Pregnant with His Royal Twins

by Louisa Heaton

  ‘Maybe, but milkshakes and chocolates can’t build bedroom furniture, can they?’ He stepped past her, then stopped, turned, smiled and lowered his head to kiss her. ‘Almost forgot this part,’ he whispered, his lips closing over hers.

  He’d missed her. Even more so since spending time with Casey. He felt the need to be with her. Her and the babies. Whilst he could. Her lips were full, soft and warm. She was comforting to him. It made him feel good just to be with her, and already he could feel his cares and worries being soothed away.

  He wanted more. Could feel his body awakening to her touch, her presence. But more was forbidden. Which made the idea of it all the more desirable, and he had to pull back, bite his lip and just look at her with adoration and maddening frustration.

  ‘Has everything arrived?’

  ‘It’s all in the nursery, awaiting your attention.’

  ‘Good.’

  She stared back at him, licked her lips, and he tracked every motion. The way her tongue swept over her lips, wetting them, leaving them glistening, before slipping back into her mouth.

  ‘Can I make you a drink?’

  He let out a sigh, imagining what that tongue could do to his body. ‘Tea, please.’

  He watched her head off to the kitchen and forcibly pushed aside his very sinful thoughts of all the things he wanted to do to her. That would have to wait. They had time. Time, at least, was on their side.

  ‘I thought it might snow.’ He followed her and watched her make the tea. ‘They’ve forecast it in the paper.’

  Freya laughed cynically. ‘Let me tell you something about England, Jamie. They always forecast snow. They give us dire warnings every year, but we never get it. We can barely manage a frost down here, near the coast. It’s very disappointing, actually.’

  He smiled. ‘This time last year I was working in Edinburgh, and we had snow. First time I’d ever experienced a heavy snowfall and it was wonderful.’

  ‘Well, you’d better keep a hold of that memory, because you probably won’t get it again.’ She handed him his tea, smiling. ‘Shall we get to it?’

  ‘I’d love to. But apparently there’s furniture that needs building.’ He smiled.

  She smiled back. ‘That’s what I meant.’

  ‘You can supervise. And pass me things.’ He pointed at her. ‘No heavy lifting.’

  Freya saluted him. ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Orders from your consultant.’

  ‘I get it—don’t worry. Are you sure you don’t want something to eat before we start?’

  He turned to look at her, devilment in his eyes. ‘Freya, what I want to eat is, unfortunately, not on the menu at this moment in time.’

  *

  The instructions for the two cots seemed to be written in gibberish, and the pictures showing where to place the locking nuts didn’t seem all that clear either. It took over an hour to do the first cot, through a process of elimination, but by the time he’d started the second he actually felt he knew what he was doing.

  Freya sat beside him in a rocking chair, reading a book about what to expect in the first year of their child’s life. She looked so cute, rocking away, one hand resting on her ample stomach, intensely concentrating on the words. He sat and watched her for a moment, quite unable to believe that this was his family now.

  ‘Good book?’

  She closed it and wiggled her eyebrows. ‘Scary book. There seems so much to watch out for and worry about.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like colic, whooping cough, vaccinations and sterilising everything to within an inch of its life! What if they choke on something? What if I wean them too early and it does them more harm than good?’ She let out a sigh. ‘Being a mum seemed so much easier when it was just hypothetical.’

  He could see that she was feeling nervous and needed reassurance. ‘We’ll be absolutely fine. We can do this. Thousands do.’

  ‘And thousands of parents end up in A&E with their babies—we both know that. They get gastroenteritis and need rehydration drips and monitoring, or they swallow some coin or a marble or a little toy gun—I don’t know, something—and they need an operation.’

  He went to kneel beside her and took her hands in his. ‘We can’t protect them from everything.’

  ‘But we’re their parents. We’re meant to protect them from things that will cause them harm!’

  ‘You can’t protect them from illness. Germs will get in no matter what you do. And, yes, they might swallow something they shouldn’t. I believe I swallowed a small plastic camel when I was two years old, but here I am, absolutely fine and without trauma to my system. It’s okay to worry, Freya. It’s part of being a parent.’

  ‘But I never thought I’d get the chance at this and now I am! And it’s getting closer now, and I’m just worried that I’ll get it all wrong!’

  ‘Every mother worries. This is natural. Let’s focus our energies on things we can control—like baby names, for instance. Have you had any thoughts on what you might want to call them?’

  She let out a sigh and he saw a small smile begin to emerge as she focused on happier things. ‘I quite like the name Samuel.’

  He mused on it. ‘Samuel MacFadden. That sounds like a good strong name.’

  She smiled. ‘Samuel Al Bakhari. I’m going to give them your surname.’

  He sat back on his heels, pleasantly surprised. And honoured. ‘You are?’

  ‘And I figured if you let me pick their first names, then you could pick their middle names. Something Arabic? So they get a name from both our cultures?’

  ‘Wow… I don’t quite know what to say.’ The gesture meant a lot to him.

  ‘Just suggest some good names!’

  He smiled back at her, stroking her beautiful face and staring into her eyes.

  They decided upon Samuel Dawoud and James Kadin.

  ‘Good, strong names.’

  ‘For good, strong boys.’ She rubbed her tummy. ‘They’ll be here soon.’

  He squeezed her hands. ‘And we’ll be ready for them.’

  *

  Once the cots were up, and Jamie had powered through constructing a wardrobe, a baby-changing station and a set of drawers, Freya cooked them both something to eat.

  It was wonderful to have Jamie there with her, now that she was determined to step forward into the future with him at her side, instead of fighting him every inch of the way. Watching him work on the bedroom furniture, seeing how careful he was, how focused, making sure everything was put together correctly and securely, made her feel warm inside.

  ‘I can’t wait to see them in those cots.’

  She smiled. ‘Me too.’

  ‘Can’t wait to see their little faces. Hold them. Love them.’

  She knew exactly what he meant. She felt it too.

  Passing him a bowl of pasta, she sat down on the couch opposite. ‘Thanks for today, Jamie. It feels good to see the nursery taking shape. Makes me feel like I’m a bit more prepared.’

  ‘I’m glad. I’d do anything to make this easier for you.’

  ‘It must be difficult for you too. Not knowing what’s ahead?’

  He nodded. ‘I don’t want to screw this up. Us… The twins… Majidar…’

  ‘I never wanted to come between you and your country, Jamie. You have to know that.’

  ‘Of course I do.’

  ‘I just feel like…’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like I’m making you choose. And I know I won’t win.’

  He put the pasta down. Sat beside her. Kissed her on the forehead. ‘This isn’t your fault. You’re not making me do anything I don’t want to.’

  ‘But you have a responsibility to your people. A million of them. I’m just one. Soon to be three. I can’t compete with that. I don’t want to think of the day when you’ll have to make that decision.’

  His eyes darkened as he felt her pain. ‘I don’t want to leave you. You know that?’

  She nodded.
/>
  Jamie let out a heavy sigh. ‘We can’t worry about that yet. It could be decades away. Let’s consider brighter, better things.’ He thought for a moment. ‘What do you want to do over Christmas?’

  Christmas? She hadn’t really thought about it. She’d figured she’d be spending it in the normal way. ‘I’ll be at my mum’s house.’

  ‘I’m scheduled to work over Christmas. The afternoon shift from two p.m. But I wondered…well, I hoped that maybe we could spend the morning together?’

  ‘Oh… Okay… Well, why don’t you come to Mum’s? It’ll give you both an opportunity to get to know each other a bit more and we’ll get to share the day together. We eat at midday, so you’ll get lunch.’

  He smiled and nodded. ‘Sounds good. I’d love that—thank you.’

  ‘I’ll let Mum know there’ll be an extra mouth to feed!’

  Freya felt good about that. This would be her last Christmas without children. Maybe next year she and Jamie would be living together? Inviting her mum over to their place? Cooking for her instead? And there would be the joy of watching the babies rip open their presents. Would they be toddling by then? Crawling? Making mischief between the pair of them? Babbling away in their own little twins’ language?

  The idea of it made her smile. Made her feel warm and happy. Her future with Jamie might be uncertain, but whilst he was here they would make good memories together. Memories they would both cherish. Every moment would be precious.

  Life was changing—and for the better. She couldn’t quite believe she’d resisted this so much! Look at how well she and Jamie got along! All she’d needed to do was give him a chance. Give them a chance. And, even though she still felt apprehensive about the future, everything was looking much brighter now.

  Maybe they could do this?

  Together.

  *

  ‘We’re going out.’

  Freya frowned at Jamie. She’d just opened the door to him, expecting to invite him in for them to spend the evening together the way they usually did—watching a movie, eating popcorn, that kind of thing. She hadn’t been expecting to go out, and she was wearing jogging bottoms and a maternity tee shirt that was having difficulty stretching over her twins-filled abdomen.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’ve arranged something special. Just for you. So get dressed—we’re heading into town.’

  ‘Into town? Oh, no, I really don’t think that I could—’

  He pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her with a smile. ‘Trust me.’

  Freya stared back at him. Going into town was not her favourite thing. She’d done it a few times after the attack. It had been part of her therapy—heading out with her counsellor to show that she was okay being around crowds of people.

  She’d been in a crowd of people when Mike had thrown the acid at her. It had happened in town. On the main street. He’d been lucky it hadn’t hit anyone else and scarred them too. For a long time she’d been afraid to go out. Had almost become agoraphobic. Her counsellor had worked on exposing her gradually, getting her back out into the world.

  It had been a long, difficult road, but one she had accomplished with much pride, even standing in the very spot on which the attack had happened, her eyes closed, breathing everything in—the familiar sounds of people all around her, the faint music from a clothing store playing far away, a busker a little further along, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the ringing of the church bells, the hustle and bustle of life all around her.

  She’d done it. It had been fine. Until she’d opened her eyes.

  Then she’d seen it. The stares of people passing her by. Had watched them notice her scarred face, seen the looks of repulsion, the pity, the sympathy, the recognition of who she was—that girl from the news who was attacked.

  Her counsellor had told her not to worry about other people’s reactions, but that had been easy for her to say—she hadn’t been the one with a ruined face. It had been horrible to be looked at so differently.

  Freya had always been pretty. Had always been aware that people looked at her with appreciation. That they’d wanted to know her, be her friend. She’d never had to try too hard with her looks, hadn’t needed loads of make-up or anything like that. A natural beauty—wasn’t that what everyone had said?

  It had been torture to see that change. To look in the mirror and see what everyone else saw. Her face told her story. Her past relationship, her pain, her journey to recovery. Every operation, every painful skin graft—all there on her face for the world to judge. She would always be ‘the acid girl’.

  It was easier not to expose herself to people like that. To work nights, to order online, to keep to her small group of family and friends and the patients she saw on shift.

  She had to admit that her patients had all been fine with her. No one had reacted with shock or pity. One or two had asked her what had happened, but the majority had decided it wasn’t any of their business and hadn’t asked at all.

  Perhaps she needed to let the rest of the world have that chance?

  ‘What have you got planned?’ she asked nervously.

  ‘It’s a surprise.’

  ‘I don’t like surprises. Besides, I’m meant to be resting,’ she added, trying to use her pregnancy as one last grip on the door.

  ‘I’ve taken all that into consideration.’ He stepped into her flat and closed the door behind him. ‘Now, go and get dressed.’

  ‘Jamie, the town…for me, it’s—’

  He pulled her towards him and held her tightly. ‘I know. I do. But we won’t be going anywhere near that part of it and I’ll be with you every step of the way.’

  What had he got planned? She didn’t like surprises. Surprises were bad news.

  Reluctantly she rummaged in her wardrobe for anything that might fit her and found a pair of maternity jeans and a pink hoodie that said I’m Doing Nine Months Inside.

  Then she brushed her hair, put it up into a ponytail, added a bit of mascara to her lashes and some lip gloss, a quick spritz of perfume and stood in front of the mirror. Psyching herself up for this ‘surprise’.

  When she was ready she headed out, grabbing her handbag. ‘Will I do?’

  His face lit up in a smile. ‘You look perfect.’

  ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘I told you—it’s a surprise.’ He got her coat and helped her put it on, slipping her arms into the sleeves, and then grabbed her long, woolly scarf and wrapped it gently around her neck, before dropping a soft kiss on her nose.

  She followed him down to his car and he opened the door for her, closing it again once she was safely inside.

  Butterflies gathered in her belly as he drove her towards town. They could be going anywhere. To do anything! She was meant to be resting—which was why Jamie had been spending every spare moment with her when he wasn’t on shift. How he got any sleep and managed to function, she had no idea, but he must be power-napping or something, because he always seemed wide awake when he was with her.

  And she liked it that he was spending this time with her. It was good for them. Snuggling on the sofa, holding hands, each kiss he gave her heartfelt and meaningful, warming her, making her feel safe and secure and loved.

  Oh, there’d been times when she’d wanted a whole lot more! But they were both on strict instructions. No sex until the babies were born! And, as they were determined to keep the twins inside her for as long as they could, they were both being extremely diligent about that rule.

  Jamie drove them through the streets towards town, and Freya had to admit it looked really pretty at night. The Christmas lights were up, adorning most of the streets in the city centre, Christmas music was being played, and everyone seemed to be in a happy, relaxed mood. Perhaps everyone was feeling goodwill to all men?

  Jamie parked in a small service road to the rear of one of the big shopping centres.

  Where on earth were they?

  Jamie got out, walked around the outside of
the car and then opened her door. ‘Madam?’

  She smiled nervously. ‘Where are we? What are we doing?’

  ‘I need my guys to watch the car, so I’ve parked here; it means my security looks a little less conspicuous. And I think you’ll find that we’ll be met in just a moment.’

  He pressed a buzzer beside a set of double doors and instantly they were opened by a woman wearing a pretty blue dress and a name tag that read ‘Michelle’.

  ‘Mr Bakhari? Miss MacFadden? Good evening and welcome to The Nesting Site.’

  The Nesting Site? She’d read about that store in the local paper when it had opened up a few years ago. It was a stylish baby store, selling everything from plain muslin squares right through to the most hi-tech buggy anyone could possibly hope to purchase. It was exclusive—and a bit pricey, too. She’d heard some of her patients, when they’d come in to give birth, talking about browsing there, just to look at the beautiful things.

  ‘I have a lift on hold, waiting for us.’

  Michelle stood back to let them in and Freya breathed in the woman’s perfume as she passed her by, feeling completely underdressed in her jeans and hoodie. She leant in towards Jamie for security and comfort, and felt better when he took her hand in his and give it a squeeze.

  Michelle was looking at her with a polite smile. ‘How many months are you?’

  ‘Seven and a half, but it’s twins, so…’

  Michelle nodded, as if she understood perfectly. ‘I had twins. One of each. Do you know what flavours you’re expecting?’

  ‘Two boys.’

  Michelle smiled. ‘Two princes. How wonderful!’

  Freya looked at Jamie in shock. Did this woman know who and what Jamie was? She’d thought he didn’t tell anyone that. But Jamie just smiled enigmatically at her and said nothing.

  The lift doors pinged open and Michelle invited them in to the amazing store.

  Freya sucked in a breath at all the beautiful things she could see—cribs with white lace curtains, the most beautiful rocking chairs, baby clothes in all manner of colours and designs, from plain white with gold embroidery through to brightly patterned Babygros in pinks and blues and the palest of palettes.

  Michelle indicated a large reclining chair, stuffed with cushions, for Freya to sit down upon—which she did, wondering just what was about to happen here.