has taken a turn for the worse.”
Late the next evening, Sara’s eyes felt like sandpaper and she thought she might fall out of the chair positioned next to Nico’s bedside. The little prince had finally rallied after a sudden, unexpected bout of vomiting. The doctors were bewildered but vials of blood were drawn to be certain the new liver was still functioning.
Sara folded her hands in silent prayer. Please, please, please, let him be all right.
An hour ago, the haughty Queen Irena had finally departed, though her dark eyes shot daggers at Sara as she swept out of the room.
Aleks himself sat, arms folded, long legs extended, as tired as she, though he would die before he’d admit it.
“You should go to bed, Sara. You’re still recovering, too.”
“Since when did you start caring?” She bit the words out, tired, achy and a little depressed. The past week had been harder than she’d imagined.
To her surprise, his tired eyes twinkled as he said, “Can’t have an American die on foreign soil. You could create an international incident.”
Her answer was a droll, “Now you tell me.”
He chuckled. The sound lifted her flagging spirits. Was the ice man finally thawing or was he too exhausted to sustain his fury against her? “The nurse will remain with Nico. Dr.Konstantine thinks the crisis is over and he will sleep the night. You must leave now.”
“You’re tired, too. I’ll go if you’ll go.”
One aristocratic eyebrow lifted. “Since when did you start caring?”
Was he teasing her? The man must be delirious.
She wanted to tell him the truth—that she’d never stopped caring—but she feared the admission would drive him back into that shell.
“Can’t have a ruling prince die on me. It might cause a national uprising.”
His mouth curved. He rose and held out a hand. “Come. I’ll see you to your suite.”
An uneasy truce developed with Aleks, but Sara had no illusions that he trusted her, or even that she was welcome in Carvainia. Most of her visits with Nico were supervised by Queen Irena, a watchful, suspicious woman who had only spoken to Sara once, and that was to ask when she was leaving.
This was a worry that plagued Sara as she recovered from her surgery. After three weeks, she felt completely well, but if she said as much, would she be expected to leave? The thought unhinged her. Now that she was here, she never wanted to return to America. Her heart was in Carvainia.
By the third week post-op, the little prince was up and around, having recoverd from two bouts of mysterious vomiting that the doctors could not attribute to the surgery or to the antirejection drugs. Each day the boy’s complexion gained more healthy color and, according to Antonia, the nation buzzed with the good news that their beloved prince would recover.
This particular day, Sara and Nico had ventured onto thebalcony to sit in the sunshine and listen to the sea. She’d brought along a deck of cards and was teaching Nico to play Go Fish. Aleks stood at the balcony railing watching the seabirds dip and call along the sandy shore.
“Papa, do come and play. Sara knows the funnest games.”
Aleks turned, his expression unreadable as he corrected the grammar. “Most fun games.”
The little prince nodded. “Will you play with us?”
“Your grandmother will be here soon. I have a meeting with the parliament in a while.”
Though a royal, Prince Aleksandre was not a man of leisure. His duties often kept him away or up late at night, but he spent every extra moment with Nico. Today, he looked particularly tired. His son’s illness had taken a tremendous toll on him.
“One game, Papa, just one. Please.”
Aleks pulled out a chair from the round patio table and joined them. “Deal me in.”
Sara shot him an amused glance as she counted out five cards for each person. “A poker-playing prince?”
“Only when the stakes are high.” He didn’t offer a smile, and Sara had a feeling he was
Late the next evening, Sara’s eyes felt like sandpaper and she thought she might fall out of the chair positioned next to Nico’s bedside. The little prince had finally rallied after a sudden, unexpected bout of vomiting. The doctors were bewildered but vials of blood were drawn to be certain the new liver was still functioning.
Sara folded her hands in silent prayer. Please, please, please, let him be all right.
An hour ago, the haughty Queen Irena had finally departed, though her dark eyes shot daggers at Sara as she swept out of the room.
Aleks himself sat, arms folded, long legs extended, as tired as she, though he would die before he’d admit it.
“You should go to bed, Sara. You’re still recovering, too.”
“Since when did you start caring?” She bit the words out, tired, achy and a little depressed. The past week had been harder than she’d imagined.
To her surprise, his tired eyes twinkled as he said, “Can’t have an American die on foreign soil. You could create an international incident.”
Her answer was a droll, “Now you tell me.”
He chuckled. The sound lifted her flagging spirits. Was the ice man finally thawing or was he too exhausted to sustain his fury against her? “The nurse will remain with Nico. Dr.Konstantine thinks the crisis is over and he will sleep the night. You must leave now.”
“You’re tired, too. I’ll go if you’ll go.”
One aristocratic eyebrow lifted. “Since when did you start caring?”
Was he teasing her? The man must be delirious.
She wanted to tell him the truth—that she’d never stopped caring—but she feared the admission would drive him back into that shell.
“Can’t have a ruling prince die on me. It might cause a national uprising.”
His mouth curved. He rose and held out a hand. “Come. I’ll see you to your suite.”
An uneasy truce developed with Aleks, but Sara had no illusions that he trusted her, or even that she was welcome in Carvainia. Most of her visits with Nico were supervised by Queen Irena, a watchful, suspicious woman who had only spoken to Sara once, and that was to ask when she was leaving.
This was a worry that plagued Sara as she recovered from her surgery. After three weeks, she felt completely well, but if she said as much, would she be expected to leave? The thought unhinged her. Now that she was here, she never wanted to return to America. Her heart was in Carvainia.
By the third week post-op, the little prince was up and around, having recoverd from two bouts of mysterious vomiting that the doctors could not attribute to the surgery or to the antirejection drugs. Each day the boy’s complexion gained more healthy color and, according to Antonia, the nation buzzed with the good news that their beloved prince would recover.
This particular day, Sara and Nico had ventured onto thebalcony to sit in the sunshine and listen to the sea. She’d brought along a deck of cards and was teaching Nico to play Go Fish. Aleks stood at the balcony railing watching the seabirds dip and call along the sandy shore.
“Papa, do come and play. Sara knows the funnest games.”
Aleks turned, his expression unreadable as he corrected the grammar. “Most fun games.”
The little prince nodded. “Will you play with us?”
“Your grandmother will be here soon. I have a meeting with the parliament in a while.”
Though a royal, Prince Aleksandre was not a man of leisure. His duties often kept him away or up late at night, but he spent every extra moment with Nico. Today, he looked particularly tired. His son’s illness had taken a tremendous toll on him.
“One game, Papa, just one. Please.”
Aleks pulled out a chair from the round patio table and joined them. “Deal me in.”
Sara shot him an amused glance as she counted out five cards for each person. “A poker-playing prince?”
“Only when the stakes are high.” He didn’t offer a smile, and Sara had a feeling he was
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