The Royal Doctor's Bride. Jessica Matthews

Ruark positioned himself in front of the room’s only exit. “I’ll give you all the time you need, without saying a word.”

      She clutched the envelope until it wrinkled. “I can’t deal with this right now.”

      “Of course you can. You’re not afraid, are you?” he asked, hoping she’d respond to the challenge in his voice.

      She did. She squared her shoulders and met his gaze as she defiantly slid her finger under the glued flap and pulled out a piece of expensive stationery. “Happy now?” she asked crossly.

      “Not until you read it.”

      “Then stop hovering,” she snapped.

      Once again, he hid his amusement and moved closer to the door. “Sorry,” he said, unapologetically. It was clear she was as irritated with him as she was at her grandmother for breaking years of silence, but a journey began with a single step and Gina had taken hers.

      Gina took a deep breath as she unfolded the single sheet. The words written in the same beautiful script as on the envelope jumped off the page.

      Greetings, dearest Granddaughter,

      We trust this letter finds you well. Although we have never met, we still consider you an integral part of our family.

      Gina inwardly scoffed, but read on.

      You will never know how much I deeply regret the family differences that have separated us all these years, but I hope you will find it in your heart to put the past behind us and look to the future.

      Avelogne needs your help, my dearest Gina. Its alliances with Marestonia are threatened and neither country can afford to lose the goodwill we’ve enjoyed for centuries. We realize your loyalties do not lie with us, but your parents are at the heart of the matter and I hope you will find it in your heart to honor them by being part of the solution. Prince Ruark shall relay all the details and explanations necessary.

      We know our request will come as a great surprise, but your decision will affect countless people. You are a woman who chose a profession because you care about others and we are confident you shall follow your nature and choose the right course of action.

      We shall look forward to hearing from you and soon meeting each other face to face.

      With best wishes,

      Your Grandmother, Juliana

      “What does she mean, my parents are at the heart of the matter?” she asked.

      “Today’s problems are linked to the government’s decision to withhold approval for your parents’ marriage.”

      Her father had mentioned something about that, but had glossed over the details. “Sounds to me like the government made its own dilemma, so they can fix it.”

      “My family was involved, too.”

      “Then you can do whatever it is you need to do, but count me out.” She stepped closer and tried to reach around him for the doorknob.

      He gripped her arm and didn’t budge. “My aunt gave questionable information to the committee which led them to refuse your father’s petition to marry your mother.”

      “You mean, someone lied, and they believed her?” No wonder her parents hadn’t spoken of those days except in the most general terms. Her dad, especially, must have felt betrayed by his countrymen who’d trusted the testimony of an outsider instead of his own.

      “Unfortunately, yes. Now, after all these years, the truth has come out and tensions are running high. The fate of our nations depends on us.”

      If not for one woman’s pettiness, her entire life might have been different…she might have grown up as a member of a royal family, with doting aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents marking every major event in her life, sharing in her triumphs and failures, and, most importantly, supporting her after her father’s death.

      But even if Ruark’s aunt had been involved, the decision ultimately rested upon the members of Parliament. In her opinion, they were as much at fault as Ruark’s relative, if not more so.

      As she’d already pointed out, it was too late to change the past. Neither was it her responsibility. One thing, however, was certain. She didn’t count gullibility among her faults.

      “Oh, puhleeze,” she scoffed. “Fates of two countries. You can’t be serious.”

      “I am.”

      According to the grim set to his jaw, he was. “Why would I want to help the same government who carelessly changed my family’s life?” she asked.

      “Avelogne is your heritage,” he said simply. “You also hold dual citizenship, which means you have a legal as well as a moral obligation to Avelogne.” He paused. “Do you honestly believe your father wouldn’t want you to help his homeland avert a crisis?”

      Admittedly, her dad had stayed abreast of all the happenings across the Atlantic. Their home had been littered with newspapers and magazines from various cities. In later years, those had given way to Internet news and emails. Arthur Sutton may not have been in close physical proximity to the land of his birth, but his heart had never left.

      “This is quite melodramatic, wouldn’t you say?” she asked, struggling to shore up her wavering resolve. “Avelogne and Marestonia losing centuries-old goodwill over a thirty-year-old incident that most don’t remember.”

      “The past hasn’t been forgotten,” he assured her. “The people of Avelogne lost a favored prince and demand restitution for your parents going into exile. If not, they plan to break off all ties with Marestonia.”

      She crossed her arms. “So?”

      “Each country provides goods and services to the other, which makes them somewhat trade-dependent. This includes everything from agriculture to military technology. If ties are broken, thousands of jobs on both sides of the border will be lost and the economic impact will be huge. It will take years to recover. Meanwhile, people will lose their homes and businesses, farmers won’t have an accessible market for their products, children will go hungry. The list goes on.”

      She’d treated patients who couldn’t scrounge together enough money for bus fare, much less their medication. She’d lost track of the number of families she’d fed, either in the cafeteria or a nearby restaurant. As much as she wanted to help them all, she couldn’t take responsibility for everyone who walked through Belmont’s doors.

      “I sympathize with your situation, but the last time I checked, my credentials were limited to medicine, not détente. You’ll have to ask someone else.”

      “There is no one else to ask. You’re my only option.”

      “I’m sorry, but my answer is still no.” She tried to nudge him aside, but he didn’t budge.

      “You’re a coward.”

      She stared at him, incredulous. “Because I choose not to immerse myself in the politics that sent my father away from the home he loved, I’m a coward?”

      “You don’t even know what we’re asking,” he accused. “The least you can do is listen to the unabridged story before you decide. Refusing to do that is either a show of cowardice or being self-centered. Take your pick.”

      For a terse moment, the silence became so complete, only the distant ringing of a telephone could be heard.

      “I’m sorry Avelogne and Marestonia are suffering a diplomatic crisis,” she said quietly. “But I’m just an average woman on the street, so to speak. I work in a hospital in a relatively bad part of town and deal with drug addicts and gang members on a daily basis. I don’t know what you or my grandmother think I can accomplish. I can’t undo the past and I don’t run in lofty social or political circles of influence, so you’re only wasting your time.”

      “I disagree. You are not an ‘average’ woman.