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Secret Child, Royal Scandal
Cat Schield
The prince must produce an heir. Little does he know, he already has…Christian Alessandro lives life in the fast lane. But royal duty calls, and the bachelor prince must settle down and sire the future king of Sherdana. That's when a chance encounter with former flame Noelle Dubone yields a bombshell discovery: Christian's already a father! Marrying Noelle will make his boy the legitimate heir. It's a rocky reunion. The determined dressmaker refuses to fall in love—or in bed!—with Christian again, even as old, intense feelings return with a vengeance. But what the prince wants, the prince gets…
“I was ready to battle him for you.”
Christian murmured the words, fingers grazing the wet streak on her cheek. “To demonstrate how committed I am to being your ardent husband and a zealous father to Marc.”
Such beautiful words from such a challenging and unpredictable man. Noelle couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. She was still debating when Christian cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers.
The delicious pressure of his kiss held her immobile with shock for several frantic heartbeats.
She tunneled impatient fingers into Christian’s hair and pushed her greedy body hard against his. She craved a man’s hands on her. To feel a little helpless as he tore her clothes off and had his way with her. And Christian had a knack for that sort of thing.
His fingers bit into her hips as she rocked against him, the ache between her thighs building. When she could stand it no longer, she cried out as pleasure lanced downward.
Christian buried his face in her neck, lips gliding over her skin. “I knew you’d come around.”
An icy chill swept through her at his words. Noelle clenched her teeth and cursed her impulsiveness. She tensed her muscles and twisted away.
“I haven’t come around to anything.”
* * *
Secret Child, Royal Scandal is part of Cat Schield’s Sherdana Royals trilogy
Secret Child, Royal Scandal
Cat Schield
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAT SCHIELD has been reading and writing romance since high school. Although she graduated from college with a BA in business, her idea of a perfect career was writing books for Mills & Boon. And now, after winning the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart
Award for Best Contemporary Series Romance, that dream has come true. Cat lives in Minnesota with her daughter, Emily, and their Burmese cat. When she’s not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the St. Croix River, or in more exotic locales, like the Caribbean and Europe. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.catschield.net (http://www.catschield.net). Follow her on Twitter, @catschield (http://www.twitter.com/catschield).
To Renee and Mary K.
Thanks for all the happy hours and the conversations that have kept me sane.
Contents
Cover (#uf3f66148-2444-5c50-99d4-2cccf5d3bbb7)
Introduction (#udf61a984-718f-567a-b606-36a701325175)
Title Page (#ud7549fab-22ae-51fe-b58d-11987d31e499)
About the Author (#u123766cd-047f-5472-84c1-4e3d75246a57)
Dedication (#ua58eec69-d923-5df4-afcf-0e9964287800)
One (#ulink_6876fd7a-cf6f-54e7-98b4-b7c3e2a820c1)
Two (#ulink_9a5d6ac0-efa0-56f6-819b-360d417e5a08)
Three (#ulink_ded13d83-6d03-5968-bfbf-87b42bbff662)
Four (#ulink_d2419566-112a-529e-a83e-4b833f0005e1)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
One (#ulink_f6c077ad-39c0-5d37-a156-40bea9890469)
Prince Christian Alessandro, third in line to the Sherdana throne, stood behind the current and future kings of Sherdana and glowered into the camera. No doubt he was ruining Nic and Brooke’s fairy-tale wedding photos, but he didn’t care. His last hope to remain a carefree bachelor for the rest of his life had been reduced to ashes the second his brother had gazed deep into his bride’s starry eyes and pledged to love and honor her until the day he died.
Christian growled.
“Smiles everyone,” the photographer cried, casting an anxious glance Christian’s way. “This is our last photo of the complete wedding party. Let’s make it count.”
Despite his black mood, Christian shifted his features into less grim lines. He wasn’t about to smile, but he could at least give his brother one decent photo. No matter how badly this marriage had disrupted his life, in the days to come he really would make an effort to be happy for Nic and Brooke. For today he’d simply don a mask.
“Let’s set up over there.” The photographer pointed to a small stone bridge that crossed a decorative creek.
The path beyond meandered toward the stables. Christian preferred his horsepower under the hood of a fast car, but he’d gladly take his twin nieces to visit their ponies just to get away. Bethany and Karina were old hands at being flower girls, this being their second royal wedding in four months, but being two-year-olds, they had a short attention span and were growing impatient with having to stand still for photos. Christian sympathized with them.
Since his accident five years earlier, he’d avoided cameras as much as possible. The burn scars that covered his right side—shoulder, neck and half of his cheek—had made him the least attractive Alessandro triplet. Not that it mattered much how he looked. His title, wealth and confirmed bachelor status made him a magnet for women.
Most women.
His gaze roamed over the multitude of assistants and palace staff required to keep the bridal party looking flawless and the photo shoot moving forward. Trailing the bride was a petite, slender woman with mink-brown hair and dual-toned brown eyes. Internationally renowned wedding dress designer Noelle Dubone had designed Brooke’s dress as well as the one worn by Christian’s sister-in-law, Princess Olivia Alessandro.
Born in Sherdana, Noelle had moved to Paris at twenty-two to follow her dream of becoming a fashion designer. She’d done moderately well until three years ago when she’d designed the wedding gown for the bride of Italian prince Paolo Gizzi. There’d been so much media coverage surrounding the nuptials that Noelle became an overnight success. Movie stars, European nobility and the very wealthy became eager for a Noelle Dubone original.
“Imagining your own wedding?” taunted a female voice from behind him.
Christian turned and shot his sister a sour look. Ariana was looking too smugly amused for Christian’s taste.
“No.” But the slim figure in blue-gray caught his eye again.
Noelle Dubone. The one woman in the world who’d come closest to taming the wildest Alessandro prince. He hadn’t been worthy of her. She hadn’t deserved to be treated badly by him. That he’d done it for her own good was what let him sleep at night.
“You should be,” Ariana countered, looking stylish and carefree in a knee-length, full-skirted dress with puffy long sleeves. A fashion trendsetter, her wedding attire shimmered with gold embroidery and straddled the line between daring and demure with strategically placed sheer panels that showed off her delicate shoulders and hinted at more thigh than the formal occasion called for. “The future of the kingdom rests in your hands.”
Christian grimaced. “Father’s health has never been better and I don’t see Gabriel dropping dead any time soon, so I suspect I will have time to choose a wife and get her pregnant.”
Just the thought of it made him long for a drink. But as his mother had pointed out numerous times in the months since Nic had abdicated his responsibility to Sherdana by choosing to marry an American, Christian was no longer free to overindulge in liquor and women. The idea that he had to start walking the straight and narrow path after being the party prince all his life was daunting. He’d misstepped all his life. As youngest in the birth order, it was what he did.
Gabriel, as eldest, was the responsible one. The future king.
Nic, as middle son, was the forgotten one. He’d gone off to America in his early twenties to become a rocket scientist.
Christian was the indulged youngest son. His antics had provided the paparazzi tabloid fodder since he was fourteen and got caught with one of the maids.
At twenty he’d been raising hell in London. He’d thrown the best parties. Drank too much. Spent money like it was being printed by elves, and when his parents cut off his funds, he’d started buying and flipping failing businesses. He didn’t care about success. He just wanted to have fun.
At twenty-five several of his less prudent actions had blown up in his face, leaving him scarred and his heart shredded.
Now at thirty he was expected to give up his freedom for the crown.
“You only think you have time,” Ariana countered. “Mother showed me the list of potential candidates. It’s two-feet long.”
“I do not need her help or anyone else’s to find a wife.”
“Neither did Gabriel and Nic and look how that turned out.”
Gabriel had eloped five months earlier in a grand, romantic gesture that had rendered him blissfully happy, but by marrying a woman who could never have children, he’d left his two brothers holding short straws.
As the last born of the triplets, Christian had made it clear to Nic that it was his duty to step up next. In order for the Alessandro family to stay in power, one of the three princes needed to produce a son. But before Nic could begin looking for a potential bride from among Europe’s noble houses or Sherdana’s female citizenry, the beautiful American, Brooke Davis, had stolen his heart.
And with their wedding today, it all came down to Christian.
“I can find my own bride without Mother’s help.”
Ariana made a noise unfit for a princess. “You’ve already been through half the suitable single women in Europe.
“Hardly half.”
“Surely there was one woman among all those you’ve spent time with who appeals to you.”
“Appeals, yes.” Christian resisted the urge to search for Noelle again. “But not one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”
“Well, you’d better find one.”
Christian ground his teeth together and didn’t answer. He knew Ariana was right. The price one paid as a royal was to not always get to do as one liked. Gabriel had been lucky to choose Olivia to marry before he understood that he was in love with her. But right up until he and Olivia eloped, Gabriel had grappled with his duty to Sherdana versus following his heart’s desire.
Nic had the same issue with Brooke. He’d known he needed to put her aside and marry a woman whose children could one day be king.
But in the end both men had chosen love over duty.
Which left Christian to choose duty.
One of the photographer’s assistants came to fetch them for more pictures, putting an end to the conversation for the moment. Christian endured another tedious hour of being posed with his brothers, his sister, the king and queen, and various members of the wedding party. By the time the session was finished, he was ready to get drunker than he’d been in the five years since the accident that left him with a disfigured body to match his tarnished soul.
What stopped him from making a beeline for the bar was Noelle.
It seemed perfectly right to walk up behind her and slip his arm around her waist. Christian dropped a kiss on her cheek the way he had a hundred times, a habit from the old days that used to speak to his strong affection for her. For a microsecond Noelle relaxed against him, accepting his touch as if no time or hurt had passed between them. Then she tensed.
“You look beautiful,” he murmured in her ear.
She didn’t quite jerk away from him, but she lacked her usual grace in her quick sideways step. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”
“Walk with me.” It was more a command than an invitation.
“I really shouldn’t leave the party.” She glanced toward the bride and groom as if hoping to spot someone who needed her.
“The photos are done. The bride has no further need for her designer. I’d like to catch up with you. It’s been a long time.”
“As you wish, Your Highness.” To his annoyance, she curtsied, gaze averted.
The gardens behind the palace were extensive and scrupulously maintained under the queen’s watchful eye. The plantings closest to the I-shaped structure that housed Sherdana’s royal family were arranged in terms of design and color that changed with the seasons. This was the most photographed section of the garden, with its formal walkways and dramatic fountains.
Toward the back of the extensive acreage that surrounded the palace, the garden gave way to a wooded area. Christian guided her to a small grove of trees that offered plenty of shade. There would be more privacy there.
“You’ve done very well for yourself as a designer.”
Christian hated small talk, and it seemed idiotic to attempt any with Noelle. But how did you begin a cordial conversation with an ex-lover who you’d once deliberately hurt even as you told yourself it was for her own good?
“I’ve been fortunate.” Her polite demeanor contrasted with the impatience running through her tone. “Luck and timing.”
“You neglected to mention talent. I always knew you’d be successful.”
“That’s very kind.”
“I’ve missed you.” The words came out of nowhere and shocked him. He’d intended to ply her with flirtatious compliments and make her smile at him the way she used to, not pour his heart out.
For the first time she met his gaze directly. His heart gave a familiar bump as he took in the striking uniqueness of her eyes. From a distance they merely looked hazel, but up close the greenish-brown around the edges gave way to a bright chestnut near the pupil. In the past, he’d spent long hours studying those colors and reveling in the soft affection in her gaze as they lingered over dinner or spent a morning in bed.
She gave her head a shake. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
“I might not have been the man for you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care,” he told her, fingertips itching to touch her warm skin.
