Книга - Her Prince’s Secret Son

Her Prince's Secret Son
Linda Goodnight


His Majesty requests your company for banquets, ballroom dancing… and a little bombshell? Stepping into Prince Aleks’ turreted castle is like going back in time. Sara hasn’t seen him for five years… He never told her he was a prince, and now he’s wearing a crown! Sara once loved Aleks with all her heart, and she feels as if she’s the centre of his world all over again. Yet she can’t shake the feeling that there are more secrets to be revealed…









Excerpt


Sara looked up just then and smiled. Something stirred inside Aleks and, without thinking, he smiled back.

She turned to their son and said, “Come, Nico, let’s sing a song.” And in a sweet, clear soprano she began to sing a familiar song, pausing while Nico echoed each phrase in a childish, happy voice.

As he guided the boat onto land, Aleks heard his own baritone join in. Both Nico and Sara looked up in pleased surprise.

In that moment he saw what he’d never seen before. A mother and son. And the son had Sara’s radiant, full-mouthed smile.

His belly sank like the anchor he’d tossed overboard.

“Papá is singing. Papá is singing.” Nico clapped his hands. Sara laughed.

And Prince Aleksandre sang a little louder, just to watch them smile again.


Winner of the RITA® Award for excellence in inspirational fiction, Linda Goodnight has also won the Booksellers’ Best, ACFW Book of the Year, and a Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews magazine. Linda has appeared on the Christian bestseller list, and her romance novels have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. She and husband Gene live in Oklahoma. Readers can write to her at linda@lindagoodnight.com





Her Prince’s Secret Son


by




Linda Goodnight









MILLS & BOON®

www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk/)


Dear Reader

I hope you enjoy HER PRINCE’S SECRET SON. The idea for this book first came to me as a regular secret baby story—you know, the kind where the heroine has kept the child secret from the hero. But the more I thought about the story, the more I realised I wanted to do something different. So I decided the hero would be the one who had kept the baby a secret. But how in the world was such a thing possible? After all, the man wouldn’t be pregnant or giving birth. It took a while to give my characters the right backgrounds and situations to make a reverse secret baby storyline work, but finally the warrior prince and his commoner bookshop owner appeared. From there, I had a great time creating a popular fantasy—a regular girl discovers her true love is a real prince, only this prince has possession of the son she gave up for adoption.



I love hearing from readers. If you like HER PRINCE’S SECRET SON, please write and let me know. I can be reached through my website, at www.lindagoodnight.com, or c/o Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR.



Warm wishes



Linda Goodnight




Chapter One


PRINCE ALEKSANDRE D’ GABRIEL took one look at Dr. Konstantine’s long face and knew the news was bad.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, there is nothing more I can do.” The royal physician, either unable or unwilling to meet his prince’s eyes, stared down at the gleaming marble floor. “Your son is dying.”

The softly spoken words pierced Aleks’s soul like a bayonet. His boy, his reason for living, lay just beyond the thick, ancient castle wall dying, while his father stood in the long, ornate corridor of Carvainian Castle wishing to die in his stead.

Aleks was a ruler, a warrior prince, a man of wealth and power, and yet he was helpless against the infection that was destroying his son’s internal organs.

He clenched his fists against the rising tide of fear, stifling the urge to pummel the stone walls in frustration and despair.

His mother, Queen Irena, touched his arm. “There must be something more we can do. Perhaps another physician?”

Dr. Konstantine’s head jerked upward. “Your Highness, we’ve consulted every hepatology specialist in the world. The only answer is an organ donation. A tiny piece of organ from the right person will save his life. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Queen Irena’s face, still lovely though she was nearing sixty, had aged in the past weeks of Prince Nico’s illness. The lines around her mouth deepened as she said, “My apologies, Doctor, I didn’t mean to imply anything less than the best on your part. It’s just that—” She lifted one hand in a helpless gesture.

Aleksandre understood exactly what she was feeling. The queen doted on the motherless boy she’d carried in her arms from America nearly five years ago. Without his mother’s help, Aleksandre would never have known his son.

Fate and determination had given him Nico, and he would not give up his child without a fight.

“There must be a match somewhere,” he said. “We will continue our search.”

“Thousands have been tested, Your Majesty.”

His people, loyal Carvainians, had lined the streets and clogged the telephones and computers in their sincere desire to save the adored little prince. But not a single person was a suitable match for the child whose blood was not one hundred percent Carvainian.

Aleksandre fought the sickness churning in his gut and the memory of an American woman who still haunted his heart. The child’s mixed blood was his fault, just as the illness was, and yet Nico would not be Nico without Sara Presley’s blood.

“I have a suggestion.” Dr. Konstantine’s gaze skittered away only to return with a fresh boldness. “May I speak frankly?”

The prince gave a bark of mirthless laughter. Dr. Konstantine had tended him for years, through childhood illnesses and wartime wounds. He trusted the man implicitly. “I have yet to quell your propensity for doing so. And we now are at a point of desperate measures. Say your piece.”

“Nico’s birth mother.”

“No!” At the queen’s outcry, both Prince Aleksandre and the physician turned to stare. Her face had gone white, and the long, graceful fingers pressed against her lips trembled. Aleks understood her reluctance for it matched his own, and yet, had he not just been thinking of Sara Presley?

“She won’t agree.” A deep and dreadful knot formed in his chest at the thought of the woman who had jilted him and abandoned their child. She had no love for either the father or the son. She had not cared then. She would not care now if Nico lived or died.

The physician pressed. “You have no other choice but to contact her, Your Majesty. She is the little prince’s last hope.”

The queen regained her voice. Her nails scraped against Aleksandre’s sleeve. Almost feverishly she said, “Listen to me, Aleksandre. The woman has a heart of stone. She will never agree. Contacting her can only bring trouble that we do not need. Our burdens are heavy enough to bear. Think of the consequences. Think of what she might require of you. Of your son.”

Aleksandre knew his mother was right. Sara Presley had damaged him before, but now, with Nico as a pawn, she might try to exact a price he was unwilling to pay. And yet, what choice did they have?

Dr. Konstantine was like a dog with a bone—or a man with no other recourse. “If she is a match, she could be the answer to our prayers.”

“If she is a match, and if she would agree,” Aleksandre said grimly. So many ifs. A woman who would abandon her newborn was not likely to go through surgery on his behalf…unless she had a strong incentive.

Queen Irena paced to the sunlit patch at the end of the hallway. She spun toward him, her agitation showing in jerky movements and the rapid rise and fall of silk over her breasts. “I won’t have her here, Aleksandre. She’s poison. She’ll hurt us. Hurt you. Hurt Nico. I can’t bear to watch that happen again.”

The prince held up a hand. “Stop. This is my decision. Let me think.”

Both his companions bowed slightly and grew silent. His mother’s soulful black eyes watched him, reproachful. A twinge of guilt niggled at his conscience.

If not for the Queen Mother, Carvainia would have no Crown Prince Nico, and he would have no son. No one, other than himself, understood the treachery of Sara Presley as well as Mother. She was trying to protect both of her princes as she always had.

Aleksandre closed his eyes tightly for a brief moment to calm his raging spirit. He’d learned in battle to shut out the noise and horror around him and go deep inside to a place of peace where wisdom lived. He did that now, weeding out his own anguish at the thought of seeing Sara Presley again and concentrated instead on saving his child.

Vaguely, he could hear the quiet hush of servants moving about the castle and of nurses moving in and out of Nico’s room. He listened deeper, imagined the sounds of the sea just outside the castle walls.

The sea was his solace and when time allowed he walked the beach to taste the salt spray on his tongue and smell the wind blowing across the great water. Someday he would teach Nico to sail and fish and race his speedboats. He would tell his son stories of the generations of Carvainians who had used the sea for defense and trade and livelihood.

But first, his son must live. And to live, he must have an organ donation. And that could only come from his biological mother.

He took a deep, cleansing breath and opened his eyes, certain now of what he must do.

“You are correct, Mother, when you say that the American woman will not come willingly. I also agree with you, Doctor, that she is our only hope. She must come.” His jaw hardened with resolve. “She will come.”

Queen Irena tossed her head. “You cannot force her. She is not under Carvainian jurisdiction.”

“Not yet.” A sly smile touched his bitter-tasting lips. “But she will be.”

The queen’s eyes widened. “Aleksandre, whatever are you thinking?”

“The American woman will not come to Carvainia for me or even for her son, but she will come if the incentive is great enough.”

“And you will see that it is?”

“I know exactly what matters most to Sara Presley.”

As a prince who’d led men into battle, he knew the importance of strategy and of knowing one’s enemy.

And so a battle plan was forged.

“If something sounds too good to be true, it probably is,” Sara Presley said with a laugh as she unpacked a box of novels for the romance section of The Book Shelf.

“But what if the prize is real, Sara?” Penny Carter, her friend and business partner waved the letter beneath Sara’s nose for the umpteenth time in two days. “What if you’ve really won a fabulous trip to a European health spa—in a castle, no less?”

Sara scoffed. “To win, I would have to enter, right?”

“Well, maybe, but we own a bookstore. What if one of our vendors is rewarding us for outstanding sales?”

“Then you would be included in the trip. And you’re not.” Sara held a new book to her nose and sniffed.

“I love that smell,” she said, trying to direct Penny’s thoughts somewhere besides the goofy award letter. It couldn’t be real. The prize was either a joke, or when she called, they’d ask her to send thousands of dollars or to provide her credit card number. She wasn’t that stupid.

But as she’d done all morning, Penny stayed after her. “What about those contests you signed up for at the fair last month?”

Sara paused in thought, gazing down at a book cover. A shirtless cowboy gave her a sexy grin but she didn’t feel a thing. No matter how sexy or how nice, no man had gotten past her defenses in over five years. She was a strong advocate of “once burned, twice warned.”

“Cassie Binger won a blender at the fair last year,” she mused, “so I guess that’s possible.”

Penny let out a whoop, pounding her index finger at the letter. “Call this number, right now, before I die of curiosity.” She patted a hand over her heart. The letter crinkled against her plaid shirt. “Castle-by-the-Sea Health and Beauty Spa sounds so romantic.”

“The only place I’ll find romance is between the covers of the books we sell. The letter is a scam, Penny. It has to be. My luck ran out a long time ago.” She quickly turned to the wall-high bookshelves.

Penny marched around to her side. Hands on her hips she said, “Sara, listen to me. You’ve spent five years living in the past. Five years haunting the Internet in hopes of finding out who adopted your baby. Five years getting over the jerk who left you.”

Tears welled in Sara’s eyes. Her belly gnawed with emptiness now as it did every time she thought of the infant son she’d lost. And she thought of him constantly. A TV show, a book cover, a child on the street or in the store could send her into a tailspin for days. “Don’t, Penny.”

Penny grasped Sara’s upper arms and pulled her around, her face wreathed in compassion. “Honey, I’m not trying to hurt you. You’re my best friend and I love you like a sister. But I’ve watched you beat yourself up for too long. When life offers sunshine, don’t hide in the shade. You have to move on.”

“I can’t, Penny.” She sniffed. “My baby is out there somewhere. Is he happy and healthy? Does his adoptive mother love him the way I do?”

“You made the right choice. You did what was best for him at the time. Let it go. Move on. Let yourself live again.”

They’d hashed this through hundreds of times and Sara knew Penny was right. Penniless, without family to turn to, and still in college on scholarship, she’d done what she had to in order to secure her baby’s future. “I’m haunted by the thought that if I’d kept him, something would have worked out.”

“If that Aleks jerk had stuck around and been the man you thought he was, things would have worked out. But he didn’t. That’s my point. Life happened. It sucks but it happened. Now, life is happening again in a good way.” She shoved the letter at Sara. “Take a chance, Sara. Go for it. Just this once, let yourself be happy.”

Sara shook her head but took the letter in hand. Penny’s insistence was starting to wear her down. She did need a change. She needed to shake loose from the guilt and loss and depression that had plagued her for too long.

In a feeble attempt to resist, she muttered, “It can’t be true. I wish it was, but I’m not the kind of person who wins fabulous trips to Europe.”

A male voice intruded. “I beg to differ, Miss Presley. If you are indeed Sara Presley, you are our grand prize winner.”

Both women spun toward the tall, imposing figure who had entered the shop. Dressed in a business suit with hair graying at the temples and the smell of intellect coming off him in waves, the man reminded her of a slick television lawyer.

“Who are you?” Sara blurted. “And how do you know about the prize?”

“I am here as executor of the contest, Miss Presley. Since you have not yet called to claim your prize, the owner of the spa felt an official visit was in order to assure you that everything is in order and that our staff eagerly awaits your arrival.”

Sara looked from the man to Penny. Her friend’s eyes were as round as saucers.

“Are you serious?” Sara gestured to the letter. “This is for real?”

“Indeed.” The man moved into the small space behind the cluttered counter and offered Sara a manila envelope. “Inside you will find a brochure detailing the prize, a round-trip ticket and your cash prize.”

“Cash?” Sara squeaked. “Ticket?”

With hands now trembling, she removed the items from the envelope one by one. Penny leaned over her shoulder. “That stuff’s real, Sara.”

“I can’t believe this.” She read over the brochure and saw photos of pampered women getting massages and facials, of a fabulous castle standing proud and ancient by a perfect blue sea, of rooms so beautiful they stole her breath. She checked the airline ticket. Her stomach jumped into her throat. “First class?”

“A vacation unrivaled by any other awaits you, miss, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.” The man tilted his head. “Do you believe it now?”

“I’m beginning to.”

“Excellent. I will tell the owner of Castle-by-the-Sea to expect you. He will be delighted to greet you on Thursday.”

Sara trailed him as he moved toward the door. “Thursday? This coming Thursday? That’s only two days away.”

“Why, yes, madam. Is that a problem?”

Penny popped up behind them and gave Sara a little whack on the shoulder. “No problem at all. She’ll be there.”

Two days later Sara was still in delighted shock as she waved goodbye to a jubilant Penny and boarded a plane for London. Once there, she was whisked aboard a private jet that took her to Castle-by-the-Sea.

As she disembarked, she breathed in the scent of sea spray, warm and salty and so different from the landlocked aroma of Kansas.

At the bottom of the steps, a line of attendants waited, tidy and professional in red uniforms. The castle itself sprawled before her, a stunning old stone structure complete with spires and cupolas and towers that had no doubt once housed European royalty. In the distance, below the hill was a blue sea that would have provided protection for the castle inhabitants. Today a handful of people reclined on the white sand or cavorted in the crystal waters.

The butterflies in her belly fluttered. “This must be a resort for the rich and famous.”

She pinched herself. Surely there was a mistake. She was a nobody. Surely she would be sent packing by nightfall.

But that was not the case. She was escorted to a private suite high in one wing of the castle, and for the rest of the afternoon she was fed and massaged, pampered and waited upon so that when night came she fell asleep in the canopied bed with a smile on her face. Maybe her run of bad luck was finally over.

“Miss Presley. Miss Presley.” A woman’s accented voice penetrated the fog in Sara’s brain.

“I’m Sara. Just Sara,” she muttered, though her throat was froggy with sleep. She snuggled deeper into the smooth, silken sheets and pulled the down comforter up to her ears. She’d been having the loveliest dream ever.

“Well, ‘Just Sara.’ The intruding voice sounded amused. “I take it you slept well.”

Sara sat up straight and stared around the luxurious room and then at the young woman whom she recognized as Antonia, her personal attendant. “I wasn’t dreaming. This is real.”

“Yes, miss. Very real. Would you care for breakfast before we begin the day?”

“Coffee please.”

From a pretty tray, the round-figured Antonia poured the fragrant coffee and handed it to Sara. “Not a very healthy beginning to a busy day. Some melon perhaps? Or strawberries and cream? That seems to be a favorite with our guests. We grow our own, you see.”

“The strawberries or the cream?”

“Both.” The young woman giggled.

Feeling a little like Cinderella, Sara laughed with her. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Something shifted through Antonia’s soft brown eyes. Sara noticed the slight hesitation and wondered. But before her thoughts could wander too far, the attendant smiled and the expression disappeared. “A very special treat awaits you. The owner of Castle-by-the-Sea wishes to see you.”

“I was hoping you’d say that. I really want to thank him.”

Antonia gazed at her a second longer before turning away.

Within the hour Sara was dressed and standing outside an enormous pair of ornate double doors inside a palace of such breathtaking beauty, it must be a tourist attraction. From the looks of this particular wing—one of many from what she’d observed so far—and the scurry of suit-clad men and women going in and out of offices, this was the business section of the spa. Apparently behind these white and gilded doors fit for a king was the owner himself.

A nervous jitter danced down her arms.

One of the doors opened inward. A butler uniformed in red and gold gave a slight bow. His perfect posture made her want to stand up straighter. “Miss Presley, Prince Aleksandre will see you now.”

Sara started to follow the man, then stopped. “Prince? As in a real prince?”

The butler inclined his head. “But of course.” He motioned her forward with one hand. “If you please. His Majesty is waiting.”

His Majesty? Oh my gosh. She was in a real castle with a real prince. Wait until Penny heard about this!

Knees quivering and curiosity driving her, Sara stepped into the room—a very large, regal office—and got her first glimpse of her benefactor.

The dark-haired man was standing with his back to her, gazing out at a panorama of green land and aqua sea. Legs spread, hands clasped at his back below a trim waist, his posture was as stiff as the butler’s, his shoulders wide and exuding strength. Though he didn’t appear much older than herself, an air of authority and power emanated from him. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, something about his well-honed physique looked eerily familiar.

The butler cleared his throat. If such a thing was possible, the servant’s carriage grew more erect and perfect as he snapped to attention. “Your Majesty, may I present Miss Sara Presley. Miss Presley, His Majesty Prince Aleksandre d’Gabriel.”

The name struck a chord of alarm in Sara as the prince turned and leveled an empty stare in her direction.

“So Sara,” he said quietly. “We meet again.”




Chapter Two


“ALEKS!”

The woman before him clutched her chest, her mouth open in shock. She had gone as white and still as the alabaster statues lining the palace staircase. Aleks fought down the unexpected and disturbing urge to cross the Persian rug, take her in his arms and offer reassurance. Only the stern mental reminder of her ruthlessness kept him standing rigidly behind his desk, his heart thundering in his chest. Though he had once loved her enough to give up anything to have her, that love had long since turned to loathing. She was here for one reason and one reason only. Nico.

“You are surprised to see me.” The sentence was a statement. He knew she’d be surprised. A surprise attack on one’s enemies always worked best.

“Aleks,” she said again and started toward him, one hand extended.

Aleks braced himself. Was that hope flaring in her sea-colored eyes?

He took a step back and forced a dark and forbidding expression. The woman paused. Her hand fell to her side. She looked lost and uncertain, and Aleks again fought the need to comfort her.

She was as beautiful to him now as she had been before, but he noted a subtle change, as well. The light had gone out in her. Where before she’d been vibrant and joyous, she now appeared older…sadder. Regret perhaps? Guilt? Or had life been unkind to Sara Presley?

He’d thought the terrors of war and near death added to the years of loathing had hardened him enough to face her. But he knew without a doubt he could not let her touch him. At least not now while his insides canted toward her like a seasick sailor.

“Welcome to Castle-by-the-Sea,” he said. “I trust your accommodations are satisfactory.”

Sara’s look of bewilderment was exactly what he’d hoped. He’d caught her completely off guard.

“You’re a prince?”

He inclined his head. “Ruler of Carvainia.”

It was imperative she understand his power and place and forget about the lovesick youth he’d once been. He must be in control, and now that he’d seen her again, this was going to be more difficult than he’d thought.

“You never told me,” she said. One hand went to her forehead and then fell to her side. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Considering her cruel abandonment, he was glad he hadn’t. “Would it have made any difference?”

“No, of course not, but—”

He didn’t believe her. “My country has enemies. To protect my friends and myself, I chose to attend college without fanfare, though I always had bodyguards at hand.”

“You did?”

She seemed genuinely stunned by his royalty. Would she have been less treacherous, less likely to abandon him and his son if she had known the truth? Or would she have used the information to her advantage? “Remember Carlo and Stephan?”

“I thought they were students like you. Friends from your country.”

“They were both.” The knot in his stomach twisted. Though the difference in stations had separated them to some degree, he and his bodyguards were friends, as well. And Carlo had paid the ultimate price for his loyalty.

Sara Presley, the woman who held Nico’s life in her unsuspecting hands, shook her head. Hair the color of cinnamon rustled against the shoulders of a simple yellow sundress—a dress that rose and fell with the rapid in and out of her anxious breathing.

“I don’t understand.” The tip of her tongue flicked out to moisten peach-colored lips. Aleks averted his gaze. No doubt her mouth had gone as dry as his, though for far different reasons. “What is this all about, Aleks? Why am I here?”

Though he felt no humor whatsoever, he offered an amused tilt of his head. “You are our grand prize winner. Remember?”

She scoffed. “Don’t give me that. Something else is going on here.”

He was not quite ready to reveal everything. “Sit down please. You seem…disturbed.”

“Disturbed? I’ve never been so confused in my life. You disappeared five years ago and now suddenly I’m whisked out of my bookstore and into a castle. Your castle. And I didn’t even know you had a castle. After all this time, I never expected to see you again.”

He could believe that. If not for Nico, she wouldn’t have. He almost said as much but knew he must be careful. His son’s future rested with this woman. He must proceed with great caution. The battle plan was working well so far. He must not become reckless like a new recruit and ruin everything.

Sara moved to the chair he indicated, and he noticed the slightest tremor in the hands she placed on the armrests. He turned his attention to her face. Even there he saw again the vulnerability. She was nervous and uncertain…and perhaps a bit scared. She was angry, too, though she had no right to be, all things considered.

She reached for her earring—a long chain of silver—and her fingers trembled. They were cold, too, he was certain, for he remembered the subtle nuances of her emotions. He didn’t need to touch her to know she was anxious, maybe even afraid. Memories of her had tortured him enough.

He hardened his heart. Any weakness she displayed would be used to his advantage.

“If you think I’ve brought you here because I couldn’t bear to be without you any longer, think again.”

A deep rose color flushed her pale skin. “After what you did, that much is a mercy.”

After what he’d done? “I don’t equate a white lie about my royalty with outright betrayal, particularly when that white lie was intended to protect all concerned.”

Eyelashes as lush as sable blinked at him. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

He quelled the memory of his lips against those eyelids and the feel of her lashes tickling his skin. “Oh, I think you do.”

Her chin hitched up. “No, I don’t. All I know was that your father fell ill and you had to return home. You promised to be in touch, but I never heard from you again.”

Had he not known the lengths to which his mother had gone to contact this woman, he would have believed her lies.

“Nor did I hear from you.”

You didn’t even bother to contact me about the child you were carrying. My child. But he left those last words unspoken. He would let her lies continue while she backed herself into a corner. Then, when she met Nico, she would be forced to admit her transgression and agree to his demands.

“How could I contact you? You weren’t even honest enough to tell me who you were or where you lived. I thought you lived in Italy. I thought your name was Aleks Gabriel.”

He stepped down from the raised dais where his desk was situated. “Enough!”

“Don’t ‘enough’ me, Mr. Prince. I’m not one of your subjects. I demand to know what’s going on. Why the outlandish ruse to get me here?”

“Ruse?”

“Don’t play dumb. I didn’t win any all-expense-paid vacation to a health spa.”

“Are you certain of that? Have you not been treated well by my staff? Did the masseuse and hairdresser not visit your rooms? Do you not have a personal attendant at your beck and call?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“And this treatment shall continue for the duration of your stay. Whatever you need is at your disposal.”

She blinked again, confusion warring with the need to assert herself. Aleks felt victory at hand. A confused enemy was easy to defeat.

Feeling in total control now, his emotions ruthlessly in check, he moved to her side and reached for her hand. The skin was incredibly soft and silken and every bit as cold as he’d known it would be. As cold as her soul.

Sara snatched her hand away and glared at him.

Teeth tight, he took her elbow and forced her to stand.

“Come. I want you to meet someone.”

“Who?” She tried to pull away again but Aleks held tight to her arm, propelling her to the door.

“I think,” he said through gritted teeth, “you will be greatly surprised.”

Sara’s knees trembled as Aleks’s strong fingers dug into her skin. She recalled all the times he’d placed his hand exactly there, guiding her with such courtesy and grace across campus, into a movie or a restaurant, into a car. But today, his hold was impersonal, even cruel.

Her head spun with the impact of the last few minutes. She could hardly take everything in. For a brief moment, she had entertained the hope that Aleks had brought her here to set the past straight. As furious as she was that he would contact her now when it was too late, and as much as she wanted to hate him for all the anguish she had gone through, Sara could not deny that she was still very much attracted to the man who even now rushed her past stiff-backed guards, over marbled floors and down a furnished hallway to an elevator.

Everyone they passed stopped working to pay respects to their ruler, and Sara felt the curious stares of each one fall on her, as well.

Saints alive, the man who’d left her pregnant and penniless was a prince. She couldn’t take it in. Her Aleks, the man she’d loved, the man she’d given her innocence to, was a wealthy, powerful prince. He could have easily cared for her and their baby even if he had no longer wanted her. Surely, he would have wanted his son.

Why, oh, why had he left without a word?

The bitter taste of gall rose in her throat. It was too late now. Her baby was gone and Aleks would never know what he’d thrown away. Her stomach rolled with nerves and fear and loss. She wanted to stop at a restroom and throw up.

But Aleks seemed mercilessly unaware of her distress as he thrust her into a gleaming brass-and-mirrored elevator. The door pinged shut and he loosened his grip to push a number.

She’d dreamed of him for so long and now here he was, in the flesh. But oh, that flesh was hard and unyielding, not warm and loving as she remembered.

He loathed her. That much was evident. But why? He was the one who’d abandoned her.

She longed to ask, but right now she was still in shock and if she admitted it, more than a little unnerved. Something was very wrong here and until she understood, she would play her hand very close to the vest.

During the entire elevator ride, Aleks stared straight ahead at the closed doors, avoiding eye contact, and said not a word. He was as stiff and cold as an icicle but still as handsome and dynamic as ever.

But the years had altered him. Where he’d been a charming, carefree college student, engrossed in getting his master’s degree while embracing sports and cars and the American college life, today he was a solemn man with hard eyes.

He was so near, this man who’d broken her heart that she could feel the tension in his frame and smell the fabric of his navy blue jacket. But he was also as far away as her bookstore.

She should be demanding her release, filing a kidnapping complaint, or at the least, slapping his royal face. But here she was noticing the added lines around his mouth, his beautiful, dark skin, and remembering the time he’d buried them in autumn leaves and they’d kissed and cuddled in their leafy hideaway, content to be together and so completely in love.

Or at least, she had been.

“I never knew you at all, did I?” she whispered, surprised that she had spoken aloud.

Aleks slowly turned his head and stared at her with those icy eyes. “Ours was a brief romance. A fling I think you Americans call it.”

A fling. The word seared her heart like a hot iron against tender flesh. She’d given him everything she had to give. And he called their love a fling.

How could she have fallen for a man who had deceived her so badly? He had not only walked out with little explanation but he’d never been honest with her from the beginning.

He was a royal prince, but she was a royal fool.

The elevator eased to a stop and the doors slid open. Aleks stepped aside, holding the door with one hand while motioning with the other for her to exit. She did so, her mind reeling.

Who could he possibly want her to meet? Why was she here? And why didn’t he just tell her what was going on?

The floor they stepped out on was similar to the one where her suite of rooms was situated. A long, carpeted hallway lit by sconces and new lighting—a fascinating mix of old and modern—was guarded by a pair of uniformed men. Stunning murals graced the vaulted ceilings. Tapestry and gilded paintings lined the walls above elegant furniture groupings. At one end an arched window looked out at the sunlit day. Sara had never seen a place of such over-the-top wealth and splendor.

Aleks seemed impervious to it all as he reclaimed her elbow.

Two people, a man and a woman both dressed in white uniforms, sat outside a closed door but quickly stood to attention when they saw Aleks approach. They turned curious gazes in Sara’s direction.

Aleks glanced toward the closed door. The cold mask slipped from his face. For the briefest moment, Sara was certain she saw tenderness…and fear.

“How is he?”

Something in his voice gave Sara pause. She stared at the side of his face, trying to comprehend the undercurrent flowing between him and the others.

“He’s sleeping, Your Majesty.”

The news seemed to bring relief to Aleks. Some of the tension flowed out of him.

“Excellent.” He occasioned a glance at Sara. The frosty glare was back. “We will go inside.”

Whoever resided inside that room held special meaning to the Prince of Carvainia. But what did this have to do with her?

“Who—” she started, but Aleks shot her a warning glance as if daring her to make a noise and wake the sleeper. Sara fell silent.

He pushed the door open. Sara’s pulse rate elevated with an inexplicable nervousness as they tiptoed inside.

Sara’s first impression was a smell. Though the overriding scent was antiseptic, another odor that she couldn’t quite place lingered, too. This was a medical ward, not a bedroom.

The large room was semidarkened with enough light to see and work by but not enough to disturb the sleeper. An array of medical equipment looked out of place next to a stunning iron bed canopied in blood-red draperies trimmed in gold and black. The quiet was broken only by the shoosh and burr of those machines.

At the sight of Aleks, the attendants hovering near the bed bowed and backed silently away, but not before their eyes flicked over Sara, all with the same identical and troubling expression. Sara’s nervousness increased. Her palms began to sweat.

Following Aleks’s lead, she approached the enormous, raised bed.

A handsome little boy rested against the pillows, his long eyelashes startling black against his pale cheeks. He was thin and his skin color was an odd gold-over-olive. The scent she’d noticed rose from the bed, the odor of fever.

“Is he sick?” she whispered.

A muscle jerked in Aleks’s cheek. “Very.”

“Poor little child. I’m so sorry.”

Aleks gave her a strange look. “As am I.”

They stood in silence, staring down at the sleeping child. Looking at the small boy was a powerful reminder and Sara ached both for him and for herself. Her child would have been near the age of this little boy. She prayed that wherever he was, her son was well and that no sickness ever befell him.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“A virus has attacked his liver.”

“Will he be all right?”

Aleks glared at her, his expression so bewildering and strange that she grew afraid.

“We will know soon.”

A sense of silent anticipation hovered in the room as if the people standing in the shadows held their collective breath.

“Who is he?” she whispered.

The mask of coldness seemed to slip for a moment, and Sara could have sworn he was hurting. “He is my son.”

“Your…son?” The words nearly choked her.

She placed a hand over her womb. She felt so empty. Aleks had moved on without a backward glance, marrying and producing a son. He had a child. She had nothing but an empty ache.

Did her little boy, wherever he was, look like this? Did he have Aleks’s black eyelashes and aristocratic nose?

Against the lump of regret and longing that clogged her throat, she said, “Your son is very beautiful. He deserves to be well.”

Aleks took both her elbows and turned her to face him. He stared at her long and hard and without mercy. She swallowed, the sound loud in a room where only the breath of a small boy and his incessant machinery broke the silence.

His fingers tightened. “So does yours.”

She frowned, puzzled. An erratic beat of something she couldn’t name started deep inside, shouting a warning that she did not comprehend.

“My son?” she asked, voice trembling with dread. “What do you mean?” And how did he know? How could he possibly know about her son? About their son?

Aleks’s black eyes held hers as if peering into her soul. Then slowly, slowly, they slid away to the sleeping child.

In a voice of ice and steel, he said, “Meet Nico, or as he is officially known, Crown Prince Domenico Emmanuel Lucian d’Gabriel…the child you abandoned.”

Every ounce of strength left Sara’s body. Her knees buckled. And the world went black.




Chapter Three


PRINCE ALEKSANDRE STOOD beside Sara’s bed waiting for her to regain consciousness. The fainting spell had come as a surprise. One minute she’d been staring at him in horror and the next she’d crumpled like tissue paper.

He was still pondering the meaning of her reaction.

In an effort not to disturb Nico, he’d swept her into his arms and carried her here to the guest wing. Halfway to the suite, he’d been tempted to hand her off to one of the guards trailing them. Not because she was too heavy. She weighed nothing. But because the feel of her curves pressed against him stirred more than memories.

Now as he glared down at her, willing her to awaken, he couldn’t help noticing the way her red hair spilled over the white pillow like fire on snow. Nor could he miss the gentle curve of her mouth or the tiny scar above her lip that he’d once found particularly tasty.

She moaned softly. He steeled himself with a stern reminder than his attraction to this woman had already cost him enough.

She opened her eyes and looked around, her expression clouded. He waited, silent while she regained her bearings.

With a gasp of awareness, she sat up.

Aleks pressed her back. “Lie still. You’ve had a shock.”

She slapped at him. “Get your hands off me.”

In a flurry of movement the two bodyguards flanked him, hands on their weapons. He waved them off. “Leave us.”

“But Your Majesty—”

“Leave us. This woman poses no threat.” At least not physically.

Sara swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. “That’s what you think.”

Had this been another woman or another time, Aleks would have laughed. Sara barely came to his chin and even with fists tight at her sides and eyes shooting sparks, she was no match for his size and strength.

The guards looked from Sara to Aleks, ever vigilant, but they followed his command and backed from the room. He knew very well they were both standing with ears pressed against the closed door, anxious because he was out of their sight with a fiery woman.

The moment they disappeared, Sara stormed toward him, long hair flying wildly around her shoulders. “Is Nico my son? Are you telling me the truth?”

“Nico is my son and mine alone. You gave him away.”

All of the fight went out of her. Her shoulders slumped. She pressed both hands to her stomach and bent forward so that Aleks wondered if she might faint again. He started to her but stopped when she groaned. “Oh, God, I did. I gave him away.”

This was the truth he’d dreaded hearing but the truth as he already knew it. Though he’d loved this woman, he’d never really known what she was capable of until she had abandoned their child.

“Did you hate me that much, Sara?”

He hadn’t intended to ask the question nor to sound quite as vulnerable as he feared he did.

“I never hated you, Aleks. I loved you.” Disturbingly haunted eyes implored him. “I longed for you.”

He glanced away. “You will forgive me if I don’t believe that.”

“You promised to come back. I waited.”

His lips curled in distaste. “Not for long.”

“I was pregnant with your child, alone, scared out of my mind, with no means of support. What was I supposed to do?”

Not sell my son to the highest bidder, he thought. If not for the queen’s intervention, someone else would have paid the price for the handsome male child with royal bloodlines, though another family would not have known the boy was a crown prince, and the prince of Carvainia would never have had a son and an heir. The fury of that near disaster raced through his blood with the sting of alcohol on an open wound.

Seething, he turned his back to stare blindly at a dressing table littered with feminine jars and a silver hand mirror. “The past does not matter to me. You do not matter to me.”

“Then why did you bring me here after all this time? To punish me? To let me know how much you despise me for putting our son up for adoption?”

“I never wanted you involved in his life. Let me make that clear.” Slowly, he pivoted, jaw tight enough to crack a bone. “You are here because I had no other choice.”

She didn’t need to know about the stir her presence had caused, both among the staff and within the royal family. As it was, the queen had taken to her bed with a migraine the moment Sara Presley entered the castle. He regretted that deeply.

Without his mother’s help and guidance during that terrible time five years ago, he wasn’t sure he could have survived. First, he’d lost his father. Then an old enemy, the greedy king of Perseidia had perceived a weakness in the new Carvainian government and had invaded their northern borders. Like the warriors of old and as he’d been trained, he’d led his men into battle and had come out the victor. But at what price? Wounded, and heartsick at the loss of fine young men, he’d been further shattered by the news that his former love had given birth to his son and was offering the baby to the highest bidder.

Though the queen had expressed serious doubt, Aleks was convinced the child was his. Sara had been an innocent when they’d first come together, so shy and eager and loving. He could not imagine her with another man.

She’d likely had several men by now, but he refused to care.

“How did you learn about the baby?” she asked. “How did he get here?”

“Money and power have their advantages.”

“Why didn’t you contact me? Where were you?”

“At war, fighting for my country’s independence where I belonged.” He chopped the air in impatience. “None of this matters anymore, Sara.”

“It matters to me! I’ve missed four years of my baby’s life, four years of wondering if the wealthy family that adopted him loves him, wondering if he’s all right. Then suddenly I’m whisked away from America without explanation to discover he’s been here with you all along. Why have you contacted me now when you didn’t then?”

Aleks grabbed her arm and stared down into her face with all the will he had inside him.

“Let me explain as clearly as I know how.” He swallowed, hating the words to come. “Nico…is dying.”

“No!” Sara shrank away from him, a hand to her throat. “Please no.”

The stark despair in her expression would have shaken him had he not been braced for it. She had ignored her child since birth. A pained cry and a few tears would not convince him that she cared.

“His only hope is a liver transplant.”

Sara slid onto a chair and buried her face in her hands. Once again, Aleks battled back an urge to go to her. He stood with rigid military discipline, reminding himself that this woman was the enemy. This woman had no scruples. This woman had tossed his child away like a stray dog.

When she lifted her tearstained face, his gut spasmed. She’d looked this way on the day he’d gotten news that his father was dying. She’d cried for him.

He’d been a fool then. He wouldn’t be again.

“Is he on a transplant list?” she asked. “I don’t know how things like that work here in your country. What can be done?”

“The best hope for Nico is a living donor. His body would then regenerate the donated segment into a full-sized body part while the donor’s body would also fully recover. But Carvainia is a country of genetically similar people. No one we can find shares his blood type.”

“AB negative,” she murmured.

“Yours, I assume.”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“Nor does anyone, including myself, my mother, nor any of the royal family share the specific blood markers that he requires.” Impatient, he chopped the air again. “I don’t pretend to understand the medical details. I only know that Nico is dying and his only hope is a living donor who matches him as exactly as possible.”

Perched on the edge of the chair, she bent forward, forearms against her thighs, hair falling over her shoulders as she looked up. “And that’s why I’m here, isn’t it? To be his donor.”

Aleks tensed. His heart galloped in his chest like one of his racehorses. If he was to gain Sara’s cooperation, he must proceed with extreme caution.

“You needn’t worry. I will pay you well.”

A soft gasp escaped her. “You’ll…pay me?”

Though she sounded less than eager, Aleks was confident she would agree once she understood the terms. Greed was a powerful incentive. A baby, a body part, it was all the same to a woman like Sara. “One million American dollars.”

Something hard shifted through her features. “No.”

Aleks blinked once, slowly, certain he had heard wrong. “No?”

Her lips tightened. “I said no.”

Sickness churned in his belly, and for the first time, he began to doubt his plan. What if he failed? What if Sara Presley was even more heartless than he’d expected?

The muscles in his neck tightened to the breaking point. “Then name your price. Whatever you want is yours.”

Sara stared back at him with eyes that had turned the color of a stormy sea. They were eyes that had beguiled him when he was young and foolish. Eyes that had promised so much and then had forgotten him. Eyes that now defied him.

With a near-regal grace, she rose, fists clenched at her side, her chin thrust upward. “Then here’s the deal, Prince Charming. I want to spend time with my son and get to know him. I want to be his mother.”

She wanted to be Nico’s mother? Cold fear sliced through Aleks. “You should have thought about that a long time ago, Sara. Nico is mine and mine alone. You will have no part in his life. None ever.”

“A little late for that, don’t you think? You’ve brought me here. I’m involved.”

“As a hired body part. Nothing else.”

She blanched and rocked back, biting down on her bottom lip.

Aleks refused to be moved by her wounded reaction. He would do anything to protect Nico, particularly from the woman who had abandoned them both.

In clipped tones with barely suppressed anger, he said, “Presenting a sick child with a long-lost mother is not in his best interest. Have you no compassion whatsoever? Think of the questions he’d ask! Do you want him to know that he was given away at birth? Do you want him asking why he’s never known about you? His health is far too fragile for that kind of revelation.”

Sara made a tiny noise of dismay and began to move around the room. She twisted her fingers together, worrying a small gold ring on her pinky. The hem of the yellow sundress swished softly against her thighs as curvy hips swayed below a slender waist.

Aleks didn’t want to notice her lush body or to remember the silk of her thighs against his palms. With firm resolve, he focused on the coldness of her heart and on his plan.

Now, while Sara was still in a state of shock, he had to press his advantage. “I’m prepared to pay you a million if you are a match and another million after the surgery.”

He was prepared to pay her far more than that should she balk. Everyone had a price.

Like a wounded tigress, Sara whirled on him. “Get this through your pig head, Aleks. I don’t want your money. I want my child.”

“He is not yours to want.”

On a sharp inhale, she drew up to her full height, shoulders high and tight as she contemplated him.

While Aleks held his own breath, she exhaled in a rush of words. “Then I won’t cooperate. You’ll have to search elsewhere for your donor.” She marched to the door and yanked it open. “You’ll also have to excuse me, Your Majesty, I must pack. I’m leaving in the morning.”

Aleks was stunned by the woman’s audacity. She was showing him out?

When he didn’t move, she said, “I never had the chance to know my son. I don’t want your money. I want to spend time with Nico. That’s the deal, Aleks. Take it, or I’m going home.”

Aleks could scarcely believe this was happening. She was bargaining with Nico’s life. But why? He didn’t believe for one second that she would turn down a million dollars in the end. Why the pretense of belated maternal feelings? Did she despise him enough to hurt him through Nico?

Whatever the reason, Sara was worse than he’d dreamed.

“Close the door.”

He had no wish for this conversation to be carried by the servants to his mother’s ears. She was upset enough. She would be livid to learn of the bargain he was about to strike.

The door snapped shut. Sara stood with one hand on the pull, facing him as calmly as if they were trading automobiles. Only the quiver of pulse above her collarbone indicated distress. “Do we have a deal?”

What choice did he have? He wanted Nico alive and well, and Sara was his only chance.

“You may visit his rooms, but either I or the queen must be present at all times.”

She cocked her head. A silver earring glinted against the pale skin of her neck. “You don’t trust me.”

About as much as he trusted the king of Perseidia. “Not in the least.”

A small skirmish went on behind sea-blue eyes but finally she said, “Okay, agreed, as long as I can see him as often as I like.”

“Done.” He reached for the door handle and paused. “One thing, though, Sara, is not negotiable.”

She regarded him warily. “And that is?”

Calling upon four years of festered anger and bitterness, he said, “Nico is never to know you are the bitch that whelped him.”

The color, which had drained from her face, now surged forth, setting her delicate skin aflame. She raised a hand as if to strike him. He caught her wrist. “I think not.”

Long after Aleks left her alone, Sara sat at the window staring out at the magical country of Carvainia. Aleks’s country. Her baby’s country.

Emotional exhaustion made her limbs heavy so she could hardly lift her hands to swipe at the tears flowing down her cheeks.

Her baby was here. After the years of guilt and regret, she’d found him. All this time of worry and he’d been right here with his natural father. She was glad for that, though still astonished by the turn of events. Nothing Aleks said in explanation had made any sense. He claimed to have contacted her but she knew he hadn’t. And yet, how could he have known about the pregnancy? How could he have gotten custody of Nico?

Joy at finding her son intermingled with the loss of years and the fear that he was deathly ill. Now that she’d found him again, she couldn’t bear the thought of losing him.

She longed to go to his rooms and stay with him every minute of every day. But she knew without a doubt that if she tried to see him now, without Aleks’s permission, a host of staff would block her way.

And so she waited for him to return with the contract he insisted she sign. A contract. Dear heaven. What had happened to the man who’d claimed to love her?

She reached for a tissue and rubbed at eyes gone raw and hot. A sob slipped from her lips. Aleks had offered her money to help her own child. How low she had fallen in his eyes that he would believe such an offer was necessary. She would do anything to see Nico well. Her demands to see him were nothing more than a bluff though she’d been praying the entire time that Aleks would fall for it. Even if he’d refused, she would never have left this castle without doing all in her power to save her child’s life.

Part of her didn’t blame Aleks for despising her. Didn’t she despise herself for letting go when she might have found a way to keep their child? Wasn’t she haunted by a host of what-might-have-beens?

The door opened and Antonia entered carrying a tray. “You must eat something, Miss Sara. Lunch is long past.”

The young woman set the tray on the small round table at Sara’s elbow. Sara took one glance at the array of beautifully prepared finger foods and shook her head. “Thank you, Antonia. I’m not hungry.”

Antonia studied her with compassion. “You are upset, miss. Let me get some cucumber slices for the swelling in your eyes. And perhaps I could arrange a soothing massage and a spa treatment?”

Sara shook her head. No amount of pampering could soothe the ache in her heart. “Not now.”

Clearly wishing to provide service, but at a loss, Antonia lingered. Except for the attendant’s fidgety movements the suite was quiet, the sounds of activity outside the door silenced by the thick stone walls.

“A refreshing candle, then,” Antonia said.

The rasp of match against striker sawed at Sara’s raw nerve endings. A teardrop flame flared, and then the smell of sulfur mingled with the clean scent of vanilla.

“If you are certain you don’t require anything—”

“Nothing.” Sara lifted a limp hand, but the effort was too much and she let it fall to her lap. “Thanks.”

“If you should change your mind, please ring. Prince Aleksandre left specific orders that you are to have everything you desire.”

Yeah, right, anything but her son. Sara gave a short, joyless laugh. “Your Prince Aleksandre is a royal jerk.”

Antonia gasped and with a polite bow made a hasty exit, apparently disturbed that anyone would speak ill of the prince. Sara supposed she should be more careful. After all, this was not America. For all she knew, she may have just committed a crime punishable by stoning.

No, Aleks wouldn’t hurt her. She knew that for certain, not because of the love they’d once shared, but because he needed her.

She reached for a strawberry but didn’t eat it. How could she eat with this enormous wad of hope and fear and longing filling up her insides? When she could touch her son and hear his voice and see him smile, then she would be filled in a way that had nothing to do with food.

If only Aleks would hurry, but she knew he would not. He was no longer the kind and playful and fiercely protective man she remembered. He was a ruling prince, unyielding and cold. Perhaps the war had done that to him. She’d been shocked to hear that he’d fought beside his men, and yet her Aleks would have done exactly that.

Her Aleks. A bitter laugh escaped her, sounding loud in the large, quiet room. This Prince Aleksandre was not her Aleks.

Her Aleks had loved her, and she had loved him.

But she had to face the truth and her own culpability. She had killed his love by putting his son up for adoption.

She picked at the strawberry’s leafy cap.

A new fear crowded into an already overwhelmed mind.

Aleks had agreed to let her spend time with Nico now. But what would happen after the surgery, after Nico was well again?

Aleksandre d’Gabriel was the absolute law and ruler of Carvainia. She, a simple bookshop owner from Kansas, had no legal rights in this place. Once Aleks had what he wanted from her, would she ever see her son again?




Chapter Four


SARA SAT ON A PLUSH CHAIR at Nico’s bedside, waiting for her son to awaken. After two impatient hours with the doctors and a miserable thirty minutes hashing over the details of Aleks’s contract, she’d insisted on coming to Nico’s room.

“He sleeps most of the time,” Aleks had said, obviously trying to forestall her visit.

She’d hitched her stubborn chin. “Then I will watch him sleep.”

“I have a nation to run.”

After four years and thousands of miles, Sara was not about to let Aleks’s reluctance keep her away from her baby. He’d promised and he would deliver.

“The decision to be present was yours.”

Finally, he’d conceded and escorted her to this wing, which Sara understood to be a medical floor fully staffed for the royal family.

Both thrilled and terrified, but utterly determined to make up for lost time, she gazed at the sleeping baby face and waited. She may have appeared calm with her hands resting serenely in her lap, but her heart hammered and she could barely breathe.

The tension was magnified by the imposing ruler who stood like a stone sentry at the foot of Nico’s bed. Sara’s gaze flicked briefly to him. Jaw rigid, Aleks never even glanced her way. He treated her with cold courtesy and little else. She was grateful that his staff was more inclined toward friendliness. Though none of them voiced their knowledge of her unique situation, she was certain they at least suspected the reasons for her presence. Antonia knew Sara was the hoped-for organ donor. Beyond that, Sara had no idea what Aleks had told his employees about her.

Having only seen Nico briefly at birth, it was surreal to realize this was the baby she’d carried beneath her heart, the baby she’d mourned and hunted and prayed for. Over the years, she’d imagined what he would look like. She’d dreamed of finding him again, certain she would recognize her own son. She wouldn’t have. He was all Aleks and nothing of her.

And yet he was everything she’d dreamed and more.

At a movement from the pillows, Sara’s heart, already pounding out of her chest, galloped even harder. He was waking. She would meet him. Finally. She pressed her hands into her knees to keep from leaping from the chair and rushing forward.

Nico’s thick lashes fluttered upward. Glazed, feverish eyes locked on the man at the end of the bed. His thin face brightened. “Papa.”

That one small, breathy word held such power. Sara’s whole being heaved toward the sick child. And the hard and mighty ruler of Carvainia melted like butter left too long in the sun.

Aleks tweaked the boy’s sheet-covered toe. “Ah, the great and lazy Prince Nico has awakened.”

The joke must have been a familiar one for the child offered a feeble grin, his sick eyes twinkling. “A growing boy needs his rest.”

Aleks laughed softly. “Indeed. A growing boy also needs food. Maria tells me you refused your meal.”

“Food tastes nasty, Papa.” His tone apologized as though he was aware of his father’s worry and sad to make it worse.

Aleks moved to the boy’s side. “I know, son, but you must try.” He touched Nico’s cheek. “Promise Papa you will try.”

Sara shared the pleading despair in Aleks’s voice. Nico was far too thin. His arms, resting along the sides of his body on top of the damask coverlet, were like sticks and his cheekbones stood out above the hollows of his face.

The small handsome head nodded. His tongue flicked over dry lips. “I promise.”

Carefully perching on the bed’s edge so that the mattress barely shifted, Aleks reached for a glass of water. “Have a drink for Papa.”

Gently cradling Nico’s head, the prince raised the boy enough for a few sips. Then he brushed a hand over Nico’s temple, smoothing bed-tumbled hair. “Do you feel like playing a game?”

“I’m a bit tired, Papa.” For indeed, he seemed to have expended all his energy on a simple drink of water.

Aleks’s chest rose and fell in a heavy sigh. He patted the child’s fragile chest and sat back in the chair, shoulders angled toward Sara. Her pulse leaped.

“I don’t want to tire him,” she murmured through dry lips. Her son was desperately ill and conversation took so much out of his frail body.

Aleks’s gaze, so warm and tender with Nico, frosted over. “Come.”

As she stood, her knees trembled in tandem with her emotions. “Maybe we should do this later. I’m content to watch him sleep.”

His Majesty didn’t look as though he bought that. He turned back to the boy. “Someone has come to say hello.”

Sara stepped closer and with the movement brushed Aleks’s knees. Once upon a time he would have pulled her onto his lap, and she would have gone willingly for kisses and laughter. Today, he shifted away as though her touch was poison. Shoulders tense and mouth grim, animosity flowed from him. Surely, Nico would feel the tension and be put off by it.

She longed to touch him, both of them, and to make them understand how sorry she was for everything. She’d made a terrible mistake in letting Nico go, but she’d also paid a terrible price. Couldn’t Aleks see that? She’d lost everything that mattered—him, her baby.

The beautiful little prince was flesh of her flesh and yet she did not know him at all. The pain of that truth would burn forever.

“Hello, Nico,” she said, amazed to sound so normal. “My name is Sara. I’m—”

As though afraid of what she’d say, Aleks interrupted. “Sara is someone I knew in America.”

Nico’s dark eyes swung up to hers. “You were my father’s friend at university?”

So sweet. So innocent. So unaware of the painful alliance between his father and herself.

A lump formed in her throat. She cleared it. “Yes.”

“Papa, did you tell me about Sara? I don’t remember her in your stories.”

Aleks shifted uncomfortably, but he kept his tone light. “Remember the girl who capsized the boat and dumped me into the river?”

Sara stared at him, stunned. He’d spoken of her to Nico? But Aleks’s expression was as hard as his jaw. If he remembered the time fondly, he wasn’t about to let her know.

Nico giggled. “That was you?”

“Yes, that was me,” she said, delighted to have found common ground. “I wasn’t the best swimmer.”

“And Papa had to save you.” Nico’s voice was weak, but he seemed to relish casting his father as a hero.

“Yes. You should have seen him. We were both laughing so hard, I think I nearly drowned him.”

“Papa said you spilled the picnic basket, too.”

“I’m afraid so. Your poor Papa went without lunch except for the chocolate bar we shared.”

They’d shared a great deal more than chocolate that weekend. A master boatman, Aleks had wanted to canoe the mighty Mississippi River, so they’d driven to St. Louis for the day and wound up spending the weekend. Sara had often wondered if she’d gotten pregnant during those magical two days before Aleks suddenly and completely disappeared from her life.

Overtaken by nostalgia, she turned to look at Aleks.

Abruptly he pushed up from the bed’s edge and stepped away. “This little trip down memory lane has been fun, but I think we should let Nico rest now.”

The interruption shouldn’t have come as a surprise, but it did sting. That Aleks despised her and any memory of their time together was painfully clear.

But he was also correct. The boy was visibly fading. With no forethought, Sara touched Nico’s forehead. He was too warm, but touching him was a salve for her soul. This was her baby. Her son! She couldn’t get over the thrill of it.

“Your Papa is right. You must rest and get well so you can someday have your own wonderful adventures.”

Nico’s eyelids drooped but he struggled to keep them open.

“Will you be here after my nap? And tell me about America? Papa liked America very much.”

Sara looked to the man in charge and held his frigid gaze in challenge. If his feelings about America had anything to do with her, she would never know. “I will be back, Nico. I promise.”

Aleks glared at her for one long moment, then bent low to kiss the boy’s forehead and softly murmur something. By the time he straightened, Nico’s eyes were closed.

Still the ruler prince did not move. He stared into the face of his son with an expression of love and sorrow and longing.





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