Read Billionaire's Runaway Princess Online
Authors: Mia Caldwell
Billionaire's Runaway Princess (11 page)
Ian MacHolden’s face was the last thing she saw before the car struck her.
Lizzy opened her eyes and stared at the white wall in front of her. Someone must have called an ambulance. She was thankful for that. At least she wouldn’t die alone on a damp road in another country. She’d been running from something, or someone, but she couldn’t call the name to her mind. All she could remember was the feeling that she’d been a fool, a feeling so consuming she might sink from the weight of it.
“Hey, are you awake?” His voice was gentle, almost tender.
A flood of memories crashed over her aching head. The office. The rain. The photograph. She’d been running from him. Ian. The real Ian, and the knowledge that the happiest moments of her life had been a more complete lie than she’d ever imagined. There was nowhere to run now. No avenue of escape from the shame she felt. How could she have been so stupid?
Lizzy shook her head and ran her hands over her swollen belly. When she’d found out she was pregnant, she was shocked, but she’d sworn to herself to give their baby—her baby—the best possible chance at a good life. She’d ditched the junk food for vegetables. Her daily pot of coffee was strictly forbidden. She even excused herself if someone nearby lit a cigarette, though never as politely as she meant to. The promise led her across the ocean, but she’d broken it in one moment of emotion.
“Is...is my baby....” Try as she might, Lizzy couldn’t form the words.
His expression softened the way peoples’ did when asked a question they found too hard to answer. Either he knew something was wrong, or he didn’t know anything at all. She wasn’t sure she liked either option.
“The doctor will be in soon,” he said. “How do you feel?”
Lizzy didn’t answer. She couldn’t. How could she explain the flurry of emotions running through her mind? There was fear, of course, and a profound exhaustion that frayed at her nerves. But those weren’t things you discussed with strangers. It was better to be silent.
Ian wasn’t having it. He moved closer to the bed and put his hand over hers. It was as warm as it had been that morning. Why was he so kind to a woman he didn’t know?
“Miss Burdette, I know this isn’t the best time, but I have to ask again. Is Gerard the father?”
The question ripped through the last of her defenses. She stifled a sob in the back her throat and nodded. Tears spilled over her cheeks, and she rubbed with the back of her hand. Ian sighed, but Lizzy couldn’t identify the emotion behind it.
“Listen, Miss Burdette...” Ian said, but his voice trailed off. She didn’t blame him. What could they possibly have to say to one another? Mercifully, a knock on the door spared them both from the awkward conversation.
A man with gray hair and a gleaming white lab coat stepped into the room. He seemed pleasant enough, judging by the warm smile that came to his lips, but Lizzy’s shoulders curled inward as he approached her. “Miss Burdette, is it? I’m Dr. Brody. How are you feeling?”
The doctor’s accent was thicker than Ian’s or Gerard’s, and it took Lizzy a few seconds to figure out what he said. “Tired? Sore?” she offered. Confused as hell would have been a more accurate answer. And no less truthful.
The doctor nodded. “You’ll feel that way for a while, I expect. The good news is the driver slammed on the brakes when she saw you. If she hadn’t, it could have been much worse.”
Lizzy took a deep breath and tried to suppress the wave of anger that threatened to wash over her. Her entire world had been turned upside down, and things just kept getting worse. The last thing she felt was lucky.
“What about my baby?” Her voice sounded small to her ears, and it only made her angrier. She hated weakness—in herself more than anyone else. Her father had taught her that lesson a long time ago, when he’d disappeared forever. The strong prey on the weak. The strong made the weak feel safe and secure with a mountain of lies and then abandoned them when they needed the most. No weakness was allowed in Lizzy’s world. Her baby needed her to be better than that.
“I have good news and bad news,” the doctor said. “The good news is that your baby is alive and as far as I can tell, doing just fine.”
“And the bad news?”
“The bad news is that there appears to be a small tear in your placenta. Now it’s not life-threatening to you or the baby as long as we take the proper measures now.”
“What are the proper measures?” Ian asked.
Any other time, Lizzy would have taken him to task about asking questions for her, but she needed the answer just as badly as he did, and for the moment, her voice failed her.
“Good nutrition, fresh air, and most importantly, bedrest. Stay off of your feet as much as possible and try not to be alone. Injuries like this can grow complicated quickly, and you may not be able to call for help if you need it.”
Lizzy shook her head. “I have to be back in New York by Monday. This was only supposed to be a short trip.”
“Travel of any kind is out of the question.” The doctor’s tone was gentle but firm. “That’s far too much movement.”
“I can’t just sit in a hospital bed for the next five months.”
“Of course not,” Ian said. “I don’t live far from here, and I have an extra room. You can stay with me.”
“Absolutely not.” Having to stay in Scotland was bad enough. The last thing she wanted was a constant reminder of how much of an idiot she’d been.
The doctor tilted his head to the side. “Miss Burdette, under the circumstances, it’s probably the best solution. You don’t need to be in the hospital the entire time. A home environment will be much more peaceful, and give you enough time to rest.”
The truth of their words was evident, though she didn’t want to admit it. She’d planned to be back in New York before the week was out. It shouldn’t have taken more than a day or two for her and Ian to negotiate the specifics of whatever arrangement they agreed to. She tried to think of a way to make her trip home work, but there was one small detail that unraveled every plan she could come up with. The baby. The tiny life inside of her that needed her to do what was best for it, now more than ever.
“How long will I be stuck here?” As if having a firm end date would somehow make the loss of control easier to tolerate.
“We won’t know until we’ve monitored your progress.”
“I could be stuck here for five months?”
“I hope not, but I won’t know for another few weeks at least.”
Lizzy pressed her head back into the thin pillow. There wasn’t an end-date insight. No light at the end of the tunnel. She wiped her brow and nodded.
“All right,” she whispered.
The doctor clapped his hand against his clipboard and smiled. “I’ll have the nurse draw up your discharge paperwork.”
As the doctor left the room, Ian touched her arm. She recoiled, though she knew he only meant to offer her some comfort. Would Gerard have comforted her if he was there? Would he have loved their child as much as he’d claimed to love her? Or had the entire thing been a game to him? A joke at her expense? Ian pulled his chair closer to the bed and sat down next to her.
“I can’t imagine what you were hoping to find in Edinburgh, Lizzy, but I’m sure this wasn’t it, and I know this must be hard for you.”
“You don’t know a thing about me,” she snapped. His gentle expression only made her anger swell.
“You’re right. But I know what it’s like to have things you’re depending on fall through.”
Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks again, but she wouldn’t allow it. He may have said the right words, but the strong usually did. Lizzy wouldn’t allow herself to be weak in front of him ever again.
“Just until I know the baby is all right. Not a minute longer.”
Ian climbed to his feet. “I’ll start getting things ready.” He pulled out his cell phone and went into the hallway.
When she was sure he was out of earshot, the tears came. She cried for her baby, and how frightened she was that everything would go wrong. She cried for her future because every carefully laid plan she’d ever made had disintegrated into nothing over the last five months. Mostly she cried for Gerard, a man whose name she’d only learned that morning, but whose face and touch she couldn’t forget. And now she’d never feel again.
***
Lizzy turned her face away from the tray the nurse, Peyton, set on her bedside table. The glass tabletop was far too small for the weight of the tray, another heaping helping of plain porridge with a side of oily, pan-fried fish. Peyton called them kippers, and it was the fourth serving she’d offered Lizzy in as many days
, claiming the omega-3s in the fish were good for the baby’s brain development. They probably were, but she couldn’t stomach them. Literally.
On the first two days, Lizzy shoveled half-full spoonfuls of the porridge into her mouth and forced herself to swallow. On the third day, she’d been hungry enough to chance a bit of the fish, which she’d regretted when her stomach roiled and only quick thinking and a nearby wastebasket kept her from vomiting onto the carpet of Ian’s guest bedroom. Breakfast wasn’t her only meal of the day. In fact, she’d eaten more during her four-day stay in Ian’s guest room than she had in a few weeks. Ian saw to the rest of Lizzy’s meals, and his philosophy was it was better that she ate a plate of less-than-healthy fare than starved herself refusing a healthy plate.
The interior of Ian’s house, like his office, was more comfortable than the outside suggested. Shining hardwood floors and white crown molding contrasted with the bleak gray stone exterior. She’d only had a brief moment to look at the house as Ian guided her from the front door to the guest room. Each room was tidy and decorated with professional precision. The perfectly placed expensive knick-knacks made her miss the organized chaos of her apartment. Most of the house had the same peppery aroma of Ian’s cologne, but the guest room smelled of vanilla and orange, a warm smell that made the room feel comfy, but did nothing to cover the twinge of kippers in the air.
“I’m not hungry,” she said.
Peyton’s brow furrowed, and the jolly smile melted from her face. The two women had spent Lizzy’s confinement locked in a subtle battle of wills. The first round, a small fight over whether she needed an IV or could manage her hydration alone, had been a tie. The IV never entered Lizzy’s veins, but Peyton and Ian both strictly monitored her fluid intake. Lizzy won the battle of the bedpan cleanly, though she wasn’t proud that she’d resorted to implying that spills might ruin Ian’s expensive mattress. The all-important bout over a laptop, however, went decidedly in Peyton’s favor. The nurse deemed the risk too great. Ian refereed that particular fight and sided with the nurse. Lizzy still hadn’t forgiven him for taking Peyton’s side.
“You have to eat, Lizzy. The baby gets its nutrients from you.”
Lizzy twirled the edges of the quilt between her fingers. “I can eat later, when my stomach is feeling better.”
Peyton set her hands on her narrow hips. “It’s called morning sickness, not all-day sickness.”
“M-O-U-R. Not M-O-R.” Lizzy’s eyes wandered up to the recessed lighting above her bed, a desperate bid to keep them off the nurse’s face. Peyton knew the best way to ensure Lizzy’s cooperation was to tell her the baby’s health depended on it. Even now, Lizzy’s mind calculated how many bites she needed to force down her throat.
“The baby won’t get any nutrients at all if I throw it all up,” she said.
Peyton scooped a spoonful of the congealed oatmeal and held it in front of Lizzy’s mouth. “Just try a bite. A little won’t hurt.”
Lizzy’s blood boiled. The truth was, the problem wasn’t the food. Her baby needed nourishment, and so did she if she was going to heal. She would eat with Ian when he came back from work, as she did every night. They still didn’t have much to say to one another beyond awkward small talk, but she looked forward to the visits. Ian’s easy demeanor brought with it a wave of calm that eased her stomach. It was the only bright spot in her dreary days stuck in the bed.
Peyton rested her hand on top of Lizzy’s. “I’m not your enemy. I want the same thing as you. For you to have a healthy pregnancy.”
Lizzy jerked her hand away. It wasn’t Peyton that had her on edge. It was the walls, the furniture, and the pattern on the worn quilt. The small details over which she had no control that made up every facet of her life now. She was sick to death of them. But Lizzy had nowhere to direct that frustration except at the nurse.
“What I want is for you to leave.”
“All right, Lizzy. I’ll bring you some books in the meantime.”
“No, I just want to sleep.” More importantly, she wanted the rest of the morning free from Peyton’s hovering.
Peyton didn’t bother to hide her disappointment as she left the room. Lizzy felt a twinge of regret, but she pushed it aside. Asking Peyton to leave was her last resort, and the only one that worked. Peyton always left when Lizzy demanded it, and it bought her time to think. Peyton wasn’t the enemy. Neither was Ian. But they were both part of Lizzy’s loss of control.
