But he’d been with a woman who didn’t exist in reality, and she didn’t need to see his disappointment when he realised.
Just being this close to him now was doing crazy things to her insides and turning her legs to jelly. And was it hot? Her armpits were tingling with sweat.
They’d had an amazing night. And it would stay that way as long as he didn’t ruin the illusion by seeing her for who she really was. He’d probably thought that she was some rare beauty, but if he saw her properly he would soon be surprised. No doubt about that.
She didn’t want to have to watch it happen right in front of her. That look. She’d already noticed his shock when they were at the hub, and work was meant to be her happy place. He was ruining everything.
Holding the mug of tea before her, she kept her head down to pass him so she could get to the door.
He stepped back, keeping a respectful distance, which she appreciated, but as she reached for the handle he spoke again.
‘It is you.’
Keeping her eyes downcast, she stared at the floor, not wanting to see him take in her scars, her wounds. To see that she was damaged goods. This man had wanted her! Wanted her so badly! And it had been wondrous—a memory she’d cherished since that night. A moment of freedom from the poor existence with which Mike had left her. And she had revelled in that.
Did she want to see him realise that the woman he had given himself to was not the one of his dreams? No. Just for once she wanted to be a good memory for someone. For them to believe her beautiful.
‘I’m sorry, I have to go.’
‘Look at me.’
‘Jamie, please…’ She glanced upwards for just a moment and painfully met his gaze, her eyes blurry with unshed tears, waiting to see him realise his mistake…
Only it didn’t happen. He simply looked directly at her. Showed no shock this time. No horror.
‘If only you knew how much I’ve wanted to see you again.’
Confused, she stared back. Felt the tears finally escape her eyes and trickle down her cheeks.
‘What…?’
What was he saying? What did he mean? Why wasn’t he reacting to her face like everyone else did?
‘You’re unforgettable—do you know that?’
She swallowed hard, looking away, down at the steaming mug. ‘For all the wrong reasons.’
She got out of the kitchenette as quickly as she could. What was it with them and small rooms? Kitchenettes. Supply cupboards. Was Jamie set to startle her in anything less than six by six? Should she stay away from bathroom cubicles, too?
As she hurried back to her patient’s room she madly wiped her eyes and sniffed a few times, to try and look presentable for Andrea and her husband.
What had just happened? How had he managed to turn her understanding of the world completely on its head?
She slipped her hand into her pocket, to reassure herself that the pregnancy test was still there. Only it wasn’t. Her pocket was empty except for her notebook and pen.
She looked back to the kitchenette and saw Jamie come out, his face a mass of confused emotions as his eyes met hers.
Over the small white stick in his hand.
Chapter Two
IT MUST HAVE fallen from her pocket. But when? And how?
And then she remembered crouching down to get the milk from the fridge. Something similar had happened before, due to the design of the pocket on her uniform. It was below the waist, low down. She’d lost her mobile phone once that way, hearing it clatter onto the floor. She’d not heard the test stick fall. Probably because she’d heard his voice instead. Felt his presence.
‘It is you. Isn’t it?’
His words had cut through everything.
Her mind had been on other things. Other concerns. She’d closed that fridge fast. Stood up quickly and made that tea, trying not to look at him, trying to get away as quickly as she could.
She was saved from going over to him and taking the test from his hands. The call light above Bed Two flashed and she went in to see how Lisa Chambers, her labouring mother there, was doing.
Lisa was pacing the room, her abdomen swollen before her, her hands pressed into her back.
‘I felt the need to push with that last one, Freya.’
She handed the mug of tea over to Lisa’s husband and then guided Lisa back to the bed. ‘I’ll need to check you before you can push.’
She didn’t need Lisa pushing too early. It might cause a swelling of the cervix and make delivery more difficult.
Regaining control of her own body, she checked her patient’s. ‘You’re right, Lisa. You’re ten centimetres. You can push with the next contraction.’
Lisa got up off the bed. ‘I can’t lie down, though.’
‘That’s fine. Let your body lead you and I’ll help. Just tell me when you’re ready.’
Lisa beckoned to her husband to stand on the other side of the bed and take her hands. Then she squatted on the other side.
‘When the contraction comes, take a big, deep breath, Lisa—chin to your chest and push, right into your bottom.’
Lisa nodded, waiting, then closed her eyes and sucked in that breath.
Freya quickly washed her hands, dried them and gloved up. Lisa might be five times a mother, but this was her first vaginal delivery. It might take some time and, with the best will in the world and not wanting to prolong her patient’s suffering, she hoped that it would.
Because she herself needed some time before she could leave this room. Needed to think of what she would say. What she would do. How she could escape this situation she’d found herself in.
Lisa was an excellent patient, though, and obviously keen to see her fifth child. Because within forty-five minutes of her first needing to push, her son slithered into Freya’s waiting hands.
She passed the baby to his sobbing mother, clamped and cut the cord, then helped Lisa into bed and wrapped a towel around her son to help keep him warm.
The baby cried—bursts of pure sound, a completely new person announcing his arrival. Freya smiled at the newly created family of seven and quietly gave Lisa the injection of syntocinon that would hasten delivery of the placenta, as per her patient’s request.
It seemed to take no time at all to deliver it, check it, assess the baby’s APGAR score, then Lisa’s, and realise that Lisa hadn’t torn at all. Her five-pound, twelve-ounce son had arrived perfectly.
There was no reason for Freya to stay at all. She prided herself on leaving her families to have some private time as soon as she could after the birth. So they could welcome and get to know their new baby on their own. But tonight she hesitated by the door.
‘Congratulations, you two.’
‘Thanks, Freya. I couldn’t have done it without you.’
‘Nonsense. You were a model patient.’ She smiled, trying to pluck up the courage to go out there and face him. That conversation.
She could only hope and pray that he was busy with a patient of his own.
But she had no such luck.
Jamie was just walking back to the hub desk, sliding his pen into his top pocket. His dark eyes instantly met hers. Challenged her. Demanded an explanation.
She almost faltered. But she had Lisa’s notes to finish writing up, and when that was done she needed to check on Andrea. She’d taken her off the trace a while ago and she’d been steadily contracting every five minutes the last time she’d seen her.
Jamie stood still as she walked past him, and she hoped he wouldn’t see that her nerves were making her hands tremble and shake as she sat down at the desk.
‘It’s not what you think.’ She glanced up at him, then away again. Dammit. He was just as handsome as she remembered. Even more so, this close. He was hauntingly beautiful.
Jamie sat down in the chair next to her. ‘What do I think?’
She paused, her pen over Lisa’s notes. ‘It belongs to a patient.’
‘A patient?’
‘Yes. I
must have put it in my pocket without realising and—’
‘We don’t do pregnancy testing here. Mona was quite clear when she showed me around that the fertility clinic is in a whole other ward next to this one.’
She tried her hardest not to look at him. Not to meet the searing gaze that she knew would instantly divine the truth. If her cheeks could have flamed red, then they would.
She looked at him, guilt filling her eyes.
He gazed at her for a moment, his face deadly serious. ‘Tell me the truth. It’s yours?’
Her eyes closed, almost as if the admission would cause her pain. ‘Yes…’ A whisper.
‘Am I…?’
The words choked in his throat and she opened her eyes again in anguish. She hardly knew this man. He was a temp. A locum. A drifter. How could she tell this stranger that the baby in her womb was most definitely his? Because she didn’t sleep around. She never met anyone—never gave herself the chance to.
She didn’t need to get that kind of close to any man, to develop feelings for any man, because look at what had happened to her when she did. She’d suffered more than she’d ever believed it was possible for one body to suffer after getting involved with Mike. The pain she’d gone through, both emotionally and physically, had almost destroyed her.
She never wanted that again. Never wanted to risk it. Having that one night with Jamie—a stranger—had been a moment in which she’d thrown caution to the wind, feeling herself so physically attracted to the pirate she’d met at the ball that she’d decided she would risk it. Keeping her anonymity, she would never have to deal with him afterwards.
Because why shouldn’t she have slept with him? It was allowed, and it had felt so good to let all that other stuff go.
But they’d both been stupid. Believing that one night wouldn’t have consequences. Believing that they could walk away.
They should have known the risks.
They’d been wrong! And no one could be angrier with her than she was with herself.
She’d once sat on a hospital bed, with a plastic compression mask over her burnt features, and promised her mother that she would never get involved with another man ever again. Would never cause her family anguish ever again. Because what Mike had done—throwing that acid at her face—hadn’t just affected her. The tragedy had affected her family and even Mike’s family, who were distraught that their son was in prison.
And all because she’d got involved with him.
And now she was pregnant. With Jamie’s baby.
‘Yes. You’re the father.’
She saw him look down at the ground. Could almost hear the cogs going around in his skull, almost sense his thoughts as he tried to distance himself from her. Maybe even planned to leave this place. Get a temporary post somewhere else less complicated.
‘Right.’ A pause. ‘It’s very early on. Four…maybe five weeks?’
She nodded.
‘You need to start taking folic acid.’
‘I know.’
‘You need to look after yourself.’
She knew he was just trying to say the sensible thing, trying to help and maybe trying to make sense of it in his own head. This had to be a huge shock to him too. But to Freya it sounded as if he was telling her what to do, and no man would ever tell her what to do again.
Her control was slipping. ‘You don’t need to tell me how to do anything. You don’t own me.’
‘I’m not. I’m just trying—’
‘You’re just trying to take over! So back off, Jamie, I don’t need this in my life!’
She tried her hardest not to shout, but it was difficult. All she wanted to do was run away, but it was as if the walls were closing in and she would soon be trapped with him. A man. A stranger. Tied to him for eternity when she knew nothing about him. He could be anybody.
He sat forward in his chair. ‘You’re pregnant with my child. I don’t think you realise what this means.’
She leaned forward too, anger and rage fuelling her bravado, matching his stance. ‘I’m a midwife. Of course I know what it means.’
She stood, grabbing her notes and pen, deciding she would check on Andrea. She would finish her notes in there—give Jamie a chance to think about what she’d said.
He was not going to tell what to do.
*
He was going to be a father.
Of course if nothing went wrong they would have to marry. If the people of Majidar ever found out that he’d got a woman pregnant and then abandoned her to have the child alone they’d be appalled. And so would he. He wasn’t just a prince, he was a man, and as such he had a responsibility to do the right thing. No child of his would grow up to be illegitimate—he just wouldn’t accept it. The baby was his and he would be its father.
Honour in this country was different from honour in his. He saw it on the television every day—men getting women pregnant and then leaving them to raise the child alone. There were single parents everywhere, and that was fine for them—but not for him. Not at all. He could never knowingly sire a child and then abandon it to God only knew what kind of future.
This was his child. And, whether Freya liked it or not, he had a duty to it.
And to her.
But what had happened to her? What was making her so frightened and on edge? Why couldn’t she look him directly in the eye? Was it her scars? Her face? Did her shame stem from that? Or was it the unexpected pregnancy?
Clearly she was in shock. All he’d tried to do was make this easier for her. Try and shoulder some of the responsibility.
Because it was his and his alone. And because of who he was it was imperative that he do the right thing.
He would need to speak to his advisor.
*
At just after six in the morning Andrea delivered a healthy baby girl.
Freya was reluctant to leave her patient’s room and go back out there and face Jamie again, but she knew that she had to.
She could only hope that as there was less than one hour until the end of her shift he might be busy elsewhere and she would be able to get through it without having to see him.
She’d had her fill of pushy men. To be fair, she’d only been with one, but that one—Mike—had been enough for two lifetimes.
It had started innocently enough. Mike had asked her not to go out with her friends from college one evening.
‘Why not?’
‘I just can’t bear to imagine you out on the town like that. I’ve seen gaggles of girls dressed to impress and off their heads on tequila shots. I know what guys think of girls like that, and I don’t want them looking at you like you’re a piece of meat.’
She’d thought he was being sweet! That he cared so much about her.
He’d begged her not to go, and to make him feel better she’d cancelled. The next week, when the girls had wanted to go out again, rather than just accept the invitation straight away she’d said she needed to check with Mike first.
Slowly she had stopped having any contact with her friends. Then he’d started making comments about how her family looked down their noses at him and how family meet-ups made him uncomfortable—could they stay home?
Bit by bit he had isolated her, until her entire life had been his to control and manipulate. She’d felt as if she couldn’t breathe and she’d tried to break away. He’d found her, begged her to stay, promised he would change.
Only he hadn’t. If anything he had got worse—his insecurities, his paranoia.
She’d bolted one day when he was at work and run home to live with her mum again. She’d thought she was free, that her life was hers again, until that terrible day on the high street…
Freya was grateful to see that the hub looked clear and she headed over, her back aching slightly, and slumped into a chair to complete Andrea’s notes. The open tin of chocolates called her name and she unwrapped one and popped a caramel barrel into her mouth.
Mmm…just what I need.
The
chocolate began to soften in her mouth, and as she chewed she realised just how hungry she was. She’d not really taken a proper break whilst Andrea laboured, and suddenly she was starving—craving a full English breakfast, washed down with a mug of strong tea.
A banana was placed right in front of her. She frowned and looked up to see who had given it to her.
‘Jamie…’
‘Eat this. You haven’t had anything all night.’
She moved the banana away from her. ‘Thank you, but I have other plans.’
‘So you say—but you’re not the only one who gets to make decisions about yourself any more. This is my baby too and you need to eat. Healthily, preferably.’
He grabbed hold of the tin of sweets and moved it away from her.
Angrily, Freya grabbed the tin back. ‘Keep your voice down. I don’t need the whole ward hearing about it.’
‘Are you going to eat the banana?’
She glanced at the fruit, lying harmlessly on the desk, and felt repulsed by it. The idea of taking a bite of it turned her stomach. She craved hot food. Preferably dripping in grease.
‘Not right now.’ She felt a little hypocritical. She’d often lectured pregnant women about eating well for a healthy pregnancy and here she was craving fat. And maybe another chocolate from that tin.
‘So when are you going to eat?’
‘When I get out of here. At home, where I can cook myself something.’
She didn’t want to tell him that she didn’t like to go out during the day. Didn’t like to sit by herself in cafés filled with staring people.
‘Where do you live?’
She looked at him incredulously. ‘Why would I tell you that?’
‘Because, like it or not, we’re involved now and I want to look after you.’
‘I don’t know you!’
‘You knew me enough to make a child with me.’
He stared hard at her, his eyes dark and dangerous, as if daring her to try and wriggle out of that one.
‘Well, I didn’t know I was doing that at the time.’
Pregnant with His Royal Twins Page 3