Sara looked up just then and smiled. Something stirred inside Aleks and, without thinking, he smiled back.
She turned to their son and said, âCome, Nico, letâs sing a song.â And in a sweet, clear soprano she began to sing a familiar song, pausing while Nico echoed each phrase in a childish, happy voice.
As he guided the boat onto land, Aleks heard his own baritone join in. Both Nico and Sara looked up in pleased surprise.
In that moment he saw what heâd never seen before. A mother and son. And the son had Saraâs radiant, full-mouthed smile.
His belly sank like the anchor heâd tossed overboard.
âPapá is singing. Papá is singing.â Nico clapped his hands. Sara laughed.
And Prince Aleksandre sang a little louder, just to watch them smile again.
Dear Reader
I hope you enjoy HER PRINCEâS SECRET SON. The idea for this book first came to me as a regular secret baby storyâyou know, the kind where the heroine has kept the child secret from the hero. But the more I thought about the story, the more I realised I wanted to do something different. So I decided the hero would be the one who had kept the baby a secret. But how in the world was such a thing possible? After all, the man wouldnât be pregnant or giving birth. It took a while to give my characters the right backgrounds and situations to make a reverse secret baby storyline work, but finally the warrior prince and his commoner bookshop owner appeared. From there, I had a great time creating a popular fantasyâa regular girl discovers her true love is a real prince, only this prince has possession of the son she gave up for adoption.
I love hearing from readers. If you like HER PRINCEâS SECRET SON, please write and let me know. I can be reached through my website, at www.lindagoodnight.com, or c/o Harlequin Mills & Boon Limited, Eton House, 18-24 Paradise Road, Richmond, Surrey, TW9 1SR.
Warm wishes
Linda Goodnight
PRINCE ALEKSANDRE Dâ GABRIEL took one look at Dr. Konstantineâs long face and knew the news was bad.
âIâm sorry, Your Majesty, there is nothing more I can do.â The royal physician, either unable or unwilling to meet his princeâs eyes, stared down at the gleaming marble floor. âYour son is dying.â
The softly spoken words pierced Aleksâs soul like a bayonet. His boy, his reason for living, lay just beyond the thick, ancient castle wall dying, while his father stood in the long, ornate corridor of Carvainian Castle wishing to die in his stead.
Aleks was a ruler, a warrior prince, a man of wealth and power, and yet he was helpless against the infection that was destroying his sonâs internal organs.
He clenched his fists against the rising tide of fear, stifling the urge to pummel the stone walls in frustration and despair.
His mother, Queen Irena, touched his arm. âThere must be something more we can do. Perhaps another physician?â
Dr. Konstantineâs head jerked upward. âYour Highness, weâve consulted every hepatology specialist in the world. The only answer is an organ donation. A tiny piece of organ from the right person will save his life. Nothing more, nothing less.â
Queen Irenaâs face, still lovely though she was nearing sixty, had aged in the past weeks of Prince Nicoâs illness. The lines around her mouth deepened as she said, âMy apologies, Doctor, I didnât mean to imply anything less than the best on your part. Itâs just thatââ She lifted one hand in a helpless gesture.
Aleksandre understood exactly what she was feeling. The queen doted on the motherless boy sheâd carried in her arms from America nearly five years ago. Without his motherâs help, Aleksandre would never have known his son.
Fate and determination had given him Nico, and he would not give up his child without a fight.
âThere must be a match somewhere,â he said. âWe will continue our search.â
âThousands have been tested, Your Majesty.â
His people, loyal Carvainians, had lined the streets and clogged the telephones and computers in their sincere desire to save the adored little prince. But not a single person was a suitable match for the child whose blood was not one hundred percent Carvainian.
Aleksandre fought the sickness churning in his gut and the memory of an American woman who still haunted his heart. The childâs mixed blood was his fault, just as the illness was, and yet Nico would not be Nico without Sara Presleyâs blood.