Читать книгу Her Prince's Secret Son - Linda Goodnight - Страница 9

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.