say yes.

  Quinn cleared his throat and looked out the front window of Diana’s house—the blue one—and waited for the lime-green Bug to make its appearance.

  In the end, the surprise went off without a hitch. Diana was thrilled with his mother’s cake, Lana and Kendry had managed to buy her gifts in her size, a feat Quinn wasn’t certain how women accomplished, and both of his brothers had covered for him when he’d gone outside to add the finishing touch to his proposal.

  “Come out in the sunshine with me,” he said, taking Diana’s hand to give her a boost out of the armchair. She looked like sunshine herself in a bright yellow sundress. Quinn wished he’d changed from his jeans and blue shirt, suddenly. He should have worn a suit and tie for the occasion.

  As soon as they were out of his mother’s line of sight, Diana whispered in his ear. “Have I told you how delicious you look? I love you in blue.”

  Quinn decided he should stop trying to figure out how she knew what he needed to hear.

  And then they were outside, and the sky was blue, the grass was green, and the whole world consisted of only the two of them.

  She immediately noticed the clothesline he’d strung up, of course. From it fluttered a dozen homemade children�
��s cards with a dozen childish variations on the spelling of “Happy Birthday.”

  “When did they make these?” she asked, going down the line and touching each one.

  “The day after you left. Crayons arrived in a Red Cross package.”

  She stepped back to take in the whole clothesline. He watched her profile as she nodded, just once, in approval.

  “It looks very happy,” she said.

  “It looks like you. This is what you bring to my world, Diana. This is what you bring to everyone’s world, but I’m selfish enough to want you by my side at the end of every day. I’ve missed you this week. Four days without sunshine felt more like four weeks.”

  “Four years.”

  He got down on one knee and revealed the gray velvet box he’d been keeping in his hand. The speech he’d so carefully prepared flew out of his mind, so he said what seemed right for the moment. “Will you please marry me? Will you please bring dogs into my home and chaos into my life? I love you, Diana. You’re color and sunshine and everything good in the world. You’re my happiness.”

  Diana nodded and nodded, then began fluttering her hands in front of her cheeks and blinking her eyelashes. “Oh,” she choked out. “I don’t want to cry.”

  “I don’t, either. Please say yes.”

  “Yes! Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry, I didn’t think. I couldn’t talk, and—”

  Quinn stood and kissed her swiftly on the mouth. A round of applause came from the side of the house—so much for privacy—and his family joined them with crystal champagne flutes as they toasted the good life, with the good stuff.

  * * * * *

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THE PRINCE’S CINDERELLA BRIDE by Christine Rimmer.

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  Chapter One

  Maximilian Bravo-Calabretti, heir to the Montedoran throne, stepped out from behind a low cluster of fan palms and directly into the path of the woman who’d hardly spoken to him since New Year’s.

  Lani Vasquez let out a small squeak of surprise and jumped back. She almost dropped the book she was carrying. “Your Highness.” She shot him a glare. “You scared me.”

  The high garden path that wove along the cliffside was deserted. It was just the two of them at the moment. But anyone might come wandering toward them—one of the gardeners looking for a hedge to trim, or a palace guest out for a brisk early-morning stroll. Max wanted privacy for this. He grabbed her hand, which caused her to let out another sharp cry.

  “Come with me,” he commanded and pulled her forward on the path. “This way.”

  She dug in her heels. “No, Max. Really.”

  He turned to face her. She flashed him a look of defiance. Still, he refused to let go of her soft little hand. Her sweet face was flushed, her thick midnight hair loose on her shoulders, tangled by the wind off the sea far below. He wanted to haul her close and kiss her. But he needed to get her to talk to him first. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

  Her mouth quivered in the most tempting way. “Yes, I have. Let go of my hand.”

  “We have to talk.”

  “No, we don’t.”

  “We do.”

  “It was a mistake,” she insisted in a ragged little whisper.

  “Don’t say that.”

  “But it’s the truth. It was a mistake and there’s no point in going into it. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  And he didn’t want to hear that. “Just come with me, that’s all I’m asking.”

  “I’m expected at the villa.” She worked as a nanny for his brother Rule and his wife. They owned a villa in the nearby ward of Fontebleu. “I have to go now.”

  “This won’t take long.” He turned and started forward again.

  She let out a low, unhappy sound, and for a moment, he was certain she would simply refuse to budge.

  But then she gave in and followed. He kept hold of her hand and pulled her along. Not glancing back, he cut off the overlook path and onto the rocky hillside, finding a second path that twisted up and around, through a copse of olive trees and on to where the land flattened out to a more cultivated formal garden.

  High, green hedges surrounded them, and they walked on thick grass. The grass gave way to a rose garden. Now, in February, the buds were only just forming on the thorny stems. Beyond the budding roses, he took a curving stone path beneath a series of trellises. Still she followed, saying nothing, occasionally dragging her feet a little to let him know she was far from willing.

  They came to a gate in a stone wall. He pushed through the gate and held it for her, with his free hand, going through after her and then closing it behind them.

  Across another swath of lawn, between a pair of silk floss trees, the stone cottage waited. He led her on, across the grass, along the stepping-stones that stopped at the rough wood trellis twined with bare, twisted grapevines. The trellis shaded the rough wood door.

  He pushed the door open, let go of her hand and ushered her in first. With a quick, suspicious glance at him, she went.

  Two windows let in enough light to see by. Sheets covered the plain furniture. It took him only a moment to whip off the coverings and drop them to the rough wooden floor, revealing a scarred table with four chairs, a sofa, a couple of side tables and two floral-patterned wing chairs. The rudimentary kitchen took up one wall. Stairs climbed another wall to the sleeping area above.

  “Have a seat,” he offered.

  She pressed her lips together, shook her head and remained standing by the door, clutching her book tightly between her two hands. “What is this place?”

  “It’s just a gardener’s cottage. No one’s using it now. Sit down.”

  She still refused to budge. “What are you doing, Your High—?”

  “Certainly we’re past that.”

  For a moment, she said nothing, only stared at him, her dark eyes huge in the soft oval of her face. He wanted to reach out and gather her close and soothe all her troubles away. But everything about her warned, Don’t touch me.

  She let out a breath and her slim shoulders drooped. “Max. Really. Can’t you just admit it? We both know it was a mistake.”

  “Wrong.” He moved a step closer. She stiffened a little, but she didn’t back away. He whispered, “It was beautiful. Perfect. At the time, you thought so, too—or so you said.”

  “Oh, Max. Why can’t I get through to you?” She turned from him and went to one of the windows.

  He stared at her back, at her hair curling, black as a crow’s wing, on her shoulders. And he remembered...

  It was New Year’s Eve. At the Sovereign’s New Year’s Ball.

  He asked her to dance and as soon as he had her in his arms, he only wanted to keep her there. So he did. When the first dance ended, he held her lightly until the music started up again. He kept her with him through five dances. Each dance went by in the blink of an eye. He would have gone on dancing with her, every dance, until the band stopped playing. But people noticed and she didn’t like it.

  By the fifth dance she was gazing up at him much too solemnly. And when that dance ended,
she said, “I think it’s time for me to say good-night.”

  He’d watched her leave the ballroom and couldn’t bear to see her go. So he followed her. They’d shared their first kiss in the shadows of the long gallery outside the ballroom, beneath the frescoes depicting martyred saints and muscular angels. She’d pulled away sharply, dark fire in her eyes.

  So he kissed her again.

  And a third time, as well. By some heady miracle, with those kisses, he’d secured her surrender. Lani led him up to her small room in the deserted apartment of his brother Rule’s family. When he left her hours later, she was smiling and tender and she’d kissed him good-night.

  But ever since then, for five endless weeks, she’d barely spoken to him.

  “Lani. Look at me....”

  She whirled and faced him again. Her mouth had softened and so had her eyes. Had she been remembering that night, too? For a moment, he almost dared to hope she would melt into his arms.

  But then she drew herself up again. “It was a mistake,” she insisted for the fourth time. “And this is impossible. I have to go.” She headed for the door.

  He accused, “Coward.”

  The single word seemed to hit her between the shoulder blades. She let go of the doorknob, dropped her book to the rough entry table and turned once more to meet his waiting eyes. “Please. It was just one of those things that happen even though it shouldn’t have. We got carried away....”

  Carried away? Maybe. “I have no regrets. Not a one.” He was glad it had happened, and on New Year’s Eve, too. To him it had seemed the ideal way to ring in a whole new year—and right then, a dangerous thought occurred to him. God. Was there a baby? If so, he needed to know. “We should have been more careful, though. You’re right. Is that why you keep running away from me? Are you—?”

  “No,” she cut in before he could even get the question out. “We were lucky. You can stop worrying.”