It’s not often I contemplate murder, but I’m considering it right now.

The rain-soaked man in the doorway is bigger than me—around the middle, anyway—but I think I could take him. Of all the moments for him to come bursting in…

Elle rushes forward, straightening her clothes. She was finally opening up to me, finally letting her walls come down, and this bastard had to ruin it all. I start to sit up, ready to throw the man right back out into the storm, but my wound protests. I grimace and settle for simply propping myself up into a sitting position.

Perhaps it’s a good thing that he interrupted us, I tell myself as my head goes slightly fuzzy. If I’d kissed her, I wouldn’t have been able to keep myself from doing more. And I’m beginning to think Elle might have been right about the importance of keeping still and lying down. The side of my chest is throbbing, and I’m feeling a little dizzy from the motion of sitting up.

Of course, that doesn’t keep me from glaring daggers at the portly man standing on the threshold. It’s hard to see much of him in the dim, flickering light, but I dislike him already.

“Please come in, Dr. Mitchell,” Elle is saying. “Sit down. Let me get you something to drink.”

Why the hell is she trying to impress this man? He’s her damned replacement. That’s all.

As Dr. Walter Mitchell comes further into the room, I get a better look at him. He’s probably in his fifties, and his silver hair is clipped short. His face is clean-shaven, which makes the deep grooves on either side of his mouth more prominent. His thick eyebrows nearly meet as his stern gaze drifts over Elle—and then me.

“And who is this?” he asks her, jerking a thumb in my direction. “Tell me—do you regularly have romantic liaisons in the clinic?”

Even in the dim light, I can see Elle blush.

“I…” She runs her hands over her clothes again, but tidying her appearance will do little now. “He…”

“I’m her patient,” I say.

The man’s frown deepens. “This is a children’s clinic.”

I shrug—then immediately regret it as pain sears through my side. “I never would have made it to the hospital in this typhoon. As I’m sure you can attest.”

He steps nearer, clearly unamused. In fact, he rather reminds me of an angry mastiff.

“Typhoons occur only in the Western Pacific Basin,” he says as he approaches my gurney. “I imagine you meant to say hurricane, but even that would be incorrect, as we’re three hundred and twenty-seven miles from the coast.” He stops beside me. “And that still doesn’t explain why you’re here. Or why, if you are indeed a patient, the doctor was lying on the gurney with you.”

He says the word doctor with a sneer that makes his jowls shake. The man is practically a cartoon villain, and I’d find him quite amusing if it weren’t for the absolutely mortified look on Elle’s face. Part of me wants to declare plainly and boldly that Elle is mine and that I will stand for no one insulting her—but I have an inkling such a statement would not go over well with either of the two people in the room with me.

“Perhaps you need glasses,” I tell him. “Because she was doing no more than seeing to my wounds. Or did you miss the large bandage on my chest?” I indicate the wrappings. “I have a hard time believing any doctor of merit would miss such an obvious injury. Perhaps we should ask to see your credentials.”

He gives a snort of derision, but I can tell I’ve shaken him slightly because he takes his glare off of me and looks back toward Elle.

“The light in here is dim,” he concedes, “but I’m not blind. You were inappropriately close to him.”

“Because she had to be,” I say, trying to draw his attention back to me. “How else could she give me care in such conditions? I would have preferred she didn’t have to poke around at me in the dark, but the doctor insisted that she tend to my wound immediately. And I found her incredibly gentle and capable, considering the circumstances.”

The man turns back to me. “I think the doctor should answer me herself.”

“And what right have you to come in here and demand such things?” I say, maintaining a light tone even though I’m growing more agitated by the second. “You still have yet to show us any credentials. And even if you are who you say you are—which I’m beginning to question, I might add—then Doctor Parker is still in charge at the moment, which means you have no authority to demand anything of her.” My, this feels good. If I can’t throw a fist at the fellow, I rather enjoy being able to give him a solid trouncing with words.

Dr. Mitchell looks at Elle again. “Who the hell is this prick?” he asks her.

She starts to tell him, but I’m not ready to reveal my identity quite yet. This bastard has interrupted my night with Elle—and for that, he has to suffer.

“Ask me yourself, you pompous buffoon,” I say. I know I shouldn’t purposely provoke him—professional responsibility and all that—but I have to admit I’m rather amused by the look in his eyes when he spins back toward me. For a moment, I think he’s going to lunge across the gurney and try to strangle me, but then he seems to remember where he is. He takes a deep breath—probably an attempt to calm himself—but his face is still red in the candlelight.

“Do you actually intend to tell me who you are?” he asks, and though his tone is calm, it looks as if it’s taking some effort to get out the words. “Or do you mean to insult my intelligence again?”

“Oh, I have the deepest respect for your intelligence,” I say with a grin. “It’s the rest of you I’m insulting. Though…now that I think about it, I suppose only a bloody fool would see a doctor tending to her patient and assume anything untoward was happening. Or is it simply the fact that she’s a female doctor and I’m a rather attractive male patient that made you form such ridiculous conclusions? Could it be that you have some rather misogynistic opinions about women in your field, Doctor?”

He’s beginning to get that look again—the one that makes him resemble an angry hound—but suddenly Elle is at his elbow.

“Why don’t we go speak in my office?” she says, placing a hand on his arm. “We’ll have a little more privacy there. I’m sure you’ve had a long trip.”

“Ah, but he and I are in the middle of such a delightful conversation,” I say.

Elle shoots me a glare as she ushers the new arrival toward the door, but I can only grin. She might be annoyed with me for intentionally aggravating the man, but at least it shifted his focus off of her—and the little scene he witnessed when he walked in.

He still hasn’t paid dearly enough for interrupting us. Elle was in my arms. Pressed against me. She felt so soft and tender beneath my hands, and she was finally letting me see more of her, glimpse the complicated woman beneath her passionate but guarded exterior.

I’m tempted to go after Elle and Dr. Mitchell. But frankly, even if I were willing to risk hurting myself further—which might not be the worst thing if I could throw another amusing taunt or two at the new doctor—I’m not willing to risk Elle’s anger any more than I already have.

So I lie back down and wait. Listen to the rain thudding on the roof overhead. Lace my fingers together and try to imagine what he might be saying to her. What she might be saying to him.

I’ll be quite disappointed if she tells him who I am. I’d rather like to see his face when he finds out I’m the second son of the royal family that will be paying his salary while he’s here.

I hope she doesn’t let him bully her into admitting she was lying on the gurney with me, either. But the more I think about it, the more I realize I have little reason to worry. Elle is as stubborn as they come. She’ll hold her own against that grump.

And either way, she’ll only have to bear his presence for a couple more days. After that, she’ll return to California.

I rub my face. I didn’t mean to offend her by suggesting a secret rendezvous upon her return home. If she’d prefer to be seen with me in public, I have no objections—at least as far as my own interest is concerned. But then she’d be subject to public scrutiny. Dealing with the press can be a challenge, and I’ve been handling them for as long as I can remember. If Elle is photographed with me even once, her whole life will change. A secret meeting would be far simpler.

But I still have two days to convince her of that. Two days…unless…

I sit up so quickly, a fresh stab of pain shoots through my wound.

The new doctor is here. She has no reason to stay for two more days. Sure, I might argue her contract isn’t complete, but what could I do? Dock her a couple of days’ pay? Yesterday, she would have paid me for the chance to get out of my presence. Today? I’m not so certain. If that man hadn’t come barging in…

The more I think about it, the less I like the idea of Elle and her replacement talking alone. That fool was ready to take charge from the moment he walked through the door, judging by the condescending way he spoke to Elle. And she was already disposed to leave. They’re probably in there discussing the terms of her departure.

I have to get in there. I have to stop her.

My feet are on the floor when the door swings open. In the candlelight, I see Elle standing there. Alone.

“Why are you sitting up?” she says. “Lie back down.”

I ignore her. “Where’s our new friend?”

“On his way to the apartment where he’ll be living while he’s here,” she says, coming toward me. “I convinced him that we could discuss everything in the morning. After we’ve all had a good night’s sleep.” She crosses her arms. “Not that you were any help. What the hell was that?”

I’m more than a little grateful to hear he’s out of our hair for tonight, even though I know this is only the beginning. Doctor Mitchell is a complication, and I was hoping I wouldn’t have to deal with him for another day or two at least.

“Come now,” I say, putting on a grin. “Don’t tell me you weren’t inclined to throw a few choice words at him yourself. He had no right to come in here and accuse you of being inappropriate.”

“But that’s just it,” she says. “It was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have been on that gurney with you, no matter what idiotic things you said. And I shouldn’t have kissed you, or… Why are you still sitting up? Lie down.”

No. I’m not letting her pull away.

“He still shouldn’t have said those things,” I say carefully. “And I stand by everything I said to him.”

“Well, I guess you can get away with saying things like that to someone.”

“You could, too. Why do you care what he thinks?”

“Because this job matters to me. And that means what my colleagues think about me matters, too. It’s hard enough for women to get the same respect as men in this field.”

I can tell by the look in her eyes that there’s more to this than what she’s saying. Something that goes beyond our new friend. I instantly dislike him even more for bringing up those old feelings for her.

“Did you tell him who I was?” I ask her.

“No. But I should have.”

I’m grateful to hear she hasn’t spoiled my fun. I’m going to enjoy playing with that bastard. But that brings us to the next question—one that’s infinitely more important.

“You still intend to finish your term here, don’t you?” I ask. “Even though Dr. Mitchell arrived early?”

Something flickers in her eyes, but in the near-darkness I can’t tell if it’s guilt or regret or surprise at my question.

And before she can answer, the door bursts open again.

I swear, I’ll get right off this gurney and punch that buffoon—

But then I blink. It’s not the new doctor at the door. It’s Matthias. And the poor fellow looks a little worse for wear.

“Your Highness,” he says, shuffling forward. Rain pours off his clothes. “Your Highness, I tried to talk him out of it. Honestly, I did.”

My head is starting to ache again. “Talk who out of what?” He didn’t run into Dr. Mitchell, did he?

But Matthias is shaking his head fervently, sending raindrops flying in every direction.

“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I told him everything was under control. I told him you would be fine, but your father—”

“My father?” Shit.

Matthias nods. “He was asleep when I called, you see. But Stephan insisted on waking him and telling him everything that had happened. And his majesty was none too pleased to hear that you’d been injured.”

I can tell by the expression on his face that none too pleased is more than a slight understatement. And I can’t imagine how my father has decided to deal with this situation.

“Well?” I ask Matthias. “Where has he decided to ship me off to now?” Since sending me deep into the jungle didn’t keep me out of trouble, I suspect the next logical step is to chain me in a dungeon somewhere.

But Matthias shakes his head again. “He’s not sending you anywhere, Your Highness. He’s sending your brother Andrew here.”

* * *