His Heir, Her Honor (12 page)

Careful not to disturb Carlos, she reached into her purse on the bedside table and fished free her cell phone. The scent of roses from their bath filled the room, a much sweeter scent than those chlorine-tinted recollections.

Things were different now, damn it. All the same, she resisted the temptation to crawl under the covers and spoon against his back. She needed to take care of a niggling detail.

Before she surrendered her guard fully to her future husband, she needed to call her parents.

Tiptoeing, she left the room, closing the door softly, before curling up in the window seat to place her call, nerves pattering. She knew they would be happy, but she'd put off the conversation because she had a tough time reconciling herself to a lifetime with a man who had held back from her in so many ways, a man who would never have chosen this life for himself if she
hadn't gotten pregnant. She thumbed “seven” on her speed dial and waited through so many rings she almost gave up. Then—

“Hello?” Her mother's voice cut through the static of the distant connection of her parents' “anniversary” cruise. She hadn't been exactly truthful when she'd told Carlos she couldn't call them. It had been one thing to hold the baby news close for a while, another matter to keep an established pregnancy and an impending wedding from her mother.

“Mom, it's me.” She hugged her knees, her nightgown draping her legs.

“Lilah, honey, it's so great to hear your voice,” her mother said enthusiastically, not even mentioning the hour or how the call must have woken her. “Let me get your father on the phone too.”

“Mom, no, really.” Her head fell to rest against the warm windowpane. “You don't need to disturb him.”

“Don't be silly.” Her voice faded as she must have pulled the receiver from her face. “Darren? Darren, wake up. It's Lilah.”

Her father's voice rumbled along with the rustle of sheets in their cruise ship cabin. How her parents managed to stay together she couldn't imagine and didn't want to dwell on overlong with her own hastily conceived wedding on the horizon.

“Okay,” her mother said, back on the line. “I'm switching you to speakerphone.”

“Mornin', pumpkin,” her father said groggily.

There wasn't a breath deep enough to prepare her to say the words she never thought she would say to her parents. “Mom, Dad, I'm getting married….”

 

His wedding day was overcast, but he was a man of science, not superstition.

Carlos stood by his father's hospital bed in the island clinic, Lilah beside him. His brothers, his sister and their significant others gathered in a corner. Limited visitation rules were out the window for the duration of what promised to be the shortest service on record. A priest waited at the foot of the bed, looking a bit confused as to whether he'd been called for last rites rather than a marriage.

Enrique struggled to sit up straighter. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

Startled, Carlos looked at his father, then realized the old man was speaking to Antonio. The youngest Medina son was the donor match—he would give a lobe of his liver—he would save their father's life. Something Carlos couldn't do in spite of all his medical degrees.

“Absolutely certain,” Antonio answered from beside his wife.

Enrique slid the pocket watch from his bedside table. “You used to play with this when you were a boy. I want you to have it. It is a small thing to give you in exchange for a piece of your liver—”

“Thank you. I'll keep it until you're well enough to need it again.” Antonio took the watch, swallowing hard before giving his father a brisk but heartfelt hug. “Besides, you pretty much gave me my liver in the first place.”

“You are a strange boy.” Enrique shook his head, then wheezed for air. His face pale, he continued haltingly, “And Carlos, I have something of yours,
mi hijo.
”

Enrique extended a gnarled hand, a black velvet
box in his grip. Carlos didn't even have to open it to know what rested inside…his mother's wedding rings, a platinum diamond set, meant to be worn by a queen. Meant to be worn by Lilah. He was still stunned she'd actually agreed.

The wary hope in her eyes when she'd said yes made him feel like a first-class ass. He wasn't the romantic hero she dreamed of. He wasn't wired that way, a flaw in himself he'd known from the start. But it was too late to protect her from that any longer. They were tied to each other through the fragile life inside her, and he would do his best to make sure she never realized the bad deal she'd made. Taking the box from his father, Carlos turned to Lilah with a king's ransom worth of gems in his hand.

L
ilah twisted the platinum diamond ring set around and around on her finger, hardly able to process all that had happened in the past thirty-six hours since she and Carlos had exchanged “I Dos” at the island clinic. Now, she and most of the Medinas paced in a private waiting area at the Jacksonville hospital where Enrique had been transferred for his transplant.

While she wasn't a big fan of preferential treatment, she understood how much mayhem their presence would have caused had they been placed in the public waiting area. The Medina fame should not intrude on someone else's crisis.

And she had to admit the quiet for their own emergency was helpful. Her nerves were fried. In her job as a hospital administrator, she'd witnessed so many
families facing similar ordeals, but she'd never been on this side of the surgery.

Tests, doctors, plans had filled the past day and a half to the point of exhaustion. For the two nights prior, she and Carlos had made intense love before falling asleep. Any honeymoon plans, even any talking would have to wait. Right now their world was tightly focused into these four walls, with antiseptic air and bad coffee.

The door opened and Antonio's wife, Shannon, walked into the waiting room. She'd been sitting with her husband as he awaited surgery. “Enrique would like to see you.”

Carlos, Duarte and Eloisa stood in sync from the steel and pleather sofa.

“No…” Shannon shook her head. “He wants to see Lilah.”

Surprise held her still as a Red Cross volunteer pushed a cart full of books and magazines past the open door.

“Me?” Lilah asked. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely,” Shannon said, tucking a limp strand of blond hair back into her hair clamp.

Carlos, her
husband—
how strange that word still felt—shot her a quizzical look before squeezing her hand with encouragement. Standing, she smoothed her dress. While she'd met Enrique just before the surreal wedding ceremony in his room at the island clinic, there hadn't been much time for “get to know you” chats.

A lump lodged in her chest as she realized this could be her only opportunity to speak to him.

She scrounged for composure as she walked closer to the ICU room in front of the nurse's station. Tapping on the door, she waited, the low murmur of staff mingling with the
beep, beep, beep
of medical equipment.

Through the glass window, she saw the critically ill king with a nurse sitting vigil. Enrique raised a hand, IV taped in place, and waved her into the room weakly.

The nurse excused herself quietly and shifted her post to the hall side of the window. Lilah stepped deeper inside the ICU unit.

“Shannon said you wanted to see me.” She wasn't sure what to call him. “Your Majesty” seemed awkward given they were relatives.

“You may call me
Padre,
like my boys do,” he said in a raspy voice as if reading her mind. Or perhaps he was just an intuitive man. “Sit.”

Sit?
She stifled a smile at his brusque order, so like his son. Lilah settled into the chair beside his bed. “What did you wish to speak to me about?”

“You are a lawyer. Look at this.” He pointed to a folder on the bedside table.

Curious, confused, she opened the manila folder and found… “Your will?”

“I want you to read over it,” he insisted.

Clasping the papers to her chest, she studied his eyes for some clue as to why he'd made such a surprise request. “You must have the best of attorneys. Why are asking me to review it?”

“Do not worry. I am not suffering from diminished capacity,” he said with a wry grin, his eyes sharp in spite of his critically ill state.

“Your sense of humor is certainly still intact, even if it is a bit twisted.” She tapped the folder. “I will read your will if that's what you wish.”

“I do.” He nodded once. “And before I go into surgery I want to dictate an amendment. I need you to witness it.”

The legalese of a king's last will and testament had to be intense. There hadn't been a class on this in law school, and it wasn't something she'd come across in Tacoma, Washington. “Again, I will advise you that you have attorneys in place who are far better versed in your holdings and unique situation.”

“Are you going to ask me about the amendment?”

“You will tell me when you're ready.” She pulled the pen clipped to the top of the folder and found a legal pad underneath the typed pages.

“You are a patient woman, a necessary quality when dealing with Carlos.”

She met and held his eyes. “I hope your decision to have the surgery gives you both a second chance.”

“He did not leave me much choice when he told me about the baby you are carrying. I never thought I would live to see Carlos's child.” The old man's dark eyes blurred with unshed tears. “While nothing can erase what happened to my Beatriz and to Carlos, there is healing in knowing my decision to send my family away did not cost Carlos everything.”

Lilah struggled to process that, but her brain was still stuck on the first part. He knew about the baby? She and Carlos had agreed to wait until after the surgery to tell his family. Hadn't that meant waiting to tell his father too? Perhaps she'd misunderstood Carlos.

And she really hoped she'd misunderstood Enrique.

Ungluing her tongue from the roof of her mouth, she sought clarification. “He told you about the baby to persuade you to have the transplant surgery?”

A smile kicked into one cheek, a laugh rumbling the old monarch's chest until he began coughing. A tear trickled free and he brushed it aside with an impatient
swipe. “He certainly did, the very second he set foot on the island. I have to admit I did not think anything could convince me, but Carlos, he is every bit as Machiavellian as his father. Now let us go about writing that child into my will, even though it is my heartfelt hope that I will survive this procedure.”

And Carlos hadn't once mentioned to her that he'd twisted the king's arm. If he'd even hinted as much to her—if Carlos had shared anything of his heart and his feelings about his father's grave condition—she might have been able to overlook the fact that he was walling her out emotionally. But she hadn't been given access to Carlos's heart any more than ever. It was like he was still staring at her across that kitchen with the scent of frying bacon in the air and his cold, cold eyes warning her what they shared hadn't meant all that much to him.

As they'd flown to the island, she'd wondered what he wanted from her. Now she knew.

Bottom line, he'd used her.

The wary optimism she'd been feeling since exchanging vows faltered at Enrique's words. Had every one of those proposals been about fulfilling a dying father's wish to see his son settled? About giving Enrique a reason to hang on?

She'd thought the lack of love talk from Carlos meant nothing. That his actions spoke louder. And, sadly, that was true. With Enrique's revelation still fresh on her ears, she knew. Carlos had only married her to ensure his father would have the surgery, that he would fight to live.

How ironic. She wasn't so different from her mother, after all. In spite of all her best intentions she'd allowed herself to be blinded by her feelings for Carlos. And
God, yes, even with hurt and anger coursing through her, she couldn't deny how deeply she loved Carlos Medina. Her husband. The father of her child.

She also couldn't deny the truth staring her in the face. Her marriage was a sham.

 

Nine hours later, Carlos sagged back in his seat in relief as his father's surgeons left the waiting area. The procedure was a success. Both his father and Antonio were in stable condition. Enrique wasn't out of the woods, but he'd made it over a substantial hurdle.

Eloisa cried tears of relief on her husband's shoulder. Even reserved Duarte was smiling, hugging his fiancée hard. Shannon was already sitting with Antonio in recovery.

Carlos turned to his new bride. Finally, finally, they could celebrate. Her brittle smile gave him pause. Something had been off with Lilah since she'd returned from his father's room. But she'd denied as much, telling him she was simply concerned about Enrique. That they should all focus on the surgery and nothing else. And he had. For nine long, gut-wrenching hours, that had been all he'd thought about.

But with the good news from the king's doctor easing his fears for his father, Carlos now had the clarity to see something was definitely wrong.

She touched his knee lightly. “I'm glad your father and brother both came through so well. If you don't need me anymore, I would like to go back to the hotel.”

“You must be tired.” He hadn't considered what a physical toll this would take on a pregnant woman. As a doctor, he should have known better. He should
have been looking out for her. “Of course. I'll drive you over.”

“It's okay.” She flinched away from his touch. “I can get there on my own. You stay here where you're needed.”

Before he could sort through her words, she started down the tiled corridor, weaving around an aide rolling a laundry cart. What the hell was going on?

She hadn't said anything specific that he could fault. She had every reason in the world to be exhausted. But in the short span of their marriage, not once had she left his side without a kiss. A squeeze of his hand. Some gesture of warmth he'd already grown accustomed to. Now, something in her eyes shouted anger.

Hurt.

And he'd seen that look in her eyes before, a little less than three months ago. She'd stepped into his kitchen—wearing his shirt and looking so damn right in his clothes, in his house, in his life that he'd lost it. He'd shut her out.

Hell. He'd done exactly what he was doing now. He was letting her walk away.

Carlos charged after her, cursing under his breath at his bum leg that made catching her painful and slow.

Finally, he called out, bracing a hand against the hall wall. “Lilah? Lilah, stop.”

She slowed and turned silently beside the gleaming stained glass of the hospital chapel door.

Limping, he closed the distance between them in the deserted late-night corridor. “What's really going on here?”

“Just what I said.” She folded her arms over her chest,
pulling her cotton dress tighter over her full breasts. “I'm returning to the hotel.”

“Wait and I'll come with you,” he repeated his offer from earlier.

“There's no need to pretend anymore, Carlos.” Her voice was low and tight, her emerald eyes so sad they sliced right through him. “I'm not going to spill the beans to a critically ill man.”

Unease scratched at his gut. “I'm not sure I understand what you mean.”

Blinking fast, she looked around impatiently, then tugged him into the chapel. Her eyes glinted with a deep hurt. “Your father told me how you persuaded him to get the surgery. How you gave him hope with this baby.”

He couldn't deny what she'd said, but he needed to figure out something to diffuse the sadness radiating off her. “Is it so wrong to want to do whatever it takes to give my father a reason to live?”

“Whatever it takes?” She laughed once but her face was devoid of any humor. “We shouldn't have this discussion now. We're both wiped out, and you should be with your family.”

“I'm here with you.”

“For how long?” She stopped short and held up her hands, a row of candles behind her casting a glow around her. “Forget I said that.”

“No,” he said tightly. Yes, he'd maneuvered the situation, but in a way that was best for everyone. “We got married, and pardon me if I don't see where that makes me a bad guy.”

She backed away from him, deeper into the dimly lit chapel. “I blame myself, too, you know. I was so gullible in believing your quick turnaround in accepting
the baby. I mean really, it's only been what? Less than a week since I confronted you in your office and you denied your own child.”

Her tearful words pierced through bit by bit until he realized… “You actually believe I had some ulterior motive for marrying you?”

“Your father refuses to have surgery, then you magically give him a reason to live, thanks to this life inside me that you've never felt any connection to at all.” She clutched the end of a wooden pew.

He couldn't even refute her. She was a woman of honor and he'd treated her so dishonorably he was ashamed. He'd thrown away this chance to have a life with the child he'd never thought he would have and the loss gutted him. This offspring would be an even greater miracle than his recovering the use of his legs, and instead of doing everything in his power to ensure that child's future, he'd spent the last week driving away the woman who carried his legacy.

“Lilah, I'm sorry,” he said simply, sincerely.

“Well, Carlos.” She backed away. “You're a little too late, because I'm not so sure I can believe you anymore.”

Stunned by the way the day had gone sour so quickly, he watched her turn away, clearly dismissing him. Leaving him with no room for doubt.

His new bride had dumped him.

 

As Carlos's uneven footsteps faded, Lilah sank onto a wooden pew, her legs giving out. She raked her wrist under her nose, sniffling up the tears and getting a noseful of scented smoke from the half-dozen candles
burning by the door. Had she really just tossed away her husband of two days?

She'd kept her silence during the surgery and had planned to wait before packing her bags. Except Carlos had pressed her until the words fell out, until finally she was honest with him the way she should have been right from the start. She never should have stayed silent for months.

What a mess she'd made of her life. She thumbed the wedding set around and around on her finger, the beautiful rings that had come with such hope. A family heirloom that also cost a fortune and didn't belong to her. She needed to return it before she left the hospital.