From Kiss to Queen (21 page)

“Really?” Jane whispered, staring at her right foot. She looked up at Dr. Daveed. “Okay, then measure it.” His face turned red again, making Jane smile. “Let me guess. You already did on the
Katrina
.”

His face darkening more, he nodded.

“And?”

“And there could be a problem.”

“Now what?”

“Well, you've been walking this way for how many years?”

“I'm twenty-seven. So?”

“The muscles in your legs, hips, and back are used to
your having one leg shorter than the other. Your entire body structure has grown accustomed to this. If I elevate your foot to the proper height, those muscles are going to protest.”

“So, let them. Will this stop my limping?” she asked hopefully, anticipating the answer.

“No.”

“Then why are you telling me any of this?” she snapped, wanting to throttle the man.

He tickled her toes again, his face amused. “You will always limp, Jane, because your ankle will never flex properly. But I can make your limp much less pronounced. And your ankle will not tire so quickly.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Jane pondered that possibility. “Um, how much would this new brace cost?”

Her question seemed to startle him. “I have no idea.”

“You're going to have to give me a price, or at least a fairly close estimate, before I agree. I, ah, I'm a little strapped for cash right now, and I don't know when or even
how
to access my savings account from here.”

He looked even more startled, but then suddenly grinned. “How about if I simply add the cost of the brace to your gunshot surgery and subsequent care? I doubt the naval accounting clerks even read the bills I submit.”

“Works for me,” Jane suddenly decided, figuring saving Shelkova's prince from drowning was worth the cost of one measly brace. “But this is just between us, okay? I'll let you make me a new brace, but only if you keep it a secret. Agreed?”

He didn't look happy about her little caveat, but finally
nodded. “It's going to be painful at first,” he cautioned, “as you discover muscles you didn't know you had in some fairly odd places.”

“But I'll limp less?” she clarified, ignoring the threat of pain.

“Not noticeably at first. I would like to introduce your muscles to the new height gradually.”

“Why not tell my muscles this is the way it's going to be from now on and just get it over with? There might be more initial pain, but it won't last as long.”

He grinned at her thinking. “Twenty-seven years is a long time to instill stubbornness.”

“Are you talking about my muscles or me?” she asked, her eyes narrowed in warning.

Daveed shrugged. “Both, by my guess.” His face reddened again as he walked to a small table and pulled a towel off it, picked up a small plastic brace, and came back to her. “I . . . ah, I made this up for you,” he admitted. “Just in case.” He gently settled the brace over her foot, then carefully turned her leg back and forth while studying the fit. He worked the hinge several times and checked to see if the brace allowed any lateral movement. Apparently satisfied, he looked at her and smiled. “Start out using this new brace only a few hours each day and gradually work your way up to all day,” he murmured, putting on her sock and then her boot.

Jane didn't want to hit him anymore, she wanted to kiss him. So she did, throwing her arms around him and laughing and crying at the same time. “Thank you,” she whispered in his ear. “You can invade my privacy anytime you want.”

He covered his embarrassment with a cough. “Well, that's good. Because I'm about to invade it again. Are you pregnant, Jane?”

Well, darn; talk about riding an emotional roller coaster. She was back to wanting to hit him. “I don't know.”

“It's still early yet. It would only be about two weeks since you could . . . you were . . .” He covered his mouth with his hand and coughed again.

Jane did the same.

“Yes. Well. When will I know for sure?” she asked in a squeak.

“Another week, perhaps. Unless you begin . . . unless you have your . . .” He gave a heavy sigh and shook his head. “I'm a military doctor, Jane, not a baby doctor.”

She patted his arm. “But I bet you still know more about this stuff than I do,” she said with a laugh. “I was brought up by nuns.”

Daveed laughed with her. Soon, he sobered. “If you suspect you're pregnant, I want your promise you will tell me.”

“I will.”

“You may be carrying the next heir to the throne,” he reminded her.

And if Reynard hadn't been fibbing when he'd told her Lakelands only fathered male children, she could be pregnant with a Shelkovan prince!

*   *   *

S
hopping with Irina turned out to be a novel experience. It was nothing like her shopping trips to L.L.Bean in Freeport with Katy, when they usually came
back with food and books and camping gadgets. In fact, Jane was pretty sure she'd just purchased more clothes today than she had over the course of her entire life.

To begin with, Mark had escorted them into the first shop, given Irina orders to outfit Jane completely even as he'd given Jane a good frown, and then left them. But not alone. No, there were two men conspicuously stationed by the door, both looking big and rugged and mean, which Jane guessed they had to be if they were bodyguards. One never took his eyes off the street and the other one never took his eyes off the two women in his charge.

“We should start from the inside and work out, I guess,” Irina suggested, holding up a satiny bra and panty set.

Jane grabbed the garments. “Good heavens, I can't wear something like this.”

“Not naughty enough for you?” Irina drawled, taking the garments back.

“Not very serviceable,” Jane countered, going to a rack of simple, white, rugged-looking bras. “And stop waving that around. Mutt and Jeff will see.”

“Mutt and Jeff?” Irina repeated, giggling now.

“Those two men Mark left with us. And what's wrong with this?” Jane asked, holding up (out of sight of the men) a white bra.

“I bet your Sister Roberta has one just like it,” Irina whispered out of the side of her mouth. She grabbed the bra and gave the straps a good snap. “Serviceable, but not very pretty.”

“No one's going to see it.”

“You don't think your husband will? You're going to get dressed in the closet?”

“I'm certainly not going to get dressed in front of my husband.” Jane suddenly gasped, her eyes nearly crossing. “I'm not going to
have
a husband.”

Irina merely raised a brow.

And the shopping excursion went downhill from there. Mark rejoined them an hour later, and Jane was thankful she'd already talked Irina into letting her get some jeans, which were safely tucked in the trunk of the car thanks to Mutt. Or Jeff.

At Mark's insistence and with Irina's guidance, Jane tried on and bought not only comfortable slacks and blouses, but several evening dresses that came to the floor. She couldn't even use her brace as an excuse, the dresses were so long. At the next shop Irina was able to find her a pair of low-heeled shoes to go with the dresses that would fit over her new brace. The silk stockings Irina insisted she buy, however, were alarming. Never having worn pantyhose, Jane held up a pair—out of sight of Mark—and asked how she was expected to fit into them, since she was pretty sure they wouldn't fit a three-year-old. Irina assured her they stretched.

But it was the last shop that finally made Jane balk. “I don't wear jewelry.”

“You need it to go with your evening wear,” Irina argued.

“We're supposed to be replacing my blown-up wardrobe, not buying gowns and silk stockings and jewelry.”

“You can't wear wool pants and flannel shirts to a ball,” Mark interjected.

“I'm not Cinderella.”

Mark bent at the waist, getting really close to her face.
“No, you're not. You're Jane Doe Abbot, and you're going to dance with me at my coronation ball.”

“Da— Did you say dance?”

Mark nodded. And then he gave her a quick kiss on the lips. When he pulled back, his smile was more nasty than nice. “And at our wedding.”

She couldn't even think of anything to say, since she was beginning to believe—and fear—there really was going to be a wedding. “Then I want something simple,” she said, trying to ignore the sudden gleam in his eyes as she turned to the counter.

The jeweler, bless his Shelkovan heart, couldn't be more excited to have royalty in his shop. His chest was puffed out like a drumming partridge and his brow was sweating. But the poor man's face fell when Jane passed over his diamonds and chose a simple gold locket in the shape of a fir tree. “I like this,” she offered, holding it up for Mark to see.

And she did, as it reminded her of the Lakeland stationery.

“My people are going to think I'm miserly if all my bride wears is a simple locket.”

“You're pushing, Your Highness,” Jane said sweetly.

“If I push hard enough, will you fall into my arms?”

“I'll probably step to the side and let you fall on your face.”

“Witch.”

And on and on it went, until Jane finally made it back to the palace and up to her new room in the family wing. It took Mutt and Jeff four trips to bring in all her purchases, and she was both thrilled and ashamed. She was
so excited to own such beautiful, colorful clothes, and so guilty of the sin of gluttony. She loved each and every piece, even the beautiful evening gowns. But she especially loved the frilly, not-so-serviceable underwear.

Sister Roberta would have her doing penance for a month. And then she'd make her give all the clothes back. Jane was darn glad she was twenty-seven instead of seven, and that Sister Roberta was half a world away.

The nun was retired now, but Jane kept in touch with her. She wrote regularly and drove to Bangor to visit her each summer and at Christmas. And instead of raising children, Sister Roberta now spent her time taking walks along the Penobscot River and reading late into the night. And she always told Jane during her visits that she was her most favorite orphan of all.

Jane had stopped believing that venial lie twelve years ago, but loved Sister Roberta for still attempting to make her feel special.

Just like Mark was always trying to do.

And that was just it. All the Lakelands were making her feel special by the simple act of treating her as though she were no different from themselves. They each sought her out at various times and talked with her as if she were an old friend. They hauled her into midnight meetings, cramming her onto their patriarch's bed as if she were one of them. And each of the men had taken their turn scolding her, as if she were a real sister or daughter—just like Katy MacBain's family did to Katy. Heck, even Irina had spoken plainly about Jane belonging if she wanted to. They weren't trying to make her feel important or special, but like one of them.

The worry was they were succeeding.

Jane felt comfortable here, and darn it, she wanted to stay.

*   *   *

I
f I were to tell you I'm going to marry Mark in six days,” Jane whispered the moment Katy said hello, “would you come be my maid of honor?”

There was a long, stark silence. “Are you pregnant?” Katy asked softly.

“I don't know.”

“Do you love him?”

Jane sucked in a deep breath. “Yes,” she more exhaled than said.

“And is he in love with you?”

“I don't . . . I'm not . . . Does it really matter?”

Another silence. “I'm pretty sure it does, Jane.” And then a sigh. “Did he happen to mention the word ‘love' when he asked you to marry him?”

“Um . . . he never actually asked. He just announced to a room full of people at dinner one night that I was his fiancée. I didn't tell you when I called a couple of days later because I figured Mark had only said it to stop some businessman from throwing his daughter at him. But since then, everyone—including Mark—has been acting like we really are engaged.”

“I don't care if you do love him,” Katy said, still softly. “You can't marry the man just to save him from a scheming businessman. Are you sure you're not mistaking lust for love?” There was an equally soft snort. “Not that you have a whole lot of experience with either one.”

“If how much my heart aches when I even think about a future without Mark is any indication, I'm definitely more than in lust with him. I don't want to leave after the coronation,” Jane admitted, closing her eyes against the pain merely saying it out loud elicited. “I want . . . His father and brothers and aunt treat me like I'm
family
.”

“But you wouldn't be marrying his father and brothers and aunt,” Katy gently countered. “You'd be marrying a man who might only be in lust with you.”

“When I called you last week, you told me Robbie and Jack Stone gave Mark their blessing.”

“To keep you
safe
.” Another heavy sigh came over the line. “If you don't even know if you're pregnant, then what's the rush?”

“Maybe so Mark will know I'm marrying him because I love him and not because I have to? And I'll know he's marrying me because he
wants
to and not out of obligation?”

Katy hesitated, then said, “I realize that sounds perfectly sensible, but it makes more sense to know he loves you
before
you make that kind of commitment.”

“Wouldn't marrying me for no good reason mean he must love me?”

“Then why hasn't he
said
it?”

Jane suddenly smiled. “I guess you'll have to come to Shelkova and
ask
him,” she returned, mimicking her friend's exasperation. “You're only volunteering on the ambulance, and that mountain climbing and rescue school in Colorado doesn't start for a couple of months, so come talk some sense into me
in person
. But you need to get here before Mark's coronation,” she rushed on over Katy's
sputtering, “because the wedding is taking place the same day. And,” she added gruffly, turning serious, “I can't imagine getting married without the closest thing I have to a sister standing beside me.”