Six Sexy Doctors Part 2 (Mills & Boon e-Book Collections): Posh Doc Claims His Bride / Surgeon Boss, Surprise Dad / Children's Doctor, Society Bride / ... His Bride / The Rebel Surgeon's Proposal

by Anne Fraser

  “Do I detect shades of a warning?”

  “If the shoe fits.” She dumped the last shard of china in the trash can. “I thought I’d get a head start on cleaning up the mess.”

  “I appreciate the offer, but someone can take care of it later.”

  She eyed the piles of papers and hesitated, but when he added, “Please,” she couldn’t disobey.

  He cleared off a corner of the desk with one swipe of his hand, then placed a bottle of alcohol, several sterile gauze squares and a suture kit on the surface before he faced her. “Don’t worry. Rational is my middle name. Are you ready?”

  She eyed his supplies. “You don’t stitch a scratch. It’s hardly bleeding now anyway.”

  He whipped a small mirror out of his pocket. “See for yourself.”

  Her reflection revealed a large drop of blood that welled up in the cut which was dangerously close to her right eye. “No stitches,” she insisted.

  “If you’re worried about my sewing ability…”

  “Your abilities aren’t in question. I simply don’t think it’s necessary.”

  He perched on the edge of the desk. “I’ll call a plastic surgeon, then. We’ll get his opinion.”

  “You will do no such thing,” she stated firmly. “A butterfly bandage will do the job. You’re overreacting. So the cut is a little deep. One stitch isn’t worth the trouble.”

  “You’ll have a scar,” he warned.

  She eyed the cut before she dabbed the blood away. “Probably, but it won’t be so big that make-up won’t cover it.” She grinned as she handed the mirror back. “It will blend in with the normal wrinkles. No one will ever notice.”

  “Your significant other might.”

  “If he can’t look past a hairline scar, then he won’t be my significant other, will he?” she asked lightly. “Would it bother you if your significant other had a scar on her face?”

  “Of course not.” He appeared affronted.

  She smiled. “Then I rest my case.”

  He hesitated for a heartbeat. “I can’t talk you into this, can I?”

  “Nope. Not a chance. As a patient, I have the right to refuse or accept treatment.”

  “OK. Butterfly bandage it is.” He rose to shrug off his jacket, revealing a white shirt that covered deliciously wide shoulders.

  “And I’ll take care of it myself.”

  He poured alcohol on a gauze pad. “I’m sure you can, but you aren’t. This is going to sting a bit.”

  She nearly howled as he pressed the saturated pad to her face and disinfected the wound, but she bit back her yelp. To take her mind off the burning sensation, she concentrated on him.

  Whoever he was, he was too handsome, too well built, too everything for words. His short hair was the color of dark molasses and seemed just as thick. His features reflected an aristocratic heritage and his long eyelashes were every woman’s dream.

  As he probed and prodded, she noticed his long fingers and light touch. Idly, she wondered how he’d look in a scrub suit, and if they could find any lab coats that would fit.

  “The man should be drawn and quartered,” he muttered as he ripped open another package of gauze.

  “Who, Bill?”

  “Who else?”

  “He’s harmless. Incompetent but, overall, harmless.”

  “From where I’m standing, I’d disagree.”

  Perhaps he was right. The room was a mess, and he had thrown a paperweight at Lucy before he’d pitched his coffee-mug in a fit of pique.

  “You shouldn’t have gotten in the way,” he chided.

  “Someone had to talk to him, calm him down. I’ve done it before. Given a few more minutes, I would have again.”

  “The diplomat.”

  She hadn’t ever described herself with that term before, but it fit. “At times.”

  He pulled the butterfly bandage tight to hold the cut edges of her skin together. “Don’t get it wet,” he informed her.

  “Yes, I know. Thank you.” She straightened in her chair. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like a few answers.”

  He perched against the edge of the desk in front of her. “What do you want to know?”

  “Your name, for starters.”

  His perfect smile was sheepish. “In all the excitement, I left out the formalities, didn’t I?”

  “Given the circumstances, it was understandable.”

  “I’m Dr Ruark Thomas, at your service.”

  She held out her hand. “Pleased to meet you, Dr Thomas. Welcome to Belmont Memorial.”

  “Thank you.”

  Gina became instantly aware of two things, the touch of his fingers against hers and his deep voice. Both caused her nerve endings to tingle pleasantly and create a surprisingly powerful attraction that tugged at her middle. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt more than a glimmer of interest in someone she’d met, but this was certainly not the time for her hormones to kick in or her subconscious to get caught up in the moment. Yet, in spite of her mental scolding, she reluctantly withdrew her hand and forced herself to concentrate.

  “You have a lot of ER experience?” she asked.

  “Some. I moved here from California, thinking it would be nice to try life in the Great Midwest,” he said smoothly. “I trained in Great Britain, specialized in emergency medicine in New York, and spent most of my time over the years with a number of relief agencies.”

  “Interesting. And now you’ve come to boring little Belmont Memorial.”

  He chuckled. “From indications so far, being here will be anything but boring.”

  The men who’d carried Bill away suddenly appeared in her mind’s eye. “And the two men with you?”

  “Security guards. You’ll probably see Hugh and Joachim a lot in the days ahead. Then again, you may not. They work best behind the scenes, or so I’ve been told.”

  The two men certainly outclassed Belmont’s regular department security guards. Oscar Burns, who, with an extra fifty pounds around his mid-section, only moved fast when someone brought homemade goodies to share and Hal Jarvis, who, at twenty-four, looked like he was thirteen, and hadn’t filled out his gangly teenage frame yet.

  In contrast, Hugh and Joachim were professionals through and through. Their muscles had muscles and a mere glance from those piercing eyes would coax co-operation from the most difficult of patients and visitors. They’d definitely be handy to have around on a Friday or Saturday night.

  “Is Dr Lansing afraid Bill will make trouble?” Lansing was the Chief of Medicine and he was the sort who didn’t act upon anything until the i’s were dotted and t’s were all properly crossed.

  “It’s a possibility.”

  “Bill is all bluster,” she told him. “He won’t make trouble if he suspects those two are hanging around. He’ll be too embarrassed, especially if he might be hauled outside like a bag of dirty laundry again. Frankly, after what I saw, I’d hate to run into them in a dark alley.”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. “Stay on Hugh and Joachim’s good side and you won’t have any problems.”

  “You’re already on a first-name basis?”

  “It seemed appropriate.”

  The dull throb in her cheek demanded a couple of acetaminophen, but she wanted answers more than she wanted a painkiller. “I can’t believe Bill’s gone. Do you know what prompted his sudden exit?”

  “I’m not privy to all the details, but your administration hasn’t been happy with the way he’s managed this department.”

  “They actually noticed?”

  “Yes, they did.”

  “When did they decide to take matters into their own hands?”

  “Apparently they began making discreet inquiries several months ago. I heard about the position and thought it would be a challenge, so I completed my other commitments and here I am.” His face darkened. “However, if I’d known he was such a volatile man, I would have arranged my schedule differently.”

  S
he hardly knew what to say, but a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through her. No one, since her father had died, had been so concerned about her safety. What woman wouldn’t feel flattered?

  “You, on the other hand,” he scolded, “shouldn’t have gone into his office when he was so upset.”

  “We’ve been over this before. I had to go in. There was no one else.”

  “There is now,” he stated firmly. “You won’t do anything like that again.”

  “Are you planning to go ballistic at some point in time, too?” she asked lightly.

  He smiled. “No, but one never knows what will happen. You’re too valuable to put yourself in harm’s way.”

  Why today’s incident bothered Ruark so much she didn’t know, other than he didn’t want to find a replacement physician. Even so, working in Emergency carried a normal element of risk and danger, especially if one considered some of the situations they handled on Saturday nights. Mentioning a few of those incidents seemed counterproductive, so she changed the subject.

  “You’re truly taking over the department?” she asked.

  “I intended to call a staff meeting as soon as Bill left, but we got sidetracked,” he said wryly.

  No doubt he referred to tending the scratch on her face. “We can call one now, unless you’d rather tidy your office first.”

  He glanced around. “From the looks of things, it will take a long time. I’ll meet our group instead.”

  “Good idea. I’d bet they’re all dying of curiosity.”

  A knock at the door interrupted. “Come in,” he called out.

  Lucy poked her head inside. “Is everything OK in here?”

  “It’s fine,” Gina responded.

  “Can I get either of you anything?” she asked. “Coffee, tea, or…?”

  “Thank you, but not at the moment,” Ruark answered politely.

  Disappointment flitted across Lucy’s features. “If you should change your mind…”

  “We’ll let you know,” Gina assured her.

  “OK.” The nurse disappeared and Gina faced Ruark. “The natives are definitely dying of curiosity.”

  “I’ll deal with them in a minute,” he said. “But before I do, I’d like to discuss a more personal matter.”

  Knowing she had nothing to hide, she shrugged. “Sure.”

  He studied her intently. “You truly didn’t know I was coming?”

  “Didn’t have a clue,” she responded cheerfully.

  “My name didn’t sound familiar?”

  She shook her head. “Should it?”

  “Really?”

  “Really. Have you been in the news?” She hoped not. If he was a household name and she didn’t recognize it, she’d feel horribly awkward.

  “Not lately.”

  She smiled. “Good, because otherwise I’d have to apologize. I rarely watch television,” she admitted.

  His gaze held hers. “What if I told you I’m originally from Marestonia.”

  Marestonia? A warning bell sounded in her head and her smile froze in place. Stay calm, she told herself. Lots of people lived in Marestonia.

  She pretended ignorance. “Someplace in Eastern Europe, isn’t it?”

  “Next door to Avelogne.”

  Her heart pounded painfully in her chest. She hadn’t heard the name of her father’s country since she’d turned sixteen and he’d told her the entire tale of his life.

  A life he’d given up rather than sacrifice his principles.

  A life where he’d gained a wife and daughter and lost everything else.

  “Your father and mine were friends years ago.”

  The past wasn’t supposed to surface after all these years. Her father had left that life behind, never to embrace it again. Acknowledging it now seemed rather disloyal to her parents’ memory.

  “Was your father an aeronautical engineer, too?” She sounded stiffly polite as she pretended ignorance of her family background. “Did the two of them do business together?”

  “Their friendship began long before your father moved to Seattle. Countess.”

  She drew herself up at the title she had a right to use but didn’t. “Do not call me that.”

  “Deny your heritage all you want, but I have the proof.”

  “And what if you do? It means nothing. I don’t have any official ties to Avelogne.”

  “Ah, but you admit you do have ties.”

  Feeling like a mouse caught in a trap, she bit her lip, reluctant to say anything else.

  “You do,” he insisted. “You have a grandmother, aunts, uncles and cousins.”

  “Whom I never met,” she countered. “I’m thirty years old and I’ve lived my entire life without them. I’m not interested in changing my family dynamics now.”

  With a blinding flash of insight, the pieces of the puzzle making up Ruark Thomas began to align themselves in a picture she didn’t like. His aristocratic bearing, his take-charge attitude, his familiarity with the security guards all suggested he was more than a physician, more than the new chief of emergency services.

  She studied him with the same intensity she used when searching for bacteria under a microscope. “Who are you, Dr Thomas?”

  CHAPTER TWO

  RUARK watched the woman in front of him. Her green eyes flashed with fire and she bristled with a combination of indignation and suspicion. Breaking the news to her wouldn’t be easy; he’d known it for some time, which was why he’d planned and orchestrated the proper timing.

  He clicked his heels together and bowed slightly. “Ruark Benjamin Mikael Thomas, Prince of Marestonia.”

  “Prince?” she asked on a near squeak. “I thought you were a physician.”

  “They aren’t mutually exclusive. I happen to be both.”

  “What brings a physician slash prince of Marestonia to Belmont Memorial?”

  “To work, like everyone else,” he promptly answered.

  “Since when do princes need to earn a living?”

  “It’s called serving the people,” he said lightly. “As the third son, I was free to choose my own career, and I chose medicine. Just as your cousin, Leander, did.”

  Curiosity flashed in her eyes at the mention of a cousin who shared her interest and her profession, but a few seconds later indifference appeared, as if she simply refused to acknowledge any sort of connection between her and her father’s family. “And you chose to work in the US?”

  “When I’m not involved in relief work.”

  “How noble.”

  “Please, feel free to tell me what you truly think.”

  His gentle rebuke brought color to her face. “I apologize,” she said stiffly. “As a physician, I was out of line to say something so unforgivable.”

  “Apology accepted.” Gina was many things, but she didn’t hesitate to speak her mind, he decided. From the reports he’d read about her, he hadn’t expected her to do otherwise.

  She crossed her arms. “OK, you’re a prince who works for a living, but out of all the hospitals in this country, what made you choose Belmont?”

  “Because you’re here,” he said simply.

  She scoffed. “Oh, please. You can’t be serious.”

  “It’s true,” he insisted. “I came as soon as a job was available.”

  She looked puzzled. “But why? We don’t know each other.”

  “Your grandmother and my father sent me.” He reached into the left inside pocket of his suit coat, retrieved a white envelope and held it out to her. “The Queen Mother asked if I would deliver this.”

  Recognition flashed in her eyes as her gaze traveled from one corner emblazoned with the royal crest of the House of Avelogne to the middle where her name appeared in large, beautifully precise script. “Why would the royal family send a letter to me?” she asked suspiciously.

  “You’ll have to read the explanation for yourself.”

  She eyed the envelope as if it were a pure culture of Hantavirus, but indecision flickered across her fac
e. He hoped her curiosity would overrule the hard feelings she so plainly felt.

  Reluctantly, she accepted the offering and hefted it in her hand before tapping the long edge against one palm. “If you wanted to be the Queen Mother’s errand boy, you didn’t have to accept a job at Belmont to do so.”

  Although amused by her bluntness, he hid a smile. “For the record, your uncle is now King, which makes your grandmother the Queen Mother, but to answer your question, no, I didn’t.”

  “Then why did a Prince of Marestonia, a Doctor Prince no less, move here just to deliver her mail?”

  “You’ll understand when you read what your grandmother has to say.”

  “If this is a ‘hi, how are you’ note, I’m not interested,” she warned.

  “Read it,” he repeated. “I’ll answer your questions after you read the letter.”

  “All right, I will.”

  Suspecting she’d leave under the guise of needing privacy and then, when she was alone, she would destroy her grandmother’s letter unopened, Ruark positioned himself in front of the room’s only exit. “I’ll give you all the time you need, without saying a word.”

  She clutched the envelope until it wrinkled. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

  “Of course you can. You’re not afraid, are you?” he asked, hoping she’d respond to the challenge in his voice.

  She did. She squared her shoulders and met his gaze as she defiantly slid her finger under the glued flap and pulled out a piece of expensive stationery. “Happy now?” she asked crossly.

  “Not until you read it.”

  “Then stop hovering,” she snapped.

  Once again, he hid his amusement and moved closer to the door. “Sorry,” he said, unapologetically. It was clear she was as irritated with him as she was at her grandmother for breaking years of silence, but a journey began with a single step and Gina had taken hers.

  Gina took a deep breath as she unfolded the single sheet. The words written in the same beautiful script as on the envelope jumped off the page.

  Greetings, dearest Granddaughter,

  We trust this letter finds you well. Although we have never met, we still consider you an integral part of our family.

  Gina inwardly scoffed, but read on.

  You will never know how much I deeply regret the family differences that have separated us all these years, but I hope you will find it in your heart to put the past behind us and look to the future.