The Surgeon King's Secret Baby

by Amy Ruttan

  He dashed after Reagan, cursing himself inwardly because he couldn’t call out to her to stop, but he caught up with her quickly and grabbed her arm, holding on to her.

  She tried to shrug out of his grip until she saw it was him and relaxed.

  My son? he signed.

  “Yes.”

  Why didn’t you tell me I had a son? Were you trying to hide him from me? He instantly regretted the words. They were so much like something his father would have said.

  Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you were dead. They told me you were dead. I wouldn’t hide him from you—you know that.”

  He wanted to believe that, but his own mother had tried to hide him from his father when she was pregnant.

  “I never wanted you locked away in the palace, Kainan. I didn’t want you locked away like me. I tried to leave, but I couldn’t hide you from him either,” his mother had said on her death bed. “I just wanted us to be happy. To be free. I didn’t want you to grow up with him as a father.”

  “Why?” He’d felt as if his life was a prison sentence. He was guarded and watched all the time, and though surrounded by people he’d always felt alone. “Why did you tell him?”

  “I had to. I loved him.” His mother had sighed. “I am sorry I am leaving you. You will never be free. Even as the spare. You will never be your own man. I wanted more for you, Kainan. I’m sorry.”

  His mother had died then, and his father had told him woman weren’t to be trusted.

  “Never trust a woman, Kainan. Never.”

  Kainan rubbed his temple, where a pounding headache was brewing.

  Reagan didn’t hide your son from you. She thought you were dead.

  That was little consolation to him at this moment.

  “I have to go see him,” Reagan whispered.

  What is wrong with him? he asked as they waited for the elevator.

  “Cardiomyopathy.” There was a glitter of moisture in her eyes as she cleared her throat. “He was born that way. He was born with a failing heart.”

  Oh, God.

  His heart sank. It was too much. He’d learned he was a father and that his son was dying all in the same day.

  He was no fool. He knew the severity of cardiomyopathy in a child.

  Run. Turn and leave.

  But he couldn’t do that either. He was not the cold, unfeeling man his father had been.

  The elevator dinged as the doors opened, and they stood to the side as people got off, before getting in.

  Kainan didn’t say anything as they rode in silence. Everything was still sinking in.

  He had a son.

  And his son was the Crown Prince of Isla Hermosa.

  He felt bad for inflicting that burden on him. And his son was ill. Cardiomyopathy in an infant was horrific, and Kainan could only assume that he was on the UNOS wait list for a new heart, because that was his only chance at life.

  Reagan led him to the NICU, giving him a disposable gown and mask. He didn’t really hear anything that anyone was saying as he was led into the room.

  In the far corner stood an incubator that was covered with a blue blanket.

  His heart was hammering.

  He had never wanted a child. He didn’t want to sentence any child to a life where he couldn’t live, where he was under constant scrutiny. He’d never wanted a family. Relationships didn’t work. His father and late brother had shown him that. He didn’t want to trap a woman the way his mother had been trapped.

  Reagan raised the blue blanket and Kainan gasped as he saw a baby with dark hair. A baby who looked like him and Reagan.

  A baby hooked up to a machine.

  His heart ached to hold him. It was instant love. It surprised him.

  This child was the future of his country. But how could a voiceless king and a broken-hearted crown prince rule a country that was already broken and bleeding?

  His heart shattered and guilt washed over him. Reagan had done this on her own. He hadn’t been there. He’d failed her. He’d failed them both.

  All Kainan could do was turn and leave.

  His heart was breaking along with his son’s.

  Chapter Two

  THERE WAS SUCH a flurry of activity that Reagan forgot Kainan had followed her in. When Peter was stable again, and she’d spoken to the doctors, she turned to introduce Kainan to Peter’s team. But Kainan had slipped out.

  Where did he go?

  That was her first thought, and then she was disappointed that he’d left. He hadn’t even come over to the incubator. She’d lifted the blanket and he’d looked once, before she’d turned her attention to the nurse. Then she’d drowned out everything else. Her main focus had been her son.

  With every day that she stepped through those doors, rinsing her hands, a deep, dark part of her told her over and over again that any future with her son became darker and darker.

  The other part of her—the part that had sustained her since she’d found out she was carrying Kainan’s child—told her not to give up hope.

  To keep going.

  To be strong.

  To drown out everything else and pour all that she had into her son.

  And that was what she did. Day after day since he was born.

  She had no other choice.

  So she hadn’t noticed when Kainan had left because he’d never been there before. She was used to being on her own.

  Reagan turned back to Sophie, Peter’s nurse in the PCCU. “I’m only a text away.”

  Sophie nodded. “Sorry for dragging you away from your work. I know your first priority is to work with the new Hermosian doctor.”

  “My first priority is Peter. Always.”

  Reagan smiled and gave Sophie’s arm a squeeze. She wanted to tell Sophie that Kainan was Peter’s father, but she couldn’t really form the words. Like Sophie, everyone in the hospital had been told that Peter’s father was dead.

  And that was not the case.

  Kainan was alive. He’d have rights over Peter. She would no longer be in complete control. Kainan would have a say, and that made her nervous. Kainan might return to Isla Hermosa. What if he wanted to take Peter with him?

  Don’t think about it now.

  She didn’t want to make herself sick with worry.

  “You okay, Reagan?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes. I’m fine. I’ll swing by later, Sophie, if I don’t hear from you before then.”

  “Okay, Reagan.”

  Sophie turned back to the incubator and Reagan sent a mental kiss to her boy, since at the moment she couldn’t actually kiss him. She’d only kissed him once, before he was intubated.

  Her heart ached at the thought that maybe she’d never be able to really kiss him, see his eyes open and look at her in wonder.

  Focus. Find Kainan.

  Once she was out of the PCCU she peeled off the disposable gown and mask, tossing them in the nearest receptacle. She was contemplating how she was going to page Kainan when she saw that he was pacing at the end of a dead-end hall near the PCCU.

  All the annoyance and anger she’d briefly had for him walking out on their son melted away. She put herself in Kainan’s shoes. He’d just learned he had a son and that same son was gravely ill.

  She remembered how she’d felt when she’d found out that Peter was so ill. When they’d whisked him away from her. When she hadn’t heard any wail when he was born and she’d been left alone.

  Still, he had left.

  “You left?” she said gently.

  Kainan’s dark eyes were a bit wild, and he ran his hand through his thick, dark curls. He nodded and signed, Sorry.

  “It was a lot to take in. I’m sorry I didn’t prepare you better.”

  Hard to prepare for that. Hard to prepare for learning about a son you never knew
you had. He closed his eyes.

  “Are you okay?”

  I will be fine. The question is, are you? Are you okay?

  The question took her aback, because she wasn’t fine. How could she be fine? Her son was ill, Kainan was alive, and she needed sleep. No, she wasn’t fine.

  “I’m okay.” Liar. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

  You didn’t even know I was alive until earlier today.

  “True.”

  They both smiled then, and a bit of the tension melted away.

  What’s wrong with him? Kainan signed finally. You said before, but...

  “Cardiomyopathy.” The word stuck in her throat. She rarely said it out loud, because if she said it out loud it became real. And she didn’t want it to be real.

  She was deluding herself. It was very real—and scary.

  At least she didn’t have to explain what cardiomyopathy was to Kainan. He understood the gravity of the situation.

  Is he on the transplant list?

  “Yes. We’re waiting.”

  How terrible for you. How do you do it?

  A spark of anger flared up in her. It was an innocent enough remark, but it had cut her to the quick.

  How do you do it?

  How could she not? There was really no choice in the matter. Just one foot in front of the other.

  “There’s no choice,” she said wearily.

  No. I suppose not. Kainan scrubbed a hand over his face. He didn’t sign anything else.

  Reagan was waiting for him to sign I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. Or Let me help, but he didn’t offer any of these things.

  Instead he signed, Is he stable now? Can we get back to work?

  It was a slap to the face—but then again a lot of stuff had happened to Kainan in a very short span of time. Still, he hadn’t even asked their son’s name.

  Don’t take it personally. It’s a lot to process.

  She’d been disappointed before. Countless times, when her parents had been too busy for her.

  “I need help, Mom. Please. I’m tired and Peter is sick...”

  “It was your choice to have the baby, Reagan. I told you to get rid of it.”

  Her mother’s callous words still haunted her.

  What’s wrong? Kainan signed.

  “Nothing.”

  Your expression says otherwise.

  “He’s stable,” she said, answering Kainan and yet ignoring his questioning.

  Good.

  There was a hint of relief on his face, but only a brief hint. Reagan hoped it was in regard to their son, but again she’d been disappointed before.

  “Let’s get back to Michael’s office and we’ll go through everything,” she offered.

  Kainan nodded and fell into step beside her. There was silence between them, which was good, because right now she was having a hard time to keeping it all together.

  * * *

  Kainan listened to Reagan go over protocols and some other things that he couldn’t seem to focus on. All he could think about was taking care of Reagan and Peter. Doing his duty to them.

  Even though it would kill him to trap them both in royal protocol.

  If his brother had still been alive there wouldn’t be this guilt about forcing Reagan into this life Kainan never wanted. He was the “spare,” so he’s pursued medicine in order to escape Isla Hermosa. He’d gone to medical school in Switzerland and worked there. He’d been happy.

  He hadn’t ever planned on returning to Isla Hermosa after his brother became King, but then war had broke out and his brother had been killed.

  Kainan’s freedom had evaporated then. It had been obliterated.

  Inside he was screaming and raging, but if he tried to let it all out there would be no sound, and that made him rage all the more at his own stupidity. Yet he still wanted Reagan, and now his son. She’d been alone. She shouldn’t have been alone.

  I should never have let Reagan go.

  If he’d have been with her... He didn’t finish that thought, because it wouldn’t have changed the outcome at all.

  Their son would have been born with cardiomyopathy anyway. That was if he’d survived being born in a war-torn country. The thought made his stomach clench. He tried not to think about it.

  “Alek, you have to surrender. It’s done. Too many lives have been lost!”

  “I will not surrender! Father never would’ve backed down.”

  “He would if innocent blood was being spilled. What you’re doing is folly!”

  “You just want the crown for yourself, Kainan. I know you.”

  “You don’t know me. You’re completely absurd. I never wanted this. Never.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “To save your life. You’re my brother, Alek...”

  “I’m your half brother.”

  “Half, then—but still I’m here to save you.”

  “Why?”

  “Because Father loved you. I’m doing this for Father.”

  Alek had sneered and shaken his head.

  “Always trying to please Father. But he’s dead and I am King. I will always be King.”

  Kainan shook those thoughts away. They were treading on dangerous ground. They were threatening his control. He’d tried to save his half brother’s life before Alek had been overthrown. He’d been trying to drag Alek out of the palace to safety just before the IED had gone off in the throne room.

  Kainan had survived the blast, but had lost his voice for his brother...his King.

  In the end his brother hadn’t survived after the explosion. So it had all been for naught.

  Which now made him King and his critically ill son his heir.

  His son who was dying.

  “Kainan, are you okay?”

  He turned and saw Reagan was looking up from the piles of paperwork.

  “Overwhelmed?” she asked gently.

  He smiled. “Under...” Only he couldn’t finish the word because his throat closed up, He felt humiliated by it.

  Her expression softened. “Statement? Understatement?”

  Then she smiled. That warm and friendly open smile which had won him over. She’d always tried to act so strong, but when he’d seen her smile at wounded soldiers, offering them compassion, he’d been won over time and time again. Reagan had reminded him of his mother—not in looks, but in strength and fortitude.

  His mother Ariana had been compassionate, strong, independent. She’d loved his father, even though his father hadn’t seemed able to love her back in the same way.

  When his mother had died he’d been so lonely. There had been no love in the palace. His father had stood on formality. As had his elder half brother Alek. Only his mother had given him affection.

  Reagan hadn’t known he was a prince. She’d been so honest. So warm. He’d craved that warmth. Needed it like air. She’d treated him like everyone else on the unit and with her he’d been himself. There had been no formality. No protocol. It had been nice to be himself for a change, instead of Prince Kainan.

  If there hadn’t been a war... If he was still the spare...

  He didn’t want to drag her into the tumultuous situation that was still happening in his country. Still, she’d borne his child and she would be in danger if word got out. If he married her he could protect her. He had to do right by her, even though that would mean her life wouldn’t be her own anymore. Even though he would be condemning her.

  Yes. That. He rubbed his temples, felt his throat tightening again.

  “I’m sorry there’s so much. I swear we’re almost done with the orientation.”

  Can we take a break? he signed.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “A break?”

  Coffee?

  He had to get out of this room. He fel
t as if he was suffocating again. Like when he’d woken up after the blast and not been able to breathe, with a tube in his throat, burns on his body.

  “Okay...”

  She seemed unsure. Confused.

  He was confused too—about this whole situation.

  When he’d felt this way in the past, surgery and practicing medicine—his work—had helped him get through so much. Saving lives made sense to him. It made sense of this mixed-up world.

  And he couldn’t do that anymore. He couldn’t be a proper surgeon because he couldn’t speak, and couldn’t sign when his hands were busy. He couldn’t lead his broken country for the same reason. He was trapped in limbo.

  They walked in silence to the coffee cart.

  Even though there were Hermosian guards all through this hospital, and he was being monitored by the Canadian government, no one besides those watching him for his own protection knew he was King.

  He was free here.

  Kainan could breathe—although he hated hiding here until the surgery was done. He wanted to be on the front lines, saving lives.

  Even though he didn’t have a voice.

  He would soon enough.

  That was if it was successful. Sometimes Kainan was positive that he wasn’t going to survive the surgery.

  Reagan ordered him a coffee, just as he liked it. Hot, dark and rich. No sweetener. She was so thoughtful and he was a monster.

  You remembered, he signed.

  “You drank it every day religiously, Kainan.” She wrinkled her nose. “I can’t stand black coffee. I don’t know how you do that.”

  Kainan took a sip. It didn’t taste as good as the Hermosian coffee he was used to, but it would do.

  Hermosian coffee is much better. It is naturally sweet.

  Reagan snorted. “I remember what it tasted like. Black coffee is black coffee.”

  No, it is not. This is nothing compared to what my country grows.

  “That we can agree on. Hermosian coffee is better,” Reagan said as she dumped sugar in hers.

  He shuddered and she made a face at him, making him smile.

  They wandered over to a table in the hospital atrium. Snow was falling gently. He was still not used to snow, but it had a nice calming effect.