Royal Doctor (The Hidden Kingdom Romances Book 3)

  Royal Doctor

  The Hidden Kingdom Romances #3

  Cami Checketts

  Copyright

  Royal Doctor: Hidden Kingdom Romances #3

  Copyright © 2021 by Cami Checketts

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Royal Mistake

  Also by Cami Checketts

  About the Author

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  Chapter One

  Prince Alaric Magnum snapped his helmet shield into place and gestured for the lance. Thomas came running, thrusting it into his hand. “Good luck, Commander.”

  Alaric rotated his neck to try to relieve the pressure of the headache that hadn’t gone away for a couple days now. He grinned, smiling down at the teenager from his horse, Azure. “I don’t need luck to beat this punk.”

  Thomas whooped. “That’s right, sir. Show the American how tough Magnites are.”

  “Done.” Alaric moved into position. Stuart was still talking to Kingston, probably getting advice on how not to get killed while jousting Alaric.

  Alaric’s chest puffed out. He and Kingston were rarely beaten in jousting, archery, or sword fighting. This was the second tournament the Americans Stuart and Wes had competed in. They’d stayed behind to work as military advisors to Kingston and Alaric when the rest of their American friends had gone back home last Sunday.

  This week also marked the Magnites’ second week hosting tourists. Their new group had been from Brazil; they seemed like nice people and the week had gone well according to Alaric’s sister Addie. Apparently, people from all over the world were talking about their island kingdom and lining up to visit their beautiful country. Alaric hadn’t involved himself much, especially with how busy this week had been with his military duties. He could easily best Stuart and Wes in medieval competitions, but the two former Army Rangers were geniuses when it came to modern military advances and technique. Alaric was humble enough to admit that their training, advice, and expertise had been invaluable for Magna, especially now that his people were exposing themselves more to the outside world.

  Stuart finally snapped his helmet shield into place, took the lance, and held it up. Alaric tuned out the cheers of the crowd. He did let himself risk a glance to his left where he knew Dr. Grace Johannson was sitting with her parents, older sister, brother-in-law, and their two children. The exotic-looking beauty was staring intently at him. Did he dare imagine she was interested in him? For most of his adult life, he’d fancied himself in love with her, but she was two years older than him and until recently had been promised to his brother Bodi. She wasn’t committed to Bodi now. Bodi and the American marketing expert Julia had fallen in love. Alaric had never been so happy as he was when Bodi and Grace broke off their unofficial engagement.

  What would she do if Alaric named her the fairest maiden when he won this tournament? He’d give up new tanks, new guns, and even the shipment of bullets they’d ordered yesterday for a chance to give Grace a simple kiss. Would a kiss make her see him as something other than the military commander and Bodi’s little brother? He supposed if it didn’t, he and Grace weren’t meant to be as he’d always dreamt. Wouldn’t his cousins and brothers laugh hysterically if they knew he had such wimpy dreams?

  Maybe he was a wimp, even though everyone thought he was the second-toughest man in the kingdom next to Kingston. He’d probably wimp out and opt not to name a fair maiden just like he and Kingston usually did when they won the tournament. When one of them refused to ask for a kiss, it disappointed everyone, but mostly their mothers. They’d taken to naming one of their mothers the fairest maiden and kissing their cheek, which the crowd loved.

  If he wasn’t brave enough to kiss Grace in front of the entire kingdom and set tongues wagging—giving his mom, Aunt Natalia, and Grace’s mom far too much to scheme and talk about—he could at least go see Grace and ask for advice about this headache. He’d take any excuse to talk to her, and this constant dull throb was getting old.

  Her pretty brow furrowed and her dark eyes darted from him to the other end of the list. Alaric heard the thundering of horse hooves and realized the flag had been dropped while he’d been lost staring at the beautiful Grace.

  He nickered to his horse and knocked his heels into Azure’s flanks. Azure took off like the well-trained mare she was, seeming to love the combat as much as Alaric. He gripped the lance and focused intently on Stuart. The man had no fear. He was an incredible athlete, fighter, and tracker, but he was also far too sure of himself—his biggest weakness. He didn’t have the expertise on the horse and tried to make up for it with sheer bravado, guts, and cockiness. Alaric liked that about him. He had mounds of respect for Stuart and his friend Wes.

  Nonetheless, it would be fun to knock the man on his backside for the dozenth time in the past two weeks.

  The pounding in his head intensified with the pounding of the horses’ hooves, the screaming of the crowd, and his own anticipation. He and Stuart were mere feet apart. Alaric raised his elbow and jabbed the lance with all his strength across his body. Stuart’s lance glanced off his left shoulder as Alaric’s made perfect contact with the other man’s chest. Stuart flew back off his horse, slamming on his backside in the dust as Alaric had predicted he would. The wooden lance shards flying into the air and pinging off his friend’s armor was a symphony to Alaric’s ears. Maybe he should feel some remorse, but Stuart kept putting himself in the competition. Next time, maybe Alaric would go a little easier on him and wouldn’t hit him with all his strength, but today he had to make certain Grace saw, and was impressed by, his expertise and power.

  He slowed Azure and jabbed the remnants of his own lance into the air as the crowd screamed out of control. He dropped the shattered lance, pulled his helmet off, and grinned. His eyes automatically searched for Grace. There she was. She was on her feet, cheering and smiling so beautifully at him.

  This was it.

  He only had to beat Kingston, a tall order, but it was possible. And this time, he would not wimp out or worry about the consequences. He would name the tall, willowy, beautiful and brilliant doctor the fairest maiden and finally, finally kiss her. Would she return his kiss? Would he embarrass her or make her dreams come true? He smirked to himself. He doubted she dreamt about him, or any man. She was too busy doctoring the entire island.

  Azure went tense underneath him.

  Something was wrong. Was there a rattlesnake nearby? Some other threat?

  Electricity jolted through Alaric’s body. He felt his limbs stiffen and then convulse. He slid off his horse, trying to keep his footing, but his legs were suddenly jelly. He fell to the ground in a heap.

  Dimly, he heard the cheers of the crowd turn to screams of concern or murmurs of confusion. Azure nuzzled him with her nose, but when he flailed and hit her leg wit
h his arm, she backed uneasily away from him.

  His body jolted and jerked out of his control. He felt as if he were riding an untrained filly with no saddle, reins, or bit. His head slammed back against the hard ground. Blackness overtook him.

  Grace Johannson leapt to her feet and screamed like a teenage groupie as Prince Commander Alaric knocked the too-cocky American off his horse. “Yes!”

  She grinned and clapped harder, ignoring a muttered, “Didn’t know you were such Prince Alaric fan,” from her older sister June.

  She was more than a fan. It had hit her like lightning a few weeks after she’d returned from medical school. She’d always thought Alaric was handsome, tough, and impressive, but one of her first patients after returning home had been an adorable little boy named Cameron. Cameron had been born with only one arm but dreamt of being a great military hero and horseman like Commander Alaric. He had told Grace all about it on their first visit.

  Before Grace even had a chance to ask Alaric if he could give Cameron some special treatment, she’d been on her way home from an evening walk when she heard horses at the stadium and went to check. She told herself it was just a distraction, but she’d secretly hoped Alaric would be there. She’d been semi-engaged to Alaric’s brother Bodi at the time, but it was Alaric who made her heart race and her stomach flip flop when he smiled at her.

  When she eased around the side of the stands, she saw Alaric in the saddle with Cameron in front, helping him practice the joust with a child-sized lance and extreme patience. Cameron’s parents and sisters had been off to the side watching. His mom hadn’t even tried to stop the tears dribbling down her cheeks. Cameron had looked so happy and Alaric’s smile was the most beautiful sight she’d ever seen.

  Grace had watched for as long as she dared, then slipped away before they noticed her. It was then that she’d realized Alaric was the greatest man ever designed by the good Creator’s hands. As the second-in-command of Magna’s military, Alaric had to present a strong front. Seeing the soft, kind side to him had melted her heart completely and made her an Alaric fan for life. Many men were tough soldiers, but to be one of the toughest and yet possess the depth of heart to tenderly touch a child’s life was powerful.

  Now that she was no longer engaged to Bodi, she’d secretly hoped Alaric would take an interest in her. Alaric was friendly, but he’d never made any kind of romantic overture. She was certain she had imagined him staring at her intently before he rode to joust today. Maybe his helmet had been turned her direction, but there were many beautiful women in the stands he could be locking gazes with.

  Alaric lifted his shattered lance in the air and pulled his helmet off so she could fully admire his handsome face with his firm jaw line, dark eyes, and the perfect amount of dark facial hair.

  The American stirred on the ground, sat up, and brushed himself off. Grace was relieved he wasn’t hurt. Now she could focus on Alaric and not have to waste time patching up the over-confident Stuart. He’d been brought to her office twice last week when he’d been beaten up on the joust by Kingston or Alaric. Stuart had reassured her he was fine, and had even flirted with her.

  She only wanted one man flirting with her.

  Her gaze instantly went back to Alaric. She studied the handsome commander of Magna’s army. When he won the tournament, would he name a fair maiden and ask for a kiss? Or would he name his mom or aunt as he and Kingston had taken to doing recently?

  Grace blushed red at the image of him naming her the fair maiden. That was silly. She was too old and too busy for fairy tales and nonsense like that, but her stomach still filled with heat and her heart thumped quicker imagining kissing the handsome and well-built Alaric.

  “Aunt Grace.” Her darling niece Molly tugged at her shirt. “Can we go get iced lemonades now?”

  She didn’t want to break away from staring at Alaric, but she smiled down at the four-year-old. This tournament was probably boring for the little girl, but watching Alaric was the most exciting thing Grace ever did. Exciting in a good way. Doctoring up someone in a dreadful accident with outdated equipment was exciting in a bad way. Oddly enough, though, she loved it. It was not only her calling in life, but she had a gift for healing and for discerning what her patients needed. She needed both gifts desperately on this remote island without the advances, fancy tools, machines, tests, resources, and colleagues her doctor friends in other countries had.

  The cheers for Alaric suddenly turned to screams and murmurs.

  What had happened? Grace’s gaze swept the stadium and zoned in on Alaric. He was on the ground, twitching and spasming. A seizure? Not Alaric!

  Grace released her niece’s hand and pushed to the edge of the stadium seating. She vaulted over the low wall separating the bleachers from the arena and sprinted toward Alaric. A small crowd of men in armor had formed by the time she reached him. Someone had pulled his horse away. She could see Alaric’s mom and dad, the queen and king, running from the other direction.

  “Bodi!” she called.

  Her friend’s head snapped around, looking at her. “Stay back,” he commanded the other men. “Grace is here.”

  “Everyone stay back,” she instructed. “We have to let the seizure run its course.”

  They all respectfully eased away from Alaric. Grace watched helplessly as the prince’s strong body convulsed. It was awful. She wanted to help him, to take the pain away. His eyes were closed; she was pretty certain he’d passed out so at least he wouldn’t feel the seizure.

  Her heart pounded out of control as her mind raced to diagnose what was going on—epilepsy, a brain tumor, meningitis, or encephalitis? It could be something as simple as abnormal levels of sodium or glucose, or best case a rare seizure that would never happen again. She prayed for a simple solution but was terrified of something worse. She didn’t have the equipment or the training to help him if it was a tumor or an infection in his brain.

  Alaric! Her heart screamed even as her mind searched for solutions. Finally, his body went from convulsions to tremors and then his strong form settled curled on his side in the dirt. He looked beat up and not like his in-control, kick-tail military persona at all. No! This strong, perfect man had to remain strong and perfect. He couldn’t have a serious condition that would be a death sentence on this island. Could she get him to Spain and more well-trained doctors with better equipment and medication than she’d ever dreamt of?

  She dropped to her knees next to him as he stopped twitching. Queen Raya knelt on his other side. King Kendrick stayed standing, one hand on his wife’s shoulder. The men edged in around her, unsettled and concerned. Beyond them, the crowd murmured throughout the stadium. Even the horses seemed uncomfortable and confused as they shuffled in the dirt.

  Grace pressed her fingers to his throat and was rewarded with a strong pulse. His hand shot up and wrapped around hers and his eyes flew open. Grace leaned back, surprised, but didn’t pull her hand away. She’d never experienced such a sensation as his warm, strong fingers surrounding her hand and his dark eyes gazing up at her. It was like the happiness of coming home after medical school and the warmth of the sun lighting up her soul during her walks on the beach.

  “Grace?”

  “Hey,” she said soothingly. “Just lie still. You’ll be okay. Do you hurt anywhere?”

  “Oh, my boy,” Queen Raya gushed. “Are you okay?”

  “Just my head.” He blinked those incredible dark eyes and stared up at her, then looked to his mom. “What happened?”

  “You had a seizure,” Grace explained.

  His eyes widened. He released her hand and sat up. He swayed and she and his mother both reached for him, but he held up a hand. “Thank you, but I’m okay. A seizure?” His brow furrowed. “Like rolling around out of control and panting at the mouth?”

  “I don’t think you were panting at the mouth.” Grace smiled at him, but he didn’t seem reassured.

  His dark eyes filled with angst. He pushed to his feet, obviously
unsteady.

  “Alaric.” She stood quickly. “Slow down, please.”

  “Alaric!” Queen Raya reached for him, clinging to his arm.

  “I’m all right. Don’t worry, Mom,” he said softly to his mother, patting her hand.

  Grace’s heart softened at the tender way he addressed his mother, but then he looked at Grace and his mouth tightened. He backed away from her, running into Kingston whose own brow was furrowed. The entire crowd was hushed and leaned forward as if they could hear what was happening.

  “I’m fine,” Alaric insisted, giving her a challenging look as if daring her to say otherwise.

  Oh, she’d say otherwise.

  “You are not fine,” she shot back. Fine-looking, but that was beside the point completely, and she couldn’t believe her brain had even gone there. She didn’t need to be mooning over the handsome prince. She needed to analyze and run what tests she could and call for help if needs be, but she was not allowing Alaric to be damaged. Most people who suffered seizures went through a post ictal period in which they slowly regained awareness of themselves and the world around them. It seemed like a good sign that he had come around so quickly, even if it made it harder to assess him.

  In her no-nonsense doctor voice, she said, “Now you are going to let Kingston and Bodi carry you over to the clinic and I am going to examine you.” She added a look that would quell most patients, but inside she was crumbling. She wanted to hold him close and know instantly that he was fine.

  Alaric barked out a harsh laugh. “Nobody is carrying me anywhere.”