Modern Romance Collection: July Books 5 - 8. Natalie Anderson

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      ‘Of course, so sad, and when we were still reeling from this morning’s events. The King is... Well, he wanted to come, but he had an...an event when he heard.’

      ‘Event?’

      ‘A heart event. Not an attack, you understand, but the Queen is at his side and he is comfortable,’ he added as if he were reading out a press release—actually he had probably already done so. ‘They wanted to be here, but it is lucky they are not here to see their son being treated like an ordinary—Of course, if he had not gone out without his security presence... But, no matter, I will set wheels in motion.’

      ‘At least there are no press hiding behind bedpans to take a snap.’

      The man rubbed his chin as he took on board her comments. ‘That is certainly a benefit of anonymity, and the idea of the Prince being treated like any of his subjects would be good for his image, presenting him as a man of the people. Well, perhaps for tonight at least we might leave things as they are.’ He tipped his head towards the bed where Sebastian slept on. ‘Do you know if there will be any scars?’

      ‘I should think so,’ she said evenly and closed her eyes. If she had to hear the man thinking out loud of how to put a positive spin on Sebastian being marked for life she would have to throw something at him.

      She was so tired of people who thought that the truth was a dirty word, people who thought through every syllable they uttered, always choosing appearances above honesty.

      Sometimes the truth was just the truth, no matter how much you manipulated it, and the truth was that two people she cared for deeply were in pain because of her!

      Her eyelids flickered as a series of images ran through her head. Sebastian mocking her, Sebastian aloof, Sebastian kissing her, Sebastian smiling and on and on, always Sebastian.

      Was she in any position to condemn anyone for being economical with the truth?

      Truth?

      Didn’t you have to ask the right question first to hear the answer, the truth?

      When she opened her eyes the King’s private secretary had gone. She looked at the man in the bed beside her own and saw that Sebastian was awake and looking at her, his blue eyes clouded by the drugs in his system. The ache of empathy was so strong that she forgot all about truths and answers.

      ‘Hello,’ she said softly.

      ‘I...’ He paused and moistened his lips. ‘I was looking for Chloe,’ he slurred.

      She felt tears spring to her eyes. ‘You found her.’

      ‘Where is this...?’

      ‘Hospital. You were hurt but you’re going to be all right. The room, it’s funny...’ she said, ignoring the odd aching feeling inside her when she laughed, ‘but they think we’re married.’

      ‘We are married? Yes, I remember now. I was dreaming about it. I kissed you.’ He smiled. ‘I remember now you looked beautiful.’ Still smiling, he closed his eyes and his breathing showed he was asleep.

      Satisfied that he was resting comfortably, she had just drifted off to sleep herself when she was woken.

      The man wheeling the chair told her that he had come to take her to CT before discharge.

      She glanced towards Sebastian, who was still sound asleep.

      ‘I don’t need one.’

      ‘I’m not a doctor, are you?’

      She could have said yes but she didn’t. ‘I could walk.’

      ‘You could, but if you fall over I’m the one who’ll get the boot...so...?’

      She got in, holding the open back of her gown in place to cover her modesty and her behind.

      ‘I’ve seen worse,’ wisecracked her driver. ‘You two the honeymooners? Don’t worry, it won’t take long and he’ll still be here when you get back.’

      * * *

      He was, but not in bed when she walked into the room past the security guards who had been there when she’d left. Her brief flurry of irrational panic subsided when she saw the figure standing in a narrow open door that was a tight squeeze for a broad-shouldered man plus a portable drip stand.

      In her absence the big bulky dressing had been removed. In its place was a narrow, almost transparent strip that showed the full extent of his repaired wound. Sabrina was relieved by what she saw. The man who had operated had clearly been as good as the nurse had claimed. Her professional eye could see beyond the bruising and swelling that made his face unrecognisable, and she knew that the healing process would fade the livid raised red scar to silver.

      The professional in her saw a good job; the woman in her saw not ugliness, but pain and she winced, her empathy shifting uneasily to dismay. What she was feeling went beyond normal empathy. It wasn’t even guilt that she felt; it was more...it was... The name for what she was feeling remained there, just out of reach.

      As their eyes met Sebastian’s were dark with pain and exhaustion. She ironed her expression out into a smile as her eyes moved in a covetous sweep up the long, lean length of his body. Unlike her he was not wearing hospital issue, although someone kind in the CT department had given her a big towelling dressing gown to cover the open-backed theatre gown. Sebastian, by contrast, was wearing a pair of dark sweats and a T-shirt that revealed the incredible lean muscles of his torso and his powerful biceps. Fighting the hormonal rush, she lowered her eyes.

      ‘Should you be out of bed?’

      Sebastian took hold of the drip stand awkwardly in one lightly bandaged hand and began to walk towards her, feeling her eyes on him and knowing what she saw when she looked at him. It had been there in her face in that unguarded moment—he had become a man with a ruined face, someone to pity, someone she would soon learn it was her duty to be with, to lie in bed with even if inside she felt disgust.

      And Sabrina would never turn her back on her duty.

      He turned away as he felt the fury and outraged pride rise in him.

      ‘Well, as you see, I am. The surgeon is apparently due to arrive in...’ He glanced towards his wrist and swore, then swore again as he banged the drip stand into the table positioned at the bottom of the bed.

      ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘Nothing is wrong. I’ve left my watch in the bathroom and this thing is—’

      ‘I’ll get it.’ Sabrina moved past him into what was little more than a cubicle, clean but utilitarian with a basin, lavatory and shower.

      ‘How are you feeling, really?’ she called out as she lifted the metal-banded watch from where he’d left it on the edge of the washbasin.

      ‘Pretty much the way I look. Maybe under the circumstances pretty is not the right word.’

      The bitterness in his voice made her pause; he could not blame her for what had happened any more than she was blaming herself. If she hadn’t run away from her responsibilities СКАЧАТЬ