Page 2 of Royal Surrogate 2

I rub the heel of my palm on my eyebrow. Nothing seems to relieve the knot that has taken residence there since the day Renae and I took our vows. It doesn’t help that I haven’t slept much in the past month—between the constant guilt gnawing at my gut and the ache at knowing I’ll never hold her in my arms…

What was I thinking?

I wanted a son. A piece of me to pass on to future generations, to take my place in the long line of Lords of Wintervale. And for some reason that still bewilders me, I agreed to the changes my father made in the contract thatIarranged. I agreed to marry Renae and keep her as my wife for the next twenty years.

If only she had any idea.

Sadly, she’s still under the misguided notion that she only needs to bear me a child, after which she can move on with her life. If she’d read the contract she so hastily signed, she’d understand that we’re both tied together for all eternity. Or at least the next twenty years, which is going to seem an eternity if she continues to insist on sleeping next to me every night.

I set my pen down on the desk and rub at my brow again. Perhaps I’ll tell her today. I should have told her before we went to the fertility clinic a few weeks ago, but it hadn’t seemed like the right time.

Every day since has been agonizing. But I had been certain if I had told her the truth of the changes in the contract, she would have declined to sign at all—she would have left me for good. And she’s perfect. Not only to be the mother of my child—the child I felt so sure I needed to have, but perfect in every other way.

I’m not certain what will happen now when she finds out, so I must tell her today. I should have told her before the first fertility treatment. My stomach knots with guilt at the thought of allowing myself to go forward with it having not told her already.

Today. Today will be best, I think.

The physicians said it will likely take several months of treatment to be successful. Almost no one becomes pregnant the first month, they said.

I nod to myself. Yes, today will be a good day to tell her. Before she takes the pregnancy test, at any rate. That will at least give her the option to back out of this charade, though I think it might break me if she should decide to leave. I don’t know if she has any reason to stay other than for the money I have to offer her.

And I have so much more I want to offer her than money. I’m willing to offer her everything I have, if only she’d allow me. I would at least like the opportunity to try.

There’s a loud shriek in the bathroom, and I knock over my chair when I stand as I rush to the door.

The door flies open, and Renae almost falls out.

She squeals, thrusting something into my hand. “Two lines!”

My breath catches in my chest as I look at the object in my palm.Two lines. I’m no expert in female things, but even I know what this means.

“I’m pregnant.” Her grin widens. “I’m pregnant!”

She throws her arms around my shoulders as she wraps herself around my body. “Can you believe it?”

I hold her against me, my heart pounding in my chest. I can’t believe it—not really. I glance over her shoulder at the test in my hand again—can this little stick with the two pink lines really mean that my child is growing inside her? It seems unimaginable.

My son.Myson. My child is inside the woman I’m holding in my arms.

There’s something about this knowledge I can’t quite explain, but every other thought leaves my brain. A tingling sense of joy fills me from my toes to the top of my head, releasing the knot in my forehead and filling every bit of me with so much happiness and gratitude, I can’t think of anything else.

What was that knot about, anyway?

It doesn’t matter now. All that matters isthis. My child. My wife. My child inside my wife. And I can’t hold back any longer. I know I promised not to touch her, but she is the one who jumped into my arms, after all.

My hand slides up her back, and she doesn’t hesitate. In fact, she’s the one who tilts her head back to look into my eyes.

I don’t know what it is about this woman that makes me lose all sense of sanity. And part of me knows it’s wrong—that there’s something I need to tell her first—but I can’t think of what it is. I can’t think of anything but her.

I tip my head toward hers. Slowly. If she pulls away, I won’t force her. If she climbs out of my arms, I’ll ache for days, but I won’t chase her.

But she only stares up at me, her lips parting ever so slightly, begging me to move closer.

And I do. It feels painfully slow, but I don’t want to scare her. I want her to want me.

I need her. I don’t know that I’ve ever needed anything more in my life.

Her fingers thread through my hair, and I suck in a breath.

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