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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 meworthyof 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.”
