Love Islands…The Collection. Jane Porter
her condition.
‘Is everything all right, Your Highness?’ Dr Russo bowed as he entered the private sitting room.
‘Please call me Stella.’ She gestured towards the chairs. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, I just wanted to talk to you about my pregnancy.’
‘No trouble.’ He sat down. ‘What did you want to discuss?’
She curled her hands into small fists, hiding the dampness of her palms, and smiled. ‘It sounds stupid, but where are my symptoms? I haven’t had any morning sickness, I haven’t been particularly tired, I’ve got no cravings... It’s like it’s not real.’
What if it wasn’t growing properly? Shouldn’t she hate the smell of coffee or something?
To her relief, the doctor didn’t laugh.
‘Perhaps you’re one of the lucky few,’ he suggested calmly.
‘Or perhaps there’s something wrong.’
He regarded her steadily. ‘Why would there be anything wrong?’
She hesitated. Her throat tightened. But this was the one person she had to speak to. ‘My mother died a few hours after giving birth to me.’
His eyes widened and the professional smile faded.
‘I didn’t mention it on the island because I didn’t want to panic anyone,’ she added quickly.
‘Do you know any details?’ he asked carefully.
‘I think she had some kind of haemorrhage. My father doesn’t speak of it.’ He never spoke of her mother. He never spoke to Stella about anything personal or important. ‘I don’t know much else.’
Dr Russo remained calm. ‘You were born in San Felipe?’
‘The main hospital—yes.’
‘Then, with your permission, I’ll check the records there. And we will get a scan arranged for you as soon as possible.’
‘Please... After the ball.’ She needed to know. To understand and prepare.
‘Of course.’ Dr Russo suddenly lifted his case onto the table. ‘I brought a Doppler with me today. It’s a small device we can use to listen to your baby’s heartbeat. You’re far enough along in your pregnancy for us to be able to do that. Would you like to hear your baby?’
For a second Stella’s own heart stopped, then started pounding. ‘Okay.’
Fleetingly she wished Eduardo was there, but he was busy. And she didn’t want to tell him about her mother. Or her fears.
She lay on the sofa, her shirt lifted. The doctor switched the small machine on and held the wand to her stomach.
‘It sounds like hoofbeats,’ she said, her eyes filling.
‘It sounds strong.’ Dr Russo looked pleased. ‘And you are very strong. I will research, but what caused your mother’s haemorrhage probably isn’t going to be hereditary. You will be in the hospital here, with the world’s best specialists. The most important thing is for you to relax and enjoy your pregnancy and this special time with all the celebrations.’
Enjoy it? She was too scared.
‘Have you talked to Eduardo about your concerns?’ he asked quietly.
‘Of course,’ Stella lied.
‘Good.’ The doctor nodded. ‘Be assured, your baby is well. I’ll follow up soon. You will have the best care, Your Highness.’
‘I know.’ But her mother had been in the same hospital. She’d had the best care too. And she hadn’t made it.
After the doctor had left she sat down to look over the dossier about the guests once more. But in her mind those heartbeats echoed. The baby was real. And it was doing okay. But what would happen when the rest of the world found out?
Pretty pictures from the wedding wouldn’t be enough to stop people talking—they’d say it was a shotgun wedding. They’d say she’d trapped him into it. They’d say so much more, so much worse.
No matter what she did, it wasn’t going to be good enough. It never was.
Eduardo hated that Stella left their bed so early every morning. He tried to tease her into staying, but while she’d happily have sex with him again, she still left the bed immediately after.
He showered and quickly dressed. He had to attend the opening of a new football academy this morning. before another appearance in the afternoon. And then there was the ball tonight. Right back to the usual busy schedule.
She was at the treadmill already, glaring at the screen, watching her pace and distance as if she were wishing they were real miles taking her far from here. The iPad was in position too, and she swiped the screen with fierce movements.
‘What are you so angry about?’ he asked, reaching out to flick the ‘stop’ switch on the treadmill.
‘Nothing.’ She didn’t look at him.
‘I once asked you not to lie to me,’ he said softly. He wanted to know what was eating her up—he wanted her to turn and talk to him.
She put her hands on the rails and sighed. ‘They’ll stare. They’ll stare and they’ll judge. I have to prove myself.’ She lifted her head and he saw anguish and anger in her eyes. ‘And I never do. It’s never enough.’
A rush of protectiveness erupted within him. But he put his hands on her waist and held her firmly at arm’s length. It was that or kiss her, and kissing her would lead to only one thing—and that couldn’t happen again until this football visit was over. But he had to equip her with a strategy to cope tonight.
‘You are Princess Stella Zambrano De Santis and you will not give a damn what anyone else thinks. Tonight is nothing but a minor mission to you. You survey the room. Pick targets. Engage in brief, polite conversation. Move on to the next target. Grant them a few moments of your time.’ And then return to me.
‘Is that how you handle it?’ she asked.
It was a skill he’d been taught. ‘People are interested. I am conscious of everything I do in the public sphere. But I cannot let myself dwell on what they might think. It cannot be my concern.’
‘I won’t be a success when they find out I’m already pregnant,’ she muttered. ‘They’ll say I trapped you. They’ll say...’ She trailed off.
Eduardo softened at that concern. She really didn’t need to worry. ‘They won’t find out for a while.’
‘No?’ She shook her head. ‘Are we going to lie and say the baby was born prematurely? Do you want me to cross my legs for an extra month or two at the end? Because, I’m sorry, that might not work.’
‘Our nation has wanted a royal baby for years. They won’t care about the date of its conception.’ He shrugged. ‘They’ll be amused by my reckless passion.’ Always he was the one to make the mistakes. He was the joke. But he didn’t want to be a joke to her. He wanted to help her.
‘Okay.’ She looked into his eyes. Slowly he felt her straighten and square her shoulders. ‘I’m sorry. I know you have more important things to do.’
He didn’t want her to be sorry for sharing her concerns with him.
‘Attending another opening?’ He shook his head. Nothing felt more important than being with her right now.
‘It’s important to the people to have you there.’
‘Sometimes I need a reminder too.’ He grinned at her. ‘I’d rather you were with me.’
It