empty glass fell into her lap. She hunched over, covering her face with her hands.
Ethan’s hand shook as he put down his drink and automatically moved her glass to the table. Her words had torn an agonising path into the depths of his soul. A tiny twist of fate and he’d never have known her.
Would she push him away if he reached for her? His confidence faltered.
‘Alina?’ Desperate. Begging to help her. ‘I’m here. Whenever you want or need me.’
She lifted tortured eyes that stared at him as if she wondered who he was, why he was there. Then her face cleared and she flung herself into his arms.
‘Ethan. Hold me.’
He cradled her as close as humanly possible, needing to reassure her. Needing reassurance himself. She was meant to live. Meant to have this baby with him. Meant to love again one day.
‘Hold me tight, Ethan. Hold me. Please don’t let me be alone.’
He held her. For as long as she’d let him, he’d hold her.
‘You’re not alone any more, darling. I’m not going anywhere. Not without you. I’ll be here to hold you, comfort and care for you. You, my beautiful, courageous Alina.’
He caressed her back, murmured words from his heart, knowing she might not understand. Knowing only that he needed to voice how much she’d come to mean to him. The baby she carried was an added joy.
He kept talking, even after her body softened in sleep against him. He had no idea when she’d be ready to hear his admission in the cold light of day.
* * *
A long-forgotten sensation infiltrated Alina’s brain, enticing her to wake; less pleasant ones held her in limbo. A familiar earthy aroma surrounded her. A light breeze stirred her hair. She moved, yet the warm wall at her side stayed. Warmth spread from the weight on her stomach.
Her senses kicked in. Her eyes fluttered, flew open. She was lying on her back, early-morning light allowing her to see an unknown painting on the wrong wall. A white-sleeve-covered arm stretched out from under her neck. She was in Ethan’s arms. In his bed. Still wearing her dress.
Her last recollection was of Ethan twisting them both so they lay prone on the settee, of his hands soothing her to sleep. He’d done as she’d pleaded, had cradled her. Hadn’t left her on her own.
She turned her head. He lay on his side, his chest moving in steady rhythm. Hassle-free in sleep, his features were softer, the tiny lines at the corners of his eyes less obvious. His stubbled jaw was strangely appealing. He slept so peacefully for a man whose world had been blown apart. By her.
She arched her neck. To wake the sleeping Prince with a kiss? Crazy notion. She rolled towards the edge of the bed.
‘Alina?’ Slumber-rough and drowsy.
His hand caught her arm, slipped off, and she slid onto the floor.
‘It’s late. I have things to do.’
Like run from an awkward situation.
ETHAN HAD THE table set when Alina arrived in the dining area, calm and guarded. She quickly sat down without speaking, not giving him the chance to be polite. He understood her reticence, hoped she’d still feel able to talk about her family.
She flicked a glance at him as he put a mug of peach tea in front of her. A delicate rosy hue coloured her skin. Where was the feistiness she’d shown in the past?
He felt her gaze follow him as he took his seat, grabbed his favourite cereal and filled his bowl.
‘That was cowardly of me.’
Subdued tone. Why was she so nervous? Waiting for her to elucidate, he prayed her confession hadn’t caused a regression in their growing relationship.
‘When I woke up in your bed I bolted like a naive teenager.’
He nodded. ‘A natural reaction after your revelations, Alina.’
She filled her bowl with fruity nut muesli, kept her head down while she ate, as if mulling over an important issue.
‘Was there a woman in your life when I came?’
He spluttered on his coffee. Hell, she kept finding new ways to surprise him.
‘There hasn’t been anyone for a long time. I swear there will be no one as long as you are with me.’
Her nod was barely perceptible. She swallowed as she averted her gaze, reinforcing her apprehension. Hidden under the table, her left hand would be performing its ritual dance.
‘Do... Do you expect... Want me to move into your room after the wedding?’
She completely took his breath away with that one. His jaw dropped; adrenaline zapped through his veins. He’d been trying to work out how to introduce the topic gently; she’d come right out with it. He leant back, studying her, wondering if she realised how courageous and strong she was.
‘Alina Fletcher, you are amazing. I’ve bulldozed you into agreements you’d rather run a mile from. My actions have rekindled harrowing memories you’d prefer were left buried. Yet you offer compromises which will reinforce our child’s parentage.’
Her eyes widened as he spoke. The soft blush he’d begun to anticipate and adore tinged her cheeks. Across the table was too far a distance. Pushing his chair away, he walked around it, took her hand and lifted her to her feet. Cupped her cheek.
‘Having you in my arms as I fell asleep felt better than anything I can remember. As if protecting you and our baby gives my life true meaning for the first time. I’d like to feel that way every night, but the choice is yours, Alina. Now, after we’re married or never. I want you there only if it’s where you want to be.’
She placed her hand over his heart, her lips curling into a sweet smile and a warm glow flickering in her eyes.
‘It felt nice.’ She glanced away, breathed in, then met his eyes again. ‘Can we talk about Colin’s aunt and uncle? Jean and Ray?’
Any subject was fine by him. Every conversation revealed a little more of who they were and brought them closer. He settled her back into her seat.
Alina gathered the thoughts that had tumbled through her mind as she’d showered and dressed. Looking into Ethan’s sympathetic eyes, she suddenly found it easy.
‘They were the ones who held it all together for me after... Well, you know. They and the solicitor arranged everything—cleared the house and sold it, put everything in storage.’
She stopped, turned her head to stare at the floor. Looked at him again.
‘They took me in and cared for me, even though they were grieving too. I owed them so much and I ran. Fled the country. I phoned or wrote occasionally, and sent postcards of the places
