Pregnant With His Royal Twins

‘Leave it. Please.’

‘But, Freya...’

‘No kissing...please.’

He’d respected her wishes. That veil had made her seem like forbidden fruit. An enigma. Her hat had fallen to the floor and her long blonde locks had tumbled around her shoulders like golden waves. And the dark stockings on her ever so creamy thighs had aroused a feeling in him that he’d never quite experienced before.

They’d given each other everything.

And when they were spent they had slumped against each other and just stood there, wrapped in each other. Just breathing. Just existing. It was all that they’d needed.

A sound by the door had made them break apart and rearrange their clothing.

She’d glanced at him, guiltily. ‘I must go.’

He’d stared at her, not knowing what to say. He’d felt as if there was so much he wanted to say to her, but it had all got stuck in his throat and he’d remained silent. He’d wanted to tell her to stay. To come back to the hotel with him. He’d wanted to ask her if he could see her again and that had both shocked and scared him—because he never made commitments.

But she’d slipped from the closet, and by the time he’d adjusted his clothes and made himself presentable again she’d been gone.

He’d scanned the ballroom, looking for her fall of blonde hair, looking for those all-seeing eyes, but she’d gone.

Jamie had signalled his security people and told them to look out for her, to check the car park, but like an enigmatic spy she had simply disappeared. Disappointed, he had got into his own car and been driven home.

But now she was here.

She’d turned to look at him after Jules had asked everyone to welcome him. She was here. Of all the places in the world he could have looked. In this hospital. On this ward. With him. Those eyes of hers had pierced his soul once again, reawakening his dormant desire and making every cell of his body cry out for her.

But there’d been something else. Something that had rocked him. Something he hadn’t noticed before. And now he understood about the veil.

Freya was scarred. Something had happened to her. To her face. She’d had work done. Skin grafts, no doubt. Painful surgeries and recovery. How many? What had happened to her? A house fire? Was that why she’d been at the charity event for the burns unit?

And he’d sensed her fear. Her shock. Had seen the horror in her eyes as she’d realised who he was. Then he’d seen her shame, because she’d noticed how he’d reacted when he saw her properly.

Angry with himself, he’d wanted to reach out, touch her, tell her that she should not be ashamed—but she’d bolted.

Jamie sensed a soul like his own. Someone who preferred the everyday to the limelight. Someone who avoided crowds and adulation. Someone who preferred to hide behind a mask.

He felt her magnetism. Her draw.

And helplessly he allowed himself to be pulled in.

* * *

‘It is you, isn’t it?’

Freya had quickly run to the kitchenette to make her patient’s husband a cup of tea. She’d slid into the small room, breathing a sigh of relief, wondering just how the hell she was going to get through work for the next few weeks if he was going to be here, covering for Sandra.

She’d just been kneeling down to put the milk back in the fridge when she’d heard the door open behind her and then his voice.

Freya closed her eyes and looked down, hoping the loose tendrils of her hair would cover her face. She didn’t want this. Didn’t need this. Tonight had already been overwhelming—finding out she was pregnant—but to have him here too? To have to have this conversation? Now? At work?

‘I’m sorry, I need to take this drink to my patient.’

She held the mug of tea in her hand, not turning to face him, but so very aware of his presence behind her in this small, suddenly claustrophobic room.

This man had made her body sing. Nerve-endings that she’d thought were dead had come alive that night and she had felt every single part of her body as he’d played her like a delicate harp. Knowing what to touch and how to touch, how to make her gasp, sigh and groan. She’d experienced things with this man that she had never felt before. He’d made her reveal a side to herself that she’d never known.

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.