rage was so great he could scarcely contain it, but it wasn’t rage at Ellie. It was rage at himself.
He hadn’t enquired. He hadn’t followed up.
What sort of low-life left a woman with a baby and didn’t find out how she was—for nine years?
‘Marc, you did ask,’ Ellie whispered, and her response shocked him. It was as if she guessed what he was thinking. ‘You rang after Felix was born.’
He remembered the call.
He’d spent the night operating in a field hospital after yet another bomb blast had shattered lives. He’d come back to his quarters to find the email, telling him that he had a son. He’d driven for hours to the nearest place there was reception, trying to put a call through. When he’d finally reached her, Ellie had sounded tired, spent, but okay.
‘He’s a beautiful little boy, Marc. You can be proud. He’ll have a good home, I promise. Yes, I’m okay and amazingly Mum’s okay too. She’s had another transplant and this one looks like it’s taken. My plan is to go back to university and Mum’s promised to help. No, there’s nothing you can do. Would you like me to send you a photograph of your—? Of the baby?’
And, idiot that he was, he’d said no. He’d wanted no picture of his son. How many times had he regretted it? But after having said it—that he didn’t want the hurt of seeing what could have been—how could he turn back?
The events of the last few days—the royal tragedy, his ascension to the throne, things that had seemed overwhelming—were suddenly nothing.
He’d walked out on his wife, she’d borne him a son and she’d kept him. She was here now, and his son was right through the door, dreaming of splash-lubricated crankshafts and magneto ignition...and a father who might share his life.
Ellie was looking at him as if she was scared. What, that he’d hit her? Sure, he was angry. He had every right to be, but he wasn’t angry at Ellie.
He’d been a doctor for years. How many times had he seen the grief of a lost baby? How could he not have guessed that a decision taken when Ellie had first learned she was pregnant couldn’t be carried through when she’d held her son in her arms?
Once she’d known her baby had formation issues she could never have given him away. She’d have fought for him to the death.
But that was the Ellie he’d known then. The Ellie he looked at now seemed as if the fight had been knocked out of her.
‘Marc, why are you here?’ she whispered and he struggled to swallow self-loathing and answer.
‘Why did you call him Felix?’ he asked tangentially.
‘It means lucky. Blessed. When I first saw him, I swore that’s what he’d be.’
‘If he has you for a mum, that’s a given.’
But she shook her head. ‘Marc, don’t. I don’t need compliments. What was between us was over nine years ago. I haven’t heard from you since our divorce. I assumed you’d have a wife and kids by now and be ruling the health system of Falkenstein. I’ve searched for you on the Internet from time to time,’ she confessed. ‘You seem to have been doing really well. I’m sorry about your dad, by the way. Heart attack?’
She’d been keeping tabs on him while he’d blocked her out completely. That made him feel even worse.
What did he know about her?
Involuntarily, he checked her ring finger. There was nothing there.
He thought of the ring that had once lain there—his great-grandmother’s, a ring of beauty and antiquity. Ellie had returned it after the divorce but he’d sent it straight back.
‘I want you to keep it, Ellie. You’re a woman of honour and I’m sure my great-grandmother would be proud if you kept wearing it. Move it to another finger and wear it with pride.’
Why would she still be wearing it?
No reason at all.
What had she asked? His father. A heart attack. ‘Yes. It was sudden. He was still working full-time.’ He hesitated. ‘Your mum?’
‘She died five years ago. The first transplant lasted three years, the second one four. It was a good four years, though. She loved Felix and helped me care for him.’
‘And you managed to get through university.’
‘Somehow. We eked out your money. I had a room in Sydney where we all stayed. Mum looked after Felix as best she could. When she couldn’t, I’d bring them both back here. I made a deal with the town—if they helped me with Felix and Mum, I’d come back and be the local doctor.’
‘But you wanted to specialise.’
‘Family practice is a specialty.’
‘But it’s not what you wanted.’
‘So I’ve learned we can’t always have what we want.’ She looked directly at him. ‘What do you want, Marc?’
And how much would he have given to be able to say he didn’t want anything? That this was a spur-of-the-moment visit, popping in to visit his ex-wife who he hoped could still be a friend.
Ha.
‘I needed to see you,’ he tried.
She looked at him directly and shrugged. ‘No. We’re over that long since. Didn’t we figure need was another name for lust?’
‘What was between us wasn’t just lust.’
‘No. It was a juvenile love affair. But I’m asking again, Marc. Why are you here? I thought it must be that you learned about me keeping Felix, but by your reaction it seems it’s not. So, you happened to be visiting Australia and decided to see how much your ex-wife has aged? What?’
There was no easy way to say this. Just say it, Marc.
‘I came because the entire Falkenstein royal family died in a plane crash. Three days ago I was fourth in line for the throne. Now the crown is mine.’
Her face creased in shock. ‘That’s appalling. Why wasn’t it on the news? Or maybe it was. I’ve been so busy.’ And then her face softened. ‘They’re your family. Marc, I’m so sorry.’
‘I don’t need sympathy,’ he said roughly. ‘There’s never been any love lost between us. I’ve always kept as far from the palace as possible. But now...’
‘Now?’ She took a moment to take in the full implications of what he’d said. ‘You’re...you’re the new King?’
‘Yes.’
Her face changed again, becoming wary. ‘And that means...what? Why are you here?’
There was no way to soften what needed to be said.
‘I travelled all this way, fast, to ask you to keep
