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 an
d 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.
Stretching her legs out on the pew, she studied the diamonds sparkling as they caught and reflected the stained glass windows. She stared until her eyes grew heavy and closed as sleep drew her in. This time, she knew there wouldn’t be any dreams of Carlos waiting to greet her.
The argument with Lilah still reverberating in his head, Carlos watched his baby brother sleep, sitting vigil to give his sister-in-law a break. Sure, Antonio was only eight years younger, but Carlos still saw the kid he’d been when they left San Rinaldo. Carlos held the gold pocket watch in his hand, turning it over and over, remembering another night when their father had given Antonio the antique. They’d been preparing to leave San Rinaldo, and Enrique had told his youngest son to safeguard the timepiece until they met up again.
That long ago day, Antonio had clutched it while wrapping himself in that pewter-colored afghan, telling his brothers the blanket was his shield. The watch was his treasure. He’d been a child trying to find a frame of reference for the unimaginable.
Then the attack had come just two blocks before they reached the ship that was supposed to carry them away from San Rinaldo. They’d been in a park, such a benign place. Duarte and Antonio had thought they were deep in a forest, but their childish minds had misperceived. They’d been so small, everything must have appeared larger than from Carlos’s teenage perspective.
Still, when the attack had started, he’d told Duarte to watch over Antonio. And he, as the oldest, would protect their mother. Duarte had succeeded. Carlos had failed. Now, Antonio had saved their father. The baby boy of the Medina family wasn’t so little anymore. Antonio filled the bed with his bulk, an avid outdoorsman even now that he could kick back in an office if he so chose.
They’d all come a long way since that nightmare escape from San Rinaldo. Yet, at the moment, he could have sworn he was still stuck there, in that day, with a home and family he could never have back.
Was it any wonder he’d screwed up so badly with Lilah?
His brother’s eyes opened heavily, cutting short maudlin thoughts.
Carlos forced a smile and placed the watch on the end table by a cup of ice chips. “Welcome back.”
“Our father?” he croaked out, rustling the sheets with slow shifting, followed by a wince.
“Is fine. Resting comfortably. As you should be doing.” Carlos passed the cup of ice shavings to dampen Antonio’s mouth until his doctor gave the okay for drinking again. “You, my brother, look like hell.”
“Is that any way to talk to the guy who saved the day?” Antonio joked in a raspy voice.
“Ah, now I know you’re all right.”
“Damn straight.” He laughed, then coughed with another wince. “Thanks for sitting with me, but don’t you have a new bride to spend time with?”
“She’s, uh, resting at the hotel.”
Antonio’s eyebrow shot up, his gaze unexpectedly clear. Canny. Too damn shrewd. “You’re a really crummy liar.”
“And you’re a crummy patient.” He passed his brother a small pillow. “Hold this against your incision when you cough. Coughing is good, expands your lungs and keeps you from getting pneumonia. Practice while I find Shannon.” He started to stand.
Antonio clamped a hand on his wrist, his grip surprisingly strong for a guy who’d just been through major surgery. “What’s wrong? And don’t dodge. We know each other too well. You go into doctor mode whenever you’re uncomfortable.”
His baby brother most definitely wasn’t a kid anymore. Still, Carlos didn’t want to unload his problems on someone in his brother’s condition. Although it was unlikely Antonio would even remember given residual anesthesia still seeped through his system.
And hell, he didn’t know what to say to Lilah back at the hotel anyhow.
Carlos sank back into his seat. “Lilah thinks I married her just to make our father have the surgery.”
“Did you?” Antonio asked. “I’m not judging. Just wondering.”
“Partly. But not fully.” Carlos looked at his clasped hands. “She’s pregnant. Apparently I’m not shooting blanks anymore.”
“Congratulations, my brother.” He raised a fist, woozily, but steady enough to be bumped by Carlos’s fist in salute. “So I’m guessing you forgot to tell her you love her. It might not be obvious to the world at large, but to your family it’s apparent how far gone you are for her.”
His eyes slammed shut. Of course he was. Of course he had bee
n since that morning after the fundraiser when he’d run scared from how Lilah tore down walls inside him, how she forced him to step out of the shadows of the past and face the future. Face the risk of loving, of possibly losing that person.
Because, hell yes, he loved her, with a fierceness that rocked him.
“Far gone? That I am.” He couldn’t avoid the truth in his brother’s words. “What makes you think I botched the proposal?”
“You’re a brilliant surgeon and a gifted musician, but when it comes to words?” Antonio shook his head on the pillow. “The years you spent in the hospital cost you communication skills.”
Carlos resisted the urge to snap a sarcastic comment. He’d had enough of people raking him over the coals for one day. Standing, he glanced at his brother’s vitals, happy to distance himself with the role of doctor. “You should rest.”
“And you should listen to me.” His gravelly voice carried an undeniable authority. “Women like to hear the words. Unless you are afraid to say it.”
Carlos raised an eyebrow. “Calling me a chicken isn’t going to work. We’re not kids on a playground.”
“Granted…” Antonio paused for another cough. “But I can’t forget the way it motivated me.”
“Pardon?” Was the anesthesia making his brother incoherent? If so, did that mean he could disregard the love advice too?
Antonio set aside the pillow. “That day we were leaving San Rinaldo.”
“I still don’t know what you mean.” His memories of that day were full of blood and pain. “I just remember… Mother.”
His brother nodded shortly, his face creased with an agony that clearly had nothing to do with incisions or surgery. “But after she died, you got us out of there. You kept us going, even told me to stop being a chicken and move my ass. Duarte and I would have died without you that day.” The steady beep of his heartbeat on the monitor filled the silence as he swallowed another ice chip. “I understand it chaps your hide that you weren’t the one to give an organ to save our dad. But, hell, Carlos, you can’t be the hero all the time. It doesn’t hurt to be a regular guy every now and again.”
His Heir, Her Honor Page 14