Page 11 of Cross Me

Clara bit her lip, daring a quick glance in my direction. “My period’s been irregular since Elizabeth.”

“That’s quite normal,” the doctor reassured her. “How many have you had?”

Clara filled him in on the details of her cycle. This wasn’t news to me. It had become a bit of a running joke actually. Every month I would tease her that I hoped her period wouldn’t come.

“The last one was probably two or three months ago,” she told him.

“Then it’s still quite early, but this should work.”

The nurse covered Clara’s hips with a blanket and helped her shimmy the hospital gown up to reveal her tiny bump.

“I kind of thought”–she gestured to the swell–“that I might be further along. I seem to be starting to show already. And there was the issue with the placenta last time.”

“There’s no greater chance of placenta previa in a second pregnancy. Obviously, it could account for bleeding if you thought you had experienced your period. However, most women show much more quickly in subsequent pregnancies.” The look he leveled at her stomach was meaningful.

I translated it as we’d better tell everyone sooner rather than later. It was getting quite obvious.

After today, I would tell the world and then no one would blame me if I locked her up in the palace. I pressed my lips together to keep these thoughts to myself. Clara pretended to watch him but her gaze kept skipping in my direction. The doctor applied a sticky gel to her bump and then used what looked like a small microphone, moving it around as he adjusted knobs on the attached device. After a moment a soft swishing noise began.

“There we go,” he said with a smile. “Hold on.”

He moved a dial and there underneath the swishing of amniotic fluid was a rapid, perfect heartbeat.

He beamed at us. For a doctor, it must be nice to give good news for a change. “Everything sounds in order. I’d like to see you soon though. Can we make an appointment?”

“She has an appointment,” I realized how stupid it was when I said it. If Clara had had an appointment the doctor would have known about it. The doctor would not have been surprised when I’d asked for an ultrasound. The Queen of England coming in to confirm her pregnancy wasn’t likely to slip his mind. I turned to her. “You told me you had an appointment.”

“I forgot,” she said sheepishly. “I knew they’d get me in right away and I meant to do it. I’m sorry.”

She sounded defeated, and my heart sank. I was punishing her. After what she’d been through, I was being a dick. Maybe I was angry with her for trying to make a statement this morning—angry that she’d pushed back—and feeling sickeningly self-righteous over the fact that something had happened. But it hadn’t been her fault that something had actually happened. She must know that. Everyone must know that.

Everyone but me.

“We’ll leave you two alone. Clara, you can get dressed. Everything looks fine. If you can wait a few moments, we will see to those lab results.” The doctor gestured for the nurse to follow him, clearly aware that we needed privacy.

And I needed to apologize. Anyone could see that.

Clara began to strip the gown off, not bothering to wait for me to turn away. Perhaps, she sensed that this time I wouldn’t—this time, I couldn’t. But she didn’t make a show of it. Her movements were deliberate but cautious as though I was the real threat. I hated myself for making her feel that way. I hated myself for knowing what I was willing to do to keep her safe.

I caught her in my arms before she could finish slipping her second stocking on. By some miracle—and her body was so perfect it was a miracle—I was hardly aware of her bare flesh. I ignored the insistent twitch in my groin. There was something more important. Cradling her face in my hands, I looked into her grey eyes and told her the two things she needed to hear. “I love you, and I am so, so sorry.”

I didn’t clarify why I was sorry. The list was too long. There were the obvious reasons. I’d been a first class knob head since I’d reached her. Others I couldn’t bring myself to say out loud. Because I had failed her. I had promised her a life—I promised her protection—and I had failed to keep her safe. I might have been able to forgive myself if it were the first time. But danger seemed to follow me. I had known that and I’d selfishly fallen in love with her. I had sold her lies as promises, afraid that if I faced the truth that she would have run.

“I love you, X.” And then she did the last thing I deserved. Her face tilted toward mine, offering her mouth.

I couldn’t resist. I could never resist her.

I swallowed a groan of relief as our lips met, her soft body molding against the hardness of mine. Clara’s palms pressed to my chest, pausing over my heart. Her touch sent a jolt of awareness through me as if she’d reset its rhythm, freeing it from the racing panic I’d felt since Norris had come to me this morning. But though it soothed me, the calm was momentary as her hands descended lower, tracing the scars she knew lay hidden beneath my shirt. Finally, they found my belt and unlatched it with practiced ease. She slid past my slacks, her movements growing more urgent, and closed her fingers around my cock.

I still held her face, unwilling to let it go or to stop kissing her. Slipping one hand to hold her neck—to keep her where I needed her to be—the other fumbled with the button she hadn’t bothered to undo. It popped open and I shoved my pants down, freeing my erection. I didn’t bother to step out of my pants. “Thank God, you’re naked,” I murmured against her lips, finally relinquishing her mouth, so that my arms were free to scoop her up.

Pausing a fraction of a second, my eyes met hers, waiting for a signal. After what had happened, I needed to know she needed this as much as I did. Clara pressed her forehead to mine, our skin already damp and heated. Her legs wrapped around my waist.

“Yes, please.” It was a sigh. It was permission. It was everything.

I slid into her slowly, savoring the slow union. But with each inch, I lost more control. Clara seemed to sense this and she locked her arms over my shoulders.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, somehow torn between the numb terror that had driven my day and the feverish want building inside me now. My thoughts drifted to the horrible moment when I’d heard the first explosion. My own life—a life without her—had flashed before my eyes. “I could have lost you.”