by Susan Ward
I swallowed and tried to keep my voice calm and steady. “I don’t know. There’s tension in the house. Don’t you feel it?”
“No.” She reached for her wine and crinkled her nose. “Is it that none of the guys joined us for dinner? Is that what’s bugging you?”
No. It’s that I haven’t had a moment with my husband since I got home, and I’m going to melt down if I don’t talk to Damon soon. I stared at my glass of chardonnay. I very much could use a drink—but.
I took my untouched plate to the sink. “I think I’m going to go to bed. Tell Damon when he’s done with Dad.”
“It’s only eight,” she pouted. “Stay up with me. I’ve got you all to myself tonight. Let’s go upstairs to the theater and gorge on Oreos watching a movie or something.”
A sudden bit of light-headedness made me clutch the counter for support. “Not tonight, Mom. I’d be awful company. It was exhausting out with Krystal today. You know how she can get. Talk, talk, talk, talk, talk.”
“You’re feeling all right, aren’t you?” She frowned.
Great, now Mom was worrying.
“Yes,” I said with unintended sharpness. “Jeez, Louise, you really need to stop jumping into crisis mode every time I’m a little off.”
The line of her mouth tightened. “I didn’t.”
“Then stop asking me if I’m OK.”
She gave me the mommy stare and I flushed.
I raked the curls from my face and hugged her. “Sorry, Mom. I’m a bit on edge. But there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing wrong. I’m only off to bed because Krystal wore me out.”
I stepped back and managed a smile.
“Hmm.” She set her chin in her palm, gave me a thorough once-over, then smiled. “Ah, so that’s it. You’re annoyed you’ve been shut out of guy world and Damon hasn’t included you in whatever’s going on. Get used to it. That’s men. Especially husbands. They have their things. We have ours. And truthfully, I don’t want to know theirs.”
She laughed and I rolled my eyes.
“Wrong, Mom. I’m just tired.” And pregnant.
She sprang from her stool and grabbed her plate. “You always get so worked up when something’s going on you don’t know about. Probably because you were the youngest child and kept out of the loop of almost everything. Damon’s allowed to have his own things, Khloe. In fact, marriage works better when men do.”
Wonderful. The day kept getting weirder. Marriage advice again. First Krystal and now Mom. Jeez, Louise. I could make a mess of my marriage all on my own. First by not taking birth control when clearly I should have, and now having to drop the B-bomb on my husband.
“A little separation now and then keeps things spicy,” she added, grinning impishly over her shoulder at me.
I groaned. “Mom. There you go again. I didn’t need to hear that.”
She laughed.
I kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you in the morning.” And quickly, I left the room.
IT WAS AFTER MIDNIGHT before the bedroom door opened. My gaze shot to Damon’s face and the anxiety ball returned to my stomach.
He dropped a kiss on my lips. “Sorry I’m so late. You didn’t have to wait up for me.”
Oh, but I did. I needed to get this over with quickly. I couldn’t take the uncertainty of where my being pregnant left us a moment longer.
I patted the bed. “Yes, I did. I’ve forgotten how to go to sleep without you. Besides, I have something I need to talk to you about.”
He made a weary-sounding sigh as he sank down next to me. He took off his pullover sweater and tossed it in a gesture unlike him, almost angry. Very slowly I became aware his face was tense and drawn, and his body felt like a vat of swirling emotion.
“Is everything all right?”
He glanced at me, his amber eyes burning and surprised. “You haven’t heard? It’s been nonstop on the telly since noon.”
“Heard what?” My heart stilled. He sounded anguished. “Damon. You’re frightening me. What happened today?”
He swept me up against him and clutched me with arms that trembled. “There was a rash of bombings in the capitals across Western Europe. An organized attack by the fanatical globalists the New World Order to take out the leadership of the EU. They hit the UK Parliament. Government Departments. Deverell Palace…” His voice choked, and he began to sob hard tears that soaked my cheeks. “My brother Henry is dead. His wife, Allison, as well. My father’s barely hanging on in critical condition, but Winthrop said it’s too soon to know if he’ll survive. We only got word a little while ago that Leo was safe.”
“My God.”
“Liam and I are flying to the UK in the morning. This crisis is too much for Leo to manage on his own, as young as he is. And we must stand united and strong for the British people in the face of this heinous villainy.”
I made a fast free fall from my own concerns into blinding fear. “No, I don’t want you to go. If those fanatics are capable of this, who’s to say they won’t try again? I can’t lose you, Damon. You can’t go.”
“You won’t lose me, love. But I could never live with myself if I remained on the sidelines when our people needed us. Liam couldn’t either. The monarchy has always been a symbol of strength and comfort to the British people in dark times. These are very dark times, Khloe.”
“But—but.” I took a steadying breath.
“KK, please don’t make this harder for me. Try to understand that I have to go.”
“Then if you go, I go. I refuse to stay behind while you go there. I won’t be separated from you now.”
“No. I forbid it. I might very well have a target on me after we land.” He sniffed back his tears then kissed my head before settling to put a bit of space between us. He took my hand and held it fiercely. “We don’t know how deep this conspiracy runs—listen, KK, they had to have support of some kind within the English ruling class to know how and when to strike to hit the King—and there may well be more attacks. The mood is very delicate across Europe. Grayson will be staying in San Francisco at their home there and I would like you to remain here with your parents until I return.”
I traced his tear-stained face with my fingers. “I’m going with you,” I said simply.
“Damn it, no, Khloe.” His voice made me jump and he stood so abruptly the bed shook. “I won’t allow you in the middle of this. These are my problems, not yours.”
“Your problems are my problems, Damon. You’re my husband. What happens to you happens to me, right?”
“Not when it comes to putting your life in jeopardy.” He was emphatic.
“If it’s too dangerous for me, it’s too dangerous for you. And I can’t allow you to put your life in danger, not now. You’re not boarding that plane with your brother tomorrow. Liam will have to go without you.”
His stance changed immediately, and the color drained from his face. “How could you say that to me?”
My cheeks burned. “We should be our first concern.”
“I thought if anyone would support my decision and understand it, it’d be you, Khloe. They’re my family,” he whispered, ashen. “Don’t ask me to choose between us and them. I would never ask that of you.”
I gazed at him, unable to speak, my thoughts and emotions careening through me. I didn’t intend to say it. “I’m not asking that. That isn’t why I want you to stay. Damon, I’m pregnant.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Khloe
The Past
TIME STOPPED IN A moment of shredding silence. As badly as I’d done that, I hadn’t expected this.
Damon’s brows furrowed with incomprehension. When at last he spoke, it was halting and slow. “That’s not possible. You told me you can’t have children. Are you telling me you’re pregnant to keep me here?”
For a second, I couldn’t believe he’d said that. Worse, I couldn’t tell by his expression what he thought of us having a baby. His ey
es glazed over as so many emotions ran across his face. He looked like a man struggling not to lose it, and, oh crap, I’d added to the heap already on him.
“How could you ask me that, Damon? And you better apologize fast for that remark, or I’m going to start crying.”
“Please, don’t cry, love.” His voice caught, and it was a mixture of plea and apology. He dropped onto a chair across the room from me as if his legs could no longer hold him. He seemed lost in thought and felt a million miles away from me. “You’re sure?”
I nodded. “When I was out with Krystal it was to go to see Dr. Hern. I’ve been having dizzy spells and thought I should get checked. I’m pregnant. Two months.”
“Dizzy spells? Why didn’t you tell me?” Anger flashed in his voice.
“I didn’t want to worry you. Not until I knew what was causing them.”
“You had no right not to tell me.”
Christ, was he going to kick up an argument about that? “And you had no right making a decision to go to the UK with Liam without talking to me first. You didn’t even bother to break from the crisis conference with your brother to let me know what was happening. Or does a different standard apply to me?”
He had the graciousness to flush and ignored my unkind comment. “I thought you didn’t want children.”
“I said I couldn’t,” I whispered, unable to tell what he thought of it yet. “Not that I didn’t want to. There’s a difference.” The second I said that, I knew it was true.
His fingers tightened around the arm of the chair. I’d never seen him this way. He looked lost and overwhelmed, when he was never those things. “I can’t believe this has happened. That I could be so careless with you. You just had a heart transplant and I’ve put your life at risk.”
“No, no, Damon,” I assured him in a rush. “There’s no risk. Dr. Hern said there was no reason we wouldn’t have a perfectly healthy baby. You’ve not done anything to put my life at risk.”
My heart dropped to my stomach when I saw it and understood his odd reaction. There was fear now coupled with the anguish he’d carried into the room. His brother was dead. His father might well be dying. And I’d shocked him with two more people for him to be afraid for.
My life had always been messy, complicated, and fast filled with the unexpected. But his hadn’t. He’d already been reeling, and I’d made him reel faster.
Suddenly, heavy, hot tears were rolling down my face. “I’m sorry I told you…that way…on such…a rotten day…It wasn’t fair to you…or me…and I’ve made things worse for you. If you think we shouldn’t have it, tell me now because I’m already starting to love him or her…” The sputtering of my body made it impossible to finish.
“Khloe—” I was buried against his chest before I was even aware he’d left the chair. “Shush. Don’t cry, love. You haven’t made anything worse. And how could you think I wouldn’t want our child? You knocked me off my feet for a second. But don’t think for an instant I’m not thrilled about this.”
“Then why do you seem angry?”
“I’m not angry.” He brushed back my hair and kissed my cheeks. “I’m stunned. Euphoric. It’s like a bloody miracle in the midst of total darkness. Though I should know by now to expect something wonderful from you when I need it the most.”
I sniffed back my tears and studied his face. “Really?”
“Yes.” He smiled, tender, loving—and reassuring. “I’m going to become a father. Nothing could please me more. A man isn’t surprised by that every day.”
“You’d be surprised a lot of days if you were married to my mother.” The joke was out before I could stop it. The pitching currents from him were hard to navigate and I was still emotionally jumbled.
“Five kids wouldn’t bother me in the least.” He laughed as if the thought we were starting our family had taken hold of him. “So long as it doesn’t harm you, I want all that I can have with you. And that, it seems, now includes a baby.”
I snuggled into him. “Or maybe more. Who says we can’t have more than one miracle, Damon?”
He removed his clothes, climbed into bed, and took me in his arms. He was spent. I was spent. All that we hadn’t finished talking about hung heavy in the room.
But I didn’t disturb this little bit of happy quiet with Damon to argue over his going to the UK. And he didn’t force me to hear again that he was going.
During my illness, we’d learned not to squander the precious moments. Whatever else we said to each other tonight would only ruin this little piece of wonderful.
It would be there waiting for us in the morning, the world with its ugly realities and what it meant to us. Instead, we lay through the night holding each other.
As safe and loved as I felt in his arms, somber thoughts invaded my contentment anyway. I realized that other couples across Europe who had been living their lives, perhaps had happy news like us, were no doubt just as we were, clinging to the before and not what they would find in the morning. It took everything I had not to add to the weight on Damon by turning into him and letting my tears go.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Damon
The Past
KHLOE SAT ON the bed, her arms around her knees, holding her toes. Her posture made her look fragile and reminded me how young she was. The TV was on mute—she turned it on only after we’d watched the dawn on the cliffs—and it was clear from her expression that she was afraid and couldn’t conceive of what she was watching.
I stopped packing and looked at her. “Shut that off, Khloe. They’ve shown the same reports repeatedly. We haven’t much time.”
“If you’re going there”—she gestured in anger at the TV—“at least I should know what it’s going to be like for you.”
“No, love. I would prefer you didn’t.” I hit the button on the telly and waited until the screen went blank. “You have a more important job: taking care of my son until I’m back.”
“Ah, Damon, your royal birth is showing again.” She made a soggy laugh and I could see her fight not to shed tears. “What makes you think it’ll be a boy?”
I settled on the bed beside her and brought her fingers to my lips. “My father had four sons. My grandfather three. I think it’s a slam dunk.”
“Ah, but you forget my family.” She brushed at her face as if to collect herself and rallied a smile. “Three girls, two boys. Only even odds on my side.”
“I don’t think that’s how it works.”
“Grandpa Jack had two daughters. Mom and Aunt Madison.”
I grinned. “Fine, if you want a girl, we’ll have a girl. There. Decided. Healthy is all I care about, KK. A little girl like you would be a delight to my heart.”
“Healthy is all I want, too.” She nuzzled into my chest and I wrapped my arms around her. “I’ve already picked out names either way.”
“You have?” I laughed. “When did you have time for that? We only found out yesterday.”
“I’ve read the names in your family tree. I figured I better get a jump on it before she became an Elizabeth or something. We are not burdening our child with the weight of a Saxe family name.”
My heart contracted—there was a great deal behind that comment that neither of us wanted to touch. I sat back and mustered a light tone. “Rather sneaky of you. What did you decide? Jane and John?”
She shook her head and there was a hint of playful Khloe behind the cloud of sadness in her eyes. “As if I’d think of something so not interesting. Credit me with being able to do more than that.”
A small laugh rattled around in my chest. “No one would ever accuse you of not being interesting. And now I have to know what you’ve decided.”
“I don’t think I’ll tell you,” she murmured, rubbing her cheek across my shirt above my heart. “I think it’ll go over better if I surprise you.”
Her upbeat silliness reminded me of the days before her surgery. Khloe’s happy-happy through
all things grim. My consuming love and tenderness for her nearly brought tears to my eyes.
“No, now you have to tell me, love.”
“Well,” she said and followed it with a dramatic pause. “If it’s a girl, Alaina Parker Wells Saxe and if it’s a boy—”
“Alaina Parker Margret Elizabeth Deverell Saxe,” I corrected over her.
She crinkled her nose. “Not happening, Damon. We’re not losing the Wells—I’ll explain why later—and the poor girl will be in high school before she can learn to write all that.”
“You’ve got a point.” I pretended to consider it. “Our son’s name. Shoot.”
She lifted her chin and gave me the duh look. “That should be obvious. Only one name would work for our child. Alan Wells Saxe.”
“Alan Wells Arthur Charles Deverell Saxe.”
“Fine.” She groaned as if this weren’t merely whimsy. “It won’t ruin my planning even if you do that to some poor kid. Both versions have a unisex nickname. I think we should call little him or her Wells for short.”
“Brilliant.”
She managed an upturn of lips that was winsome. “I thought so. But let’s not tell anyone until Wells is here.”
“Or that you’re pregnant until I’m back. Hopefully that’s before you begin to show.”
The smile slipped from her face.
I kicked myself—I hadn’t meant to say that.
When she spoke, her mood was no longer a façade of cheery normal. “Who do you think is helping the New World Order with their part of the plot in the UK? You’re concerned. I can feel it. How close do you think the danger is going to be to you there?”
“Someone with some sort of connection with the royal family and knows the workings of the government.” There was no point in lying, but I cautioned myself to handle this delicately. “That’s what the RaSP surmised during our intelligence briefing yesterday.”
