She paused.
‘It sounds crazy now, but at the time I was just so afraid of upsetting him. His moods were terrible. We were so good together when he was happy, and I wanted to do what I could to keep him that way. But I refused to cut my hair, so he told me to wear it up, so that it looked a bit less feminine. Less pretty. He began questioning me if I was ever late coming home from work. Who had I been talking to? Was it a man? Didn’t I know how scared it made him feel when I didn’t come home on time? It was just a part time job at a bar, to help with college fees, but he figured the place was filled with nothing but lecherous guys.’
She paused again.
‘I began to realise I had no life outside of college and work. I hadn’t seen my family in ages. My friends no longer asked me out. All I did was spend time in the flat with Mike. I was just eighteen. It seemed like no life at all, and I didn’t want it to stay that way. It had seemed like a compliment at first, the way he seemed to need me. But I began to see that my life had become a prison. A prison I needed to escape.’
‘And he let you go?’
‘I waited until he went to work, then packed what few possessions I had and took a bus home to Mum. He went crazy when he came home and found out I wasn’t there. Called me on my phone. When I told him we were over there was the longest silence, and then he called me all these vile names, said my life wouldn’t be worth living without him, and that if I didn’t come back to him by the morning I would regret it.’
‘Freya…’
‘I thought it was just him letting off steam. I thought he was saying stuff like that because his pride had been hurt. But he really was that crazy. I was shopping when it happened. Out on the high street and suddenly he was there, throwing acid into my face.’
‘My God! I’m so sorry.’
‘I should have seen it coming. I knew he couldn’t let go—knew he was a little unstable. I should have expected it.’
‘You can’t blame yourself.’
‘I do, though. For getting involved with a man like that in the first place.’
‘You were just eighteen, Freya.’
‘I know, but…but I feel I should have had more sense.’
Rebel had been up ahead, but now he came loping back, his large paws pounding the ground. He came running up to Jamie, sniffing around his jacket.
Jamie tried not to freeze. Tried to keep walking. To act normal.
‘Rebel, heel!’
The dog left him instantly and went back to its mistress. Jamie breathed a sigh of relief. He understood how hard it was for Freya. She couldn’t know. Even if she suspected the worst, she couldn’t know if or when it would happen. It was impossible. His own hesitation and fear around dogs was similar, but Freya’s fear had to be tenfold. He would do whatever he could to make things easier for her.
‘You did what you thought was right at the time, with the knowledge you had. You couldn’t have asked any more of yourself back then. Or now, come to think of it.’
‘What are we going to do, Jamie? I can’t marry you. I can’t be your wife and leave everything to go and be Queen in some foreign country. That’s not me. That’s not what I want from my life. And I can’t have my children raised behind walls with security guards for protection. I want them to be free.’
‘I know. I understand. I do. But I can’t leave you behind. A king has to be, above all, a good role model for his citizens. I can’t leave my children here and go back to rule as an absent father. But I can’t let my people down, either. They’ll need me. At some point they’ll need me on that throne.’
‘We have a stalemate, then.’ She pulled a small treat from her pocket and fed it to the dog.
‘In the future, yes, but right now we can try and work something out.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I might not have to be King for many years. In the meantime let me be with you—and them. Let me be who I need to be. I have to be in their lives.’
Could she hear the desperation in his voice?
She looked up at him, considering him, judging him. He knew she was still scared. There was no way that was just going to disappear. But he could see that she was thinking about acquiescing to his request.
‘I want my children to know their father,’ she said.
‘That’s good.’
‘But I don’t want their father running out on them. I won’t have their hearts broken, Jamie. I won’t.’
‘I would never want to hurt them in any way.’
‘But it will happen. Eventually. Wouldn’t it be easier if—?’
‘No.’
He knew what she was going to say. Wouldn’t it be easier for them if they just didn’t know about you at all?
‘I can’t forget about them. They’re here. They’re a part of me. They are my sons or my daughters. I can’t walk away from that. Could you?’
She let out a heavy sigh. ‘No, I couldn’t.’
They walked on a little more. An older couple were walking towards them, holding hands, chatting. They looked so comfortable with each other. So safe in their little bubble.
He envied them. Envied them their easy lives.
‘I have a responsibility to do the right thing. A father stands by his children and the mother of those children. As a man, I have to show them that’s what I should do. Take responsibility for my actions. As King, I need to think about my people and how they need a good, strong leader they can respect. But most of all I have to respect myself, and that means doing the best by all of you. That doesn’t mean, and nor would it ever mean, walking away.’
Freya nodded. ‘Okay. We’ll work something out.’
He nodded too, sure they would find a way.
‘We will.’
*
‘I’ve brought you something.’ Back at work, Freya stood awkwardly in front of Jamie, holding two mugs of tea.
Jamie put down the magazine he’d been reading and looked up at her in surprise.
‘It’s tea.’ She thrust the mug towards him.
He took it. ‘Thank you. That’s very kind.’
‘It’s just tea.’
But they both knew it was more than that. It was an olive branch. A step forward. A slight lowering of the barricades. The walls were still there. Freya didn’t know if she would ever be able to trust another man. But she was willing to give him a chance to show her that she was wrong after the way he had approached Rebel. Willing to trust. Being scared, but doing it anyway.
‘May I sit with you for a moment?’
‘Please do.’ He sat up, straightening, and watched her as she lowered herself into the chair opposite him.
‘We…er…ought to get to know one another a bit more.’
He smiled, pleased. ‘That’s a very good idea.’
‘Thank you.’
‘How do you suppose we do that?’
She wasn’t sure. She hadn’t thought that far ahead. To be honest, she hadn’t thought she’d get past offering him the tea before chickening out and walking away again, but she had done it. And now here she was.
‘We should meet outside of work. What sort of things do you like to do?’ he asked. ‘That don’t involve big dogs?’
She smiled. ‘I like to read.’ Then she realised that they were hardly going to sit and read together, were they? ‘I don’t really have any other hobbies.’
‘What did you do when you were little? There must have been something.’
She thought for a moment. ‘I loved to swim. But I haven’t done that for years.’
‘Swimming’s very good for pregnant women. We should do that.’
‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly—’
‘I’ll arrange for us to have the pool area at my hotel all to ourselves. What day do you fancy?’
Oh. She hadn’t thought he would be able to do that. But what did she know? He was a prince—he could probably do anything he wanted. He was right. There was so much they didn’t know about each other. But swimming? Wearing just a
swimsuit? Was it too late to back out?
‘Saturday evening?’ she said.
‘Perfect. Thank you, Freya.’
‘For what?’
‘The olive branch.’ He sipped at his tea and smiled. ‘It tastes lovely.’
*
She’d had to get herself a new swimsuit, and had bought one online. She’d had to go for one especially for pregnant women, that allowed for a burgeoning belly, and had found a nice dark navy one with a crimson and cream pleat around her boobs.
Trying it on at home, she stood in front of the mirror to see what Jamie would see. She needed to shave her legs, that was for sure. Maybe paint her toenails?
The swimsuit covered her nicely, though, and even coped with her growing breasts without making her look as if she was hanging out of it. So all in all she was quite pleased with her purchase.
It revealed the scars on her neck, though.
She reached to touch the roughened skin where a graft had failed to take and was reminded of the first time she had looked in a mirror after the attack. The doctors had given her a small hand mirror and then left her to look by herself. Even her mum had left the room, giving her privacy for such a moment.
She’d almost not looked. Why had they all left like that? she’d wondered. Was it because the damage was so bad that they didn’t want to see her distress?
Lifting up the mirror, turning to see, had been the most heartbreaking moment of her life. Her face had been ravaged by the acid, her nose almost gone. Angry, red, livid skin…
She’d wanted to die. Right at that moment she had thought that life was no longer worth living. That she would never look better than she did there and then. That her life was over at eighteen years of age and that she would now be one of those relatives kept hidden away in a house, never to be seen again.
But time was a great healer. And the body had an amazing ability to repair itself. It had been a long, hard, painful road, but after each surgery, after each debriding, after each skin graft, she had looked into the mirror and seen progress. Incremental progress. The skin had become less angry. Smoother. Flatter. Her nose had been rebuilt, new eyebrows tattooed into place.
Slowly but surely, normality had seemed to be within reach. She knew she would never be perfect again. Never have the face she used to have. But she would no longer look like some kind of monster.
She’d grown used to the scars, but to everyone she met they were brand-new and she still feared their judgement.
Swimming, though… She hadn’t done it in years, because she’d been too afraid to go to a public pool. All those people? Not likely. But she had missed it. So much so, she actually felt a small frisson of excitement at the idea of having a pool to herself and just being allowed to float in the water, quiet and serene, without the worry of people watching her.
She knew she shouldn’t be so sensitive to that, but she couldn’t help it. A person’s face was what they presented to the world, and her face was different. Not different in that she had too big a nose, or a massive spot on her chin. Her face just had that look after all the skin grafts. The hint of something that was awful underneath in the way her top lip was slightly pulled to one side, her nostrils not quite normal.
The thought of returning to the Franklin Hotel caused butterflies in her stomach. The last time she’d been there it had been made clear to her just exactly who Jamie was. This time she already knew. But he would find out who she was. And she wasn’t used to people probing around inside her life like that.
Suck it up. You’re doing this for your babies.
She parked the car and crunched across the stones on the driveway into the entrance hall. Jamie was already there, waiting to meet her, and he surprised her by kissing her on both cheeks.
‘I’m glad you came.’
She nodded, trying to make sense—quickly—of how it had felt when his lips had pressed against her face. She’d stopped breathing. Felt hot. Uncertain.
It’s nothing. Just get on with it.
But she hadn’t been ready for him to touch her face like that. And with his lips. His perfect lips…
‘Shall we go through to the pool? I can show you where the changing rooms are.’
Freya nodded hurriedly, glad that she didn’t blush any more the way she’d used to. Following him through the reception area, down a small corridor, through a set of double doors, she was suddenly hit by the smell of chlorine.
It was like going back through time. She’d both forgotten that smell and remembered it intently at the same time. It was so strong! And there was that slight echo in the room, the reflection of the blue water, bouncing off the walls…
‘The ladies’ changing rooms are off to the right.’
‘Thank you.’
Freya headed off to get changed, letting out a strained breath as she got to the changing area.
What was she doing—coming here? Doing this? Was she really about to strip down to a swimming costume in front of Jamie? It was practically like being naked. Naked meant vulnerable, and she didn’t like feeling that way.
She sat down on a wooden bench for a moment, to breathe and gather herself.
I’m not doing this for me. I’m doing this for my children, so that when they’re grown up I can tell them that I tried my best.
Suitably emboldened, she got up and began to undress. She put on her swimsuit and wrapped herself in a large towel before heading out to the pool.
Jamie was waiting for her. Wearing just a pair of trunks that emphasised his physique. She tried not to stare as she took in his beautiful body. His slightly hairy chest, his toned muscles, his flat stomach and long, strong, powerful thighs…
He was a thing of beauty, with his dark toned skin, whereas she hadn’t been out in the sun for ages and was milky white, pale, swollen and…
She almost chickened out. Almost turned around to go back inside the changing room saying I’m not doing this, but then he smiled at her, padding towards her to take her hand.
‘Are you all right?’
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, fighting the urge to flee, but also wanting to get into that water so very much! She’d missed it. Swimming. Relaxing. Floating in the water with the weight of the world off her body.
‘Let’s get you in, then.’
He walked ahead of her down the steps, her hand in his, allowing her to slip off the towel and get chest-deep in the water before he turned back to look at her.
She appreciated him being a gentleman like that.
‘How does the water feel?’ he asked.
It felt wonderful. She felt instantly lighter—her bump supported, the strain off her back—and the temperature was perfect.
‘Amazing!’ She smiled, treading water and moving her arms.
‘How many years has it been?’
‘Erm… About twenty years. Maybe more.’
He swam alongside her, dipping his head to get his hair wet.
She glanced at him when he came up for air, and then looked away again. God, the man was sexy, all wet like that! Flustered, she allowed the weight of her legs to drop to the bottom of the pool and stood up. She was feeling strange things happening in her body. Tingling anticipation.
‘When did you last swim?’ she asked, to try and think of anything else but her body’s primal reaction to this man beside her.
‘Yesterday.’ He smiled. ‘I always do a few lengths after a shift.’
‘After? How do you have the energy?’
‘I just do. But, then again, I’m not growing babies inside me. How are you feeling?’
‘Better now the morning sickness has disappeared. It wasn’t too bad. I was never actually sick. But I’m feeling much better, thank you.’
‘I’m glad.’
She stared at him for a moment. They were facing each other, about a metre apart, treading water. He looked so relaxed, and she wondered how he could be that way with so many worries upon his broad shoulders.
‘How do you
do it?’
He frowned. ‘Do what?’
‘Have those men following you around all the time? Your security? I’ve noticed I’ve got some of my own now. They’re discreet, but they’re there. It scared the hell out of me when I realised I was being followed.’
‘I should have mentioned them to you. I’m sorry, I should have thought.’
‘You should.’
‘You get used to it. After a while you hardly notice.’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘I wonder what they think of all this? Having to follow me around?’
‘I don’t know. They do it because I order them to.’
‘To protect me?’
He nodded.
‘I don’t need protection.’
‘Maybe not, but those babies of mine do.’ Duty. Would it always come back to that? He had a duty to his children, not to her. He had to do it, not because he wanted to.
She felt some similarity in her own life. She’d survived because she’d had to. She was trying to let him in because she had to. She owed it to her babies. But was it what she wanted? Yes—in a way. Her desire to be a mother was incredibly strong, and the need for her children to know their father was equally so. Even if she did suspect that at some point he would have to leave them behind.
She thought of women who were married to soldiers. Didn’t they do the same thing? Knowing that at some point they might lose their husbands? That one day they just wouldn’t come home?
But Jamie wouldn’t be dying, would he? He would be choosing his duty, his country, over them.
She turned and began to swim breaststroke across the pool. Jamie swam alongside her. And now that the olive branch had been accepted, now that she wasn’t having that knee-jerk reaction to keeping him at arm’s length, she was curious about the man whose babies she was carrying. His life. His past.
‘Tell me about your childhood. What was it like, growing up as a prince?’
He gave a wry smile. ‘It was privileged life—no surprise there. But it was also very difficult.’
‘In what way?’
‘I was a young boy who wanted to run off and explore. Beyond the palace was a thriving town, and beyond that an oasis. I wanted to go there all on my own, but that was never allowed. I felt my freedom was restricted, and along with my schooling I was given many hours of instruction on politics and court etiquette and council procedures, which was all very dry and uninteresting to a boy who only wanted to be able to go to the falconry or the stables or have friends round after school.’
Pregnant with His Royal Twins Page 8