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?”
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.
“Absolutely.” Noelle ruffled her son’s dark hair, doing an excellent job of disguising her tension. “Please go upstairs. I’ll come talk to you in a few minutes.”
With a guard dog’s sullen disapproval, the boy leveled a fierce glare at Christian before turning away. Despite the outrage battering him, pride rose in Christian. His son was brave and protective. Good traits for a future king.
Noelle waited until her son was shepherded upstairs by a woman in her midfifties before she stepped out of the house and pulled the door shut behind her. Noelle’s eyes blazed, the heat of her annoyance radiating from her in the cool night air. “How dare you come here and say something like that in front of my son. My son.”
“You’ve kept a pretty big secret from me all these years.”
She shook her head at him. “You need to go.”
“You’re mistaken. I need answers.”
“You will not get them tonight.” With her mouth set in a determined line and her hands set on her hips, she let her gaze drill into him.
“Noelle, I’m sorry for what happened between us in the past.” He let his voice settle into the cajoling tone that always made women give in. “I know you think what I did to you was insensitive, but I deserve to know my son.”
“Deserve?” Her chest heaved with each agitated breath she took. “Deserve? Do you remember telling me five years ago that I should move on with my life and forget I ever met you?”
His heart twisted as he recalled that gut wrenching speech. “At the time I was right.”
“I loved you.”
“It wasn’t going to work between us.”
“It still isn’t.” She glared at him.
Her anger told him she still resented the way he’d dismissed her five years ago, but she’d come back to Sherdana to live her life. A life he’d told her he wanted no part of. And she’d been doing great without him.
Better than he’d done without her.
“Don’t you see,” he began, regret a heavy weight on his shoulders. “For everyone’s sake, we’re going to have to make peace. I intend to be a part of Marc’s life.”
“I’ll not have you put my son through the same heartache I endured.”
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
