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“Mama, where are you?”
Christian’s eyes widened at the sound of Marc’s voice. “You have a child?”
She could not let this happen. Noelle shifted to put her full weight against the door and get it closed.
“You have to leave.”
“Marc, where are you?” She heard her mother coming down the stairs now and prayed that Mara could get to Marc before he came to investigate. “I told you your mother wouldn’t read you a story unless you were in bed.”
“I had no idea,” Christian mused, his expression strangely melancholy.
“And now you see why my evenings are busy. So if you don’t mind, I need to get my son to bed.”
“Can I meet him?” The prince stared past Noelle into the home’s interior.
“No.” Hearing the snap in her voice, she moderated her tone. “It’s his bedtime, and meeting someone new will stir him up. It’s already difficult to settle him down enough to sleep.”
“He sounds like me.”
It was a remark anyone might have made. Noelle knew there was no subtext beneath Christian’s comment, but she was hyper-secretive regarding the paternity of her son.
“Not at all.”
“Don’t you remember how much trouble you had getting me to sleep on the nights I stayed over?”
She ignored the jump in her pulse brought on by his wicked smile. What she remembered were long, delicious hours of lovemaking that left her physically drained and emotionally invigorated.
“This is a conversation for another time.”
“Mama, who are you talking to?” Marc plastered himself against her hip and peered up at Christian.
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.
