Pregnant with the Prince's Child Read Online Free PDF

it. He could take care of himself. Once this medication wore off, he would be okay. He would tell her to go back where she came from and leave him alone.
    Still, he had to admit, he’d felt a tug of attraction from the first. It was stronger now. She was young and pretty with evidence of a lean, agile look to her nicely shaped body—though he couldn’t see much of it under that shapeless jumpsuit of a uniform. Her sleek ash-blond hair fell over her cheek, shining like corn silk in the summer sunlight with a beauty that almost choked him for a moment. He hadn’t had much beauty in his life lately. Suddenly, he had an overwhelming urge to reach out and touch it.
    But he couldn’t, he thought to himself sarcastically. He had to be careful. His groan was heartfelt and he shook his head. No, he wasn’t going to be able to keep this up for long. There came a tipping point when life just wasn’t worth living without a few common human activities. Touching a beautiful woman was one of them.
    Currently he was clinging to optimism. Surely this would pass. He’d seen the X-rays. The pieces of shrapnel were mere slivers. How could such tiny things be so dangerous to his life? Maybe they would begin to move away or melt or…or something. And maybe his memory would come back and things would get back to normal.
    He was blaming the amnesia on the fact that they had kept him in a drug-induced coma for weeks while they worried about a possible traumatic brain injury and debated what to do with the shrapnel. That ought to be enough to knock anybody’s mind for a loop. He had no doubt the fog would clear away soon. But as for the shrapnel…
    If he just could remember what exactly had happened. What had he been doing, what had he been thinking when he’d hit that IED? But it was gone—along with a few years of his life. He’d just lost it all. How did you do that? How did it happen? Whatever—it didn’t make a lot of sense, but it seemed to be true that it had happened to him. And there was a deep, dark hole in his soul because of it.
    The woman moved and murmured something in her sleep. It sounded like “get away from me,” but it might have been something totally different. Still, it made him frown and wonder what was bothering her. He wanted to reach out and comfort her. And then he remembered. He couldn’t do things like that anymore.
    He grimaced.
    Think about something else.
    He looked around the room. His usual bedroom was upstairs, but he’d stayed in this one a time or two in his childhood—mostly when all the Swiss cousins had come to fill the house for the holidays. The furnishings had a nice heirloom look to them, although he knew his mother had worked hard to make bargains into antiques during their poverty-stricken period in his late teens. It was nice to be in a familiar place after all that time in the sterile rooms at the hospital.
    He hadn’t actually lived here since he’d gone away to university, more than ten years before. But he had a lot of childhood memories. It had been here on his eighteenth birthday that his parents had told him he was adopted. An admission like that was supposed to be a big shock in a young man’s life, but as he remembered it, he had nodded thoughtfully, taking it in as something less than surprising.
    He’d always known he was sort of an ugly duckling in the wrong nest—though most would have disputed the “ugly” appellation. His parents were nothing like him. All through his childhood they had watched him in a sort of state of awe, their mouths slightly open, as though they couldn’t believe a child of theirs could act like that.
    Not that they didn’t adore him. If anything, they’d loved him a bit too much, to the point where his brother, Kylos, their natural-born son, felt as though he had to do ever more outrageous things in order to get noticed himself.
    So once they had told him the truth, he felt vindicated in a way. That small, illusive memory sense deep