by Nina Milne
As if he sensed the problem, he gathered up her clothes without comment or any trace of discomfort and handed them to her, then turned away as she wriggled around under the blankets. Perversely, his tact twanged a nerve—he could at least cast a furtive look in her direction, try to sneak a final glance. Only Marcus didn’t work like that. It was physical satisfaction followed by a walk away without a backward glance.
‘Ready?’ he asked, as if he couldn’t wait to take those first steps.
‘Ready.’
As they both reached the door he halted. ‘April. About last night...’
She shook her head. ‘I told you I agreed to your terms. Hell, I wanted your terms. Now it’s time for the walking away part. We can’t walk away from each other quite yet, but we can walk away from what happened. With no regrets. At all.’
‘Good. Let’s go and see what’s happened.’
Trepidation filled her as he pushed the larder door open and they stepped out. The kitchen was untouched, their barricade still against the door. Swiftly they moved forward, shifted the table and stepped into the corridor.
‘Oh.’
April bit her lip at the sight of the chaos—the walls were drenched and the lounge barricades hadn’t held up. Debris and splintered wood daubed the floor. The lounge was wrecked—the windows completely shattered, everything a sodden broken mess—and the bedroom had fared little better, though the heavy bed remained intact.
For a second sadness pierced her that the idyllic single dwelling a man had made for the woman he loved had come to this.
Yet as she gazed outside it seemed almost impossible to believe. The blue sky was studded with white clouds and the newly risen sun promised a day of heat and balmy breezes.
‘Listen.’
A sound drifted in through the glassless window space: the unmistakable drone of a helicopter.
‘Come on.’
April followed Marcus as he strode across the sand towards the helipad, where a craft bearing the royal crown was coming into land.
A pilot waved and soon alighted. ‘Are you OK?’
‘We’re fine. How bad is the damage?’
‘Bad. The Prince and Princess-to-be are out with the emergency services, but His Highness ordered me to come out here as soon as it was safe to fly, in case you were in trouble.’
‘We’re fine, but we need to get back so this is much appreciated. We’re ready to go.’
‘Um...’ April hesitated. ‘I know it’s important to get back fast, but could we check to see if the food is salvageable? Obviously the food in the freezer will have defrosted, and there is a lot of it. If we took it back we could hand it out...’
Perhaps it was foolish—with Marcus’s wealth he could afford to buy the contents of the freezer a hundred times over. But somehow the idea of leaving food to decay in the heat seemed wrong.
Half an hour later they were airborne. April looked down on the island where she’d experienced so much and a jolt of wonder shot through her. So many emotions had come into play—so many sensations she’d thought she’d never feel again. Even now her skin still hummed with the afterglow of pleasure, even as she braced herself for the aftermath of the storm.
Marcus dropped his phone onto the seat beside him. ‘The community centre got hit—it stood up to the storm, but...’
April felt her blood run cold. ‘Was anyone hurt?’
‘Yes. Mia and Charlie. Gemma and Blake rescued them; they realised they hadn’t been evacuated and went back in. The kitchen wasn’t properly secured; a window had been left open and the gale had shot in and swept things off the shelves. Mia got hit and was knocked out, and Charlie, left to his own devices, crawled off.’
Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, April shivered despite the glare of the sun through the chopper windows. ‘Are they all right?’
‘Yes. Still in hospital for observation, but there is no cause for concern—thanks to Gemma and Blake.’
‘That was brave of them—to go back in.’
‘Yes, it was.’
April frowned—there was pride in his tone and in his stance, but there was something else as well. Pain and bleakness and a flash of self-loathing. Which didn’t make sense unless...
‘If you had been there you would have gone in, but you couldn’t be there.’
‘I know.’
April frowned. He clearly wasn’t beating himself up over his absence. So what was he beating himself up for?
A few phone calls later he said, ‘We’ll go to the community centre first, then visit the hospital, and then we’ll go wherever we’re most needed.’
‘It’s a plan.’
A good plan, that would keep them busy. Already Eden Island had begun to take on a dreamlike quality against the backdrop of how the storm had affected Lycander.
Once they’d arrived at the centre Marcus strode from the chauffeured car and then slowed. For a moment they watched, unobserved.
The building gave off an aura of business and purpose. Groups of teens were busy at restoration tasks, someone had set up some music, and it seemed clear that the community had come together to restore the centre.
‘Marcus!’ A teen dressed in overalls headed at speed towards him, her blonde ponytail swinging. She launched herself against his chest and hugged him. ‘We were worried about you. When you didn’t turn up here we thought...’
‘I’m fine, Gemma. Are you all right? I heard what you and Blake did—you are both incredible.’
‘Thank you. We figured it’s what you would have done.’
April saw his quickly camouflaged wince, but Gemma continued blithely on.
‘If you’d been here. Where were you?’
‘Stranded on an island,’ he explained. ‘But right now it looks like there’s work to do.’
Gemma nodded. ‘Blake and I and some of the others have set up the centre as a makeshift shelter for those whose homes have been destroyed, but obviously we have to make sure it’s safe. We’re also really missing Mia in the kitchen, because people need food. So many of the buildings here didn’t stand up to the storm—there are lots of people who have lost everything.’
Marcus nodded. ‘You’re doing a fabulous job, Gemma.’
‘Thank you. But I’m glad you’re here.’
‘Thanks to April we have some provisions with us, and—’
‘If you like I can take over kitchen duty until Mia gets back.’
The words had come out before April had even realised she would utter them. For a second she wanted to call them back, her instincts telling her not to get involved. She observed life—she didn’t participate.
Yet Marcus’s words echoed in her brain. ‘You have to live your life to the best of your ability.’
‘Really?’ Gemma’s face lit up. ‘Can you cook?’
‘Yes. I can. I’m happy to try and sort out the food donations and then work out what we need and ways to pass excess stuff on before it goes out of date. I’ll talk to Mia as well. If you could give me some helpers, I’ll get the food we do have stored safely and get started.’
‘And I’ll organise an official safety check,’ Marcus said.
April nodded and headed towards the kitchen, rolled up her sleeves and got stuck in, directing the four youths allocated to her by Gemma.
It was a good couple of hours before Marcus entered the kitchen, his face dirt-streaked, his dark hair unkempt—he looked utterly gorgeous and her idiotic heart did a funny little leap.
‘If you’re ready, we could go to the hospital now?’
‘Perfect. Thank you, everyone. I’ll be back tomorrow at about six a.m.’
There was some good-natured moaning, but all four teenagers promised to turn up to help.
Once in the car, Marcus glanced sideways at her. ‘This is good of you, but it’s nothing to do with
your actual job. How will you manage the time?’
‘Kathy will understand that my deadlines need to be flexible.’ In truth, oddly enough, she didn’t care if her editor didn’t understand. ‘I can rearrange anything in my diary. This is more important.’
Five years before a storm had played its part in the wreckage of her life. Without the torrential rain it was possible that, despite his intoxicated state, Dean wouldn’t have crashed the car. Now she was in a position to help, in however small a way. Help others whose lives had been devastated. She wanted to do that.
‘It’s the least I can do. Some of those teens have lost so much, and yet they are still thinking about others. How bad is it elsewhere?’
‘I’ve spoken with Frederick. He’s in the lower district, helping the emergency services evacuate a building with about twenty trapped in it. And Sunita’s set up a nursery/childcare centre at the palace.’
The car soon pulled up at the hospital, and they entered the slightly dilapidated building. But April noted that whilst the décor might lack style it was scrupulously clean, and the staff had an energised, competent air that signalled reassurance.
A nurse directed them to Mia’s ward and ushered them to her bed. She was sitting up, with Charlie next to her, and April’s step faltered, despite the fact that she should have been prepared for this.
‘Marcus.’ Mia’s face lit up, and so too did her son’s.
Charlie scrambled across the bed and Marcus stepped forward to scoop him up. ‘Hey, little fella. I hear you’ve had a bit of an adventure since I saw you last.’
Charlie beamed and promptly grabbed a chunk of Marcus’s hair.
‘How are you, Mia?’
‘I am fine, and more importantly so is Charlie—thanks to Gemma and Blake. I don’t know how to thank them.’
April pulled herself together, took a seat by the bed and soon engaged Mia in conversation about the kitchen and how she could best help.
But all the while she was oh-so-aware of Marcus as he sat on the floor with Charlie. Her heart twisted as she watched them, and sheer relief that Charlie had survived collided with her grief that Edward hadn’t. Both events had been brought about by what seemed like chance—a collision of the planets, a string of circumstances that had resulted in joy and tragedy respectively. A child had lived and a child had died.
A child.
As she gazed at Charlie, so reminding her of Edward, somewhere in the deep recesses of her brain a warning bell began to toll.
Last night they hadn’t used anything...
She pushed the thought away, unable even to contemplate its enormity. Panic circulated in her veins like some deadly virus, and she forced her vocal cords to work, needing spoken words to drown out the reality that buzzed in her brain.
‘So there are more provisions in the cellar?’ she asked.
Mia cast her a curious look. ‘Yes, but I want to tell you about the oven—it is a little temperamental, but all you have to remember is...’
Focus.
But without thought April moved her hand to touch her tummy. Too late, she saw that Marcus was watching her, his dark eyes thoughtful, and she snatched her hand away.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ONE SIMPLE GESTURE and the world had crashed around his head. How could he have been so stupid? Why had protection not so much as occurred to him?
Frantically he cast his mind back.
‘I don’t want to die, whether it is now or in fifty years, wishing I’d taken this opportunity to...to feel something. All bases are covered, I promise. No regrets.’
Had he been fool enough to take ‘all bases are covered’—that ambiguous phrase—as an assertion that she had contraception covered? Why had he not asked...considered...thought? He had no answer—not a one—because back then, cocooned from the storm, all that had mattered was the moment.
Worse than an adolescent.
Panic waved tumultuously in his gut as he tried to assimilate the possibility that April might be pregnant.
Chill out.
There was a chance that he had completely misinterpreted her gesture. He looked at April, noted the pallor of her skin, the twist of her hands in her lap.
Charlie gave a gurgle of protest and Marcus realised he had allowed himself to be distracted from the tower-building game they were involved in. Carefully he balanced the final brick, and with a huge beam Charlie swatted the tower over.
‘Craaaaaaash!’ Marcus said, and was rewarded by another smile.
Before they could embark on a repeat performance, an older woman entered the room. ‘Hi, Mama,’ Mia said from the bed.
‘Hi, sweetheart.’ The woman looked tired, but her smile was full of love. ‘Sorry I took so long. I needed to give Mrs Martini a hand back from the shops.’
‘No problem. Charlie is having a whale of a time.’
Marcus rose to his feet, scooping Charlie up with him. ‘Good to see you again, Mrs Hernandez.’
‘And you.’ She took her grandson, who tumbled happily into her arms.
‘This is April,’ Mia said. ‘She’s going to help out at the centre until I’m better.’
Marcus watched as April came forward and engaged in polite conversation, studying her every feature, the silhouette of her slender body, and he wondered...wondered...wondered.
There was only one way to find out.
Stepping towards the bed, he smiled down at Mia. ‘You take care. I’ll be back to visit soon.’
Minutes later they exited the hospital and April nigh on scurried ahead.
‘I’ll get a taxi back to my hotel and head to the centre first thing in the morning.’ A deep breath. ‘I think, given the circumstances, we can call it a day now. I have plenty for the article and—’
‘Given the circumstances, we need to talk.’
‘Really, we don’t. Are you worried that I’ll write about last night? Of course I won’t—that was between us.’
‘We need to talk. If you want to have this conversation on the street, here and now, fine. Or we can go back to my place.’
For a moment he thought she would make a run for it, and then she shrugged. ‘Fine. We’ll go back to your place.’
There was nothing further to say. The idea of small talk—of any talk apart from the question that burnt his lips—was impossible.
They climbed into the car and Marcus directed his driver to take them home, ignoring the expression of surprise on Roberto’s usually impassive features. After all it was understandable—he had never before taken a woman back to his home, unless you counted Elvira.
As they pulled up outside the luxury penthouse building that he had spent so much money on and so little time in, he realised that it wasn’t really a home—it was a place to stay. A place that represented proof of his wealth and status, showed him how far he had come from the slums of outer Lycander. It was a symbol, a bachelor pad—not a place where anyone would have a child.
Whoa. Hold your horses, Alrikson.
It could be that he had this all wrong and had totally misinterpreted that single gesture.
Yet as they entered his uncluttered lounge, with its vast windowed wall that led out onto a rooftop terrace overlooking Lycander, giving a view of the palace’s spires and the city’s historic landmarks, and he could ask the question, suddenly he no longer wanted to.
Instead... ‘What would you like to eat?’
‘I’m not hungry.’
‘You must be hungry. By my reckoning, neither of us have eaten properly since yesterday. And you need to eat.’
After all she might be eating for two.
The idea wrenched his gut with an emotion he couldn’t catch hold of. Fear, panic, and through all that a silver strand of irrational awe.
‘Why?’ Suspicion curdled her voice.
‘Tomorrow will be a ful
l-on day. I’ll rustle up something.’
‘I thought you couldn’t cook.’
‘I can’t—but I can boil pasta and heat up a sauce.’
As if recognising that he wouldn’t take no for an answer, she nodded. ‘OK. Thank you.’
He gestured to the enormous glass dining table and watched as she perched on a chair and stared out over the rooftops, her gaze averted from his. ‘I won’t be long.’
Half an hour later she looked up from her empty plate. ‘You were right. I did need that.’
Now he knew he could wait no longer. ‘Is there a chance that you are pregnant?’
Her hesitation said it all, and was followed by, ‘I’m sorry, Marcus. I can’t believe I didn’t think...didn’t...’
He could see her agitation as she twisted her hands together and he pushed his plate away, reached out to cover her hands. His heart-rate had accelerated in sheer reaction, he felt disembodied, giddy...
‘You don’t need to apologise. I am as much to blame as you. How likely is it that you’re pregnant?’
‘It’s definitely a possibility, but I just don’t know. My period isn’t always reliable, but I’m due in about a week or so. All I can do is wait.’ Extracting her hands, she rose. ‘I’ll let you know one way or the other, but I expect nothing from you. Last night was my idea and my responsibility.’
‘If you are pregnant the baby is our responsibility.’
The word baby seemed to rock her backwards, her arms wrapped around her midriff. He rose and walked around the table, pulling her resistant body against his, and held her. Despite her rigidity she didn’t push him away, so he stroked his hand down her back, uttering soothing noises.
‘If you are pregnant we’ll work it out. You’re not alone in this, April.’
Words which had had the intent of reassurance instead caused her to stand back and utter a low cry of, ‘No!’
‘What do you mean?’