with hot water, then bring it back to me.”
Without a word, Marc went into the adjacent bathroom and then came out a few moments later, holding the pacifier by its pink plastic ring as if it were radioactive.
When Cecile caught sight of it, she whimpered and opened and closed her tiny fists as if to say, “Hand it over now, Buster!” Marc relinquished it to her and she popped it into her mouth, then laid her head against Kate’s breast.
Kate paced the room a few moments longer as the baby’s eyes grew heavy, then finally closed. Carefully she laid her in the crib, covered her with a blanket, and turned down the lamp, leaving the room in darkness except for a small night-light near the door.
She turned to discover Marc had disappeared. Obviously he’d carted himself off to bed. Obviously she was wrong, she realized when she stepped into the corridor, closed the door and turned to find him standing there—right there—one shoulder cocked against the doorframe.
He sent her a sleepy and overtly sexy smile. “You’re a genius, Kate.”
She shrugged. “Not really. I used to baby-sit to earn extra money, so I’ve had some practice with the nighttime ritual. And pacifiers.”
“Ah, so that explains why Cecile responds to you so well. Your skill with children is very apparent. You must be a remarkable doctor.”
“Thank you. I think you handled the situation well. Not many men would’ve stayed up with a baby that wasn’t theirs?” She hadn’t meant to say that, much less end the sentence on a question.
“She’s not mine, Kate,” he said adamantly, then more gently, “but she is quite the charmer when she wants to be. She actually smiled at me a few times.”
If only Kate could believe that Cecile was fathered by someone else. Hopefully they would soon learn the truth, if not through medical means, then through an investigation if the mother or father didn’t come forward. And how could a mother give up such a beautiful child? Unless she didn’t have the means to care for her. Marc definitely had the means.
“I do hope she stays asleep for a few hours,” Marc added. “Oddly enough, I’m now quite awake.”
So was Kate. Sleep was the last thing she wanted, with him staring at her expectantly.
Attempting to focus on something other than his alluring eyes, Kate’s gaze dropped to the gaping shirt that revealed his naked chest, well-toned and tempting with its golden color and a patch of brown hair between his nipples. And below that she caught a glimpse of his navel and the stream of darker masculine hair leading downward, but no birthmark. Where in the heck was the birthmark? And where in the heck was her brain? This was no time to eyeball his very male anatomy. And it wasn’t like she hadn’t seen a naked man before. In fact, she’d seen several, but not many who looked as well developed as Marc DeLoria.
She forced her gaze up and blurted, “Thank goodness for those pacifiers.”
“I find it amazing that a rubber nipple would be so appealing to a child.” His grin deepened, showing off his dimples to full advantage. “As a man, I personally prefer something more natural.”
Oh, no. Much too late at night for sexual innuendo. Kate pointed a finger at him. “You really are a rogue, King DeLoria.”
“And that is your fault.”
“My fault?”
“You bring out that side of me.” He inched a little closer, seeming to steal the air from the atmosphere with the scent of soap that reminded Kate of spring, warm and wonderful. “I hope this doesn’t mean you’ll now refuse to be my friend.” His voice was a low, deep hum—hypnotic, enticing.
Kate pretended to consider it while trying not to lose her bearings in the depths of his deep blue eyes. “I guess I’ll cut you some slack this time. I’ll still be your friend.”
“Good. I have an idea how we can spend the rest of the evening together.” He leaned forward and Kate’s resolve melted completely when he murmured, “If you’re interested in a little friendly late-night adventure.”
A midnight raid on the royal kitchen.
That was Marc DeLoria’s idea of adventure—and Kate’s biggest disappointment of the evening. She’d been hoping for a midnight swim in the moat, although, come to think of it, she hadn’t seen a moat. At the very least, she’d been hoping for a walk in the palace gardens. She had seen those when she’d first arrived—beautifully manicured gardens with roses and topiaries and a fountain set in the middle of a reflecting pool.
But instead of taking a romantic stroll with the king, she was standing in the middle of a cavernous kitchen while Marc rummaged through a lower cabinet looking for heaven only knew what. However, he was bent over at the moment, giving Kate a really nice view of his bottom, sheathed in a thin pair of pajamas that showcased the finer points of his dignified derrière. She wondered if that was where the birthmark might be found. With just a few steps forward, and a quick tug, she could find out.
Not a good idea.
She could look all she wanted, but she couldn’t touch. He’d made that quite clear outside her hotel room door. No touching allowed. No kissing. No covert rendezvous on the palace grounds, or any grounds, for that matter. But she could still fantasize about it—about him—and remember the words he had spoken earlier in a voice that had nearly brought her to her knees.
…it would be incredibly easy to kiss you right now, to back you into your room, remove all your clothing and make love with you all through the night.
It was definitely getting hot in the castle kitchen. Kate was practically going up in flames and Marc hadn’t even turned on the stove.
“I’ve found it.” Marc straightened and showed her a sauté pan along with his sexy and oh-so-charming smile.
Was he planning to make breakfast? Kate’s belly roiled in protest. She didn’t eat heavy meals in the middle of the night. “I’m not really fond of eggs.”
“Nor am I. But I do have a fondness for crepes.”
Kate leaned back against the spotless workstation centered in the room. “I know you didn’t learn how to cook in the biology lab.”
He set the pan on the stove and turned on the burner beneath it before facing her again. “Someone taught me how to make crepes.”
Kate assumed the “someone” had been a woman. “I’m sure she got a kick out of teaching a king to cook.”
“Yes, and she taught me many things.”
Just as Kate had suspected. “Oh, really? Such as?”
“How to tie my shoes, how to read. Her name was Mrs. Perrine, my first nanny.”
“Your nanny?”
“You thought I was referring to some nubile young woman. I assure you Mrs. Perrine was anything but nubile or young. She was as tough as any
