скачать книгу бесплатно
Reunited With Her Surgeon Prince
Marion Lennox
Claiming his secret heir—and his bride!
Dr. Ellie Carson once married her secret prince, but then duty tore their whirlwind marriage apart—only, Ellie was also pregnant!
Now surgeon and crown prince Marc Falken is soon to become king—and he’s discovered he has a son! Claiming his heir means seeking out Ellie—the woman he’s never stopped loving. But can Marc convince Ellie that she can be a doctor and his queen, and that finally they can become the family they were always meant to be?
Marc paused, overwhelmed by what he had to tell her.
Ellie rose and opened the sideboard. She poured two whiskies. Large ones.
“I don’t drink this except in emergencies,” she told him. “I suspect I need it now. Maybe we both do. So tell me.”
He took the glass and drained it, and then he looked at Ellie. He could still see the girl he’d loved behind those tired eyes. He could still see the laughter, the fun... But he could also see the care and the responsibility.
He watched her shoulders brace yet again, and he hated it.
“Ellie, I’m now the crown prince of Falkenstein and Felix is my son. It takes a year to formalize a divorce in Australia so Felix was born while we were still legally married. This may mess with all our lives in ways I can’t imagine, but once I’m crowned, Felix will take my current title. Your son—our son—will be the new crown prince of Falkenstein.”
Dear Reader (#uc7940605-7500-58bf-8af1-a1e49a31444a),
What is it with royalty? The combination of tradition, power and wealth is a heady mix that I suspect would be difficult to handle in real life, but as a writer I love playing with ‘what ifs?’. What if an entire royal family was wiped out in one hit? That’s a theme that’s been explored before—an unimaginable tragedy, but to a fiction writer the idea’s gold. What if the unexpected heir to the throne is a doctor, dedicated to his calling, who wants nothing to do with royalty? And what if, years ago, that doctor had a secret son, who’s suddenly the new crown prince?
The situation had me wiggling my toes in the sand in delight as I took my dog for her daily beach walk. I love a good ‘what if?’, and if it combines the pageantry of a royal coronation, a feel-good romance and a secret baby thrown in for good measure, hooray! The dog and I needed to walk our legs off in order for me to sort out all the complications, but we loved how it all turned out. At least I did. Sadly, Bonnie was too busy chasing seagulls to care.
Marion
Reunited With Her Surgeon Prince
Marion Lennox
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Books by Marion Lennox
Mills & Boon Medical Romance
Wildfire Island Docs
Saving Maddie’s Baby
A Child to Open Their Hearts
Meant-to-Be Family
From Christmas to Forever?
Falling for Her Wounded Hero
Mills & Boon Cherish
His Cinderella Heiress
Stepping into the Prince’s World
Visit the Author Profile page at millsandboon.co.uk (http://millsandboon.co.uk) for more titles.
Praise for Marion Lennox (#uc7940605-7500-58bf-8af1-a1e49a31444a)
“This is a wonderful book, full of the trademark warmth, soul-searching and cheer Marion Lennox brings to all her books.”
—Goodreads on From Christmas to Forever?
Contents
Cover (#ueff5720f-016d-5478-96bc-a4d76fc4d23a)
Back Cover Text (#uf4419f7d-a872-5600-904e-66049e5ef22e)
Introduction (#u35d63c37-0518-55e9-bff7-72e95747f333)
Dear Reader (#uf9dd6bfe-80fa-594f-9a4a-be640273f7b7)
Title Page (#u9a9ef30d-f9d4-5277-b6ff-b1c17b010f60)
Booklist (#u1e0f0b73-1375-5163-9283-5a3746d69dac)
Praise (#uddc87a4f-6173-5f02-9323-64570c5641d9)
CHAPTER ONE (#u8be77a95-1149-55b3-868d-e87fee5323ee)
CHAPTER TWO (#ud206c628-785c-579b-8670-5e3cb0fc386d)
CHAPTER THREE (#u748cbad8-5892-5cf4-859a-49a6c0710416)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#uc7940605-7500-58bf-8af1-a1e49a31444a)
THE BRAND-NEW Crown Prince of Falkenstein managed three hours of nightmare-filled sleep. He rose at dawn, desperate for coffee and a walk to clear his head. Instead, he found the Secretary of State waiting. The massive palace dining table was covered with newspapers, and their front pages all screamed versions of the same.
Entire Royal Family Killed in Plane Tragedy!
‘This is what you get for breaking rules,’ Josef said in greeting, and Marc wanted to thump him. At such a time, to be thinking of rules...
He headed for the huge silver coffee pot before deigning to answer. Being Crown Prince had to count for something. Half a cup of coffee in, his head was clear enough to respond. ‘How did breaking the rules cause this?’
‘Heirs in succession to the throne should never travel in the same plane,’ Josef told him. ‘Your uncle and his wife, your cousin, his sons and their assorted mistresses. All in the one small plane, on one indulgent holiday—and at vast expense when so much needs to be done at home. No consideration for rules. It’s all part of the same. Your grandfather was a warlord. Your uncle was a playboy. Your cousin was a wastrel, and his sons were already mixing with women of the worst kind.’ Josef heaved a sigh and laid the newspaper aside. ‘Now it’s up to you, boy, to fix the mess.’
‘I have messes of my own to fix.’
‘Not as big as this one. Your Highness—’
‘Don’t call me that.’
‘It’s who you are,’ Josef said simply. ‘You’re Marc Pierre Henri de Falken, Crown Prince of Falkenstein. After your coronation you’ll be His Majesty.’ He hesitated but then forged on. ‘And, might I say, this tragedy is appalling, but for the country it may well be a force for good.’
‘I’m no prince,’ Marc exploded. ‘I’m a surgeon and I need to stay a surgeon. If you look at the mess our country’s health system is in...’
‘That’s why you have no choice but to take the throne.’ There’d been hours now to take in the news, and the country’s chief administrator obviously saw the path ahead as being without obstacles. ‘You’ve been doing your best with rundown hospitals, fighting for funds from a royal family who doesn’t care. Now the reins are yours. Think of the bigger picture. The schools. The courts. Our welfare system. If you refuse the throne then it goes to Ranald de Bougier, and heaven help us if that happens. He’ll propel us back to war.’
‘But I don’t want it.’
Marc took his coffee and stood at the vast bay window of the King’s private dining room. Though it was the informal part of the palace, even this part was intimidating.
Marc’s father had been the ignored younger son of the King. He’d been a pacifist who had hated his father’s warlike tendencies. He’d studied medicine, he’d struggled to build the country’s health system and he’d been appalled when the King propelled the country into a meaningless border conflict.
Marc had only been in this palace once, as an awed seven-year-old, brought to be introduced to a family his parents had little to do with. There’d been continual fights about health funding and then an epic fight when war broke out. Marc had never been back. Until now.
Marc raked his long surgeon’s fingers through his dark hair and stared into the future with horror.
He glanced through to the family’s ‘informal’ sitting room. It was an opulent display of gilt, brocades and priceless furniture.
He wanted nothing to do with it.
The huge mirror above the dining room’s massive fireplace showed Marc as he was, a thirty-five-year-old surgeon, a man who was weary from operating until midnight and who’d been brought to the palace straight from Theatre. After four hours of horrified discussion, he’d fallen asleep in his clothes. He was wearing faded jeans and a plain white T-shirt. He hadn’t had time to shave.
A king? Ha!
‘I can’t,’ he said simply. ‘I love my work.’
‘You have no choice,’ Josef told him, and Marc thought of the mess the country’s healthcare system was in, of the theatres without equipment, of the rundown hospitals, of the endless waiting lists.
If he turned his back on the throne, he could do more of what he was doing now. He could save lives, one patient at a time. If he accepted the throne...how many more could he save?
Josef was right. He had no choice, but he felt ill. He dug his hands into his pockets and kicked the heirloom rug at his feet.
‘We need to move on,’ Josef was saying, gently now, obviously knowing his argument had been won. ‘You need to face the press. We need to get you shaved, dressed in something...’ he eyed Marc’s clothes with distaste ‘...more fitting. And we need to have a statement ready. The country’s in uproar. We need reassurance of continuity. Even at this time we need the implication that this tragedy might make things better.’
‘Why? Surely there’s no need to talk of the future yet?’
‘There is a need,’ Josef told him. ‘The country’s desperate for a lifeline. You know there’s no one fit to form government. Marc, we need steadiness and the promise of a better future. Moving on, we need to find you a wife. Get you a son. I believe you’ll make a great king, and your sons after you.’
And that made Marc think of something else. Something that had played on his mind many times these past ten years. Something else that made him unfit to be royal.
He hesitated but it had to be said.
‘There may be another...issue.’
‘Yes?’ Josef looked as if nothing could surprise him, but Marc knew this would.
‘I have a son.’
He was right. To say Josef looked stunned would be an understatement.
Marc refilled his coffee mug and realised this was the first time ever that he’d said those words.
I have a son. The words seemed unreal in this situation that was already unreal. Having a son was part of another world. And yet, when it was said out loud it assumed a reality that shocked him as well as Josef.
He watched the colour drain from the old man’s face. His grandfather’s and then his uncle’s reign had been marred by scandal after scandal, Marc knew, and now he was asking Josef to cope with more. He was under no illusions as to the old man’s role in the royal household. Somehow Josef had kept the royal family intact, holding the country together. He’d served his country with honour. He didn’t deserve to have to cope with this.
‘A son...’ Josef whispered. ‘Where? When?’
‘You knew I was married, briefly?’
‘I...yes.’ The old man was struggling to regroup, sifting long-forgotten information about a Marc he barely knew, a doctor on the outer fringes of the royal family. ‘I had heard that,’ he said. ‘It was just after you qualified as a doctor, wasn’t it? In Australia. A momentary aberration. You came home when war broke out. The divorce was almost immediate?’
‘It was,’ Marc said heavily. ‘The marriage was...a mistake. I didn’t know Ellie was pregnant when we separated, and the child was born well after I returned. A son.’
‘It was never said.’
‘There was no need. Neither of us was in a position to keep a child. I was flying back into a war zone. Ellie was a second-year medical student and she wished to continue. The baby was adopted at birth.’
‘Formally adopted?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you know the adoptive parents?’
‘No. I had nothing to do with the adoption.’
