Pregnant with the Prince's Child (5 page)

Or at least until Mykal’s last few years came back to him and he realized that she was his wife—and that he hated her.

She woke up feeling odd. For a moment, she looked around, disoriented. Where in the world was she? And then it flooded back to her and she jerked upright. The bed was empty. Where was Mykal?

She heard water. A shower. The bathroom.

Leaping to her feet, she raced to the bathroom door and flung it open without thinking twice.

“What the heck do you think you’re doing?” she demanded into the steamy room.

“Well, hello to you, too.” He leaned around the shower curtain, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Care to join me?”

She drew in a sharp breath, realizing this must seem odd to him. At the same time, the sight of his naked body, which was clear at the edge of the shower curtain, did nothing but bring back delicious memories. It was a body she knew only too well—but he didn’t know that.

“You’re not supposed to do anything without support,” she said crisply, making it up as she went along, but pretty sure she had the melody right, if not the exact words. “I’m here to help you. Any sudden moves could kill you!”

He made a face. “Okay, take it easy. I’m not suicidal. But I can make some decisions for myself.”

“Not until you clear them with me.” She might have gone over the top, but she was genuinely worried. He was being reckless. She had to find a way to make him think things through before he acted.

“Clear them with you?” He looked at her as though she were a slightly annoying insect he could bat away at will. “Sorry. I don’t mean to be rude, but you’re nothing to me. You’re an employee.”

Something choked in her throat. He was right, of course. She was nothing to him. Not anymore. She started to turn away, but he seemed to regret his harsh words.

“Wait a minute,” he said, calling her back.

She stopped and glanced back at him, hoping he couldn’t see how much he’d hurt her. She had no right to be hurt. She was nothing to him. But there was one problem. He was still everything to her. She just needed time to train herself not to care. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned back toward him and waited for his explanation.

“I apologize,” he said. “That was uncalled for.” He smiled at her, then turned off the water and leaned out. “And anyway, I need you here to hand me a towel.”

She made a face, but did as he asked, handing him a nice thick one. He dried himself behind the shower curtain, then wrapped it around his waist and stepped out onto the bath mat, being careful and a bit tentative, but able to manage it on his own. And looking proud of himself for it.

About then she told herself she really ought to be backing out of the bathroom. Ordinarily, with a stranger, she would have been long gone. But being here like this with Mykal felt natural and familiar. And so here she was.

She should have gone. But her body didn’t seem to be obeying orders from the top right now. Every piece of her attention was being soaked up by the sense of the beautiful man standing before her. A few weeks in a coma didn’t seem to have sapped away any of that long, lean muscle mass that worked together to form a hard, sleek classic statue of a man, and the memory of what his strong arms had felt like as they tightened around her took her breath away. Her gaze trailed from his wide shoulders down across his gorgeous chest with its fine mat of dark hair.

This was the man she had loved with a crazy passion such a short time ago. Something inside, some insane impulse, told her to throw herself into his arms. That he would remember if she only held him and kissed him like she used to. That all would be forgiven and they would laugh together and make love together and blot out all the bad times as though they had never happened. It was worth a try. Wasn’t it?

Everything in her yearned to take the chance.

But then she looked up into his eyes and what she saw there stopped her cold. There was no love. There was no memory. There was only a faintly amused look of surprise. He thought she was being overwhelmed by his manly presence, and he was right. Only, he thought she was an employee who could be flirted with, to a point, but needed to be kept at arm’s length. And she wasn’t.

Taking a deep breath, she tried to get her bearings and get back to the job at hand.

“Uh…” She swallowed hard and lifted her chin, blinking in the light. “Listen, playing Russian roulette is not just a fun option. It’s risking your life. And I’m supposed to make sure you don’t do that.”

His frown was stubborn. “But that’s just it. It’s
my
life. It belongs to me. Not you. Not the doctors. Not the wise guys at the castle. Just me.”

He was right, but it made her want to cry. She couldn’t explain to him why she felt she had a stake in this situation. She couldn’t tell him much.

He hitched up the towel and gave her a look of pure skepticism. She drew in her breath, startled by his distrust. Still, he was so beautiful, she was tempted to start letting her gaze travel over him again, a simple, guilty pleasure. But his look suddenly hardened, as though he’d remembered she was an interloper and wasn’t sure why she was still hanging around.

“So let’s get this straight,” he was saying. “I’ll do things at my own pace. You can give advice. But you’re not going to set any agendas. I’ll do that.” He gave her a challenging look. “No rules.”

She nodded reluctantly. “Okay.” She drew in a deep breath. “But…”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “This is my game. I’ll play it my way. If you can’t handle that, it’s time for you to go.”

CHAPTER FOUR

J
ANIS
’
S
pivot wasn’t graceful but at least she didn’t fall on her face, shaky as she was. He couldn’t have been clearer. He wanted her gone. She headed back into the room and reached for her satchel. This time she really would go. If he wanted to risk ruining his life, she wasn’t going to try to stop him.

She stopped and looked around the room, making sure she wasn’t leaving anything. She was angry and feeling wounded. She’d only been trying to help. She’d had enough.

Where would she go? She wasn’t sure. It was getting pretty late. This was a nice neighborhood. Maybe there was a hotel nearby. Maybe. If not, she would wander around until she got her bearings. She only hoped she wouldn’t have to end up sleeping under a bridge in the cold.

One last glance back over her shoulder and she was stepping out the door. And that was the moment she heard his gasp of pain.

She was back in the room in a flash. He was leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes closed.

“Oh, no, oh, no,” she whispered like a prayer as she rushed to help him. He’d managed to put on pajama bottoms, but his chest was still bare. She quickly slipped under his shoulder and became a crutch for him.

“What happened?” she asked.

His mouth twisted into something resembling a sort of grin, but he shook his head. “I’m just too damn weak to support myself once the pain starts shooting through me,” he muttered, sounding resentful.

“Lean on me,” she told him firmly. “Come on. I’ll get you back into bed.”

He felt like heaven, even this way—all hard muscle and slick skin. She turned her face toward him and took in his familiar smell and then wished she hadn’t. Emotion came surging up her throat. She’d missed him so.

She hardened her heart and forced herself to hold him steady as they made their way across the floor. And then she had him at the edge of the bed and he groaned as he slid down onto the covers.

For just a moment, she caught a glimpse of his back, at the horrible red scarring, and her heart lurched. Horror shivered through her and then she steadied herself and thought of basics instead of pain.

Where was his brace? He should be in it. And surely he’d had bandages on the wounds when he’d been brought in here. He must have taken them off when he went into the shower. Should he have done that? She highly doubted it. But there wasn’t much she could do about it right now. He’d been very clear. This was his game. Carefully, she pulled the sheets from under him and then pulled them over and tucked him in, looking down at him anxiously.

He was looking up at her. He didn’t smile, but there was something going on behind his crystal gaze.

“Okay,” he said roughly. “Just let me rest a minute.”

She nodded, thankful he seemed to be tired but largely okay. She resisted the impulse to tell him to wiggle his toes and prove nothing had touched his spinal cord at this point. Making a quick trip back into the bathroom, she saw where he’d thrown away the old bandaging. She opened the cabinet and grabbed a round of tape and a package of fresh gauze pads, snagged the brace and took it all back out into the bedroom.

His eyes were open and he looked alert, but he shook his head when he saw what she had.

“I want to let air get to it,” he told her.

She hesitated, not sure that was a good idea, but she couldn’t argue with him, could she? With a sigh, she put her supplies down and sank onto the couch.

“You always have to do it your way, don’t you?” she grumbled.

He was feeling better by the minute and he managed a lopsided smile. “Is it that obvious?” he asked. “I’d almost think you knew me well.”

That was putting it mildly. It was very strange to realize that he didn’t remember anything about the last two years, and especially that he didn’t have any of the past they’d shared in his system. They hadn’t been together long, but it had certainly changed her life. To think any changes he’d gone through were lost, or reversed, or whatever had happened to them, was unsettling to say the least. She didn’t like it. It just might be that when he remembered, he would hate her again. But that would be better than not remembering and being untouched by all they had gone through together.

The way he was watching her, his head back, his eyes half-closed, she wasn’t sure what he was thinking. The seconds stretched out longer and longer. He didn’t speak, but he kept looking at her. She bit her lip, nervous but ready to deal with whatever he was getting ready to throw at her. Somehow she knew it was coming.

But when he finally spoke, his question was awkward for her, but rather ordinary in its way.

“Are you married?” he asked at last.

Her heart lurched, but she managed to hide it. “Yes,” she said quickly. “Yes, I am. But we’re pretty much separated right now.”

“I see.” He nodded slowly. “The war.”

“Yes. The war.” She almost laughed aloud. “Blame it on the war.” Why not? The war had been the supposed reason behind everything in their relationship so far.

He frowned. “I was in the war. So they tell me. I don’t remember.” He twitched as though he wasn’t really comfortable. “They say I did some good things, but I guess I’ll never know for sure.”

“Well, of course,” she said with a smile that quickly turned bittersweet.

Something told her that he knew, without having to be told, that he’d been brave and honorable. It was the essence of who he was. And it was also why they were so badly matched. The ache in the bottom of her heart seemed to throb more painfully than ever. You could change your mind, you could change your behavior, but you couldn’t change your bloodline.

“When do you go home?” he asked.

“I was just leaving when you collapsed,” she said defensively. “I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

He frowned at her, seeming furious all of a sudden. “Why would you go?” he demanded. “Isn’t it your job to stay here with me?”

“Not when you kick me out like you did.”

“Kick you out?” He obviously thought she was making things up. “I would never kick you out. I need you. Has anyone made up a room for you?”

“No.” She looked at him, exasperated and confused. “Actually, I haven’t told anyone I need one yet. I thought…”

He moved impatiently. “Get Boswell in here. He’ll make sure you have good accommodations. I’m surprised he didn’t take it upon himself to do it already.”

She stared at him blankly. “Boswell?”

“Our butler.”

She wrinkled her nose. “I thought his name was Griswold.”

“Oh.” He grimaced as though he’d just remembered something best left to the shadows. “That’s right. Kylos replaced the entire staff for some ungodly reason.” He frowned fiercely at her. “Do you know why he did that?”

“Uh…no.”

“Neither do I.” He sighed, looking restless. “Poor old Boswell. I wonder what’s happened to him? He was here from the time I was a toddler. Practically part of the family.”

“Well, now you’ve got Griswold. But he went home at nine o’clock.”

He stared at her, nonplussed. “Went home! What the hell’s a butler doing going home? Doesn’t he live here, in the house?”

She threw up her hands and laughed at him. “I don’t know. He’s your butler.”

The situation seemed to bother him. “Boswell wouldn’t have left his post,” he muttered to himself.

She nodded, sure that was true. But then, she’d never had a butler. The thought made her want to giggle. She only hoped it wasn’t plain old hysteria threatening.

Because this entire situation was strangely weird and getting weirder. She certainly felt tugged in two directions. She had a deep underlying feeling she ought to have kept going once she was on her way out a few minutes before. And at the same time, she wanted to stay. She wanted to make sure he was okay. Not only was she worried about his condition, but there was also something about his brother that didn’t sit well with her.

Or was she rationalizing again?

“Hey,” she said as she noticed he was sitting up and beginning to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “What are you doing now?”

He stopped, eyeing her with a certain cool moodiness. “I’m doing whatever I feel like doing. And right now, I’ve got a yen to see my old house.”

“You mean, this one?”

He nodded. “If I’ve got another, I don’t remember it.” He gazed at her levelly. “I’m counting on you to be my crutches. To catch me when I fall. Okay?”

She was tempted to argue with him but she knew it would do no good. “Sure,” she said wryly. “I’m adjustable. That’s why they pay me the big bucks.”

“Don’t go expecting diamonds and pearls from me,” he said, teasing. His grin was lopsided. “But play your cards right and if this royal thing comes through, I might be able to buy you an iced latte one of these days.”

“I’m excited,” she said, a trace of sarcasm showing. But she was smiling as she rose to help him up. He leaned on her lightly with one hand on her shoulder and they walked slowly out onto the beautifully finished maple floors on into the foyer with its marble inlays. She took the time to look around and appreciate how much care someone had taken in making this home a beautiful showplace. The fact that the décor was about fifty years out-of-date didn’t matter. The warmth and character of the home shone through.

He took her through the study and into the library, where the walls were filled with floor-to-ceiling, glass-enclosed bookcases full of books. They strolled through the kitchen and she realized it had only been the butler’s pantry she’d visited before. The central kitchen was huge with large ovens of all kinds and a refrigerator that took up one wall.

“We used to have huge parties,” he told her. “And people staying for the weekend. There was always something going on. But that was before…” His voice seemed to trail off.

“Before?” she asked, but he ignored her and went on, pointing out the herb garden from the kitchen window.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he said. “You can see almost the whole estate laid out in front of you from my old room.”

She thought she’d caught signs already that he was flagging a bit. “Mykal, do you think you should?”

“Sure I should.” He grinned at her. “We’ll take the elevator.”

“You have an elevator in your house?”

“Sure. My father got very weak after…after some financial reverses and this house has three levels.”

The elevator swayed a bit, but it got them there.

“Here’s my bedroom,” he said, leading her in and pointing out the bay window. “I used to sit on this window seat and stare out for hours.”

She could see why. Night had fallen but the place was littered with solar lamps that flickered from the trees and from the side of walkways. It seemed to be an enchanted garden. But she was more interested in looking at the artifacts of his boyhood that filled the shelves, books and trains and bats and soccer balls.

“Your parents left a lot of your things here, almost on display. You know what that means, don’t you?” She looked at him teasingly.

He shrugged. “That they were too lazy to throw it all out?”

“No. That they loved you so much they wanted to hang on to everything that reminded them of you.”

He smiled as though what she’d said had touched him, just a little. “Yeah. My mom likes me.”

She looked at him and thought,
Who wouldn’t?
He was such a charmer. Her eyes met his and she realized he was still thinking about what she’d said. Was he missing his parents? How sad. Funny that he’d never told her about them at all.

“How could they have left this beautiful house?” she asked him.

“You should have seen it when I was a kid. The estate was twice this big and the condition was ten times better. Financial reverses did my father in about fifteen years ago.”

That made her curious. “Where did they go?” she asked. “To the continent?”

“No.” He flashed her a quick look. “Believe it or not, they went to Florida and bought a condominium and have been quite happy ever since. I don’t think they’ll ever come back.” His eyebrows knit together and he looked at her as though he found that hard to believe.

She nodded, suppressing the trace of a grin. “Some people like sunshine on the water.”

“As opposed to fog and rain clouds?” His smile was quick and humorless as he described the usual weather in Ambria to a T. “I suppose.”

They were standing very close and he turned, putting his hand on her shoulder for a moment, as though to balance himself. Then his face changed and he moved closer, leaning in, spreading his fingers over the small of her back.

“You did say you were married, right?” he asked, his voice low and musical.

“Yes.” She looked away. “Technically, I’m married.”

He touched her chin with his finger. “No hope of getting back together?”

She met his crystal gaze and shook her head. “No.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

“Positive.”

“Good.” He pushed her hair back behind her ear. “Because I want to kiss your neck.”

“What?” She reacted, but she didn’t really pull away. How could she when every nerve in her body was reacting as though violins were playing?