but you hurt her pretty badly by just running off and not staying in touch. I’m not sure how you’re going to deal with that.”
Neither did Sam, but he had to try. “After we’ve had the opportunity to talk further, I hope we can come to an understanding.”
She stared at the cup a few more moments before looking up once again. “Okay, so you want to spend some time with Chance, and I think that’s a good idea, which means you need to be close by. So the way I see it, you’ll need to move in here with us.”
Sam secretly admitted he had thought about that, living once again in the place he had considered his true home in America, but he could only imagine Andrea’s reaction. “I doubt your niece will agree to that plan.”
“Let me handle her. I suggest that you get in that limo and hightail it out of here to go and get your things. She won’t be back for another hour or so, since she’s got to stop by the feed store. That should give you enough time to settle in. You can have my room. I’ll stay in the bunkhouse.”
“With Mr. Parker?”
Tess patted her short, gray hair and glanced away. “No. Riley’s working for someone else because Andi couldn’t afford to keep him on. He still stops by now and then.”
Sam grinned when color rose to Tess’s careworn face. “He has yet to propose marriage?”
“He has, every day, but I’m too old to consider getting married.”
“But not too old to…?” Sam let his words trail off on a question, unable to resist teasing her a bit.
“Too old for a good old-fashioned tumble? No one’s too old for that, Sam. Not when it comes to someone you care about.”
Images filtered into Sam’s consciousness, visions of making love to Andrea, seeing satisfaction in her eyes, not sadness or hatred. But he could not consider something so foolish again, no matter how much he ached to do that very thing.
“Perhaps I should wait until Chance returns from camp,” he said, thinking that might be favorable to being alone in the house with Andrea.
Tess shrugged. “You could, but I figure while you’re here, you could earn your keep. The place is falling down around our ears, especially the barn. Might be nice if you could help fix the place up a bit. You could take the time to do that before Chance gets back.”
At least that would occupy his hands during the day. But during the night…“I would be happy to do that. I must admit, I’ve missed engaging in manual labor since I’ve been away.”
She sent him another questioning look. “You know, I’m surprised some girl hasn’t snatched you up.”
Sam mentally winced. “I am to be married by the end of summer.”
“Does Andi know about this?” Tess did well to keep the shock from her expression, but it resounded in her tone.
“No. I prefer not to speak about it.”
Tess stood and went to the counter to refill her coffee. “I guess you know what you’re doing.”
He knew exactly what he was doing—entering into a union with a woman for whom he felt nothing, an alliance that would benefit both their families. A life that held little promise of satisfaction all in the name of producing an heir with royal blood. “I have no choice in the matter.”
Tess carried her cup back to the table and reclaimed her seat, staring at him intensely. “You’re wrong, Sam. Life is about choices. Can you live with this one?”
Before he had returned to Andrea, he had come to accept his fate. Now that he had seen her again, he wasn’t as certain as before.
He could not consider that now. First and foremost, he had to consider his child’s well-being, to make memories that would last a lifetime. And in order to have that opportunity, he must convince Andrea to trust him again.
Andi didn’t trust Sam or his motives. Worse, she didn’t trust herself around him. Today she had cried more than a few tears seeing her son off for the first time. She wasn’t sure she had enough strength to deal with his father. But she had to deal with him. Chance’s welfare was of the utmost importance, and she intended to find out what Sam had planned in that regard.
Pulling up behind the limo, she put the truck in Park and slid out, bolstering her courage. The bodyguard was seated on the front porch glider, looking serious, his arms folded across his chest. When Andi approached, he stood.
She stuck out her hand for a formal introduction. “I didn’t catch your name.”
He glanced at her hand then reluctantly took it for a brief shake. “Mr. Rashid.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Rashid. You’re welcome in the house, you know.”
“It is best I remain here to allow you and the sheikh some privacy.”
Andi shrugged. “Suit yourself, but I’m sure this won’t take long.”
Rashid executed a slight bow. “As you say, Miss Hamilton.”
Andi yanked open the door, prepared to face whatever might come, yet she couldn’t have prepared for Sam sitting on the living room sofa, dressed in casual slacks and knit shirt, his dark head bent as he thumbed through a photo album containing pictures of Chance from birth to the present day. So engrossed was he in the task, he didn’t bother to look up. His preoccupation gave Andi a chance to study him while he journeyed through the pictorial history of their child.
Leaning back, he propped the album on one crossed leg and smiled. His smile faded and his expression turned melancholy, wistful. Andi closed her eyes and willed away the threatening emotions, the regrets.
Once she felt more composed, she approached the sofa. “He was such a beautiful baby.”
Startled, Sam looked up and erased the tenderness from his features, but it didn’t quite leave his eyes. “Yes, he was.”
Andi joined him on the sofa, leaving as much distance between them as she could and still be able to view the pictures with Sam. How many times had she dreamed of this? How many times had she hoped that one day he would return? More times than she could count. And now that the moment had arrived, she wasn’t sure how to handle it.
“What made you decide to call him Chance?” Sam asked.
“Other than I like the name, I guess you could say he was my chance to have someone who loved me without conditions.” Her chance to have part of Sam that she could have with her always, but she wouldn’t admit that to him.
She pointed to the photo of Chance on his first birthday, a mound of icing on top of his dark head. “He really tore into that cake. He wore more than he ate.”
He turned the page to a picture of Chance on a pony. “I see that he has inherited his mother’s love of horses.”
“Yes. That’s Scamp. She’s still with us although I’m not sure for how long. She’s about twenty years old now. I don’t know what he’ll do when we lose her.”
“I’ll
