Royal Affair Page 15

  “There’s some lower back pain, but otherwise I feel pretty good, considering.”

  The doctor examined the bruising on her face. “What did he hit you with?”

  “His fist.” Ivy held the pack in place while the nurse brought over an IV stand. “What’s that for?”

  “We’re going to give you a little something to calm things down,” the doctor replied. “Your blood pressure is a bit high, and you’re having a few contractions.”

  Ivy placed a hand on her tummy. “Contractions? A miscarriage?”

  “I don’t think so.” She gave instructions to the nurse.

  In a couple of minutes, Ivy was in the stirrups, her anxiety increasing as the doctor checked her over thoroughly and announced that everything looked fine.

  “I don’t detect any amniotic leakage.” She studied Ivy for a moment, then patted her shoulder. “We’ll keep you overnight for observation. A precaution only,” she added reassuringly.

  Ivy nodded. They told her to lie still, then summoned the orderly to wheel her to a room in the obstetrics ward. By the time she was in a hospital gown and in bed in a semiprivate room—the other bed was empty—she was feeling much better. Drowsy, in fact.

  She glanced at the steady drip of the IV and decided they’d probably given her a tranquilizer. But she didn’t want to sleep. Quickly she pulled the telephone closer and dialed the hotel suite.

  There was no answer, which she really hadn’t expected, so she left a message for Max, telling him where she was.

  After hanging up, she sighed heavily, as if she was very tired. Her eyes slid closed in spite of her efforts to remain alert.

  Max dampened the fury that pounded through him as he entered Ivy’s hospital room. She didn’t need his anger, as Chuck had pointed out. Right now a sympathetic bedside manner was called for.

  But he still wanted to pound the man who’d struck Ivy. His ire rose again at the thought that some slimeball would hit a woman, one holding a baby at that!

  After speaking with the doctor, an older woman who had been confident neither Ivy nor the baby had suffered any serious damage, he’d headed straight for his fiancée’s side.

  Morgan Davis, who’d come to Ivy’s rescue, said it had been a kidnapping attempt. The nerdy accountant, who had also helped, had thought so, too. So the danger wasn’t to Ivy, per se, but to the baby being transferred to the adoption agency in the annex to the hospital.

  How had the kidnappers known of the change of venue for the little girl?

  They probably hadn’t. Hospitals and adoption agencies were likely places to find babies, so they could have been checking out the area for days or weeks.

  With a silent curse Max put the thoughts aside and crossed the room. Ivy’s eyes were closed and she lay utterly still. His heart gave a painful lurch.

  Taking her hand, he thought she felt rather cool. He checked the monitor, which indicated her pulse and breathing were in the normal range. When the chemical cold pack slipped down to the pillow, it exposed a dark bruise along her jawline and running under her chin. She looked fragile and pale, as if she were an ethereal creature who might slip into a mist and disappear from this earth forever.

  Don’t get dramatic, he scolded his imagination. The woman doctor had said Ivy and the baby were fine, that the stay in the hospital was simply for observation.

  Hooking a chair with his toe, he pulled it over and sat down without letting go of Ivy’s hand. Never had he felt so fiercely protective of another.

  And never so possessive. She was his, by heaven, and anyone who hurt her would pay a steep price if he had anything to say about it!

  The afternoon crept by. He had several conferences with Chuck about security at the hospital, then more with Trent Crosby after Chuck called him with the news about his sister.

  Trent and Katie came by at five. They held a whispered conference with Max, identical worried expressions on their faces as they tried to figure out this latest happening.

  Ivy opened her eyes abruptly and glanced around.

  “Easy,” a soothing, familiar voice said.

  She grasped Max’s hand tightly, glancing from him to her older siblings. “Trent, Katie, what are you doing here?” She frowned. “Where am I?”

  “The hospital,” Katie told her.

  “Oh, the man…and the woman who wasn’t old at all. They tried to take the baby.”

  “Which you held on to like a tigress,” Trent said, giving her an approving grin. “Madison is safe in the adoption nursery.”

  “Did the police capture the couple?”

  Max held the straw to her lips so she could drink when she reached for the water glass.

  “No, but don’t worry,” he told her. “Morgan put a guard at the door of the nursery.”

  “Do you know Morgan?” Ivy asked in surprise.

  His smile was sardonic but gentle. “I think I’ve met everyone who has any connection to you. They’ve called or stopped by in droves this afternoon. By the way, your friend Emma is down the hall.”

  “Em! How is she doing? I meant to come see her this afternoon.” She realized being in the hospital herself was a good reason for forgetting her friend’s surgery.

  “She’s fine. Morgan says he’ll bring her over as soon as the surgeon gives the okay.”

  Ivy perused the empty bed in her room. “She could stay in here.” A smile lit her face. “It would be just like old times when we were all home from college. Remember, Katie?”

  Katie nodded.

  “No way,” Max declared. “You two would probably talk into the wee hours of the morning.”

  “They would,” Trent told him. “It used to drive me crazy when the girls had their friends over for a slumber party. It was giggles and gossip all night long.”

  “You were so dense,” Katie scoffed. “Our friends wanted to stay over so you would notice them. You never did, not even when they let you catch them in their sexiest pajamas when we raided the kitchen.”

  “I was an older man,” Trent explained with a superior smile. “Teenagers were beneath my radar.”

  The four laughed and chatted for an hour, then the brother and sister departed. The nurse came in and took Ivy’s temperature and blood pressure. In the hall, the rattle of the dinner trays was heard.

  “I’m hungry,” Ivy said. “I don’t recall having lunch.”

  “Neither do I. Too much was happening today.”

  “There’s a decent cafeteria here,” the nurse told Max, giving him an approving smile. “Are you having any pain?” she asked Ivy.

  “Some in the lower back again, but not as bad as when I was first brought in.”

  The nurse wrote on the chart, then made an adjustment in the IV flow rate. “That should make you comfortable.”

  “Thank you. Am I still having contractions?”

  “Some, but nothing to worry about.”

  After the nurse left, Max pulled his chair close and took Ivy’s hand again. His smile was sweet, slightly ironic, but amused. “So my queen is a fighter,” he said softly. “I’ll have to make sure the word gets out in Lantanya.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t want any overeager citizen hurt by rushing up to you and getting bashed.”

  Ivy grimaced. “I did hit the man when he wouldn’t let go. I guess that’s why he socked me.” She fingered her jaw, which was now pretty sore.

  “You gave him some grief. Morgan said there was blood running from the guy’s mouth. He must’ve bit his lip or tongue.”

  “That reminds me—his beard was false. It moved when I gave him the upper cut. The old woman wasn’t old at all. She’d drawn wrinkles on her face with makeup. Her gray hair was probably a wig. She moved fast enough when she dashed for the car so they could get away.”

  “So Morgan said.” He sighed in disgust. “That accountant chased the car, but didn’t think to get the license number. Morgan stayed with you, so he didn’t get it either, but he did recognize the make and model. The poli
ce are on the lookout for it.”

  “It was blue,” Ivy said, recalling the fact.

  Max nodded.

  Her dinner tray was brought in at that moment. “Why don’t you go down to the cafeteria and get something?” she suggested, worried that he was famished.

  “Good idea. I’ll bring it up and we can eat together.” He paused at the door. “There’s a guard in the hall. Chuck is talking to the police detectives and will report in later. Nothing like this will happen to you again.”

  Nodding, she watched him leave. He’d meant they would have a bodyguard for her, she mused as the meal was placed on a table and rolled into position beside her bed.

  This was what her life would be like, married to Max. Hers and the baby’s. Watched over constantly. Surrounded by guards. Always alert for dangers they couldn’t see.

  It was something to think about.

  Chuck was on the phone when Max entered the suite later that evening. Max waved and headed for his and Ivy’s bedroom. He stripped and went into the shower, his mood introspective as he bathed, the scent of her shampoo and powder and perfume filling the air.

  Funny how quickly he thought of this space as hers as well as his. It was as if she’d always been a part of his life, as if she belonged there.

  Fate? Predestination?

  It didn’t matter, not as long as the future belonged to both of them. And to their children.

  Scenes of his childhood ran through his mind as he dried off, then dressed in fresh jeans and a shirt. With warm socks and comfortable sneakers, a clean handkerchief—his mother had never permitted him or his father to leave the family quarters without fresh hankies—and his wallet, he was ready. He left the bedroom.

  “You heading back to the hospital?” Chuck asked, hanging up the hotel phone and his cell phone at the same time, looking pleased.

  Max smiled. His security chief often carried on two or three conversations simultaneously. “Yes. Are you coming?”

  “Not now. I’m waiting for a call. What time do you plan to be in tonight?”

  “I’m not. I’ll stay with Ivy.”

  Chuck gave him a thoughtful perusal, then nodded. “You can probably use the other bed. I’ve already told the hospital staff that no one but Ivy can be in the room due to security. Trent is sending his best men for twenty-four-hour duty. The sheriff has stationed a cruiser in the area, too. I’ve talked to the FBI and the State Department. They’re leaving everything in our hands at the present. I, uh, explained about the family wedding and the formal one, so that’s taken care of.”

  “Good.”

  When the cell phone rang, Chuck paused before picking up the call. “Have you told the rose how you feel about her?” he asked softly before snapping the phone open and answering.

  Max frowned over the question as he drove Ivy’s car to the hospital. Love. That was what Chuck was talking about.

  Was it love to feel as if your heart had been ripped out of your body and put through a shredder the way his had when he’d learned Ivy had been hurt?

  That was as close as he could come to describing the sensation.

  The anger had followed upon learning the circumstances. Anger was good. It was clean and clear and direct with no muddy swirl of other emotions to confuse a person.

  At the hospital, he parked and hurried to Ivy’s room. The reassuring woman doctor was there, Dr. Glassis. So was Dr. Woodruff, who was Ivy’s personal physician. Ivy was looking mulish.

  “What’s happening?” Max inquired, going to the far side of the bed and taking Ivy’s hand, some part of him noting with pleasure that she returned his clasp.

  “I’ve just told Ivy to stay off her feet for the next four or five days, other than meals and baths,” the male doctor said firmly.

  “I have things to do,” she informed him.

  “I agree with Dr. Woodruff,” the older woman said, smiling at Ivy. “You need to stay off your feet. It’s a simple precaution.”

  Ivy gave them a frown. “But you both said everything looks fine. If that’s true, why can’t I return to work?”

  Max decided to put in his two cents’ worth. “You’ve been through a trauma. Your body has taken a punch to the face and a kick to the abdomen. It’s good sense to take it easy and let it recover completely. Or don’t you care about the child?”

  She bristled as he’d expected. “Of course I care about the baby! But sitting at a desk isn’t physically taxing.”

  Max glanced at her, then the doctors. “How about if she rests tomorrow, then goes in for a half day on Monday?”

  Dr. Woodruff consented with a nod. Dr. Glassis also concurred, smiled at all of them and announced she had to go.

  “I will be your devoted slave,” Max promised Ivy, “and will do all your errands.”

  “The wedding—” she began.

  “Is in good hands,” he told her.

  “I see she’s in good hands, too,” Dr.Woodruff stated. The young doctor smiled and left them to argue it out.

  “Good night. And thanks,” Max called after him. He studied Ivy, a half smile lingering on his face. His rose had her thorns out.

  “What?” she finally asked.

  “I was thinking of our future,” he murmured, leaning over to claim the kiss he hadn’t gotten upon entering.

  In spite of her anger, it only took a couple of seconds for her lips to go soft and responsive. He took his fill of the honey of her mouth, heat shooting off random sparks in his body as the hunger grew.

  When he gazed down at her, she smiled tentatively, then sighed. “There’s so much to do.”

  “Katie told me everything is planned and under control. She’ll take care of any snags. I’ll help. You can direct.”

  Her smile widened. “Mmm, that sounds like an offer I can’t refuse.”

  “Con artist,” he accused as he bent to her lips again.

  “Ahem,” said a voice behind them.

  “Emma!” Ivy was obviously pleased to see her friend. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” the other woman said as her husband pushed her into the room in a wheelchair. “This is just for fun. I don’t really need it.” She indicated the chair.

  “I insisted,” Morgan told them.

  “Have you seen the news?” Emma asked. “You’re a hero. So are Morgan and Everett. There’s supposed to be the full story on the local station about now.”

  Ivy looked confused. “About the kidnapping attempt?”

  Max smiled at her surprise and flicked on the TV so they could catch the news. A picture of Ivy standing beside a man Max didn’t know came on the screen as the reporter told of Ivy’s recent fund-raising for Children’s Connection, then used that information as a lead-in to the kidnapping incident.

  “Morgan Davis, the director of the adoption agency, joined in the struggle to prevent the kidnapping,” the commentator explained.

  There followed an interview with Morgan as he told of leaving his office to attend a luncheon meeting and seeing Ivy struggling with the two culprits.

  “Everett Baker, an accountant for the agency, also aided in thwarting the attempt. Police are looking for a male and his female partner for questioning,” the reporter said.

  Several shots of the hospital and adoption agency annex were shown. Police were seen questioning Morgan, Everett and the E.R. medic who had intervened on Ivy’s and the baby’s behalf.

  The story ended with details of Morgan’s work with a camp for older children who hadn’t been adopted and Ivy’s volunteer activities at Portland General and at Children’s Connection.

  “See?” Emma demanded. “You’re both heroes.”

  “Ivy took the brunt of it,” Morgan said, stepping forward to check out her bruised chin. He grinned and spoke to Max. “You should take a picture so your children can see her battle scars when you tell them the story.”

  Max laughed as Ivy protested showing off her injuries.

  From the hall came the sound of a bell.

&nb
sp; “Visiting hours are over,” Emma told them. “I suppose we should get back to my room and let you rest.”

  “I’m not sleepy,” Ivy declared. “Actually I’m hungry.”

  “You ate all your dinner,” Max said.

  Ivy nodded. “It was good. The hospital has a great chef directing the kitchen. But now I’m hungry for ice cream or a chocolate soda. A banana split would be nice.”

  Emma started laughing. “Food cravings. I always wanted things like hot peppers.”

  Max flashed Ivy an amused smile. “Okay, I’ll go to the cafeteria and see what I can find.”

  “There’s a frozen yogurt machine,” Ivy told him, “and lots of toppings like fudge sauce and granola. And a cherry, if they have any.”

  “I’d like that, too,” Emma said.

  The men left the women and went in search of the treat. Upon returning, they pushed the other bed to the side and arranged chairs in a comfortable semicircle around Ivy. The two couples ate and discussed the case, then segued to the wedding plans.

  “Where will you go for a honeymoon?” Emma asked.

  Ivy looked at Max. It was plain she hadn’t thought that far ahead.

  He gave her his most reassuring smile. “We will return to Lantanya so the people of my country can meet their queen.”

  “What does that mean?” Ivy asked worriedly.

  “When our plane arrives, the citizens will line the streets for a glimpse of you. I thought we would use a touring car with a clear Plexiglas roof.”

  “Bulletproof?” Morgan asked, glancing from Max to Ivy and back.

  “Yes.” Max waited for Ivy’s comment. He realized he was concerned about her answer, afraid that she might back out as she realized the demands and expectations to be made of her.

  Her throat moved as she swallowed, then her smile appeared. “Does that mean I can make faces and stick my tongue out at them and they can’t hit me with rocks?” she asked innocently.

  A vast relief flooded his heart. “Absolutely.”

  “I won’t do anything to embarrass you,” she promised, becoming serious, “not even when I’m feeling grouchy and out of sorts.”

  Max realized he’d known that. “My mother practiced archery whenever she needed an outlet for frustration. She was a dead shot.”