shrill of a phone had Kate bolting upright from deep sleep. Disoriented, she thought she was back in the hospital on-call room. She fumbled for the phone and answered with the habitual Dr. Milner, as if she were still a resident.
“I’m sorry to bother you so late, Kate, but I’m having a problem with Cecile.”
Cecile? The baby. She wasn’t at the hospital; she was in a foreign country. The man on the other end of the line wasn’t someone on staff; he was the king. A distressed-sounding king at that.
Kate sat up and glanced at the bedside clock. Almost midnight. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m not certain. Beatrice and I have tried everything to calm her before she wakes my mother, but I’m afraid we’re failing miserably. Could you suggest anything?”
“She’s had a bottle?”
“Several. The last one landed on my forehead.”
Kate fought back laughter over the image of a six-month-old using a royal forehead as target practice. “Her diaper’s dry?”
“Yes. Beatrice has changed her several times. All those bottles, you know.”
“And rocking her—”
“Hasn’t done any good. She’s determined to protest, very loudly.”
Oh, well. So much for sleep. “I’ll come and see what I can do.”
“Are you certain?”
“I’m sure.”
“I’ll send Nicholas right away.”
“I’ll be ready.”
“And Kate, I truly appreciate this.”
No problem, and it really wasn’t. She’d grown accustomed to odd hours 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
