The Princess and the Pediatrician Page 3

  ‘Why can’t you sleep?’

  She made a squishy face, then said, ‘It hurts.’ She tapped her chest and flopped back, her sprawl of dark, curly hair haloing around her on the pillow.

  ‘Why don’t you have some oxygen?’

  Her face crumpled. ‘I just want to be normal!’

  His heart ached for her. Élodie’s health demanded that she acknowledge that she wasn’t. She’d contracted malaria a few years back, in the wake of a devastating hurricane, and as she already had weak lungs from her asthma, was prone to recurrences.

  ‘When can I go home?’ she asked.

  Oof. That was a weighted question. The hurricane that had compromised her health had also taken her mother and father. She lived with her aunt and uncle now, but they had several teenaged children of their own and, with low-paying jobs, found Élodie’s health problem a burden they struggled to fund and, more often than not, didn’t attend to. He knew they used her hospital visits as a form of the day care they couldn’t afford, but the alternative—leaving her on her own—simply wasn’t an option.

  Before he could answer, Élodie gave him a narrow-eyed gaze, then beamed. ‘You look like a prince. Have you been to a ball?’ Her small shoulders lifted and dropped as she gave a huge, painful-sounding sigh. ‘Will I ever get to go to a ball?

  Oliver’s heart constricted. She’d been asking about leaving for a week now, but the hospital was the safest place for her. He hated that reality on her behalf. He hadn’t been an orphan, but he knew what it was like to feel like an outsider in your home. As such, he’d privately funded a few extra days for her to stay in hospital, to ease the strain on her aunt and uncle and also, in all honesty, to ensure he could keep a closer eye on her.

  He worried about her, and he knew he’d hold himself personally responsible if her health deteriorated outside of his watch.

  ‘Soon, little one. You’re doing amazingly well, considering how high your temperature was when you came in.’

  ‘I suppose...’ She frowned her displeasure that the malaria had come back at all.

  He fanned out the books. ‘So... Which one will it be?’

  Élodie’s eyes widened, her distress temporarily forgotten, as she pointed at one of the books. ‘Can we read about a princess?’

  Oliver gave a silent groan. Of all the nights to read about a princess! Why hadn’t he checked the books before offering her a choice?

  ‘Absolutely.’

  He pulled a chair up beside her bed, and before he opened the book did a quick scan of her stats and gave a surreptitious glance at her chart, to check the last time she’d been given her pain meds. Then, with a smile, he opened the book.

  ‘Once upon a time...’ he began.

  By the time Élodie had gifted him some thank-you sweeties—sour apple, her favourite—and he’d looked in on a couple of the other children, he was buzzing with adrenaline. He hopped into his Jeep and set off away from Williamtown, the story of Sleeping Beauty still swirling round his head.

  The fictional Princess had proved fairly tricky to woo but, after hacking down a palace’s worth of thorns, discovering an entire sleeping royal court, including the most beautiful slumbering princess in the world, it appeared all the Prince had needed to do to restore harmony was give the Princess one life-affirming kiss to wake her from her slumber so that joy reigned and they all lived happily ever after.

  He snorted. If only real life were that easy. Not that he was after wedding bells or anything—the drama that would ensue once his family got so much as a whiff of an heir to the family title would be off the charts—so he’d take the life-affirming kiss for now.

  He tried to wipe his mother’s inevitable disapproval of a late-night liaison from his mind, then laughed. He was meeting a princess for a moonlit walk by the sea. His mother would be the first one to approve.

  The cove was only a five-minute drive away from the hospital. One he knew like the back of his hand, because his seaside home was just around the corner. Lia wouldn’t have had a clue that it was his favourite place on the island, and yet like someone who knew him like the back of their own hand she’d chosen his ‘go to’ spot.

  No matter what mood he was in after an inevitably long day at the hospital, or an even longer one at The Island Clinic, from the moment he first stepped out onto the beach it felt like he was in a different world. Secluded, and slightly tricky to get to unless you were a local, it was surrounded by tiny footpaths unlit by streetlights. They were the only way to get there.

  When he arrived—tie off, shoes off, warm sand beneath his feet and the phosphorescence of the waves doubly bright with the addition of the night’s nearly full moon—he thought it would be impossible to find anywhere more romantic.

  He was just about to begin undoing the buttons on his dress shirt when a female voice said, ‘I thought that might be my job.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  WHAT?

  Lia was beginning to feel as if an entirely different woman had poured herself into her body when she’d put on her gown tonight. Maybe it was just the dress, but... She didn’t say sultry things like that. Or give naughty little smiles after she’d said them. Then again, she was hardly one to invite a man she’d met at a charity ball to a remote beach cove for a midnight walk either, so...

  Was this a magic dress?

  She looked at Oliver—still in his tux, minus the tie, which was hanging loosely round his neck. There was the tiniest hint of a five o’clock shadow. Mercy. She barely contained the urge to lick her lips. He was positively scrumptious. A little rumpled, perhaps. But who wanted perfect when history dictated that perfect was unsustainable?

  This man... Mmm...this man was something else. A man who knew his own way. Someone who’d tapped into a part of her she hadn’t even known existed. The sexy seductress who felt every bit as powerful and self-possessed as he seemed.

  This wasn’t at all her normal modus operandi. And what was more she liked it.

  Only a few hours in his company and already she liked herself more with him than without him. Which was something she’d have to cap, because it was the same dangerous path to ‘head over heels in love’ her parents had followed and that hadn’t exactly ended well.

  And yet it was very tempting to throw caution to the wind.

  Just for tonight.

  Obviously.

  Not only was Oliver intelligent, funny, and openly passionate about his work as a paediatrician, he was just about the most attractive man she’d ever laid eyes on. Or perhaps he was attractive because of those things. He might not be everyone’s cup of tea—there was a little scar on his left eyebrow, a smattering of freckles that arced up and over his nose that hinted at the boy he’d once been, and when he smiled the crinkles around his eyes betrayed a slightly weather-beaten aesthetic—but Lia liked every single centimetre of him.

  Like a woman possessed, she watched herself reach out and tease open the top button of his shirt.

  He exhaled at its release.

  She skidded her fingertip down his Adam’s apple, along the short hollow between his collarbones to the next button.

  The air between them crackled with invisible electricity.

  ‘Your dress only has the one tie?’ he asked, after she’d released another button.

  She watched his eyes drop to the wraparound cloth belt that held her dress together. ‘Looks like it.’

  He reached out to touch it, but she took his hand in hers with a No, you don’t click of her tongue. ‘Good things come to those who wait.’

  She moved his hand to her hip.

  Who on earth was she tonight?

  Someone strong. Someone who went for what she wanted and didn’t wait for the palace to give her its stamp of approval.

  She’d never felt more alive.

  She saw him clock the big straw tote she always brought wh
enever she went to the beach.

  ‘Towels,’ she explained as she released another button then met his eyes. ‘And whatnot.’

  She’d been given a bottle of the vintage grand cru champagne by the staff at the hotel after the event. She’d thought of saving it until her cousin came out in a couple of months, for his annual leave, but here and now might be the perfect place to drink it. If they were going to be sitting and chatting, that was...

  ‘Whatnot?’ Oliver’s mouth twitched into a smile.

  Medieval convent schools in Karolinska had never made much of a point of being ‘down with the kids’, so her vocabulary sometimes erred on the side of very old-fashioned. Tonight she was going to let that be an asset.

  ‘Yes.’ She undid another button, then met his eyes. ‘Whatnot.’

  There were plastic cups, a container filled with an array of sweet tropical fruit, and an opulently inviting box of chocolates. But she didn’t want any of that now. She wanted him.

  Instead of saying as much, she tipped her head towards the sea. ‘We might fancy a midnight swim.’

  ‘I didn’t bring my bathers,’ he said.

  He didn’t sound sad about that at all.

  ‘Nor did I,’ she countered.

  He nodded, then tipped his head to the side so that the moonlight caught the fine cut of his jawline. He looked, just at that moment, as if he’d been sculpted.

  He moved again, and before she could catch her breath she was in his arms and he was kissing her. Softly at first. Inquisitively. He tasted of salty air, the tiny bit of white wine he’d had at the ball and, interestingly, of sweeties. Sour apple, if she wasn’t mistaken. But mostly he tasted of that indefinable essence that made him irresistible to her.

  Eau de Oliver Bainbridge.

  Whatever it was, it consumed her.

  Their breath became one as they touched and tasted each other. The soft rasp of his stubble against her lips made her draw in a quick breath. His hands gently cupped her face as he held her away from him to see if she was all right, then brought her in close for an even deeper kiss. One she never wanted to emerge from.

  When they finally broke apart, he dropped one of his hands to her throat, his thumb lazily tracing her collarbone as his other hand slid down the entire exposed length of her back until it made contact with her dress. Their bodies organically arced towards each other. There was no mistaking his arousal.

  ‘Should we take that swim?’ Oliver tipped his forehead to hers. ‘Cool down a bit?’

  She knew what he was asking. Did she want to make love to him now, or cool things down so they had a chance to decide properly if they were making the right decision.

  She did want to make love to him. And the pulse between her legs was doing its best to vote for immediate satiation of its desire. But she also didn’t want this magical night to end. She’d never been skinny dipping before, and the thought of that warm tropical sea surrounding her naked body and his naked body, the two of them kissing with all that deliciously warm water around them...

  She took one of his hands and moved it to the flimsy bow tied at her side. ‘I think we should take a swim and then perhaps engage in a little...whatnot. If you’re willing?’ she tacked on, suddenly aware he might be the one trying to back out.

  Having an HRH in your name tended either to pull in the wrong kind of suitor—the kind who was desperate for some sort of link to royalty—or, as had been her last experience, repel them because of the floodlights her family occasionally shone on her life. Even in a place as remote as The Island Clinic.

  Oliver ran his fingers along the soft fabric of her dress’s bow and then, as if he’d made a decision, moved his hand to her arm.

  Her heart twisted with a tight ache of longing. She wanted this man. And she’d been certain up until about two seconds ago that he wanted her as well.

  But he was right to step away. There was no future in this kind of physical attraction. Her parents’ marriage was proof of that.

  Besides, she tried to tell herself as her body screamed its protest, she liked her life the way it was. And Oliver had made it very clear he liked living a life under the radar. Dating a princess—even one five thousand miles away from home—simply didn’t allow for that.

  Oliver ran his fingers down her side, eliciting another rush of goosebumps, and then, sensing her change of mood, pulled back again. ‘Are you looking for a commitment, or one night of whatnot?’

  He didn’t colour the question in any way and she admired its openness. They were adults, both in their thirties. They had professional lives they clearly loved. His question was telling her all she needed to know. Whatever happened between the pair of them—one night, a few dates, something more—was up to her. Not out of a lack of interest...being this close to him assured her he was very interested...it was more a matter of consent.

  So. The ball was in her court.

  She made her decision. ‘One night to remember seems a perfect way to end the evening, doesn’t it?’

  His voice was rough when he answered. ‘As long as you’re sure.’

  In one fluid move she tugged the bow of her dress loose, revelling in the sensation of its fabric slipping along her body and down to the sand as she ran towards the sea.

  ‘I want a night of freedom!’ She whooped. ‘A night of whatnot.’

  If he wanted to join her, she thought as she ran into the sea, that was up to him.

  She dived into the water, astonished at how luxurious it felt. Warm, sensual, moving her body with the gentle rhythmic undulations of the sea... Though she’d hardly thought of swimsuits as cumbersome, swimming naked in a moonlit sea with Oliver watching was on another level. Her body was positively thrumming with desire.

  When she came up for air a few metres along and looked back to the shore she didn’t see him at all.

  Her heart sank.

  Ah, well. She’d given him a choice and he’d made the sensible decision. Never mind. At least she could tick skinny dipping off her—

  She felt a tickling against her legs, and then a whoosh of movement as Oliver surfaced next to her and pulled her into his arms. His body, fully naked, pressed against hers. She could feel his arousal as he pulled her legs up and around his hips and began to kiss her as if his life depended on it.

  She felt his touch everywhere. His fingers tangled in her hair. His hand pressing against the small of her back to draw her closer to him. Then both of his hands were sweeping along her thighs and her bum as if she were a goddess, sent this one moonlit night for the express purpose of being cherished.

  Soon enough she was returning his touch, her hands unable to resist touching his hair, his athletic shoulders, his chest. She dipped her head to give his nipples soft, swift nips, then raised her head to give him a salty kiss.

  The water supported much of her weight, and he lifted her up so that he could caress and gently swirl his tongue round the taut tips of her breasts. She barely contained a moan of desire. He walked the pair of them into deeper water, so that when he lowered her for another hungry kiss, her entire body felt as though it had been submerged in their shared desire.

  She’d never experienced a more erotic moment in her life. The soft breeze played amongst the droplets on her shoulders as the warm water brought them even closer together than they already were. They swam and kissed and touched and explored. It was the most intimate Lia had ever been with someone, and yet she’d never felt more comfortable in her own skin than she did here and now, with this man she might likely never see again.

  ‘Are you warm enough?’ he asked, after another soul-quenching kiss.

  With the heat they were sharing? Oh, definitely.

  ‘Mmm...but...’ This was the tricky part. She didn’t want to have sex without the all-important protection. ‘If things progress... I’m not prepared.’

  ‘My cottage is a
two-minute walk away.’ His voice was a low rumble of desire. ‘I’ve got some things that will make “whatnot” safer. Shall we grab those towels of yours?’

  He didn’t have to ask twice.

  Wrapped in huge fluffy towels, they rounded the corner of the cove to another, smaller inlet. When Lia saw where Oliver lived, she laughed with sheer delight.

  Though it was bathed only in moonlight, and the finer details weren’t entirely clear, Oliver’s home would have put a luxury Swiss Family Robinson treehouse to shame. What looked to be four or five rooms and open-walled seating areas dappled the treeline, hung like beautiful baubles above a small sky-blue wooden cottage with a gorgeous wraparound porch. It was, in short, a tropical tree house mansion.

  She gave him a dry look—difficult to do when she was feeling exceedingly lusty and there were only a pair of towels between them. ‘You call this a cottage?’

  ‘It’s got a picket fence, hasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, but...’ She dissolved into giggles. ‘I still don’t think this qualifies as a cottage.’

  Oliver gave a self-effacing laugh. ‘Well...it started that way.’

  Lia shook her head in amazement. ‘I can see why you chose paediatrics over geriatrics. You’re a dreamer, aren’t you?’

  She thought of her own, largely undecorated living quarters that were part of the clinic’s staff accommodation. The house itself was exactly the kind of thing people in Karolinska who wanted a luxury holiday in the Caribbean would daydream about during the long, snowy winters: a sky-blue cottage with a pristine white porch, dripping with flower baskets and other unexpected touches of luxury—an outdoor shower and bath, a ‘widow’s peak’ balcony with a mosquito-netted daybed and, in her bedroom, a very, very large four-poster bed.

  None of which she’d put her own mark on in the three years she’d lived there, as Oliver had with his own home. He was clearly a man who wanted to settle down, have a home. Whereas she... She was ever grateful for the tide that washed away her footprints, leaving not so much as a trace that she’d ever been there.