Billionaire's Runaway Princess

by Mia Caldwell

  Lizzy sank her teeth into her lip. Leaving without seeing Ian was out of the question. She’d blown almost two grand on the trip. Nearly one month’s rent money on a plane ticket. That wasn’t counting food, cab rides, or anything else she might need. She wasn’t broke, but she couldn’t afford to do the entire thing again in a week. Lizzy leaned against the wooden desk. The edges of her waistcoat parted, giving the receptionist a full view of her swollen belly.

  “You don’t understand. I need to speak with Mr. MacHolden. It’s time-sensitive.” Lizzy cast her eyes down toward her stomach. Or where her stomach would be if her swollen breasts didn’t block it from view. “And I’m not leaving until I’ve seen him.”

  “Oh.” The color drained from the receptionist’s face as she reached for the phone. “Your name?”

  “Elizabeth…Lizzy Burdette. He’ll remember me.”

  Lizzy pushed her waistcoat closed again. She glanced around the room, her eyes moving over photographs of men posed in front of stills that hung on the beige walls. The oldest had a sepia tone that caught Lizzy’s eye. It was skillfully staged for an old photograph, each of the dozen people in it stood in just the right spot in front of the still to create a pleasing composition. The photo closest to her featured a man and two teenage boys. They must have been brothers, judging by the family resemblance. One of the boys was Ian. He’d dropped more than one hint about running the family business, but he’d never said that business was booze. Maybe women in Scotland were snobbier than American women about where the money came from.

  The receptionist’s voice brought Lizzy back to reality. “Miss Burdette? Mr. MacHolden will see you now.”

  The interior hallway was warmer than the lobby. She rubbed away the beads of sweat that gathered on her brow with the back of her sleeve. Once she was in the office, she could take off the waistcoat and give Ian a good look what their fling had created. But for the moment, she was more concerned with not having anyone notice her. People tended to forget that just because a woman was pregnant didn’t mean it was okay for strangers to touch her. Another lesson Lizzy had learned the hard way.

  As they approached the end of the hallway, the silence became more than Lizzy could stand. “Let me guess. He said he’s never heard of me.”

  “Mr. MacHolden couldn’t place your name. He agreed to see you because you were so insistent.”

  Lizzy bristled at that. “I have as much right to see him as anyone else. Just because I’m not bringing money in the door—”

  “I didn’t mean to imply anything, Miss Burdette.” The receptionist opened the heavy wooden door. “Mr. MacHolden, Lizzy Burdette to see you.”

  “Thank you, Abby,” he said, though he didn’t turn his chair around. The receptionist, Abby, dismissed herself. Lizzy pulled off her coat and tossed it onto the nearby chair, but didn’t sit.

  The interior of the office fit the exterior. It was charming in an old-world sort of way, and unlike what Lizzy expected. A strange sensation tugged at her. Something was off, but she couldn’t put her finger on what. She wrote it off as jet lag and the shock of being in a new place half a world away from anything familiar.

  “I didn’t think you’d see me,” she said. “Since you left in such a hurry.”

  The chair swiveled around, and the man sitting in it locked eyes with Lizzy. He was well-groomed and gorgeous, with tousled red hair and piercing hazel eyes, but he wasn’t Ian MacHolden.

  A swell of anger washed over her, the power of it making her stumble backward toward the door. “Is this some kind of joke?”

  “I ought to be the one asking you that question, Miss Burdette.” He leaned forward, his muscular arms braced against the desk.

  “I’m looking for Ian MacHolden.” Her stomach roiled. She’d expected a lack of enthusiasm from Ian about her pregnancy, but she hadn’t anticipated him to hand her over to a stranger. The darkest part of her, the part that took months to silence enough to make the trip at all, figured Ian didn’t love her, that his sweet words meant nothing. But she hadn’t expected this level of disregard.

  The man’s brow furrowed and leaned forward against the polished wood top of his desk. “I’m Ian MacHolden, Miss Burdette, and I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

  Lizzy pressed her back against the door as if the sturdy material would give her the strength she needed. As if the cold wood could counteract the weakness she felt spreading through her knees.

  “I know Ian MacHolden. I’m his...I was his....” She didn’t know what to call herself. Ian had said all the right words, words that she’d needed wanted to believe in spite of herself. He’d even waited until she was comfortable opening her body to him, but just when she’d opened her spirit too, Ian had disappeared. What could she call herself? His lover? The mother of his child? Neither title felt like the entire truth.

  The real Ian stood up, concern etched on his face. “Are you all right?”

  The room lurched in Lizzy’s eyes. If the man she’d loved wasn’t Ian MacHolden, who was he? To whom had she opened her heart?

  Lizzy shut her eyes. “I’m sorry, it’s just...I’m sure I know Ian. He’s a little bit taller than you, with green eyes and brown hair.” The description sounded lame, even to her ears. Six weeks of dinner dates and a few nights of passion, but she didn’t even have a picture to prove she wasn’t as crazy as she sounded.

  Lizzy didn’t hear the man cross the room, but she knew he was nearby from the smell of his cologne. It was richer than her Ian wore. Spicier and more complex.

  “Miss Burdette, is this him?” he asked

  Lizzy opened her eyes and stared at the framed photograph the man offered. As her eyes cleared, the two Ians came into focus. The man who’d shared her bed, and the man in front of her. Both men in the photo smiled, but her Ian looked more tired than she remembered. Dark circles settled under eyes that the smile on his lips didn’t touch.

  “That’s Ian,” she said.

  The man pulled the photo back and shook his head. “That’s my brother, Gerard. I’m sorry, Miss Burdette.”

  It took a moment for her to process the words. For as long as she could remember, she’d had a personal rule. Never tempt fate. Never assume a situation was as bad as it could get. Because the universe had a way of proving Lizzy Burdette wrong. She’d thought flying halfway across the world to see the man who’d abandoned her was bad. Doing it while carrying his child was worse. But this was a whole new level of awful beyond Lizzy’s wildest dreams.

  “If he’s not Ian, then why...?” She didn’t know what to ask. Why use his brother’s name? That didn’t matter anymore. Why pretend? That didn’t matter either. People always had reasons for the masks they wore. Sometimes they were even good reasons. In the end, the deception didn’t change anything. She still needed to see Ian, still needed him to make good on his promises to her.

  The man seemed to understand. He placed a gentle hand on Lizzy’s shoulder. She hadn’t realized she was cold again until the warmth spread from his hand through her cotton T-shirt.

  “Gerard is—was never the best with responsibility. He loved to have a good time. He loved life and new experiences. It was always the details that tripped him up.”

  Lizzy stared at Ian. “Was?”

  Ian nodded, grief tugging at the corner of his eyes. “Gerard was in a car accident twelve weeks ago. He didn’t make it.”

  Lizzy clamped her hand over her mouth as her stomach flipped and swallowed as hard as she could. The real Ian seemed kind, but she doubted he’d be happy if his brother’s baby mama puked all over his carpet. Never tempt fate. Never think anything was as bad as it could get.

  What little strength remained in her knees drained away, and Lizzy slid to the floor. The real Ian moved with her, his hands on her waist to slow her fall.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. A scream welled in her chest, a mighty cry of pain and anguish that she knew would never end if she gave it release. “I’m sorry, I just...”

  Ian to
ok her trembling hands into his own. They weren’t as soft as Ian’s—Gerard’s—had been. Their last night together he’d reached between for her hand and entwined their fingers. She had cherished that memory over their months apart, now and then looking at her hand and imagining that she could still feel his touch. She would never feel it again. Never see his mischievous grin or feel him run his fingers through her hair. Their child would never know him.

  “Miss Burdette, I have to ask. Is Gerard the father?”

  Lizzy was prepared to have a verbal showdown with her Ian. She was prepared for accusations and hurt feelings and promises to make good. She’d come to this country prepared for a battle, but hoping for a happy ending—she realized that now. Instead, she was on the floor of an office building miles from home with a man whose name she knew, but whose face was unfamiliar.

  She struggled to her feet as fast as she could manage and tugged the door open, but the real Ian’s body blocked it from opening. After the second tug, Ian climbed to his feet.

  “Miss Burdette, wait,” he shouted, but Lizzy was already running down the hall. She heard his footsteps behind her.

  She kept running. Past the small desk with the puzzled receptionist. Back onto the street and the chilly Scottish air.

  “Miss Burdette,” he shouted. Something in his voice sounded different. Panicked. Lizzy turned to unleash all the anger and confusion. What did she care if she hurt his feeling? What did his grief mean to her? Her Ian was gone, and all of her hopes for a happy family had gone with him.

  Ian MacHolden’s face was the last thing she saw before the car struck her.

  Chapter Two

  The smell of disinfectant was overpowering, but oddly comforting. Lizzy couldn’t remember much. Pain and fear had overwhelmed her mind and robbed her of consciousness. It was probably for the best. She couldn’t remember much of the accident, but she remembered the screech of tires before the pain. A searing pain rolling over her body with each beat of her heart, so that she couldn’t tell where the healthy parts of her body ended and the injured parts began. Within moments, it faded to a dull soreness in her right shoulder and left hip.

  Lizzy opened her eyes and stared at the white wall in front of her. Someone must have called an ambulance. She was thankful for that. At least she wouldn’t die alone on a damp road in another country. She’d been running from something, or someone, but she couldn’t call the name to her mind. All she could remember was the feeling that she’d been a fool, a feeling so consuming she might sink from the weight of it.

  “Hey, are you awake?” His voice was gentle, almost tender.

  A flood of memories crashed over her aching head. The office. The rain. The photograph. She’d been running from him. Ian. The real Ian, and the knowledge that the happiest moments of her life had been a more complete lie than she’d ever imagined. There was nowhere to run now. No avenue of escape from the shame she felt. How could she have been so stupid?

  Lizzy shook her head and ran her hands over her swollen belly. When she’d found out she was pregnant, she was shocked, but she’d sworn to herself to give their baby—her baby—the best possible chance at a good life. She’d ditched the junk food for vegetables. Her daily pot of coffee was strictly forbidden. She even excused herself if someone nearby lit a cigarette, though never as politely as she meant to. The promise led her across the ocean, but she’d broken it in one moment of emotion.

  “Is...is my baby....” Try as she might, Lizzy couldn’t form the words.

  His expression softened the way peoples’ did when asked a question they found too hard to answer. Either he knew something was wrong, or he didn’t know anything at all. She wasn’t sure she liked either option.

  “The doctor will be in soon,” he said. “How do you feel?”

  Lizzy didn’t answer. She couldn’t. How could she explain the flurry of emotions running through her mind? There was fear, of course, and a profound exhaustion that frayed at her nerves. But those weren’t things you discussed with strangers. It was better to be silent.

  Ian wasn’t having it. He moved closer to the bed and put his hand over hers. It was as warm as it had been that morning. Why was he so kind to a woman he didn’t know?

  “Miss Burdette, I know this isn’t the best time, but I have to ask again. Is Gerard the father?”

  The question ripped through the last of her defenses. She stifled a sob in the back her throat and nodded. Tears spilled over her cheeks, and she rubbed with the back of her hand. Ian sighed, but Lizzy couldn’t identify the emotion behind it.

  “Listen, Miss Burdette...” Ian said, but his voice trailed off. She didn’t blame him. What could they possibly have to say to one another? Mercifully, a knock on the door spared them both from the awkward conversation.

  A man with gray hair and a gleaming white lab coat stepped into the room. He seemed pleasant enough, judging by the warm smile that came to his lips, but Lizzy’s shoulders curled inward as he approached her. “Miss Burdette, is it? I’m Dr. Brody. How are you feeling?”

  The doctor’s accent was thicker than Ian’s or Gerard’s, and it took Lizzy a few seconds to figure out what he said. “Tired? Sore?” she offered. Confused as hell would have been a more accurate answer. And no less truthful.

  The doctor nodded. “You’ll feel that way for a while, I expect. The good news is the driver slammed on the brakes when she saw you. If she hadn’t, it could have been much worse.”

  Lizzy took a deep breath and tried to suppress the wave of anger that threatened to wash over her. Her entire world had been turned upside down, and things just kept getting worse. The last thing she felt was lucky.

  “What about my baby?” Her voice sounded small to her ears, and it only made her angrier. She hated weakness—in herself more than anyone else. Her father had taught her that lesson a long time ago, when he’d disappeared forever. The strong prey on the weak. The strong made the weak feel safe and secure with a mountain of lies and then abandoned them when they needed the most. No weakness was allowed in Lizzy’s world. Her baby needed her to be better than that.

  “I have good news and bad news,” the doctor said. “The good news is that your baby is alive and as far as I can tell, doing just fine.”

  “And the bad news?”

  “The bad news is that there appears to be a small tear in your placenta. Now it’s not life-threatening to you or the baby as long as we take the proper measures now.”

  “What are the proper measures?” Ian asked.

  Any other time, Lizzy would have taken him to task about asking questions for her, but she needed the answer just as badly as he did, and for the moment, her voice failed her.

  “Good nutrition, fresh air, and most importantly, bedrest. Stay off of your feet as much as possible and try not to be alone. Injuries like this can grow complicated quickly, and you may not be able to call for help if you need it.”

  Lizzy shook her head. “I have to be back in New York by Monday. This was only supposed to be a short trip.”

  “Travel of any kind is out of the question.” The doctor’s tone was gentle but firm. “That’s far too much movement.”

  “I can’t just sit in a hospital bed for the next five months.”

  “Of course not,” Ian said. “I don’t live far from here, and I have an extra room. You can stay with me.”

  “Absolutely not.” Having to stay in Scotland was bad enough. The last thing she wanted was a constant reminder of how much of an idiot she’d been.

  The doctor tilted his head to the side. “Miss Burdette, under the circumstances, it’s probably the best solution. You don’t need to be in the hospital the entire time. A home environment will be much more peaceful, and give you enough time to rest.”

  The truth of their words was evident, though she didn’t want to admit it. She’d planned to be back in New York before the week was out. It shouldn’t have taken more than a day or two for her and Ian to negotiate the specifics of whatever arrangement they a
greed to. She tried to think of a way to make her trip home work, but there was one small detail that unraveled every plan she could come up with. The baby. The tiny life inside of her that needed her to do what was best for it, now more than ever.

  “How long will I be stuck here?” As if having a firm end date would somehow make the loss of control easier to tolerate.

  “We won’t know until we’ve monitored your progress.”

  “I could be stuck here for five months?”

  “I hope not, but I won’t know for another few weeks at least.”

  Lizzy pressed her head back into the thin pillow. There wasn’t an end-date insight. No light at the end of the tunnel. She wiped her brow and nodded.

  “All right,” she whispered.

  The doctor clapped his hand against his clipboard and smiled. “I’ll have the nurse draw up your discharge paperwork.”

  As the doctor left the room, Ian touched her arm. She recoiled, though she knew he only meant to offer her some comfort. Would Gerard have comforted her if he was there? Would he have loved their child as much as he’d claimed to love her? Or had the entire thing been a game to him? A joke at her expense? Ian pulled his chair closer to the bed and sat down next to her.

  “I can’t imagine what you were hoping to find in Edinburgh, Lizzy, but I’m sure this wasn’t it, and I know this must be hard for you.”

  “You don’t know a thing about me,” she snapped. His gentle expression only made her anger swell.

  “You’re right. But I know what it’s like to have things you’re depending on fall through.”

  Tears threatened to spill over her cheeks again, but she wouldn’t allow it. He may have said the right words, but the strong usually did. Lizzy wouldn’t allow herself to be weak in front of him ever again.

  “Just until I know the baby is all right. Not a minute longer.”

  Ian climbed to his feet. “I’ll start getting things ready.” He pulled out his cell phone and went into the hallway.

  When she was sure he was out of earshot, the tears came. She cried for her baby, and how frightened she was that everything would go wrong. She cried for her future because every carefully laid plan she’d ever made had disintegrated into nothing over the last five months. Mostly she cried for Gerard, a man whose name she’d only learned that morning, but whose face and touch she couldn’t forget. And now she’d never feel again.