Too late. She’d let Christian distract her with bittersweet memories, and now he was about to discover what she’d zealously kept hidden from him all these years.
“This is Prince Christian,” she told her son, heart breaking. “Your Highness, this is my son, Marc.”
“Your son?” The prince regarded the four-year-old boy in silence for several seconds, his mouth set in a hard line. At last his cold eyes lifted to Noelle. “Don’t you mean our son?”
Two
Christian wanted to shove the door open and turn on the lights in the front entry so he could get a clearer look at the boy, but instinct told him it wouldn’t change anything. This was his son.
“I don’t have a father. Do I, Mama?” Marc glanced up at his mother, eyes worried as he took in her stricken expression.
“Of course you have a father,” Noelle stated. “Everyone does. But not everyone’s father is part of their life.” She soothed a trembling hand over her son’s dark head.
“And whose fault is that?” Christian’s shock was fading, replaced with annoyance and grudging respect as he surveyed the boy—Noelle had called him Marc.
Tall for his age, which couldn’t have been more than four and a half, he possessed the distinctive gold Alessandro eyes and wavy brown hair. Undaunted by Christian’s keen scrutiny, the boy stared back, showing no apprehension, just unflinching hostility. And maybe a little curiosity, as well. Christian inclined his head in approval. A child of his would possess an inquisitive mind.
“We are not talking about this right now.” Noelle glared at him. Motherhood had given her voice a sharp inflection that demanded immediate obedience. Almost immediately, however, her eyes widened as if she recalled that the man standing on her doorstep was a member of the royal family. Noelle modulated her tone. “Prince Christian, this is not a good time.”
“I’m not leaving until I know what’s going on.”
“I’ll make him go.” Marc pushed past his mother and took up a fighter’s stance, one foot back, fists up and ready to punch.
Christian didn’t like how the situation was escalating, but he couldn’t bring himself to back off. Too many questions bombarded him. Instead, he stared, belligerent and stubborn, into Noelle’s lovely, troubled eyes until she sighed.
“Marc, please go upstairs with Nana.” Noelle set her hands on the boy’s shoulders and turned him until he faced her. When he looked up and met her gaze, she gave him a reassuring smile. “I need to speak with this man.”
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.”
