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Five
Christian paced before the French doors that led from the green drawing room to the extensive garden at the back of the palace. He tugged his left sleeve down over his watch. During the past fifteen minutes, the movement had become a nervous tick as he’d checked the time every twenty seconds or so. Noelle and Marc were late to the meeting she’d finally agreed to. The waiting was eating away the last of Christian’s calm.
He decided to take his agitation out on Gabriel. “I still can’t believe you’ve known that I had a son and didn’t tell me.”
From his spot on the emerald-colored sofa in the center of the room, the crown prince of Sherdana glanced up from his smartphone, unruffled by his brother’s aggressive tone. “Olivia and I suspected. We didn’t know for sure. And until the DNA tests come back, you don’t, either.”
Christian snorted in reply as he continued his path back and forth across the eighteenth-century carpet. The aimless movement wasn’t improving his situation, so he stopped before his brother and scowled at him.
“He’s my son. He has the Alessandro eyes and looks the way we did at four.” Although the triplets weren’t identical, as children they’d been enough alike in appearance to confuse strangers.
“So now you know.” Gabriel’s lips curved into a challenging smile. “What happens next?”
“I get to know my son.”
From the speed with which his brother’s attention returned to his phone, Gabriel hadn’t approved of Christian’s offhanded response. Irritation spread from his chest to his gut.
“What?” he demanded.
“You’ve always played it just a little too safe where relationships were concerned.”
“And you haven’t?”
It wasn’t a fair criticism. Gabriel had fallen hard for Marissa Somme, the deceased mother of his twin two-year-old daughters. But unlike Christian, Gabriel was first in line to the Sherdanian throne and put duty above all else. From the moment he’d begun the affair with the half-French, half-American model, Gabriel had known it must end. Sherdana’s constitution decreed that in order for his son to rule the country one day, the child’s mother had to be either a European aristocrat or a Sherdanian citizen.
Marissa had been neither, and Gabriel had ended the relationship. At the time he hadn’t known he was going to be a father. That bomb had been dropped on him weeks before he was to marry Lady Olivia Darcy. Her British ancestry made her an exceptional candidate for princess. Or that’s the way it had appeared until her fertility issues had made her unsuitable to be Gabriel’s wife.
When Gabriel didn’t respond to his brother’s ineffectual gibe, Christian continued. “What do you want from me?”
“An heir would be nice.”
“Nice.” Christian practically spit the word.Nicedidn’t describe the pressure his family had put upon him once Gabriel married a woman who could never bear children and Nic had announced his intention to make an American his wife. “You think I should marry Noelle.”
That he’d already intended to do just that didn’t lessen Christian’s annoyance. He was sick of everyone telling him what to do.
“It’s about time you put the needs of this family and this country above your own.”
“What about Nic? He’s been in America for ten years trying to build his damned rocket ship. Why does he get to keep doing what he wants?” Christian immediately regretted his petulant tone, but the resentment he’d kept bottled up for the past three months had a mind of its own.
“If you hadn’t played the third-in-line-to-the-throne card like you always do, expecting me or Nic to be the responsible ones, you might have been able to marry the woman of your dreams, suitable or not. Then Nic would be the one ranting and raving about the unfairness of doing hisdutyto Sherdana.”
Duty.
Christian was getting awfully sick of that word. Until four months ago, the only feeling Christian had about matrimony was utter relief that he’d never be forced down the aisle because the country required it. Producing an heir was Gabriel’s obligation as firstborn. Christian enjoyed all the perks of a princely title without any of the demands. And he wasn’t beleaguered by guilt over his freedom. If it was selfish of him, so be it.
“We all know I’m not marriage material,” Christian grumbled, casting a glance toward the doorway for the hundredth time. “I wonder what’s keeping them.”
He was eager to start bonding with his son. And convincing the child’s mother that her life would be so much better as his princess. Princess Noelle had a nice ring to it. She might be resistant to the idea of marrying Christian the man, but once she saw how fast doors opened for her as his royal consort, she would realize that Christian the prince was a magnificent catch.
“They’ll be here shortly,” Gabriel said.
“Do you have some sort of tracking app on your phone that notifies you when guests arrive?” Christian’s words were meant to irritate his brother, but the grim, uptight Gabriel of a year ago had been replaced by a relaxed, charming prince of the realm who was impossible to rile.
“No.” Gabriel’s lips curved in a private smile. “I’m texting with Olivia. She said Marc has finished his third cookie and Mother’s ten-thirty appointment has arrived.”
Adrenaline zinged through Christian. “Noelle and Marc are already here? How long?”
“About twenty minutes.”
