The Life She Left Behind by Maisey Yates Read Free Book Online Page A

Not all day.”
    â€œDo you think she needs a doctor?” he asked.
    Hana shrugged. “The doctor has been. He says as long as she does not lose too much weight…he says her sickness is normal. Bad, but to be expected.”
    Hana was one of the few on staff who was aware of the fact that Angelina was pregnant, but as she was attending her, Taj had felt it important.
    â€œThere is nothing that can be done?”
    â€œShe was given medication for motion sickness, which helps some women. Though she’s reluctant to take it. It makes her nervous.”
    â€œStubborn woman,” he said, running his fingers through his hair. “Is she asleep now?”
    â€œYes.”
    â€œI will go to her. Keep everyone away from her end of the palace. I do not want her disturbed. Today, she is in my care.”
    He stalked across the palace, his footsteps echoing on the marble floor, staff scurrying aside when they saw him coming.
    His heart was pounding heavily by the time he reached the entrance to her quarters. He moved through her rooms, the elegant seating area, her sunroom, to her sleeping chamber. He paused at the door, a strange unease filling him.
    He’d never cared for anyone in his life. Not on a personal level. On a grand scale, he cared for his people. But he sent others to do his bidding. He signed papers, he waved from vehicles. It was his administrative staff who assigned the execution of tasks.
    He was aware, for the first time, of how different ordering care and giving it were.
    He pushed the gilded door open and saw Angelina. She was in bed, the covers drawn up beneath her chin, her hair damp, sticking to her forehead.
    â€œYou are too hot,” he said, striding across the room, sitting on the edge of the bed and putting his hand on her forehead.
    She stirred, opened her eyes, the expression in them confused and sleepy. “I…I’m not. I just…I threw up again and it makes me sweaty. What are you doing here?”
    A good question. He felt completely and totally out of his depth. A foreign experience. “I heard you were unwell.”
    â€œI’m morning sick,” she said, as if that explained everything.
    â€œIt is three in the afternoon.”
    â€œMorning sickness isn’t always confined to morning, I’ve discovered. But other than feeling like death warmed over, the doctor says I’m fine. The baby is fine.”
    â€œYou do not look fine,” he said. “You look like a ghost.”
    â€œI’m not one, though. Promise.” She put her hand on his cheek, his skin warm against his.
    â€œWhat do you need?”
    â€œWhat?”
    He stood. “What do you need? I will order…I will get it for you.” He didn’t know why, but it seemed important. There were other things he had planned on doing today, but this seemed essential. It seemed like the most essential thing he could do with his time.
    â€œI don’t…I don’t know. I…”
    He looked around the room and saw a bowl sitting on the vanity with a white washcloth draped over the side. The bowl was filled with water. He touched his fingers to the surface and found it cold.
    â€œOne moment,” he said. He went into her opulent bathroom and refilled the bowl with warm water, bringing it back into her room.
    He dipped the cloth in the water, wringing out the excess before returning to her bed.
    He pushed her damp hair from her forehead, resting his palm against her skin for a moment before replacing it with the cloth.
    She sighed, her eyes meeting his. “Thank you. I felt disgusting.”
    â€œDid you?”
    â€œSweaty.” She arched slightly. “My shirt is sticking to me.”
    He frowned. “Do you need a bath?”
    â€œI wanted one. I was afraid I would pass out.”
    He hesitated to ask the next question, because intimacy between them, even the basest intimacy of greeting one another in the corridors, had been cut