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And now, thanks to his discovery of their son, she was back in his life. He ached with joy and dread.
Showing up on her doorstep last night had been a return to old patterns. When they’d been together before, he’d often popped by unannounced late at night after the clubs closed.
He’d met her at the café near his apartment where she waitressed. Unlike most of the women he flirted with, she hadn’t been intrigued by his title or swayed by his charm. She’d treated him with such determined professionalism that he’d been compelled to pursue her relentlessly until she agreed to see him outside of work.
They didn’t date. Not in a traditional sense. She was too serious to enjoy his frivolous lifestyle and too sensible to fit in with his superficial friends. But she was exactly what he needed. Her apartment became his refuge. When they finally became lovers, after being friends for six months, she was more familiar to him than any woman he’d ever known.
Not that this had stopped him from taking her for granted, first as a friend and confidante, and then as the woman who came alive in his arms.
Christian closed his eyes and settled his head back against the brick facade of his apartment. The breath he blew out didn’t ease the tightness in his chest or relax the clenched muscles of his abdomen.
Last night he’d suggested that they should marry. The ease with which the words had slipped off his tongue betrayed the fact that his subconscious was already plotting. Speaking with her at the party had obviously started something brewing. Why not marry Noelle? The notion made sense even before he’d found out about Marc.
Years before they’d been good together. Or at least she’d been good for him. Sexually they’d been more than compatible. She’d been a drug in his system. One he’d tried numerous times to purge with no luck.
Discovering they’d created a child together, a much-needed potential heir to the throne, pretty much cemented his decision to make her his princess. He didn’t need to scour Europe trying to find his future wife. She was right under his nose.
He should have felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but long ago he’d developed a conscience where Noelle was concerned. After the way he’d broken things off five years ago, she didn’t want him anywhere near her. Persuading her to marry him would take time, and once the media got wind of his interest, they would interfere at every turn.
He’d have to work fast. She’d loved him once. A few intimate dinners to remind her of their crazy-hot chemistry and she’d be putty in his hands. Christian shoved aside a twinge of guilt. Being cavalier about seducing Noelle was not in keeping with the man he’d become these past few years. Scheming was something he reserved for business dealings.
Christian headed inside to shower and get dressed. For his country and his family, he had to convince Noelle to marry him. If it benefited him in the process, so much the better.
Three
An extravagant arrangement of two dozen long-stemmed red roses awaited Noelle in her office at the back of her small dress shop in Sherdana’s historic city center. Coffee in hand, she stopped dead just inside the door and sucked in the rich, sweet scent of the enormous blossoms. She plucked a small white envelope from the bouquet, but didn’t need to read the card to know the sender. The scarlet blooms signaled Christian’s intent to stir up her quiet, perfectly ordered world.
Knowing she would get nothing accomplished with the roses dominating her efficient gold-and-cream space, Noelle called her assistant.
“Please get these out of here.” Noelle waved her hand dismissively. When curiosity lit Jeanne’s eyes, Noelle realized she’d let her irritation show.
Jeanne scooped the vase off the low coffee table. “Should I put them in the reception room?”
Noelle wanted to tell Jeanne to drop them into the trash out back. “Why don’t you put them in the workroom? That way the seamstresses could enjoy the flowers.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to leave them here? They’re so beautiful.”
Noelle’s temper flared, sharp and acidic. Lack of sleep and frayed nerves were to blame for her reaction. She shook her head and strove to keep her voice calm as she tried to put a positive spin on her request. “Everyone has been working so hard. The flowers are for all of us,” she lied, feeling only the mildest twinge of guilt at deceiving her employee.
Once the flowers were gone, Noelle opened her office window to the beautiful morning and let in the fresh air, but after an hour she could swear the scent of the roses remained. Restless and edgy, Noelle slid her sketchbook into her briefcase. She would go to her favorite café and work on the designs for next winter’s collection.
