The Texan's Royal M.D.

by Merline Lovelace

  He shagged a hand through his hair and made a quick trip to the bathroom. He barely had time to splash water on his face before she rapped on the door to his suite. He flicked the dead bolt, prepared for a kick to the gut when he saw her cut-and-bruised cheek. He wasn’t prepared for the red-and-white cardboard carton she balanced on the palm of her hand.

  “No anchovies or anything resembling fruit,” she announced as she sailed past him with the carton held high. “I hope you have wine or beer in your minibar.”

  He stammered for a moment but finally managed, “I’m pretty sure there’s both.”

  “Then I’ll take wine. Red, not white.”

  She plopped the carton onto the counter that separated the living area from a small kitchenette and flicked on the overhead lights. The canned spots illuminated both the cuts and the determination in her face.

  Mike was damned if he could interpret her confusing signals. Pizza and that lethal “we need to talk.” Wine and utter resolve. Still wary, he uncorked a red and filled two wineglasses. She accepted hers with a cool word of thanks.

  Ah, hell! He’d never been one for sailing at dead slow speeds. Might as well get the water roiling. Raising his glass, he tipped it toward hers.

  “What should we drink to?”

  She thought that over long enough to have him sweating.

  “To us,” she finally answered, “with certain caveats.”

  He brought his glass down. Slowly. Carefully. “I think I’d better hear what those caveats are before we drink to them.”

  “Smart man.” She deposited her wine on the counter beside the pizza box and folded her arms. “Okay, here’s the deal. I love you. You love me. But, as you no doubt learned from your previous marriage, love isn’t always enough.”

  She had that right. Although Mike now wondered if he’d ever really loved Jill. Whatever he’d felt for her had certainly come nowhere close to this driving need to keep Zia in his life.

  “So what do you propose?”

  “First of all, no more scoping out situations on your own. No more independent threat assessments. We need to talk things out. Everything! The big issues, the little annoyances. Our families, our dreams, our fears.”

  “You want to talk all that out tonight?”

  He was half teasing, half scared she meant it. Thankfully, his question elicited a muffled laugh.

  “I supposed we can stretch out the discussion period.”

  The reluctant laugh told Mike he hadn’t totally blown it. He moved closer, relief washing through him. “Stretch it out for how long?”

  “Ten years?”

  “Not long enough.”

  “Thirty?”

  “Still too short.” He caged her against the counter and felt himself falling into those dark, exotic eyes. “I’m thinking forty or fifty.”

  “Hmm,” she murmured, sliding her arms around his neck, “that sounds about right.”

  A raw, gaping hole had ripped open when he’d almost lost her—literally and figuratively. She filled that emptiness now. The feel of her, the taste of her, was like coming home.

  Sighing, she rested her forehead against his chin. “I was so terrified this afternoon.”

  “Who wouldn’t be in that situation?”

  “I wasn’t scared for me! Well, yes, for me but for you, too. My heart stopped when you threw yourself at Danville.”

  “I was just the cleanup crew. You did the hard work.”

  She shuddered, and Mike wished savagely that he could have another ten minutes alone with Danville.

  “You know,” he said, to take her mind off the horror of the afternoon, “there’s something we need to discuss that can’t wait ten or twenty years.”

  She tipped her head back. “What’s that?”

  “When and where we’re getting married. I vote for city hall, this weekend.”

  “This weekend!”

  “As soon as we can get the license and blood tests done,” he confirmed. “Your friends at the hospital lab ought to be able to help us out there.”

  “But city hall...”

  “Or St. Patrick’s or the chapel at your hospital or the top of the Empire Building. You pick the place, I’ll take care of the arrangements.”

  “You can’t! I mean, we can’t. Gina would have a fit.”

  “What’s she got to do with it?”

  “Gina’s an event coordinator! She does only a few select events now that she has the twins, but she’s still one of the best in the business.”

  “Fine. Ask Gina to arrange it. For this weekend.”

  She leaned back in his arms. “This is your idea of talking things out?”

  “Well...” He tried to sound apologetic but couldn’t pull it off. “Pretty much.”

  “I’ll get together with my cousin,” she said, holding his eye sternly, “and come up with a list of options for us to discuss. You. Me. Together.”

  Mike had no problem with that. He’d achieved his primary objective of getting her mind off the horror of this afternoon. Even more important, he had her thinking when, not if.

  “Fine. Now let’s talk about whether we’re going to eat pizza or go to bed. You. Me. Together.”

  She melted into a smile. “Bed. Now. End of discussion.”

  Fourteen

  Gina pulled out all the stops and coordinated two separate events.

  The first was a May wedding that took place in Galveston a week after Zia completed her residency. They did it Texas style, with Mike’s male relatives and friends in either formal Western wear or Spanish-style suits. The women wore lacy dresses in a rainbow of colors. Even the New York contingent got in the spirit of things, with the duchess looking especially regal in a tall ivory comb and exquisite white lace mantilla purchased for the occasion.

  The Camino Del Rey resort erected a portable pavilion that stretched from the dunes almost down to the water’s edge. Filmy bows with sprays of bluebonnets decorated the white chairs. Long, fluttering white ribbons tied additional clusters of bluebonnets to the pavilion’s tall poles.

  Mike’s three brothers stood shoulder to shoulder with his brothers-in-law. His three sisters joined Gina and Sarah and Natalie on the other side of the dais. Little Amalia and Charlotte made prim, dainty flower girls, in direct contrast to the fidgeting, reluctant ring bearers, Davy and his brother, Kevin.

  Mike’s parents and abuelita sat with the duchess in the front row of seats. Aunts, uncles, cousins, friends and acquaintances of both families filled the rest. But Mike had eyes for no one but his bride when she walked down the aisle on the arm of her brother.

  She’d caught her ebony hair back and crowned it with a garland of white roses, but the sea breeze played with the ends. The glossy black tendrils danced around her face as she and Dom matched their steps to Franz Liszt’s “Liebestraum No. 3.” Or maybe it was one of his nineteen rhapsodies. Mike figured he’d learn which was which in the next ten or twenty or thirty years.

  Then he took Zia’s hand in his and refused to let his gaze linger on the spot where she’d worn the diamond. She hadn’t wanted another engagement ring. Just the wide gold band he’d had inscribed with what had become their personal mantra. With a smile in his heart, he recited the words to her now.

  “You. Me. Together. Forever.”

  * * *

  Gina coordinated a second event that took place less than a week later, just before the start of Zia and Mike’s extended honeymoon trip to all her favorite haunts in Hungary and Austria. This event took place on a rocky promontory guarding a high Alpine pass between those two countries, with the ruins of Karlenburgh Castle forming a dramatic backdrop.

  The number of people in attendance was considerably smaller than the Galveston event. Just Zia and Mike. Dom and Natalie. Sarah
and Gina and their husbands. The twins, bundled against the cool mountain air. And the Grand Duchess of Karlenburgh.

  It was the first time she’d returned to her homeland since she’d fled it more than sixty years ago. She stood alone, both hands resting on the head of her cane, the ruins behind her, the sun-dappled valley far below. She didn’t seem to notice the wind that molded the skirt of her pale green traveling suit to her hips and fluttered the scarf she wore around her neck in a fashionable double loop. Her gaze was fixed on the distant horizon. Her family could only guess what she saw in those lacy clouds.

  “She must be remembering the first time she came here as a bride,” Gina murmured, maintaining a firm grip on Amalia while Jack kept Charlotte corralled. “She was so young. Barely eighteen. And so much in love.”

  “Maybe she’s thinking of the balls she and our grandfather held here,” Sarah said softly. “How I wish we had a photo or portrait of her in sables and the St. Sebastian diamonds.”

  “Or she may be remembering Christmases past,” Dom put in quietly. “The last time Natalie and I were here, we talked to an old goatherd. He still remembered the tree-lighting ceremony in the magnificent great hall. Everyone from the surrounding villages was invited.”

  Zia folded her hand into her husband’s, aching for the woman she’d come to love so fiercely. Zia and Mike were just beginning their life together. So much of Charlotte’s was past and shrouded with sadness.

  The duchess’s eyes drifted shut for a few moments. Her right hand lifted a few inches, moving in a small, almost imperceptible wave. Then she regripped the ebony head of her cane and squared her shoulders. When she turned to face her family, her chin was high and her eyes clear.

  “Thank you for talking me into returning to Karlenburgh. I shall always remember this moment and I’m more grateful than you can ever imagine that I was able to share it with all of you. Now for pity’s sake, let’s go down to the village. I could use a good, stiff pálinka.”

  Epilogue

  What an amazing summer this has been. My darling Sarah has given birth to the most exquisite baby girl. Dev is beyond thrilled and sends me detailed and rather exhaustive reports on her gurgles, her burps, her every hiccup. Gina and Jack stood as her godparents, then just weeks later Natalie and Dom announced that they, too, would be adding to the ever-increasing St. Sebastian clan.

  Anastazia and Michael are so very busy with his business and her work. Her research, I’m quite pleased to note, has expanded to such an extent that she travels extensively to other universities and hospitals around the country—most often to University General Hospital in Houston, I must note.

  She and Michael talked about starting a family. I took great care not to insert myself into that discussion, of course. But it couldn’t have been more than three weeks later that Maria called, frantic with the news that she’d found a toddler wandering down her street wearing only a soiled diaper. Anastazia rushed over immediately to examine the child. It’s a crack baby, as addicted to drugs as its mother must have been when she abandoned him. The authorities took custody of the child and Anastazia has become his fierce and very protective advocate. I suspect it won’t be long before she becomes his mother.

  When I look back at all these astonishing events I realize yet again what a rewarding life I live. I wake every morning eager to see what the day will bring. And every night before I drift to sleep I let my gaze linger on the Canaletto hanging in my bedroom. The painting takes me back to Karlenburgh—the sorrows, the joys, the memories I’ll hold in my heart forever.

  From the diary of Charlotte,

  Grand Duchess of Karlenburgh

  * * * * *

  If you loved THE TEXAN’S ROYAL M.D., pick up the other stories in the DUCHESS DIARIES series from USA TODAY bestselling author Merline Lovelace

  A BUSINESS ENGAGEMENT

  THE DIPLOMAT’S PREGNANT BRIDE

  HER UNFORGETTABLE ROYAL LOVER

  Available now from Harlequin Desire

  Keep reading for an excerpt from THIRTY DAYS TO WIN HIS WIFE by Andrea Laurence.

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  Prologue

  “Do you want to get out of here?”

  Amelia Kennedy turned and looked up into the cool blue eyes of her best friend, Tyler Dixon. Of course he would be the one to save her. “Yes, please.” She got up from the banquet table and accepted his hand, happily following him out of the ballroom, through the casino and out to the glittering lights of the Las Vegas Strip.

  Just breathing in the cool desert air made her feel better. Why had she thought her high school reunion would be fun? It was just a room filled with people she never liked, gloating about how great their lives were. Even though she couldn’t care less about what Tammy Richardson—cheerleader and all-around stuck-up brat—had done with her life, hearing Tammy brag had somehow made Amelia feel less enthusiastic about her own achievements.

  It was ridiculous, really. She co-owned her own company and was very successful, but the lack of a ring on her hand and toddler photos on her phone made her the odd girl out tonight. This entire trip was a waste of her precious vacation time.

  Well, not the whole thing. It was worth it to see Tyler. They had been best friends since the ninth grade, but recently they had both gotten so busy they were lucky to see each other once a year. The reunion was a good excuse.

  They stumbled down the sidewalk hand in hand with no destination in mind. It didn’t matter where they ended up. Every step they put between them and the reunion improved Amelia’s mood. That, or—if her softening knees were any indication—the tequila was finally kicking in. A low rumble caught their attention, and they stopped outside the Mirage to watch the periodic eruption of the volcano out front.

  They leaned against the railing, Amelia resting her head on Tyler’s shoulder and sighing with contentment. She really missed spending time with him. There was just something about being with Tyler that made the world seem better. There was a comfort and ease in his arms that she’d never found in another man. Although they’d never dated, Tyler had set the bar high for her future relationships. Maybe too high, considering she was still single.

  “Feel better?” he asked.

  “Yes, thank you. I just couldn’t look at any more pictures of weddings and babies.”

  Tyler wrapped his arm around her, chasing away the January desert chill. “That’s what happens at reunions, you know.”

  “Yeah, but I didn’t expect it to make me feel like such a...”

  “Successful, talented businesswoman in control of her own destiny?”

  Amelia sighed. “I was thinking more along the lines of a relationship failure on the fast track to a house with too many cats.”

  “Quit it,” he said in a stern voice. He turned toward her and tipped her chin up so she had to look him in the eye. “You are amazing. You’re beautiful, talented, successful... Any man would be lucky to have you in his life. You just haven’t found one worthy of you yet.”

  That was a nice thought, but it didn’t change the fact that she’d been on a fruitless quest for Mr. Right since she’d come of age.
“Thanks, Ty,” she said anyway, as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in the lapel of his suit.

  He held her tight, resting his chin on the top of her head. It was a simple hug. One they’d shared a hundred times before. But tonight, somehow, it was different. She was suddenly very aware of the movement of his hard muscles beneath his shirt. His cologne tickled her nose, so familiar and yet so enticing in the moment. It made her want to bury her face in his neck and inhale the warm scent of his skin. Run her palms across the rough stubble of his jaw...

  A wave of heat licked at Amelia’s cheeks, and she realized it had nothing to do with the flames shooting across the water beside them. There was a warmth curling in her belly, a need building inside her. It was a familiar arousal, but one she’d never associated with Tyler. He was her best friend. Nothing more.

  But in that moment, she wanted more. She wanted him to show her how beautiful and talented he thought she was with his hands and his mouth instead of his words. It was a dangerous thought, but she couldn’t shake it.

  “Do you remember graduation night?”

  “Of course,” she said, pulling away to put an end to the physical contact stirring the blood in her veins. She couldn’t forget that night. They had suffered through family parties, and then they’d snuck off together to camp in the desert. Amelia had driven them out to the edge of town, where they could finally see the stars. “We drank wine coolers and stayed up all night watching for shooting stars.”

  “Do you remember the pact we made?”

  Amelia thought back to that night, the details blurred by a combination of time and fuzzy navels. She remembered them pinky swearing something. “What was it about? I don’t remember.”

  “We agreed that if we weren’t married by our ten-year reunion, we would marry each other.”

  “Oh, yeah,” she said, the moment flooding back into her mind. In their eighteen-year-old brains, twenty-eight was nearly ancient. If they weren’t married by then, all hope was obviously lost. They’d sworn they would save each other from a lonely middle-aged existence. “Twenty-eight sure doesn’t feel the way I expected it to. I still feel young, and yet sometimes I feel like the oldest, most boring person I know. All I do is work. I never have adventures like we used to have together.”