Читать книгу Her Prince's Secret Son - Линда Гуднайт, Линда Гуднайт - Страница 8

“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.