Pregnant with the Prince's Child Read Online Free Page B

At least, I’ve had a rough outline.”
    Sure, they’d probably told him about his military service, about working in intelligence. But had they told him about her? Had they told him he’d been married? Probably not. After all, very few people even knew. They’d kept it secret. If their commanding officers had found out, they would both have been expelled from the corps. Not even their friends had known about it. If she hadn’t found the marriage license and her wedding ring in among her important things when they’d let her out of the prison camp, she might have begun to believe it was a fantasy herself.
    “And?” she prodded.
    “I guess I was in the military, but so far they haven’t been able to confirm that with the right agency. It seems I was doing some sort of undercover work or something. Very hush-hush. No one will admit anything. But I’m sure they will get paperwork squared away eventually. In the meantime, I’m a man without a past.”
    That was a pity. She had a big chunk of his past right here in her heart, but she couldn’t hand it over. Not yet.
    The pain came back in waves. She could see it as it came, read it in his eyes. He groaned softly and she could see that he was in real agony. Everything in her wanted to go to him, to help. But what could she do? She had no medical training. She was afraid anything she tried to do might only make him worse.
    He groaned again, writhing, and she couldn’t hold back any longer. She slipped into the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth and ran cold water over it, then hurried back and sat on the edge of his bed. For all she knew, this might be exactly the wrong thing to do, but she had to do something. Moving smoothly, she pressed the cool cloth to his forehead and began to murmur soft, soothing nonsense as she held it there. At any moment, she expected him to lash out at her, kick her away, yell something awful.
    But to her surprise, he did none of that. Something in her touch seemed to calm him almost immediately. Little by little, his body began to relax.
    “Do me a favor,” he said suddenly, his voice choked. He was looking up at her with a strange expression on his face, as though he weren’t sure how she was going to react to what he asked of her. “Could you hold my hand?”
    She stared down at him, hardly breathing.
    “I…I’m spinning,” he explained gruffly as he reached out, closing his eyes again. “The medication. I just need… I don’t know. To feel like I’m anchored to something.”
    She took his hand in hers and held it tightly, then pressed it to her heart. There was something so real, so vulnerable about the way he’d asked her, tears filled her eyes again and her throat choked with emotion.
    This was so strange, a complete reversal of roles. Mykal was always the tough guy, the one whose arms she’d run to, the man who knew all the answers. And now here he was, asking her for reassurance. Asking for trust. For a solid center to cling to.
    But she wasn’t the one who could do that for him. Not now, not after all that had happened between them. Didn’t he sense that?
    “Mykal,” she whispered, tears spilling over. “I…I can’t…”
    But he didn’t hear her. He was already asleep.
    She looked at the long, strong hand she was holding in both of hers. His beautiful hands had always been one of the things she’d loved best about him. She ached inside for what they’d had, what they’d lost. Bringing his hand up, she put it against her cheek and sighed. Then she kissed the center of his palm and laid it back down on his covers, letting her gaze run over every visible part of him. The light from the lamp made his skin glow and seemed to put every muscle in relief, like a beautiful landscape. Everything in her yearned to touch him. She’d missed him so much and hungered for this for far too long.
    For just a moment she remembered the first time she’d met him.
    She’d been sent to check out rumors of a commotion in a pub in