Her Prince's Secret Son. Линда Гуднайт
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Excerpt
Sara looked up just then and smiled. Something stirred inside Aleks and, without thinking, he smiled back.
She turned to their son and said, “Come, Nico, let’s sing a song.” And in a sweet, clear soprano she began to sing a familiar song, pausing while Nico echoed each phrase in a childish, happy voice.
As he guided the boat onto land, Aleks heard his own baritone join in. Both Nico and Sara looked up in pleased surprise.
In that moment he saw what he’d never seen before. A mother and son. And the son had Sara’s radiant, full-mouthed smile.
His belly sank like the anchor he’d tossed overboard.
“Papá is singing. Papá is singing.” Nico clapped his hands. Sara laughed.
And Prince Aleksandre sang a little louder, just to watch them smile again.
Winner of the RITA® Award for excellence in inspirational fiction, Linda Goodnight has also won the Booksellers’ Best, ACFW Book of the Year, and a Reviewers’ Choice Award from RT Book Reviews magazine. Linda has appeared on the Christian bestseller list, and her romance novels have been translated into more than a dozen languages. Active in orphan ministry, this former nurse and teacher enjoys writing fiction that carries a message of hope and light in a sometimes dark world. She and husband Gene live in Oklahoma. Readers can write to her at [email protected]
Her Prince’s Secret Son
by
Linda Goodnight
MILLS & BOON
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Dear Reader
I hope you enjoy HER PRINCE’S SECRET SON. The idea for this book first came to me as a regular secret baby story—you know, the kind where the heroine has kept the child secret from the hero. But the more I thought about the story, the more I realised I wanted to do something different. So I decided the hero would be the one who had kept the baby a secret. But how in the world was such a thing possible? After all, the man wouldn’t be pregnant or giving birth. It took a while to give my characters the right backgrounds and situations to make a reverse secret baby storyline work, but finally the warrior prince and his commoner bookshop owner appeared. From there, I had a great time creating a popular fantasy—a regular girl discovers her true love is a real prince, only this prince has possession of the son she gave up for adoption.
I love hearing from readers. If you like HER PRINCE’S SECRET SON, please write and let me know. I can be reached through my website, at www.lindagoodnight.com, or c/o Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR.
Warm wishes
Linda Goodnight
Chapter One
PRINCE ALEKSANDRE D’ GABRIEL took one look at Dr. Konstantine’s long face and knew the news was bad.
“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, there is nothing more I can do.” The royal physician, either unable or unwilling to meet his prince’s eyes, stared down at the gleaming marble floor. “Your son is dying.”
The softly spoken words pierced Aleks’s soul like a bayonet. His boy, his reason for living, lay just beyond the thick, ancient castle wall dying, while his father stood in the long, ornate corridor of Carvainian Castle wishing to die in his stead.
Aleks was a ruler, a warrior prince, a man of wealth and power, and yet he was helpless against the infection that was destroying his son’s internal organs.
He clenched his fists against the rising tide of fear, stifling the urge to pummel the stone walls in frustration and despair.
His mother, Queen Irena, touched his arm. “There must be something more we can do. Perhaps another physician?”
Dr. Konstantine’s head jerked upward. “Your Highness, we’ve consulted every hepatology specialist in the world. The only answer is an organ donation. A tiny piece of organ from the right person will save his life. Nothing more, nothing less.”
Queen Irena’s face, still lovely though she was nearing sixty, had aged in the past weeks of Prince Nico’s illness. The lines around her mouth deepened as she said, “My apologies, Doctor, I didn’t mean to imply anything less than the best on your part. It’s just that—” She lifted one hand in a helpless gesture.
Aleksandre understood exactly what she was feeling. The queen doted on the motherless boy she’d carried in her arms from America nearly five years ago. Without his mother’s help, Aleksandre would never have known his son.
Fate and determination had given him Nico, and he would not give up his child without a fight.
“There must be a match somewhere,” he said. “We will continue our search.”
“Thousands have been tested, Your Majesty.”
His people, loyal Carvainians, had lined the streets and clogged the telephones and computers in their sincere desire to save the adored little prince. But not a single person was a suitable match for the child whose blood was not one hundred percent Carvainian.
Aleksandre fought the sickness churning in his gut and the memory of an American woman who still haunted his heart. The child’s mixed blood was his fault, just as the illness was, and yet Nico would not be Nico without Sara Presley’s blood.
“I have a suggestion.” Dr. Konstantine’s gaze skittered away only to return with a fresh boldness. “May I speak frankly?”
The prince gave a bark of mirthless laughter. Dr. Konstantine had tended him for years, through childhood illnesses and wartime wounds. He trusted the man implicitly. “I have yet to quell your propensity for doing so. And we now are at a point of desperate measures. Say your piece.”
“Nico’s birth mother.”
“No!” At the queen’s outcry, both Prince Aleksandre and the physician turned to stare. Her face had gone white, and the long, graceful fingers pressed against her lips trembled. Aleks understood her reluctance for it matched his own, and yet, had he not just been thinking of Sara Presley?
“She won’t agree.” A deep and dreadful knot formed in his chest at the thought of the woman who had jilted him and abandoned their child. She had no love for either the father or the son. She had not cared then. She would not care now if Nico lived or died.
The physician pressed. “You have no other choice but to contact her, Your Majesty. She is the little prince’s last hope.”
The queen regained her voice. Her nails scraped against Aleksandre’s sleeve. Almost feverishly she said, “Listen to me, Aleksandre. The woman has a heart of stone.