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This man. This man? Christian fumed. He was the boy’s father.
“Are you sure, Mama?” Marc demanded, not backing down for a second.
“Absolutely.” Noelle ruffled her son’s dark hair, doing an excellent job of disguising her tension. “Please go upstairs. I’ll come talk to you in a few minutes.”
With a guard dog’s sullen disapproval, the boy leveled a fierce glare at Christian before turning away. Despite the outrage battering him, pride rose in Christian. His son was brave and protective. Good traits for a future king.
Noelle waited until her son was shepherded upstairs by a woman in her midfifties before she stepped out of the house and pulled the door shut behind her. Noelle’s eyes blazed, the heat of her annoyance radiating from her in the cool night air. “How dare you come here and say something like that in front of my son. My son.”
“You’ve kept a pretty big secret from me all these years.”
She shook her head at him. “You need to go.”
“You’re mistaken. I need answers.”
“You will not get them tonight.” With her mouth set in a determined line and her hands set on her hips, she let her gaze drill into him.
“Noelle, I’m sorry for what happened between us in the past.” He let his voice settle into the cajoling tone that always made women give in. “I know you think what I did to you was insensitive, but I deserve to know my son.”
“Deserve?” Her chest heaved with each agitated breath she took. “Deserve? Do you remember telling me five years ago that I should move on with my life and forget I ever met you?”
His heart twisted as he recalled that gut wrenching speech. “At the time I was right.”
“I loved you.”
“It wasn’t going to work between us.”
“It still isn’t.” She glared at him.
Her anger told him she still resented the way he’d dismissed her five years ago, but she’d come back to Sherdana to live her life. A life he’d told her he wanted no part of. And she’d been doing great without him.
Better than he’d done without her.
“Don’t you see,” he began, regret a heavy weight on his shoulders. “For everyone’s sake, we’re going to have to make peace. I intend to be a part of Marc’s life.”
“I’ll not have you put my son through the same heartache I endured.”
Her words were meant to wound, but Christian barely felt their sting. He was completely distracted by the vibrant beauty of the woman standing up to him. Never before had Noelle’s temper flared like this. He regarded her in mesmerized fascination. When they’d been together before, she’d been so agreeable, so accommodating. The sex between them had always been explosive, but outside the bedroom she’d never demonstrated a hint of rebellion.
Now, she was a mother protecting her child. Her fierceness enthralled him. Abruptly the idea of reigniting their friendship seemed far too bland a proposition. He wanted her back in his bed. That she’d produced a potential heir to the throne made the whole situation clear-cut. He intended to marry her, and one day his son would be Sherdana’s king.
“He’s not just your son, Noelle. He’s an Alessandro. Sherdanian royalty.” Christian let the statement hang in the air between them for several beats. “Are you planning on keeping that from him?”
“Yes.” But despite her forceful declaration, her expression told him she’d asked herself the same question. “No.” Noelle stalked over to where his car sat in her driveway. “Damn you, Christian. He was never supposed to know.”
“Then why did you bring him back here?” He followed her, repressing the urge to snatch her into his arms and see if she’d yield beneath his kisses the way she used to. “You could have very easily lived the rest of your life in France or gone to the United States.” Had she come back to be close to him?
“My stepfather died two-and a-half years ago, leaving my mother alone. I came back to be near her.”
His heart twisted at her explanation. Noelle’s mother had remarried when Noelle was six. “I’m sorry to hear that. I know you two were very close. You must miss him very much.”
“I do.” Sorrow tempered her irritation. “It’s been a hard time for all of us. Marc loved his papi.”
Regret assaulted Christian. Marc had another papi that he’d never know if Noelle got her way. That wasn’t fair to any of them.
“Why didn’t you lie and deny that he’s mine.”
She regarded him in bemusement. “Even if he didn’t have the Alessandro features, why would I do that? Have I ever been untruthful with you?”
No. He’d been the one who’d held tight to secrets. “You kept my son from me for over four years.”
“And if you’d made an attempt to contact me, I would have told you he existed.”
“What about tonight? You weren’t particularly forthcoming. If Marc hadn’t come to the door, you’d never have admitted he existed.”
“You aren’t interested in being a father.”
“That’s not true.” But in reality, he hadn’t thought much about fatherhood other than as a duty demanded of him by his position.
“The whole country is buzzing about Sherdana’s need for an heir, and they look to you as the country’s last hope to produce one.” Her somber tone matched his own dour meditations on the subject. She was no more convinced of his worthiness for the task than he was. “And now here’s my son. Your heir. A simple solution to your problems.”
A solution perhaps, but not necessarily a simple one. He had a duty to the throne and his country. It was up to him to secure the line of succession with a son. His burden had grown lighter with the revelation that he had a son, but his troubles were far from over.
“He can’t be my heir,” Christian said, his heart hammering as he regarded Noelle, curious to see if she’d connect the dots.
She’d always had a knack for discerning the true intent behind his actions. Except for the last time they’d been together five years earlier. He’d hidden his heart too well when he’d broken off their relationship.
When she remained silent, he continued. “Unless I marry his mother.”
“Marry?” Her voice hitched.
He should try to convince her that that’s why he’d come by tonight. Suddenly he knew this was the exact right thing to do. Marrying her would solve all his problems. Now that he’d seen her again, he realized there was no other woman in the world he could imagine being married to. Five years earlier they’d built a relationship on friendship and passion. He’d been a spoiled prince, and she’d been a naïve commoner who adored him. Instead of appreciating the gift of her love, he’d taken her for granted. He’d never understood why her generous spirit had brought out the worst in him. She’d loved him, flaws and all, and he’d been self-destructive and stupid. It made no sense, but he couldn’t stop punishing her for loving him too much.
“You’d make a terrific princess,” he said, and meant it. “The country already loves you.”
“I made two wedding dresses. That’s not enough to make me worthy of anyone’s love.” She shook her head. “You have aristocratic women from all over Europe eager to become your wife.”
“But I don’t want anyone else.”
“Are you saying you want me?” She shook her head and laughed bitterly. “You want Marc.” A pause. “You can’t have him.”
Christian could see there would be no convincing her tonight, and he needed some time to assimilate all that he’d learned. He had a son. The impact had only begun to register.
“We will talk tomorrow,” he said. “I will pick you up at noon. Clear your schedule for a few hours.”
“I could clear my schedule for a few months and you’d get the same answer. I’m not going to give you my son.”
“I don’t want to take him from you.” He hated that this was her perception of him, but he’d made her believe he was a villain so what else could he expect? “But I intend to be in his life.”
* * *
Noelle stared at Christian, the urge to shriek building in her. She pressed her lips together as her mind raced. The cat was out of the bag. No way it was going back in. Christian knew he had a son.
I don’t want to take him from you.
She pondered his words, hearing the warning. He wasn’t foolish enough to tell her outright that he planned to take Marc away, but what Sherdanian court would let her keep her son if Prince Christian fought her for custody? For a second Noelle had a hard time breathing. Then she remembered an illegitimate son was no use to him. Christian needed her help to legitimize Marc’s claim to the crown.
Her son a king.
Her knees bumped together at the thought. Marc was only four. It wasn’t fair to upend his life in this way. She’d seen what being a royal had done to Christian. He’d grown up resentful and reckless. The third heir, he’d had all the privileges and none of the responsibility. She’d lost count of how many times he’d complained that he wished everyone would just leave him alone.
But with Crown Prince Gabriel and Princess Olivia unable to have children, and second-in-line Prince Nicolas married to an American, Marc wouldn’t be a spare heir. He’d be in direct line to the throne.
“Noelle.” Christian reclaimed her attention by touching her arm. “Don’t make this hard on everyone.”
Even through her thin sweater his warmth seeped into her skin. She jerked free before the heat invaded her muscles, rendering her susceptible to his persuasion. Her heart quickened as she backed out of range. It was humiliating how quickly her body betrayed her. A poignant reminder to keep her distance lest physical desire influence her decisions.
Five years ago she hadn’t any reason to guard herself against him. She’d belonged to him heart, mind and soul. That was before he’d demonstrated how little she meant to him. It still hurt how easily he’d cast her aside.
Fierce determination heated her blood. Her cheeks grew hot. She’d do everything in her power to make sure he didn’t do the same thing to Marc.
“You mean don’t make it hard on you.” Her tone bitter, she noted the way his eyes flickered, betraying his surprise.
Through all his past selfish behavior, she’d reminded herself that as a commoner of passing prettiness and limited sophistication she was lucky he’d sought her out at all. Pliable as a willow tree, she’d demonstrated patience and understanding. But having her heart broken had given her a spine, and five years of training in the cutthroat world of fashion design had forged that spine into tempered steel. If he continued to push her, he would discover what she was made of.
“But you’re right,” she added, deciding that arguing would only make him more determined to get his way. In addition, while she might no longer be a doormat, she hadn’t lost touch with what was fair. “You are Marc’s father and deserve a chance to get to know him. Call me at my office tomorrow at ten. I will check my schedule, and we can figure out a time to meet and discuss a visitation schedule.” Seeing Christian’s dissatisfaction, Noelle added, “You will do this my way, or I will take Marc beyond your reach.”
Christian was used to getting his way in all things. The way his eyebrows came together told Noelle she’d pushed too far. But she held her gaze steady, letting him see her stubbornness. In the end he nodded. From the glint in his eyes, she doubted his acquiescence would last long. In business he was known as a clever negotiator. She would have to watch for his tricks.
Glancing up at the house, she spied a small figure silhouetted in an upstairs window. Marc’s bedroom overlooked the front yard. He wasn’t going to go to bed without some sort of explanation from her. Sometimes he could be wiser than a child twice his years. It was partially her fault. She routinely gave him responsibilities, and Marc knew there would be consequences if he didn’t keep his toys picked up, the garden watered and help shuffle his clothes to and from the laundry.
“I have to get my son to bed,” Noelle said. “I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”
“Noelle.” Christian spoke her name softly, halting her. “I meant what I said earlier. I really do miss you. I’d like for us to be friends again.”
If he’d tried to cajole her regarding Marc, she might have softened toward him. Christian had a right to his son, whether she liked it or not, and his determination to have a relationship with Marc would eventually soothe her ferocious mama bear instincts. But the instant he tried to appeal to what had once been between them, all sympathy for him fled.
“I have a life filled with family, friends and purpose that I love. There’s no room for you in it.” She resumed walking toward the house without a backward glance. “Good night, Christian.”
She didn’t collapse after shutting the front door behind her, although she leaned back against the wood panel and breathed heavily for a few minutes until her heartbeat slowed. Had she really just faced down Christian and gotten the last word in? If her stomach wasn’t pitching and rolling in reaction, she might have thrown a fist into the air.
Instead, Noelle headed upstairs. With each slow, deliberate step she regained the poise she’d learned in the stressful world of high fashion. The last thing she wanted was to upset her son and give him a reason to distrust Christian. Despite her measured pace, when she got to Marc’s room, she still hadn’t figured out a good way to explain the unexpected arrival of his father, a man she’d never talked about.
No surprise that Marc was jumping on his bed. On a regular day his small body contained enough energy to power a small village. After tonight’s drama, he was a supernova.
“Mama. Mama. Mama.”
“You know better than to jump on the bed,” she scolded, stifling a heartfelt sigh. At least her mother had been able to get Marc into his pajamas. “Did you brush your teeth?” When her son showed no indication of answering her question, she glanced at her mother, who nodded. With deliberate firmness Noelle urged her son beneath the covers.
“Did you make the bad man go away?”
Time to correct her first mistake of the evening: letting Marc become aware of the tension between her and Christian.
“That wasn’t a bad man, Marc. He was your prince.”
Aversion twisted her son’s features, amusing Noelle as she imagined the hit to Christian’s ego at being so disparaged by one of his subjects.
“Don’t like him.”
Noelle wasn’t feeling all that charitable toward Christian at the moment, either. She scooted her son into the middle of the double bed and seated herself beside him. Drawing in a breath, she braced herself to tell Marc that Christian was his father and then hesitated.
She couldn’t bring herself to drop this bomb on her son until she figured out if having Christian in his life would benefit him. “Prince Christian would like to be your friend.”
His little face screwed up in suspicion. “Does he like dinosaurs?”
“I don’t know.”
“Can he play football?”
“I’m not sure.” Noelle suspected Marc had a list of activities he wanted to know about and smoothly redirected the conversation. “You’ll have to ask him what he likes to do when you see him next.”
“Will he get me a Komodo dragon?”
In addition to being obsessed with dinosaurs, Marc had a fascination with lizards and had received a twenty-gallon tank and a seven-inch leopard gecko from her dear friend Geoff for his fourth birthday. Since then, Marc had been lobbying for a bearded dragon, which would be twice the size of his current pet and require double the space.
“You know very well that a Komodo dragon is not a pet. They are seven feet long.”
“But he could keep it at the palace, and I could visit it.”
As wild a notion as this was, Noelle wouldn’t put it past Christian to buy his son’s love with a new pet. She would have to warn Christian against such a purchase. The last thing she needed was a houseful of tanks containing lizards.
“That’s not going to happen.” She steered the conversation back on track. “Prince Christian might come to visit in the near future and if you have anything you want to know about that, I want you to ask me.” She brushed a lock of hair off Marc’s forehead and stared into his gold eyes. “Okay?”
The way her son was looking at her, Noelle suspected she’d bungled the conversation, but to her surprise she wasn’t barraged by questions.
“Okay.”
“Good. What do you want me to read tonight?”
Unsurprisingly he picked up a book on dinosaurs. Marc enjoyed looking at the pictures as she read the descriptions. Noelle knew he had the entire volume memorized. The cover was worn, and a few of the pages had minor tears. Her active son was hard on most things, and this book was one of his favorites.
It took half an hour to get through the book. Marc had forgotten all about Christian’s visit by the time Noelle reached the last page. To her relief he settled down without a fight, his head on the pillow. A glance at the clock told her it was not long past his normal bedtime, and she congratulated herself on her minor victory.
Downstairs, her mother had opened a bottle of her favorite Gavi, a crisp Italian white with delicate notes of apples and honey. She handed Noelle a glass without asking if she wanted any.
“I thought you might be in the mood to celebrate,” Mara said, eyeing her daughter over the rim of her glass.
Resentment burned at her mother’s passive-aggressive remark. “Because Christian discovered I’ve been hiding his son all these years?” She snorted. “For the thousandth time, I’m not in love with him.”
