“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.
