Princess's Secret Baby(35)

                She would prove that he did not have to marry her, Leila decided. Over the coming weeks, she would show James that she could take care of herself and the baby.

                She was surprised that he wanted to be in the baby’s life. Leila honestly thought he would have been only too pleased to let her take care of things.

                He surprised her at every turn.

                Even as she came out of the bathroom dressed in a white fluffy robe, he did so.

                He was undressed, his clothes were over a chair, but instead of getting into bed James was asleep on the long sofa with a blanket covering him.

                ‘Thank you,’ Leila said reluctantly, but he didn’t stir.

                Grateful for the reprieve Leila slipped into the vast bed and willed herself to stay awake.

                James hadn’t slept since he had found out he was going to be a father. Today had been exhausting— calling in all numbers of favours for the showy proposal. As soon as Leila had gone in the bathroom he had undressed and then set an alarm for six and had gone out like a light.

                He didn’t hear Leila come out of the bathroom and climb into bed. He didn’t hear her stilted ‘Thank you’ for allowing her to sleep alone.

                What he did hear a few hours later was the sound of agony.

                James’s eyes opened to the sound of her crying and it was the most pitiful sound that he had ever heard.

                James had led a very privileged life, if void of much emotion. He had never heard pain like it. The tears were not loud, there was no shouting out, yet it was possibly the most wretched sound he had heard in his life.

                He pulled a pillow over his head and tried to block out the sound, rather wishing that she did grind her teeth.

                ‘Leila...’ James went over to the bed, because he could no longer ignore it. He put his hand on her shoulder and tried to rouse her. ‘You’re dreaming.’

                Still the crying continued and James lay on top of the bed and stroked Leila’s shoulder. When she rolled into him, James wrapped his arm around her and the crying stopped.

                He lay there in the city that never sleeps not sleeping just so that she might, wondering how best to explain why he was there in the morning.

                Leila had never been comforted, not once.

                No one had ever interrupted her tears, nor held her as she wept.

                Apart from Jasmine’s rare cuddles that always came at a price, no one had really held her at all.

                It was alien, it was surreal, it was more beautiful than the feel of her silk gowns on her skin; it was more soothing than music.

                Leila awoke to a naked chest on her cheek and James’s arm around her. She hated him but would be forever grateful for knowing the balm of touch.

                ‘Did I cry a lot?’ Leila asked, mortified.

                ‘You did,’ James said. He could feel the heat of her blush on his chest. ‘I kept saying, “It’s fine, Leila, you’re dreaming,” and then I gave in and came to the bed. You will have observed that I didn’t get in.’

                ‘I did.’

                He was about to say he was cold, or make some lame excuse to get under the covers, possibly for decency’s sake because Leila was surely getting an eyeful as his morning erection attempted to escape the confines of his hipsters.