Surgeon Prince, Cinderella Bride

by Ann Mcintosh

  He patted the bench beside him, and Sara dutifully sat, turning slightly so she was facing him.

  “With that amount of restraint, couldn’t you find it in yourself to quit entirely?” she asked, although she wanted to smile, seeing Uttam so relaxed.

  “I didn’t want to,” he replied, then took a puff. “Life is short and should, whenever possible, be enjoyed. I know my family worries about me after my health scare, but carrying the burden of rule makes me testy. I think I deserve a little treat every now and then.”

  “Well, kudos to you for cutting back that much and not just starting up again. Most people couldn’t do it.”

  His chin tipped up and, in that instant, Sara saw once more the resemblance between father and son.

  That definitely was where Farhan got his arrogant look but, with Farhan anyway, she knew it wasn’t really arrogance that made him look down that nose of his. He did it when he was in any way unsure, or perhaps embarrassed, and trying to hide it.

  “A royal must have a strong will, and do what is right, no matter how difficult that may be. Farhan has learned this, as I think you have already also.”

  He sounded so snooty Sara was at first taken aback and then had to suppress a giggle. Luckily, the King was studying the end of his cigar, not looking at her, and didn’t notice.

  Uttam fussed with his cigar for a moment, relighting it when it looked as though it might have gone out, and then, wreathed in fragrant smoke, said, “I heard about your discovery while in the south.”

  “Yes,” she replied cautiously.

  “I remember Anupam Raj well. He was still in government service when we came here in the nineteen-sixties. A respectable man, who must have mourned as much for his daughter as Queen Nargis did when Bhaskar disappeared.”

  “Yes,” she said again, not knowing exactly where the conversation was going.

  “Farhan has informed me that Anupam will be coming to live here, in the palace, to be close to you, as his last living relative.”

  That she hadn’t known. She’d thought perhaps Farhan would find a nearby nursing home, where she could go and visit him whenever she wanted, but her heart lifted to know he’d be even closer.

  “I would appreciate you allowing that, Your Majesty,” she said, trying to be as formal as she could, hoping Uttam wasn’t going to refuse.

  He gave her a stern, sideways glance.

  “Of course I will allow it. Neither you nor he had anything to do with your parents’ decisions, and shouldn’t suffer for them.”

  “Thank you.”

  He inclined his head slightly, before continuing, “Your parents, your father in particular, did a great wrong to my family, but now you have the chance to make it right.”

  A bubble of resentment rose in Sara, and she was forced to bite the inside of her lip not to answer back. He’d just said neither her grandfather nor she were responsible for what had happened, but now it was on her shoulders to fix it? How unfair could you be?

  Luckily, before she lost control and responded, Uttam went on.

  “The important thing now is that you give me a grandchild. Only then will it be safe to tell the people who you truly are, and they will know Bhaskar’s line continues, to one day rule the country again.”

  Again she had to bite back a retort, annoyed by the arrogant way he demanded she bear a child, as though it were no more than telling her to cross the grass and pick him a flower. Did he not know how Farhan felt about having children? The urge to tell him, to lay it at his feet in spite, was almost overpowering.

  Unaware of her resentful thoughts, Uttam said, “I was not always the best of fathers. Believe me, I’m fully aware of that fact, and now, in my old age, regret time not spent with my sons.”

  He gazed out over the gardens, his face as stern as ever, but Sara heard the undertone of sorrow in his voice and her anger faded, as he continued, “You know the saying? There are three things in life you cannot recover: the word after it is spoken, the moment after it is missed, and the time after it is gone. It is indeed true.”

  In that moment Uttam wasn’t a king, just a man searching his soul for answers, haunted by the past and all its attendant pain.

  “Yes,” she replied. “It’s very true. But there are still time and moments to come, words yet to be spoken.”

  In the silence that fell between them, broken only by birdsong, her own ghosts stirred, and she wondered if Uttam’s did too.

  The King seemed to shake off his momentary melancholy, reaching over to pat her hand.

  “My consolation is I know Farhan will do much better as a father, and as a king.”

  Cautious, but resolved, she replied, “Perhaps, Your Majesty, those are words you might say to him. Ones neither of you would regret?”

  He turned his stern gaze on her and she saw the pain in his eyes fade to something softer, more contemplative.

  “Perhaps you’re right, Sara, although old habits die hard.”

  “That’s true too, sir, but sometimes we have to forge new ones, for the benefit of ourselves and others.”

  Uttam smiled, and Sara was amazed. Farhan really was the spitting image of his father, right down to the gorgeous smile.

  And how stingy they were with them.

  “My son is lucky to have you at his side. You’ll make a good queen one day, and bear me strong grandchildren. That’s imperative. With my health not being the best, I’d like to see my future heir before I die.”

  Taking that as dismissal, she rose. “I hope that day is a long way away, sir.”

  To her surprise, Uttam rose too, and bent to kiss her on one cheek then the other.

  “No doubt Farhan feels the same way too,” he said, in a jovial manner, turning her toward the French doors inside. “All he really wants to do is be a doctor. I hoped to let him do it as long as possible, away from the royal responsibilities we all find so onerous, but my health cut his time away short. He has much to learn, though, so it’s a good thing he came back when he did, and didn’t wait until he had to take the throne himself.”

  Did Farhan know that was why his father had let him return to Australia? Somehow she doubted it. When Farhan spoke about his father telling him to go back after Ali died, she’d heard deep pain in his voice, a diminishing of the proud self-confidence she associated with him. Hopefully, hearing the real reason, and that his father was truly proud of him, would take away the last vestiges of hurt and constraint between father and son, or at least help to bring them a little closer.

  Although, dealing with two such proud men, it might not.

  Uttam strode around his desk and pulled out his chair as Sara reached for the office door handle, and she had her back to the King when he said, “I was happy to hear that you refused to consider my offer of financial compensation for giving Farhan an heir. It showed good character.”

  She froze, not sure she’d heard the King correctly, and said without turning around, “Excuse me, sir?”

  Uttam went on, as if he hadn’t heard her question, “I would have been willing to pay twice as much to secure peace in our country, but it is better that you do it out of duty rather than financial gain.”

  “Yes, sir,” she murmured, suddenly cold inside.

  It reminded her forcefully of why she was there, how Farhan had viewed her when he’d found out about her. How he’d been sure that giving her money would be the way to get her to agree to his deal. He hadn’t known the money, while welcome, had been only a small part of the reason she’d said yes.

  But maybe he had, when he’d said she should consider the lump sum her inheritance from Bhaskar. In doing that, he’d made her feel she wasn’t selling herself to him but, in fact, would be entering into a mutually beneficial arrangement.

  Besides, it was different now, wasn’t it? Now that he knew her? Surely he could see the money wasn’t that imp
ortant to her? Sure, she’d paid off her student loan, arranged to buy her parents a house and cover the upkeep, but the only other expense she’d taken on had been paying for Nonni’s nurse.

  Yet as she made her way back to their apartments, telling herself Farhan must, by now, know her better than to think she was in it only for the money didn’t really help. Uttam’s final words had dimmed the bright flame of confidence only just lit that morning.

  * * *

  Farhan didn’t get back to the palace until late that evening, but he found Sara waiting up for him. He’d texted earlier to say there was a patient he wanted to monitor a bit longer than usual, a woman who’d undergone a bilateral salpingectomy, but who also had a history of dangerously high blood pressure that didn’t respond as expected to medication.

  “You didn’t have to wait up for me,” he said, holding himself in tight control, refusing to give in to the temptation to go over and kiss her, the way he’d gotten into the habit of doing.

  “I couldn’t sleep anyway,” she replied. “Too much excitement over the last couple of days, perhaps. And I wanted to talk to you.”

  She looked tousled, as though she’d lain down and got back up again, cozy in her plush robe, her legs tucked up under her, Coconut lying across her lap. Farhan’s heart contracted, his stomach ached, and he knew his decision to let her go was the right one.

  He’d always planned to. Even on the days when he’d seemed to think almost exclusively about her, he’d reminded himself she wasn’t meant to stay. That she’d be leaving sooner rather than later.

  Meeting Mr. Raj had simply accelerated the timeline. If she didn’t leave soon, his father would want to tell the people about her origins, and then she’d be trapped. Or, at least, her leaving would be more difficult.

  He hadn’t planned to discuss it with her tonight, had convinced himself to put it off for a while longer, but now, seeing her, wanting her so badly, he knew it had to be soon.

  As Farhan lowered himself into an easy chair, he asked, “Is something wrong?”

  She shook her head.

  “On the contrary. I wanted to thank you for Coconut, and for arranging for my grandfather to come and live at the palace.”

  “How did you hear about that?”

  “It was your father who told me.”

  Surprised at the mention of Uttam, he frowned. “You went to see my father?”

  “He invited me and, of course, I went. It was an interesting talk. Do you know he let you stay in Australia as long as he did because he knew all you wanted was to practice medicine? He knew once you came home, you’d get bogged down by your position as Crown Prince and all the royal duties you’d have to take on.”

  Now it was shock making his eyebrows rise, even as he struggled to maintain a neutral expression. How was she able to get his father, who never spoke of personal matters, to open up that way?

  Then her words struck home, and he only just stopped himself from gasping as his breath caught in his throat. Could that really be the truth? It was almost unfathomable, unbelievable. Yet he knew his father never said anything he didn’t mean, so...

  Desperate to change the subject, unable to discuss it further, he pulled himself together and said, “But I’m sure he didn’t summon you to talk about my time in Australia. What else did he have to say?”

  “He wanted to make it plain he expected me to quickly produce an heir, so he could tell the people about who my father was.”

  Another blow to his composure, which was becoming increasingly difficult to hold onto. Rising restlessly, he strode across to the sideboard and poured himself a finger of Scotch.

  Now, more than ever, he was aware of the need to let Sara go, before it was too late.

  If it wasn’t already.

  Memories of the night before rose, unbidden, into his head. The rush of emotion when she’d turned to him, wanting his comfort; the immediate arousal, as she’d made her delicious intentions known. Her shadowy form above him, the sensation of being enveloped by her sweet, hot body.

  His desire for her didn’t rise slowly, like smoke, to fill him. It was, instead, as though a hidden volcano released all its lava at once to rush through veins and sinews, burning all thoughts but those of her from his head.

  He couldn’t be trusted to do the right thing, to stay away, to keep his distance. It all had to end.

  Taking a swallow of Scotch, he found the strength to turn and face her before he said, “Well, if my father is getting involved, perhaps it’s time to put an end to this game, and have you return home.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  SHOCK TURNED SARA’S insides to ice, and all she could do was stare at his stoic, noncommittal expression in disbelief. The flame of hope, kindled by the connection she felt to him, his actions toward her, waned to a flicker in the face of his words. “What?”

  “I believe it’s the logical thing to do at this juncture. What started as a simple business contract has become something far more complicated, and I think it should end, before we find ourselves in a situation neither of us wants.”

  The little flicker of hope died, leaving Sara cold. So cold she had to clench her teeth to make sure they didn’t chatter.

  When she didn’t reply, Farhan continued, in the same matter-of-fact voice as before, “It’s not as though we ever intended our arrangement to last very long. It’s just been cut shorter by circumstances, and I’ll consider your side of the agreement fulfilled.”

  Rising, she set Coco on the floor and turned her back on Farhan. The little dog whined, coming to lean on her leg, as Sara clenched her fingers together across her stomach. The brief respite from being under Farhan’s unemotional gaze steadied her, allowed her to control the thoughts whirring in her brain.

  When she unclasped her fingers before turning to face him, the blood rushing into her abused digits gave her additional strength.

  “And what if our slip last night has unwanted consequences?”

  An unreadable expression flashed across his face and then, just as swiftly, was gone, leaving Sara to wonder if it had even really existed.

  “We’ll wait to make a final decision until we know whether that is the case or not.”

  Carefully bracing herself so her trembling legs wouldn’t betray her, Sara tried to maintain an air of cool reasonableness, even though inside she was dying slowly, bit by bit.

  Pride wouldn’t let her argue. Especially not in the face of his emotionless, arrogant stance.

  Yet hadn’t she already discovered he was often at his most emotional, his most vulnerable when he cloaked himself in haughtiness? When his chin tipped up and he looked down his nose?

  She glanced at his hands, saw the white knuckles where he gripped the rock crystal glass, the bulge of the other hand fisted in his pocket.

  What was he really feeling? Worried she’d make a scene? Upset his plan had fallen apart? Or was there something else?

  There was no way for her to know, so all she said was, “If that’s what you want.”

  Again there was a flash of emotion, in his eyes this time. Then he looked down at his glass as it rose once more to his lips, and it was lost to her.

  There was nothing more to say, was there?

  She’d turned toward her bedroom, Coco at her heels, when he said, “In case you’re wondering, I’ll compensate you as though you were here for the year.”

  Something snapped inside her. Perhaps it had always been there, this resentment, needing only this final nudge to be released.

  Did no one want her just for herself? For the person she was inside?

  The King saw her as a means to reclaiming his family honor and giving Kalyana an heir.

  Her sisters saw her as a means for them to keep drifting through life.

  Even her parents, who she knew loved her, saw her as an emotional, and sometimes financial, pro
p.

  And now Farhan couldn’t see past her usefulness to the woman who loved him, would do anything for him, if he could only love her in return. Had the nerve to speak to her as though she were nothing but a hireling.

  She deserved better than that, from all of them, and as rage built inside her, determination to get her due rose with it.

  Spinning around, she glared at him.

  “Don’t you dare speak to me about money right now. It’s bad enough knowing your father wanted to pay me to carry your baby, without you getting into the act. If you want the damn money back, I’ll work the rest of my life to make sure you get it, even what you deemed my ‘inheritance.’ I don’t need anything from you. Ever again.”

  He paled, took a step toward her, but she backed away from his outstretched hand. Her chest was tight with anger, pain like a band around her heart.

  “No, I don’t want it back, Sara. I’ll not accept it. Please, hear me out—”

  “No! I could forgive your father for thinking throwing money at me would be effective before he met me, but I’ll never forgive you for degrading my time here, as though money was all I was in it for. I guess it just goes to show I’m better off leaving, since you clearly don’t know me at all.”

  She heard him call her name as she spun around, but ignored him, controlling her steps so as not to run, keeping her head straight, so he couldn’t see her tears.

  The best days of her life had just turned into the worst, and there wasn’t anything she could do about it.

  Yet, despite her pain and anger, Sara sat on the edge of her bed a week after the confrontation with Farhan and cried, as she realized her period had come.

  There would be no baby from her last night of bliss with him.

  In the days leading up to this moment, she’d come to the realization that if she were pregnant, staying in Kalyana would be the right thing to do. She’d seen carrying his child as an out, of sorts; a way to do what she really wanted to do anyway, but without taking responsibility for the decision.