his arms around her.
“You weren’t supposed to kiss me back!” Mark growled, shooting her a look that was downright accusatory. “You should have used one of the self-defense techniques I just showed you instead of melting in my arms.”
Passion quickly dissolved in a sea of humiliation. Red-hot embarrassment rolled over her like a tidal wave. So did red-hot anger, making Vanessa react without thinking.
Enlisting a speedy move of her own, she took hold of his arm and twisted her hips, and presto—gravity took over, knocking a startled Mark completely off balance. A second later he was falling to the floor, landing on his sexy denim-clad derriere in the middle of the Aubusson carpet.
At that precise moment, Celeste opened the bedroom door and ushered in Dr. Rosenthal, who viewed Mark with a wide grin.
“I’ve heard of bowing to royalty, Wilder, but never thought I’d see the day when a woman would set you on your keister.”
“The captain was showing me his moves, so I showed him one of mine,” Vanessa said in a demure voice.
“I didn’t teach you that move,” Mark growled accusingly at Vanessa even as he leaped to his feet with the grace of a cat. A big cat, something in the angry-tiger family. A lesser woman would have taken a step back.
But Vanessa was a princess, and years of training helped her keep her cool.
“No, you didn’t teach me that move. Olga did.”
“Who the hell is Olga?” Mark demanded.
“She was the East German Olympic fencing champion for five straight years in the 1980s. Now she teaches fencing in Volzemburg. Over the years, she’s given me a few pointers in self-defense.”
“You could have told me that.”
“You could have asked me,” she retorted.
“Children, children, enough squabbling,” Dr. Rosenthal said. “As fascinating as this may be, I do have patients waiting for me back at my office.” The doctor looked more like a young John Wayne than George Clooney. He had a rugged face and direct demeanor, but kind brown eyes. “You’re looking flushed, Princess Vanessa. I fear you may have a fever.”
“Brain fever,” Mark muttered under his breath.
“Thank you, Celeste, you may leave us now,” Vanessa informed her wide-eyed lady-in-waiting.
The doctor opened his black bag and removed a stethoscope.
“I’m not sure what Mark told you,” she began, eyeing his medical bag warily.
“Relax, Princess,” Mark drawled. “He’s not going to draw too much blood.”
“I’m not going to draw any blood,” Dr. Rosenthal assured her with a reprimanding look in Mark’s direction. “You two are doing enough of that on your own.”
“I apologize, Dr. Rosenthal,” Vanessa said. “It’s very kind of you to take the time off from your busy practice to come here today.”
“The doc owes me a favor,” Mark said.
“I want to check you out a bit before I call your father,” Dr. Rosenthal said. “Make sure nothing really is wrong with you.”
“Aside from a stubborn nature, you mean.”
She ignored Mark’s comment.
“Take a deep breath. Hold it. Let it out.”
“Have you known Mark long?” she asked.
“Long enough,” the doctor replied, taking a wooden tongue depressor out of his bag. “Open your mouth and go ah.” Shining a tiny high-intensity flashlight in her mouth, he noted, “Looks good. How long have you known Mark, Your Highness?”
“His brother, Joe, married my best friend Prudence.”
“Ah, Joe.” Dr. Rosenthal nodded as he tossed the tongue depressor in a ritzy garbage can with the royal seal on it. “The charmer in the Wilder family.”
“And Mark?” Vanessa asked. “What’s he?”
“The proud one,” Dr. Rosenthal instantly replied.
“Really? Why’s that? Because he’s a Marine?”
“Don’t you have someplace else to be, Doc?” Mark said, clearly uncomfortable with the direction this conversation was taking.
“The doctor has to phone my father before he leaves,” she reminded Mark.
“How much sleep have you been getting a night?” the doctor asked her.
“Four, maybe five hours, if I’m lucky,” she replied.
“And your appetite?”
“He ate most of my breakfast,” Vanessa noted with a regal tilt of her head in Mark’s direction.
“Hey, there was enough on that platter to feed a family of five,” Mark said in his own defense. “And she hardly touched any of it.”
“Mmm. You do show signs of nervous exhaustion,” Dr. Rosenthal told her. “All kidding aside, I do think a break would do you good.”
“There, you see?” Vanessa shot Mark a triumphant look. “The doctor agrees with me.”
Mark felt the first twinges of guilt tugging at his conscience. The good doctor was in on the plan, of course. A former Marine himself, Abraham Rosenthal hadn’t asked any questions and had only been told information about Mark’s mission on a need-to-know basis.
“Shall I call your father from my office or from the phone here?” the doctor asked.
“Here would be best, I believe,” Vanessa replied. “What do you think, Mark?”
It was the first time she’d ever consulted his opinion on anything and Mark found that he liked the inquiring look she gave him, as if she cared what he replied. Which was ridiculous. She was used to giving orders as much as he was. She clearly wasn’t a woman who kowtowed to others. She was a princess, for heaven’s sake, nothing like the women he usually went for—the voluptuous cheerleader type.
Not that the cheerleaders were empty-headed—Cindy was a court stenographer, Rusti a telemarketer. And they hadn’t been without class. But they’d been more interested in pleasing a man than in just about anything else.
And Mark had loved that about them. Well, not love. He didn’t do love.
When he eventually did marry, it would be to a woman who understood the demands of a career Marine officer. Plenty of women were impressed by the uniform, but not many were willing to stick around for the life-style. His older brother, Justice, was a prime example of that. He’d married his high-school sweetheart right after entering the Marine Corps at age eighteen only to have her divorce him a short while later.
Joe had married a woman accustomed
