Pregnant with His Royal Twins

by Louisa Heaton

  He stood in front of her. ‘Your face doesn’t matter. You are a strong, beautiful woman.’

  ‘Of course it matters. It’s what people see! It’s what they judge you on. I know this better than anyone. I appreciate that you’re trying to say and do the right thing, but it’s not the right thing for Majidar. It’s not the right thing for me. Your people don’t need me by the side of their King. A one-night stand who got pregnant? A commoner from another country? No. I absolve you of all responsibility. Send me money each month, if that will make you feel better about it, but please, Jamie, I beg of you, walk away. It will be better for you if you just let me go.’

  She was trying to sound reasonable. Trying to sound calm and steady so that he would remain so, too. Her thumb hovered over the ‘Call’ button. He hadn’t seen the number she had keyed in and she appreciated that he was keeping his distance physically. But she would press it if she had to.

  ‘I cannot. I will not.’

  Freya sighed, her eyes filling with sorrow. ‘I can’t be who you need me to be. I can’t live that sort of life. That’s not who I am.’

  ‘Neither am I. But it is my destiny. And now, because of the child, it is also yours.’

  Freya closed her eyes as if she were in pain, and then she opened them again, looking at him with tears in her eyes, as if she were sorry to be causing such distress. Sorry to have to deny him.

  She was afraid to say the next words, but knew she had to, so that he was clear on where she stood. ‘No, Jamie. Never.’

  And then she backed away. She yanked open the large doors to his suite and hurried down the corridor, expecting at any moment that the guards would drag her back, her finger still hovering over the button on her phone.

  But the guards simply followed her at a respectful distance.

  The lift was waiting for her and she got in and punched the button for the ground floor. Only when the doors slid closed and she was safe inside did she clear the numbers and slip her phone back into her bag.

  It had taken every ounce of her strength to refuse him. To say no and walk away, not knowing how he might react. The likelihood of him being like Mike was slim, but then she’d thought Mike was okay, too. And look at what had happened there.

  As she ran across Reception and out into the cool morning air she hoped this meant it was all over. That he would not bother her again.

  She had given him her answer.

  He would do much better if he were to accept it.

  Chapter Three

  SHE TRIED TO stay away from Jamie at work. She sensed he was giving her space, and she appreciated that, but she could tell by the way he looked at her from across the room that as far as he was concerned this was far from over.

  There was no way she could accept his terms. Marry him? Become a princess, or whatever she would be? Have her child schooled to become a king or queen themselves? Living a life of privilege, no doubt, but one that would be like a prison. Never to pop to the shops when she wanted, go for a walk when she liked, without fearing that someone might get too close to the royal person…

  It was ridiculous.

  Her child wouldn’t live like that. She wanted a normal life for her baby—a normal education, real friends, a real life and choices. She wanted to sit on the South Downs and have a picnic with her child. Fly a kite and take a dog for a walk. She wanted to walk barefoot on the beach and jump waves with him or her, laugh out loud and eat ice cream and fish and chips.

  Normality.

  It was the only thing she craved for her child. For herself. To live a normal life. Not the life that she had had since the attack, hiding from people and crowds. Not the childhood that Jamie had had, raised behind the walls of a palace. Something else. The childhood she’d had when she’d been growing up. When her face had been unspoilt by sulphuric acid—when her future had looked bright and the whole world had been a possibility.

  Mike had limited her. Told her what she should wear, what she should eat, who she could talk to. And when he hadn’t been able to control her, hadn’t been able to keep her, he had tried to make sure that no one else would want her.

  Saying no to Jamie had taken every ounce of bravery she had. But she wouldn’t allow another man to control her, and Jamie’s request demanded something of her that she couldn’t give. Basically, it seemed to her that he wanted her whole life—her dedication, her child—to be given to him and his country. A country she had never even heard of just one week ago.

  Jamie had a duty to his throne, but she didn’t. Nor did their child. And she refused to tie either of them down to it.

  *

  A person’s skin is made up of proteins. Protein makes up the structure of cells and the enzymes within them. Acid, when it comes into contact with protein, changes its innate structure and causes it to break down immediately upon contact. It’s excruciating, the pain—difficult to relieve. The strongest medications often have no effect…

  Freya sat in the hospital staffroom, waiting for her shift to start. Her mind was torturing her with the memory of that day so long ago, when her world had been turned upside down.

  She’d tried to hold up her hands to protect her face, but it had been too late, and then suddenly—instantly—the terrifying scorching of her skin had begun.

  She’d thought those screams were from other people, but they’d been her own. Freya had collapsed onto the pavement, her eyes squeezed tightly shut, afraid to open them in case she couldn’t see, screaming at people to help her.

  Some guy had tried pouring water over her face to dilute the acid, but it had simply run down her neck and begun burning her there, too.

  It had seemed an age before the paramedics had arrived. Before the morphine had hit her veins, before they’d tried to irrigate her skin and whisked her to hospital.

  Despite the burning she’d begun to feel cold. Shock, they said. Apparently, burns could cause hypothermia. Who knew?

  It was a day she would never forget. And all because a man had refused to let her go.

  She’d told Jamie no. She’d turned down his marriage proposal, refused to let him take her and the baby back to his country. How would he react now?

  As if her worries had summoned him, Jamie entered the staffroom. His gaze met hers, briefly, and then he looked away.

  What did that mean? Was he upset? Angry? Was he the type to seek revenge?

  So far he seemed reasonable. Normal. A little sad, maybe, but nothing like Mike. But for how long? What about when he got called back to his country and the time came for him to leave? Would he put pressure on her then? Would he try to blackmail her? Threaten her?

  She didn’t want to tar him with the same brush as Mike, but her history with men so far had not been good. She couldn’t read him yet. Didn’t understand him. Perhaps if she remained polite and respectful he would remain that way too? Perhaps if she got to know him a little more she might understand him better?

  But she was afraid to do that.

  Getting to know him meant spending time with him…

  *

  Caroline Müller was well into her labour—contracting every two minutes, alternating between taking amusing selfies with her husband Stefan when she was between contractions, and breathing and retreating into herself when she was having pain, going all Zen, peaceful and in control.

  It was a marvel to behold.

  Freya was happy she could distract herself at work—the place where she could absorb herself in her patient’s labour and just for a few hours forget about her own life.

  ‘How are you doing, Caroline? Still coping?’

  Caroline had requested no pain relief. She wanted to try and give birth naturally to her first child. Freya wanted to support her in that, but also to let her know that she could change her mind whenever she needed to.

  ‘I’m good, I think.’ Her patient nodded, as if she were reassuring herself that she could do this. ‘Do you think I’m doing okay?’

  Freya smiled. ‘You’re coping wo
nderfully. Eight centimetres dilated and still no pain relief! You’re a marvel.’

  Freya was very keen on honouring a woman’s choice. Of all the things in the world a woman could do, going through labour and childbirth was an extremely personal thing. No one else could do it for her. She was on her own. Pulling on the resources and reserves that only she had within her own body.

  It was an eye-opening and eye-watering experience. No one could know how they would cope with those levels of pain. And if a mother wanted to give birth without pain relief or with every medication going then Freya would support her either way. Childbirth wasn’t a competition, and the mother alone was the one who must decide her course of treatment. It was important to empower a woman with the knowledge that any choice over her body was her own.

  Caroline blew out a breath and nodded. ‘Thanks. Did you know Stefan’s mother wanted to be here at the birth?’

  Freya looked at Stefan. ‘I didn’t.’

  ‘I told her she wasn’t welcome—which didn’t go down very well. I didn’t want my own mother here, so there was no way I was having my in-laws loitering around my nether regions.’

  Freya and Stefan smiled at each other.

  ‘My mother can be quite controlling,’ he said. ‘This is her first grandchild and we’ve had to be quite firm with her about not booking things in advance.’

  ‘What sort of things?’

  ‘Enrolling him or her in a private nursery, hiring a nanny, booking her personal swimming instructor to give our newborn swimming lessons, and pre-book a German teacher so that our child will grow up to be bilingual. German is my mother’s natural tongue,’ he explained, smiling with amusement.

  ‘Wow!’ Freya mused. ‘She sounds wonderfully keen to provide your little one with the very best.’

  ‘She has to be reined in or she doesn’t know when to stop!’ Caroline said, and grimaced as another contraction began to build.

  She closed her eyes, relaxed her brow and began to breathe steadily in through her nose and then slowly and smoothly out through her mouth. She stood to one side of the bed, leaning on the mattress, swaying her hips from side to side as the contraction intensified.

  ‘That’s it, Caroline, you’re doing really well. Keep breathing.’

  Freya rubbed the small of her patient’s back, wondering how royal families raised their babies.

  Weren’t they all surrounded by nannies? Whisked off to nurseries and only brought to their parents to hold when they were clean and fed and presentable?

  Actually, she had no idea how royals looked after a new baby. Nor did she have any idea about a desert kingdom’s culture.

  But what she did know was that she didn’t want her child to be taken away from her. This was her baby and she wanted to raise it. With Jamie’s help, if he wanted, but she would have the final say in everything.

  There would be no taking the baby away to a nursery at night time. She wanted to deal with midnight feeds and nappy explosions. She wanted to soothe her baby when it started to teethe. She wanted to be the one who took her child to the doctor for vaccinations and check-ups, to comfort it when it cried because some stranger had poked at it with a needle or a stethoscope.

  Was it too much to ask? This might be Jamie’s baby too, and he might come from a royal line of kings, but it was also her baby and she wasn’t royal. She was normal—girl-next-door. And she wanted her child to have a normal life.

  Caroline began to groan out loud—thick guttural noises coming from deep within her. ‘Oh, I think I want to push!’

  ‘Try not to. Not just yet. I need to check you again…make sure you’re fully dilated.’

  She was. With a wide smile she informed Caroline that with the next contraction she could start pushing, and that hopefully, within the next hour, they would have their longed-for baby.

  ‘Will I really?’ Caroline began to cry. Happy tears springing from her eyes as she reached for her husband’s hand, clutching it tightly.

  He squeezed back. ‘We will.’

  Caroline wanted to remain standing between contractions, and then lowered herself into a crouch beside by the bed each time she pushed. She pushed long and hard, her face reddening, sweat pouring down with her efforts, until after about forty minutes she began to crown.

  ‘You’re nearly there now!’ Freya watched intently and quietly as Caroline gave birth to the baby’s head. It had thick black hair and Caroline reached down to touch.

  ‘My baby!’ she cried.

  ‘One final push, Caroline! You can do this!’

  Freya supported the baby with her gloved hands as it was delivered, and then passed the crying baby over to its mother, who lifted her up from between her legs to cradle her against her chest.

  ‘Oh, my God! It’s a girl! We have a little girl, Stefan!’

  Freya clamped the cord and Stefan cut it, and then she helped guide the new mum onto the bed, so she could rest whilst Freya took care of all the little things that needed doing. The syntocinon. Checking to see if mum needed stitches. For any sign of haemorrhage.

  She draped a couple of towels around the baby to help keep it warm as Caroline placed her daughter against her skin beneath her hospital gown. Then Freya checked the placenta to make sure it was complete and healthy.

  After she’d written the pertinent times and details into her patient’s file, she took the baby to weigh it and check its APGAR score—the scale against which all newborn babies were measured to ensure they were coping with life outside of the womb.

  Handing the baby back for more skin-to-skin, she asked if Caroline and Stefan had chosen a name yet?

  ‘Hannah Rose.’

  ‘That’s beautiful,’ she said.

  ‘Thank you. Thank you for everything, Freya—we really mean it. We couldn’t have done it without you.’

  She smiled her thanks. ‘I couldn’t have done it, without you! I’ll leave you on your own for a little while. Press the buzzer if you need me, but I’ll be back to take you down to the postnatal ward.’

  She left the new parents to it—Stefan already taking pictures with his phone—and quietly closed the door behind her. Then, carrying her patient’s notes, she headed over to the desk and sat down.

  Freya was hungry…thirsty. She hadn’t had anything for hours, having stayed with her patient for most of the night, popping out only once to use the toilet because her bladder had threatened to explode if she didn’t.

  Mona came out of the small kitchenette, carrying a tray filled with mugs of tea. ‘Ah! Perfect timing. Want one?’

  ‘Ooh, yes, please!’ Freya grabbed a hot mug and gratefully took a sip. ‘My patient just delivered a baby girl—Hannah Rose. Isn’t that a beautiful name?’

  ‘Gorgeous! How did she get through it?’

  ‘Not a single scrap of pain medication!’ Freya stated proudly.

  ‘Good for her! I have no pain threshold whatsoever. I practically needed an epidural for a tiny blister I got on my heel. What about you?’ Then Mona’s face darkened as she realised what she’d said. ‘Sorry…’

  But Freya wasn’t offended. Mona was her closest friend here, and she knew she hadn’t meant anything nasty by it.

  Freya thought back to her days spent in hospital after the acid attack. The pain she’d been in. The pain she’d had to live through for months as her face recovered. The nightmares. The flashbacks. The searing, agonising torture of debridement. She’d had enough pain for one lifetime.

  She smiled. ‘I want everything they can give me.’

  *

  Jamie had been watching her carefully over the last few weeks. As much as he could, anyway. Clearly she was trying to avoid being with him. He kept catching her noticing him arrive in the staffroom or at the reception desk and suddenly getting that I’m busy look before she got up to go and do something.

  He was finding it terribly frustrating when all he wanted to do was talk to her. Find out how she was. Whether she was feeling okay. She had to be due for the first sca
n of the baby any day now, but she’d made no mention of it to him and he didn’t want to miss it. Nor did he like this distance she was creating between them, as if she didn’t want him involved, because that was not how he planned to have his first child. Being cast aside as if he was just a sperm donor.

  Having a baby was one of the most wonderful things a woman could do. To become a parent one of the most rewarding privileges. He really hoped that Freya would thaw towards him, but he could understand why she hadn’t yet.

  Mona had told him what had happened to her years ago. Some possessive ex had thrown acid in her face. The very idea of that made him feel sick. It caused a rage to build in him towards a man he knew was already in prison.

  Mona hadn’t said much else, clearly reluctant to gossip about her friend, but he’d had to ask. He’d spent so many nights wondering why she was keeping him at such a distance. Why she seemed so edgy and uncomfortable. Why she kept looking at him as if he was some firework that might go off at any minute. It had made him wonder what had happened to her. And now he knew.

  Freya MacFadden was having a strange effect on him. She was so petite, so dainty, and he loved seeing her walk in with her long blonde hair hanging loose down her back, watching her scoop it up, twist it and pin it into place each shift. It was an action so casually done, without looking in a mirror, and she always managed a tousled look which, with those big blue eyes of hers, was a winning combination.

  The scars didn’t bother him at all. Not like that. What bothered him about them was that someone had done that to her. Intentionally. That she had suffered, and that her life had been changed for evermore. He’d visited clinics that cared for women attacked like this, and he’d never seen such suffering before or since. It was a memory that haunted him, but he’d learnt something from those women—that they had tremendous courage. That they bore a bravery within them that he could never hope to emulate.

  Freya was the same.

  He was worried that she didn’t seem to be letting him in, but he understood why and knew that he would have to bide his time if she were to trust him.