“I was ready to battle him for you.”

Christian murmured the words, fingers grazing the wet streak on her cheek. “To demonstrate how committed I am to being your ardent husband and a zealous father to Marc.”

Such beautiful words from such a challenging and unpredictable man. Noelle couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry. She was still debating when Christian cupped her face in his hands and brought his lips to hers.

The delicious pressure of his kiss held her immobile with shock for several frantic heartbeats.

She tunneled impatient fingers into Christian’s hair and pushed her greedy body hard against his. She craved a man’s hands on her. To feel a little helpless as he tore her clothes off and had his way with her. And Christian had a knack for that sort of thing.

His fingers bit into her hips as she rocked against him, the ache between her thighs building. When she could stand it no longer, she cried out as pleasure lanced downward.

Christian buried his face in her neck, lips gliding over her skin. “I knew you’d come around.”

An icy chill swept through her at his words. Noelle clenched her teeth and cursed her impulsiveness. She tensed her muscles and twisted away.

“I haven’t come around to anything.”

* * *

Secret Child, Royal Scandal is part of Cat Schield’s Sherdana Royals trilogy

Secret Child, Royal Scandal

Cat Schield

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CAT SCHIELD has been reading and writing romance since high school. Although she graduated from college with a BA in business, her idea of a perfect career was writing books for Mills & Boon. And now, after winning the Romance Writers of America 2010 Golden Heart® Award for Best Contemporary Series Romance, that dream has come true. Cat lives in Minnesota with her daughter, Emily, and their Burmese cat. When she’s not writing sexy, romantic stories for Mills & Boon Desire, she can be found sailing with friends on the St. Croix River, or in more exotic locales, like the Caribbean and Europe. She loves to hear from readers. Find her at www.catschield.net. Follow her on Twitter, @catschield.

To Renee and Mary K.

Thanks for all the happy hours and the conversations that have kept me sane.

Contents

Cover

Introduction

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Extract

Copyright

One

Prince Christian Alessandro, third in line to the Sherdana throne, stood behind the current and future kings of Sherdana and glowered into the camera. No doubt he was ruining Nic and Brooke’s fairy-tale wedding photos, but he didn’t care. His last hope to remain a carefree bachelor for the rest of his life had been reduced to ashes the second his brother had gazed deep into his bride’s starry eyes and pledged to love and honor her until the day he died.

Christian growled.

“Smiles everyone,” the photographer cried, casting an anxious glance Christian’s way. “This is our last photo of the complete wedding party. Let’s make it count.”

Despite his black mood, Christian shifted his features into less grim lines. He wasn’t about to smile, but he could at least give his brother one decent photo. No matter how badly this marriage had disrupted his life, in the days to come he really would make an effort to be happy for Nic and Brooke. For today he’d simply don a mask.

“Let’s set up over there.” The photographer pointed to a small stone bridge that crossed a decorative creek.

The path beyond meandered toward the stables. Christian preferred his horsepower under the hood of a fast car, but he’d gladly take his twin nieces to visit their ponies just to get away. Bethany and Karina were old hands at being flower girls, this being their second royal wedding in four months, but being two-year-olds, they had a short attention span and were growing impatient with having to stand still for photos. Christian sympathized with them.

Since his accident five years earlier, he’d avoided cameras as much as possible. The burn scars that covered his right side—shoulder, neck and half of his cheek—had made him the least attractive Alessandro triplet. Not that it mattered much how he looked. His title, wealth and confirmed bachelor status made him a magnet for women.

Most women.

His gaze roamed over the multitude of assistants and palace staff required to keep the bridal party looking flawless and the photo shoot moving forward. Trailing the bride was a petite, slender woman with mink-brown hair and dual-toned brown eyes. Internationally renowned wedding dress designer Noelle Dubone had designed Brooke’s dress as well as the one worn by Christian’s sister-in-law, Princess Olivia Alessandro.

Born in Sherdana, Noelle had moved to Paris at twenty-two to follow her dream of becoming a fashion designer. She’d done moderately well until three years ago when she’d designed the wedding gown for the bride of Italian prince Paolo Gizzi. There’d been so much media coverage surrounding the nuptials that Noelle became an overnight success. Movie stars, European nobility and the very wealthy became eager for a Noelle Dubone original.

“Imagining your own wedding?” taunted a female voice from behind him.

Christian turned and shot his sister a sour look. Ariana was looking too smugly amused for Christian’s taste.

“No.” But the slim figure in blue-gray caught his eye again.

Noelle Dubone. The one woman in the world who’d come closest to taming the wildest Alessandro prince. He hadn’t been worthy of her. She hadn’t deserved to be treated badly by him. That he’d done it for her own good was what let him sleep at night.

“You should be,” Ariana countered, looking stylish and carefree in a knee-length, full-skirted dress with puffy long sleeves. A fashion trendsetter, her wedding attire shimmered with gold embroidery and straddled the line between daring and demure with strategically placed sheer panels that showed off her delicate shoulders and hinted at more thigh than the formal occasion called for. “The future of the kingdom rests in your hands.”

Christian grimaced. “Father’s health has never been better and I don’t see Gabriel dropping dead any time soon, so I suspect I will have time to choose a wife and get her pregnant.”

Just the thought of it made him long for a drink. But as his mother had pointed out numerous times in the months since Nic had abdicated his responsibility to Sherdana by choosing to marry an American, Christian was no longer free to overindulge in liquor and women. The idea that he had to start walking the straight and narrow path after being the party prince all his life was daunting. He’d misstepped all his life. As youngest in the birth order, it was what he did.

Gabriel, as eldest, was the responsible one. The future king.

Nic, as middle son, was the forgotten one. He’d gone off to America in his early twenties to become a rocket scientist.

Christian was the indulged youngest son. His antics had provided the paparazzi tabloid fodder since he was fourteen and got caught with one of the maids.

At twenty he’d been raising hell in London. He’d thrown the best parties. Drank too much. Spent money like it was being printed by elves, and when his parents cut off his funds, he’d started buying and flipping failing businesses. He didn’t care about success. He just wanted to have fun.

At twenty-five several of his less prudent actions had blown up in his face, leaving him scarred and his heart shredded.

Now at thirty he was expected to give up his freedom for the crown.

“You only think you have time,” Ariana countered. “Mother showed me the list of potential candidates. It’s two-feet long.”

“I do not need her help or anyone else’s to find a wife.”

“Neither did Gabriel and Nic and look how that turned out.”

Gabriel had eloped five months earlier in a grand, romantic gesture that had rendered him blissfully happy, but by marrying a woman who could never have children, he’d left his two brothers holding short straws.

As the last born of the triplets, Christian had made it clear to Nic that it was his duty to step up next. In order for the Alessandro family to stay in power, one of the three princes needed to produce a son. But before Nic could begin looking for a potential bride from among Europe’s noble houses or Sherdana’s female citizenry, the beautiful American, Brooke Davis, had stolen his heart.

And with their wedding today, it all came down to Christian.

“I can find my own bride without Mother’s help.”

Ariana made a noise unfit for a princess. “You’ve already been through half the suitable single women in Europe.

“Hardly half.”

“Surely there was one woman among all those you’ve spent time with who appeals to you.”

“Appeals, yes.” Christian resisted the urge to search for Noelle again. “But not one I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

“Well, you’d better find one.”

Christian ground his teeth together and didn’t answer. He knew Ariana was right. The price one paid as a royal was to not always get to do as one liked. Gabriel had been lucky to choose Olivia to marry before he understood that he was in love with her. But right up until he and Olivia eloped, Gabriel had grappled with his duty to Sherdana versus following his heart’s desire.

Nic had the same issue with Brooke. He’d known he needed to put her aside and marry a woman whose children could one day be king.

But in the end both men had chosen love over duty.

Which left Christian to choose duty.

One of the photographer’s assistants came to fetch them for more pictures, putting an end to the conversation for the moment. Christian endured another tedious hour of being posed with his brothers, his sister, the king and queen, and various members of the wedding party. By the time the session was finished, he was ready to get drunker than he’d been in the five years since the accident that left him with a disfigured body to match his tarnished soul.

What stopped him from making a beeline for the bar was Noelle.

It seemed perfectly right to walk up behind her and slip his arm around her waist. Christian dropped a kiss on her cheek the way he had a hundred times, a habit from the old days that used to speak to his strong affection for her. For a microsecond Noelle relaxed against him, accepting his touch as if no time or hurt had passed between them. Then she tensed.

“You look beautiful,” he murmured in her ear.

She didn’t quite jerk away from him, but she lacked her usual grace in her quick sideways step. “Thank you, Your Royal Highness.”

“Walk with me.” It was more a command than an invitation.

“I really shouldn’t leave the party.” She glanced toward the bride and groom as if hoping to spot someone who needed her.

“The photos are done. The bride has no further need for her designer. I’d like to catch up with you. It’s been a long time.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.” To his annoyance, she curtsied, gaze averted.

The gardens behind the palace were extensive and scrupulously maintained under the queen’s watchful eye. The plantings closest to the I-shaped structure that housed Sherdana’s royal family were arranged in terms of design and color that changed with the seasons. This was the most photographed section of the garden, with its formal walkways and dramatic fountains.

Toward the back of the extensive acreage that surrounded the palace, the garden gave way to a wooded area. Christian guided her to a small grove of trees that offered plenty of shade. There would be more privacy there.

“You’ve done very well for yourself as a designer.”

Christian hated small talk, and it seemed idiotic to attempt any with Noelle. But how did you begin a cordial conversation with an ex-lover who you’d once deliberately hurt even as you told yourself it was for her own good?

“I’ve been fortunate.” Her polite demeanor contrasted with the impatience running through her tone. “Luck and timing.”

“You neglected to mention talent. I always knew you’d be successful.”

“That’s very kind.”

“I’ve missed you.” The words came out of nowhere and shocked him. He’d intended to ply her with flirtatious compliments and make her smile at him the way she used to, not pour his heart out.

For the first time she met his gaze directly. His heart gave a familiar bump as he took in the striking uniqueness of her eyes. From a distance they merely looked hazel, but up close the greenish-brown around the edges gave way to a bright chestnut near the pupil. In the past, he’d spent long hours studying those colors and reveling in the soft affection in her gaze as they lingered over dinner or spent a morning in bed.

She gave her head a shake. “I’m sure that’s not true.”

“I might not have been the man for you, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t care,” he told her, fingertips itching to touch her warm skin.

“Don’t try to flatter me.” The words held no heat. “I was a convenient bed for you to fall into after you were done partying. You came to me when you grew tired of your superficial crowd and their thoughtless behavior. And in the end, you pushed me out of your life as if two years together meant nothing.”

For your own good.

“And look how you thrived. You moved to Paris and became an internationally famous designer.” He sounded defensive, and that wasn’t the tone he wanted to take with her.

“Is that what you think I wanted?” Her breath huffed out in a short burst that he might have taken for laughter if she hadn’t been frowning. “Fame and fortune?”

No, it’s what he’d wanted for her. “Talent like yours shouldn’t go to waste.”

“Do you want me to thank you?” she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

During the time they were together, he’d been more honest with her than anyone else before or since. Not even his brothers had known of the demons that drove him. Maybe he trusted Noelle because they’d been friends before they became lovers. Her openness and gentle spirit had offered him a safe place to unload all his fears and doubts. And because of that, she’d gotten the full weight of his darkness.

“No.”

“Then why are we having this conversation after five years of silence?”

Because once again he needed her solace and support. The pressure of fathering the future heir to Sherdana’s throne was dredging up his worst qualities. She’d talked him through bouts of melancholy in the past.

“I need you.”

Her expression reflected dismay. “I’m no longer that girl.” Her tone heated as she continued. “And even if I was, I have other things in my life that will always take priority over a...” As if realizing what she’d been about to say to her prince, Noelle sucked in a giant breath and pulled her lips between her teeth. Her next words were polite, her tone tempered. “I am no longer in a position to be your friend.”

She twisted the word friend into something ugly. Christian read her message loud and clear. She wanted nothing more to do with him. Not as his confidante, his champion or as his lover.

Before he could argue, she dropped another one of those annoying curtsies. “Excuse me, Your Highness, but I should get back to the party.”

Christian watched her vanish back along the path and marveled at how thoroughly he’d mucked up his most important act of selflessness. She was right to shut him down. He’d repeatedly demonstrated that he was nothing but trouble for her.

But after talking to her, he knew if he was going to get through the next few months of finding a wife and settling down to the job of producing the next heir to the throne, he was going to need a friend in his corner. And once upon a time, Noelle had been the only one he talked to about his problems.

He desperately wanted her support. And although she might not be on board with the idea at the moment, he was going to persuade her to give it.

* * *

The evening air accompanied Noelle into the small, functional kitchen of her comfortable rural cottage, bringing the earthy scents of fall with her. As much as she’d enjoyed her years in Paris, she’d missed the slower pace and wide-open spaces of the countryside. And an energetic boy like her son needed room to run.

She placed the tomatoes she’d picked on the counter. Her garden was reaching the end of its growing season, and soon she would collect the last of the squash, tomatoes and herbs. Autumn was her favorite season. The rich burgundy, gold and vivid greens of the hills around her cottage inspired her most unique designs. One downside to her success as a wedding-dress designer was that her color palate was limited to shades of white and cream with an occasional pastel thrown in.

“Mama!”

Before Noelle could brace herself, her dark-haired son barreled into her legs. Laughing, she bent down and wrapped her arms around his squirmy little body. Like most four-years-olds he was a bundle of energy, and Noelle got her hug in fast.

“Did you have a good afternoon with Nana?” Noelle’s mother lived with them and watched Marc after school while Noelle worked. She glanced at her mother without waiting for her son’s response.

“He was a good boy,” Mara Dubone said, her tone emphatic.

Noelle hoped that was true. In the past six months, Marc had grown more rambunctious and wasn’t good at listening to his grandmother. Mara loved her grandson very much and defended him always, but it worried Noelle that her son was getting to be too much for her mother to handle.

“I was good.” Marc’s bronze-gold eyes glowed with sincerity and Noelle sighed.

She framed his face, surveyed the features boldly stamped by his father and gave him a big smile. “I’m so glad.”

He had his father’s knack for mischief as well as his charm. The thought caused Noelle a small pang of anxiety. Her encounter with Christian this afternoon had been unsettling. After almost five years of no contact, he’d finally reached out to her. That it was five years too late hadn’t stopped her heart from thumping wildly in her chest.

“Why don’t you go upstairs and brush your teeth,” Mara said. “Your mama will come read to you, but she can’t do that until you’re in your pajamas and in bed.”

“Yeah.” With typical enthusiasm, Marc raced upstairs, his stocking feet pounding on the wood steps that led to the second floor.

“Was he really okay today?” Noelle asked as soon as she was alone with her mother.

Mara sighed. “He is a wonderful boy, but he has a lot of energy and needs a firm hand.” Noelle’s mother gave her daughter a sly grin. “What he needs is a man in his life who can channel some of that energy into masculine pursuits.”

It wasn’t the first time her mother had made this observation. Noelle nodded the way she always did. “Marc’s friends are going fishing with their fathers next week. Phillip’s dad offered to take Marc, as well. Perhaps I should take him up on his offer.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Noelle’s mother set her hands on her hips and shook her head. “You are not getting any younger. It’s time you stopped pining for that prince of yours. It’s been almost five years. You need to move on.”

“I am not pining for Christian. And I have moved on. I have a thriving business that takes up most of my energy and a small boy who deserves his mother’s full attention.”

With a disgusted snort, Noelle’s mother headed for the stairs. From above their heads came a series of loud thumps as Marc worked off his energy before bedtime.

Noelle walked back into the kitchen to turn off the light and then repeated the process in the dining room and living room before heading up to the bedrooms. For a moment she paused at the bottom of the stairs and listened to the sounds of her family. Her mother’s low voice, patient and firm. Her son’s clear tones, happy and dynamic.

A firm knock on her front door snapped Noelle out of her musing. She glanced at the clock over the mantel. Eight forty-five. Who could be visiting her at this hour?

Although her farmhouse sat on an acre of land, Noelle had never worried about her isolation. She had neighbors on all sides and they kept an eye on her and her family. Perhaps one of her goats had escaped again. She’d been having problems with the fence on the east side of their pasture.

Flipping on the light in the foyer, Noelle pulled the door open. Her smile died as she spotted the man standing outside her front door.

“Christian?”

Determination lit his gold eyes. While at his brother’s wedding, she’d found it easy to discourage the arrogant prince who’d put his arm around her waist and boldly kissed her cheek.

“Good evening, Noelle.”

Anxiety gripped her. She’d worked hard to keep her personal life private. Having Prince Christian Alessandro show up like this threatened that.

“What are you doing here?”

“We didn’t get a chance to finish our conversation earlier.”

Why was she surprised that after five years of no contact he would think she’d welcome his popping around with no warning the way he used to when they were together?

“It’s almost nine o’clock.”

“I brought some wine.” He held up a bottle of her favorite red. Damn the man for remembering. He gave her a coaxing half grin. His eyes softened with the seductive glow she’d never successfully resisted. “How about letting me in.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, refusing his peace offering. “I already told you. I’m not the same girl I was when we were together.” She had said the exact same thing earlier that afternoon, but obviously he hadn’t been listening. “You can’t just show up here unannounced and think that I’m going to let you in.” To warm her bed for a few hours.

“You’re mad because I haven’t called.”

He was apologizing for not contacting her? “It’s been five years.” Half a decade of living had happened to her. It took all her willpower not to shove him off her stoop and slam the door in his face.

“I know how long it’s been. And I wasn’t kidding earlier when I said I missed you. I’d like to come in and find out what your life is like now.”

“I’ve been back in Carone for two years. Why now?”

“Talking with you today brought up a lot of great memories. We had something.”

“The operative word being ‘had.’” A tremor went through her as she remembered the feel of his fingers against her skin, working magic unlike anything she’d known before or since. “My life is wonderful. I’m happy and complete. There’s no room for you or your drama.”

“I’m not the same man I used to be, either.”

From what she’d read about him over the years, she believed he’d changed, but it wasn’t enough to invite him in. “What we did or didn’t have in the past needs to stay there.” She knew immediately that her words had been a mistake.

“Did or didn’t have?” The light of challenge flared in his eyes. “You mean to stand there and deny that we were friends?”

Friends?

Is that how he’d thought of her as he made love to her for hours? When he’d told her he didn’t like her going out after close with the guys from the café where she worked part-time and demanded that she stop? Friends? When he’d treated her more like his embarrassing secret?

Noelle realized her hands had clenched into fists at his declaration and tried to focus on relaxing. He was no less infuriating than on the day he’d told her they had no future and she should go to Paris and take the job at Matteo Pizzaro Designs.

“What do you want, Christian?” She asked the question in a flat, unfriendly tone that was intended to annoy him. It didn’t.

“I never could get anything past you.” He straightened, putting aside all attempt to charm her. Determination radiated from him. “Can I come in? I really do want to talk to you.”

“It’s late.” From the floor above came the pounding of feet. Marc had grown impatient and would be coming to look for her any second. “Perhaps later this week. We could meet for coffee.”

“I’d rather have a private dinner. Just you and me like the old days. Perhaps you could come to my place in the city? I have some things I’d like to discuss with you and I don’t want to do so in public.”

Bitterness gripped her. He’d never wanted to be seen out and about with her. She scrutinized his expression. He’d obviously come to her with an agenda. But she sensed what he had to say wasn’t about her son. So far, her secret remained safe. If he’d known about Marc, he would have led with that. So, what was he up to?

“I’m afraid my evenings are booked.” Spending time with her son was her greatest joy, and he was growing up so fast. She cherished her evenings with him and resented any intrusion. “Perhaps I could come to your office?”

There was thumping on the stairs as Marc jumped down each step, one by one. Noelle’s heart hammered in time. She had to conclude the conversation with Christian before her son appeared.

“Call me. We can discuss this next week. Right now, I need to go.” She started to shut the door, but Christian put out his hand and stopped it. Marc’s feet thundered across the wood floor; he was coming closer. “Fine. I’ll have dinner with you.”

“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.

“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 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 me worthy of 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.”

“I don’t want to take him from you.” He hated that this was her perception of him, but he’d made her believe he was a villain so what else could he expect? “But I intend to be in his life.”

* * *

Noelle stared at Christian, the urge to shriek building in her. She pressed her lips together as her mind raced. The cat was out of the bag. No way it was going back in. Christian knew he had a son.

I don’t want to take him from you.

She pondered his words, hearing the warning. He wasn’t foolish enough to tell her outright that he planned to take Marc away, but what Sherdanian court would let her keep her son if Prince Christian fought her for custody? For a second Noelle had a hard time breathing. Then she remembered an illegitimate son was no use to him. Christian needed her help to legitimize Marc’s claim to the crown.

Her son a king.

Her knees bumped together at the thought. Marc was only four. It wasn’t fair to upend his life in this way. She’d seen what being a royal had done to Christian. He’d grown up resentful and reckless. The third heir, he’d had all the privileges and none of the responsibility. She’d lost count of how many times he’d complained that he wished everyone would just leave him alone.

But with Crown Prince Gabriel and Princess Olivia unable to have children, and second-in-line Prince Nicolas married to an American, Marc wouldn’t be a spare heir. He’d be in direct line to the throne.

“Noelle.” Christian reclaimed her attention by touching her arm. “Don’t make this hard on everyone.”

Even through her thin sweater his warmth seeped into her skin. She jerked free before the heat invaded her muscles, rendering her susceptible to his persuasion. Her heart quickened as she backed out of range. It was humiliating how quickly her body betrayed her. A poignant reminder to keep her distance lest physical desire influence her decisions.

Five years ago she hadn’t any reason to guard herself against him. She’d belonged to him heart, mind and soul. That was before he’d demonstrated how little she meant to him. It still hurt how easily he’d cast her aside.

Fierce determination heated her blood. Her cheeks grew hot. She’d do everything in her power to make sure he didn’t do the same thing to Marc.

“You mean don’t make it hard on you.” Her tone bitter, she noted the way his eyes flickered, betraying his surprise.

Through all his past selfish behavior, she’d reminded herself that as a commoner of passing prettiness and limited sophistication she was lucky he’d sought her out at all. Pliable as a willow tree, she’d demonstrated patience and understanding. But having her heart broken had given her a spine, and five years of training in the cutthroat world of fashion design had forged that spine into tempered steel. If he continued to push her, he would discover what she was made of.

“But you’re right,” she added, deciding that arguing would only make him more determined to get his way. In addition, while she might no longer be a doormat, she hadn’t lost touch with what was fair. “You are Marc’s father and deserve a chance to get to know him. Call me at my office tomorrow at ten. I will check my schedule, and we can figure out a time to meet and discuss a visitation schedule.” Seeing Christian’s dissatisfaction, Noelle added, “You will do this my way, or I will take Marc beyond your reach.”

Christian was used to getting his way in all things. The way his eyebrows came together told Noelle she’d pushed too far. But she held her gaze steady, letting him see her stubbornness. In the end he nodded. From the glint in his eyes, she doubted his acquiescence would last long. In business he was known as a clever negotiator. She would have to watch for his tricks.

Glancing up at the house, she spied a small figure silhouetted in an upstairs window. Marc’s bedroom overlooked the front yard. He wasn’t going to go to bed without some sort of explanation from her. Sometimes he could be wiser than a child twice his years. It was partially her fault. She routinely gave him responsibilities, and Marc knew there would be consequences if he didn’t keep his toys picked up, the garden watered and help shuffle his clothes to and from the laundry.

“I have to get my son to bed,” Noelle said. “I’ll speak with you tomorrow.”

“Noelle.” Christian spoke her name softly, halting her. “I meant what I said earlier. I really do miss you. I’d like for us to be friends again.”

If he’d tried to cajole her regarding Marc, she might have softened toward him. Christian had a right to his son, whether she liked it or not, and his determination to have a relationship with Marc would eventually soothe her ferocious mama bear instincts. But the instant he tried to appeal to what had once been between them, all sympathy for him fled.

“I have a life filled with family, friends and purpose that I love. There’s no room for you in it.” She resumed walking toward the house without a backward glance. “Good night, Christian.”

She didn’t collapse after shutting the front door behind her, although she leaned back against the wood panel and breathed heavily for a few minutes until her heartbeat slowed. Had she really just faced down Christian and gotten the last word in? If her stomach wasn’t pitching and rolling in reaction, she might have thrown a fist into the air.

Instead, Noelle headed upstairs. With each slow, deliberate step she regained the poise she’d learned in the stressful world of high fashion. The last thing she wanted was to upset her son and give him a reason to distrust Christian. Despite her measured pace, when she got to Marc’s room, she still hadn’t figured out a good way to explain the unexpected arrival of his father, a man she’d never talked about.

No surprise that Marc was jumping on his bed. On a regular day his small body contained enough energy to power a small village. After tonight’s drama, he was a supernova.

“Mama. Mama. Mama.”

“You know better than to jump on the bed,” she scolded, stifling a heartfelt sigh. At least her mother had been able to get Marc into his pajamas. “Did you brush your teeth?” When her son showed no indication of answering her question, she glanced at her mother, who nodded. With deliberate firmness Noelle urged her son beneath the covers.

“Did you make the bad man go away?”

Time to correct her first mistake of the evening: letting Marc become aware of the tension between her and Christian.

“That wasn’t a bad man, Marc. He was your prince.”

Aversion twisted her son’s features, amusing Noelle as she imagined the hit to Christian’s ego at being so disparaged by one of his subjects.

“Don’t like him.”

Noelle wasn’t feeling all that charitable toward Christian at the moment, either. She scooted her son into the middle of the double bed and seated herself beside him. Drawing in a breath, she braced herself to tell Marc that Christian was his father and then hesitated.

She couldn’t bring herself to drop this bomb on her son until she figured out if having Christian in his life would benefit him. “Prince Christian would like to be your friend.”

His little face screwed up in suspicion. “Does he like dinosaurs?”

“I don’t know.”

“Can he play football?”

“I’m not sure.” Noelle suspected Marc had a list of activities he wanted to know about and smoothly redirected the conversation. “You’ll have to ask him what he likes to do when you see him next.”

“Will he get me a Komodo dragon?”

In addition to being obsessed with dinosaurs, Marc had a fascination with lizards and had received a twenty-gallon tank and a seven-inch leopard gecko from her dear friend Geoff for his fourth birthday. Since then, Marc had been lobbying for a bearded dragon, which would be twice the size of his current pet and require double the space.

“You know very well that a Komodo dragon is not a pet. They are seven feet long.”

“But he could keep it at the palace, and I could visit it.”

As wild a notion as this was, Noelle wouldn’t put it past Christian to buy his son’s love with a new pet. She would have to warn Christian against such a purchase. The last thing she needed was a houseful of tanks containing lizards.

“That’s not going to happen.” She steered the conversation back on track. “Prince Christian might come to visit in the near future and if you have anything you want to know about that, I want you to ask me.” She brushed a lock of hair off Marc’s forehead and stared into his gold eyes. “Okay?”

The way her son was looking at her, Noelle suspected she’d bungled the conversation, but to her surprise she wasn’t barraged by questions.

“Okay.”

“Good. What do you want me to read tonight?”

Unsurprisingly he picked up a book on dinosaurs. Marc enjoyed looking at the pictures as she read the descriptions. Noelle knew he had the entire volume memorized. The cover was worn, and a few of the pages had minor tears. Her active son was hard on most things, and this book was one of his favorites.

It took half an hour to get through the book. Marc had forgotten all about Christian’s visit by the time Noelle reached the last page. To her relief he settled down without a fight, his head on the pillow. A glance at the clock told her it was not long past his normal bedtime, and she congratulated herself on her minor victory.

Downstairs, her mother had opened a bottle of her favorite Gavi, a crisp Italian white with delicate notes of apples and honey. She handed Noelle a glass without asking if she wanted any.

“I thought you might be in the mood to celebrate,” Mara said, eyeing her daughter over the rim of her glass.

Resentment burned at her mother’s passive-aggressive remark. “Because Christian discovered I’ve been hiding his son all these years?” She snorted. “For the thousandth time, I’m not in love with him.”

Mara didn’t argue. “What are his intentions toward Marc?”

“He wants to get to know him.”

“And that’s all?”

“Of course. What else could there be?” Noelle had gone outside and shut the door before her conversation with Christian had gone too far, and knew her mother hadn’t overheard anything. Still, she experienced a flash of despair as she recalled how Christian had raised the notion of legitimizing Marc by marrying her.

“The kingdom needs an heir. Now that both Prince Gabriel and Prince Nicolas are married, the media are obsessively speculating who your Prince Christian will choose to marry. The pressure is all on him to produce a son.”

“He’s not my Prince Christian,” Noelle muttered, letting her irritation show.

“And now he knows he has a son.”

“An illegitimate son.” Noelle wanted to take back the reminder as soon as her mother’s eyes lit with malicious delight.

“And here you are single and Sherdanian. Not to mention still harboring unrequited feelings for him.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not going to marry Christian so that he can claim Marc as his heir.”

Her mother didn’t look convinced. “Wouldn’t it be your dream come true?”

“You were living in Italy when I met Christian, so you don’t know what it was like between us. He’s not husband material, and I’m not going to marry him because he needs an heir.” Noelle heard heartbreak beneath the fervor in her voice. Five years had passed, but she hadn’t fully recovered from the hurt dealt to her when Christian pushed her out of his life.

It wasn’t something she intended to forgive or forget.

* * *

The café table on his cramped, third-floor balcony was big enough for a cup of coffee and a small pot of hot pink petunias. Christian sat on one of the two chairs, ignoring the laptop balanced on his knee while he stared down the narrow street whose details were lost to shadow at this early hour. Thoughts on the encounter with Noelle the night before, he watched the light seep into this old section of Sherdana’s capital city of Carone.

Although Christian had rooms in the palace for his use, he rarely stayed there, preferring the privacy of his own space. He’d lost track of how many homes he owned. He did business all over Europe and had apartments in the major cities where he spent the most time. He owned two homes in Sherdana: this cozy two-bedroom apartment in the center of the capital where he could walk to bakeries, cafés and restaurants, and a castle on a premier vineyard two hours north of Carone.

After discovering he was a father, Christian had lain in bed, staring at the ceiling while his thoughts churned. Eventually he’d decided to give up on sleep and catch up on his emails. Nic and Brooke had gotten married on a Wednesday, which meant Christian had lost an entire day of work. He usually worked from home until late morning. His active social life kept him out late most evenings, and if he saw the sun come up, it was more likely that he was coming home after a long night rather than getting an early start on the day.

Despite his good intentions, he couldn’t concentrate on the reports that had been compiled by his CFO regarding his purchase of a small Italian company that was developing intelligent robot technology. The columns of numbers blurred and ran together as his mind refused to focus.

Noelle had borne him a son and hidden the truth for five years, a pretty amazing feat in this age of social media. Last night, as he’d driven back to the apartment, he’d been furious with her. It shouldn’t have mattered that he’d let her believe he wanted their relationship to end. She’d been pregnant with his child. She should have told him. And then what? He’d thought letting her go to pursue her dream of being a designer in Paris had been the best thing for her. What would he have done if he’d known she was pregnant? Marry her?

Christian shook his head.

It wouldn’t have crossed his mind. She’d known him well. Better than he’d known himself. As the third son, he’d had little responsibility to the monarchy and could do what he wanted. So he’d partied to excess, made a name for himself as a playboy, indulged his every desire and thought no further than the moment.

The accident had changed all that. Changed him. He’d risked his life to save someone and had been permanently scarred in the process. But the fire that had ravaged his right side had wrought other changes. His selfless actions had impaired his hedonistic proclivities. Made him aware of others’ needs. Before the accident he’d enjoyed being selfish and irresponsible. Losing the ability to act without recognizing the consequences to others had been almost as painful as the slow mending of his burns.

Thus, when he arranged for Noelle to train in Paris, he’d known that letting her think he no longer wanted her in his life would break her heart. Hurting her had pained him more than sending her away, but he’d known that if she stayed with him, he risked doing her far greater harm.

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.

The bell on the front door jangled, announcing a visitor. Because of her location among the quaint shops in the historic district, occasionally someone passing by would pop in, stirred by curiosity. Noelle’s shop carried no ready to wear wedding dresses, but because her wealthy clientele could often be difficult to please, she had several bridal gowns on hand that had been rejected for one reason or another.

Jeanne’s greeting carried down the hall as she approached whoever had entered the shop. Noelle gathered several pencils and froze in the act of dropping them into her briefcase. A deep voice rumbled in response to her assistant’s inquiring tone. The pencils clattered as they fell from Noelle’s nerveless fingers. Strong footsteps rang on the wood floor of the narrow hallway leading to her office. Feeling much like a cornered cat, Noelle glanced up and saw Christian’s imposing shoulders filling the doorway.

Cross that he’d followed up the flower delivery with a personal appearance, she spoke with unusual bluntness. “You were supposed to call me at ten not show up unannounced.”

“I came to see if you liked the roses.” He took in her pristine office and frowned. “Didn’t you receive them?”

“Yes. I put them in the workroom for my employees to enjoy.”

Not one muscle twitched in his face to betray his reaction, but she could tell her answer displeased him. She hated the way guilt rushed through her.

“I sent them to you.”

All the time they’d been together, he’d never once given her flowers. She’d understood her role in his life. First as a sounding board for all his frustrations and woes. Eventually, she’d become his lover, a convenient one that he could drop in on whenever he was feeling lonely or in need of comfort. She’d made no demands, expected nothing, and he’d given her mind-blowing sex in return. To be fair, while they’d been physically intimate she’d also enjoyed a great deal of emotional intimacy, as well. But out of bed, Christian donned the charming persona he maintained to keep people at bay.

The roses had reminded her how susceptible she’d once been to his charm. What if nothing had changed in the past five years? She needed to determine if she could trust her head to guide her. He mustn’t be allowed to think he could sway her with romantic gestures. For gestures were all they were.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” He crossed the threshold, crowding her office with his powerful presence.

“Why should I?” Noelle liked having her elegant desk as a buffer between them, but didn’t want her entire staff hearing this conversation. Stepping out from behind the desk, she gestured Christian away from the door and closed it, trapping them together in the small space. “Five years ago you wanted nothing more to do with me. Now, you’re desperate for an heir and you want my son.”

“You forget that I came to see you last night knowing nothing about Marc,” he grumbled in his deep, beguiling voice. His intent was clear. He intended to throw every trick in his abundant arsenal at her. “I saw you at the wedding and knew I’d made a mistake letting you go all those years ago.”

His claim was so ridiculous she should have laughed in his face. But the words made her chest ache. How many nights had she lain awake, praying for his knock on her apartment door in Paris? Dreaming that he’d burst in, sweep her off her feet and declare he’d been a fool to let her go and that he couldn’t live without her. Too many. In fact, she hadn’t given up all hope until Marc’s first birthday.

“I don’t believe you.”

“If you give me a chance, I’ll prove it to you.” His dark gold eyes glittered with sensual intent.

A hysterical laugh bubbled up in her chest. She clamped her teeth together and fought to appear unflustered. No easy task when the masculine scent of the man awakened buried memories. A tingle began between her thighs as she relived the joy of his hands on her body, his lips on hers.

Last night she’d stood up to him, an alarmed mama bear protecting her cub. Today she was a woman confronting a man who intended to persuade and seduce. Heat bloomed in her cheeks. She scowled, angry with herself and taking it out on him.

“If you want me to take your interest in Marc seriously, you’d be better off demonstrating that you have what it takes to be a father.”

“I agree.” He nodded. “Which is why I sent a gift to Marc, as well.”

Noelle bit back a groan. “What sort of gift?”

“A small thing.”

“How small?”

“A child-sized electric car. My assistant said her son loves to drive his cousin’s. He is about Marc’s age.”

She hissed out a breath. “You can’t just do that.”

“Of course I can.”

Once upon a time she’d have teased him about his arrogance. Once upon a time she’d been madly in love with him.

“An electric car is an expensive toy. I want Marc to value art and stories and music. Not things.”

“He’s a four-year-old boy,” Christian scoffed. “They want to get muddy and have adventures.”

Noelle knew it was ridiculous, but she could feel Marc slipping away from her with each word Christian spoke. Her son would love this thrill-seeking prince and want to go live in a palace, and never once miss his mother. “And you’re an expert on four-year-old boys?”

“I was one once. And he’s a prince. He should always get the best.”

Panic rose. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “That’s not how I’m raising him.”

“We need to be together for Marc’s sake.” Christian caught her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. “He shouldn’t have to grow up without a father.”

Christian seemed sincere enough, but Noelle couldn’t ignore that he needed an heir and knew just how stubborn Christian could be when he wanted something. She tugged her hand free and squared her shoulders.

“I can’t possibly be with you,” she said. “I’m involved with someone and we’re quite serious.”

* * *

Christian absorbed Noelle’s statement with a slow eye-blink, his thoughts reeling. He’d come in too confident, certain that he could win over Noelle with a few roses and a bit of persuasion. She’d always been there any time he needed her. It had never once occurred to him that she might be in love with someone else. Acid burned in his gut at the thought of her with anyone besides him.

“You didn’t mention anyone last night.”

Her expression, once so transparent and open, betrayed none of her thoughts. “All I thought about was Marc and the effect your sudden appearance in his life would have on him.”

“Who is this man you’re seeing?” The question sounded more like an interrogation than a friendly inquiry.

“Someone I met shortly after I moved to Paris.”

Five years. Had she run into his arms after Christian had sent her away? A knot formed in his chest.

“I’d love to meet him. Does he live in Sherdana?”

“Ah.” Suddenly she looked very uncertain. “No. He splits his time between Paris and London.”

Christian was liking this more and more. “Long distance affairs are so difficult,” he purred. “As I’m sure you’re finding out.”

“Geoff loves Marc.”

Christian saw resolve blazing in the depths of her chestnut-colored eyes.

“And Marc loves Geoff. They have a great time together. We are good together.”

He wondered at her vehemence. Was she trying to convince him that this Geoff character was father material or convince herself that he was husband material? Either way, Christian saw a foothold that would allow him to breach her defenses.

“When does he plan to come to Sherdana next?” A long unused oubliette beneath the castle on Christian’s vineyard might be the perfect place to stash Geoff until Noelle came to her senses.

“Why?” Noelle regarded him with narrowed eyes.

“I’d like to meet him. Does he visit regularly?”

“Of course.” But she didn’t sound all that sure of her answer. “That is, when his cases permit. He’s the managing partner of a very successful law firm specializing in human rights law and extradition.” Pride softened her lips into a fond smile. “And of course, Marc and I travel to London and Paris quite often to visit him.”

“How serious are you?” The more Christian heard, the less concerned he became that Geoff was going to prove a hindrance. If something of a permanent nature was going to happen between Noelle and her absent suitor, it should have occurred in the past five years. “Do you plan on marrying?”

She glanced down at her clasped hands. “We’ve discussed the possibility, but haven’t made anything official.”

What sort of man waited five years to claim a woman like Noelle? A very stupid one. And that was just fine with him. Christian had no qualms about stealing Noelle out from beneath the man’s nose.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Her eyes widened at his abrupt invitation, but she shook her head. “I can’t. Geoff—”

“Isn’t here and from the sound of things isn’t likely to visit any time soon.” A half step brought him close enough to hear her sharp intake of breath and feel the way her muscles tensed as he traced his knuckles along her jawline. The old, familiar chemistry sparked between them. “You deserve a man who will appreciate you every minute of every day, not whenever his business dealings permit.”

Noelle batted his hand away. “What would you know about how I deserve to be appreciated? When we were together, the only time you concerned yourself about my needs was when we were in bed.”

“You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.” He spoke lightly, hiding his regret that he’d hurt her. He’d been a selfish bastard when they were together and hadn’t grasped her worth. How ironic that finally understanding her value had compelled him to send her away.

Yet was he behaving any less selfishly now? After ignoring her for five years, he’d suddenly decided to drag her back into his life because he needed her once again. Was it fair to disrupt the tranquil, comfortable world she’d made for herself? Probably not, but now that he’d begun, Christian couldn’t bring himself to stop. They’d made a child together. He had a son. That wasn’t something he intended to walk away from.

“Christian, you weren’t good for me five years ago, and you’re not going to be good for me now. I was so madly in love with you I was happy with whatever scraps of your life you were willing to share with me. That’s not enough for me anymore. I have a son who deserves to be loved and nurtured. He is my primary focus. Every decision I make is with his best interests foremost in my mind.”

Christian’s temper flared. “And you don’t think his mother being married to his father is the best thing for him?”

“Not if the only reason his parents marry is so the Alessandro line continues to rule Sherdana.”

Christian wasn’t accustomed to cynicism coming from Noelle. She’d been sweet, innocent and as trusting as a kitten. His opposite in every way. It was why he hadn’t been able to give her up even when he started to see shadows darken her eyes and her smiles become forced.

“Making Marc my heir is not the only reason I want to marry you.” Although it was an important one to be sure. “I can’t forget how good we were together.”

Noelle shook her head. “I’m not sure you were good for me.”

“I’m no longer the man I was.” In so many ways that was true. He’d lost the ability to be frivolous and irresponsible. “The accident saw to that.”

She flinched. “And I’m not the woman you once knew. Who’s to say it would even work between us anymore?”

“Who’s to say it wouldn’t be better?”

As if to demonstrate his point, Christian slid his fingers around the back of her neck and drew her toward him. Without giving her a second to process his action, he lowered his lips to her and drank in her sweetness. A groan gathered in his chest at the way her mouth yielded to him. She gasped softly as her lips parted. He remembered all the times he’d held her in his arms and indulged his need for her with long, drugging kisses.

With other women he’d been quick to get to his pleasure. He liked his lovemaking hot and frenzied. Being with Noelle had brought out a different side of his personality. He’d never been in a rush with her. Her warm, silken skin and the gentle rise and fall of her slender curves had been worth appreciating in great detail. He’d adored her every gasp and shiver as he learned what pleased her. After a month he knew her body better than any woman he’d ever been with and yet she continued to surprise him.

Desire buzzed in his veins, the intensity rising as Noelle leaned into him. He freed her lips before longing made the kiss spiral out of control. Heart thumping madly, he inhaled her light floral perfume. The fragrance was more sophisticated than what she used to wear, reminding him that time and distance had made them strangers. His lids felt heavy as he lifted his lashes and regarded her flushed cheeks.

“You didn’t stop me from kissing you,” he murmured in satisfaction, wondering if it could really be this easy.

“I was curious how it would feel after five long years.” Her neutral tone dampened his optimism.

“And?”

“Your technique hasn’t diminished.”

Christian stepped back and gave her a lopsided smile. “Nor has my desire for you.”

“Yes...well.” She didn’t sound as if she believed him. “I’m sure you can find any number of women eager to distract you.”

“It’s not like that anymore.”

“The tabloids say otherwise.”

“The tabloids exaggerate. Any drama attributed to my love life is concocted to sell newspapers.”

“So how do you explain the twin models from Milan photographed topless on your hotel balcony in Cannes?”

“They needed a place to crash and I spent the night on the phone to Hong Kong.”

Noelle’s lips thinned as she nodded. “And the Spanish heiress who ran away from her wedding with you?”

“It was an arranged marriage and she was in love with an architect from Brussels who happened to be doing some work on my apartment in London.”

“You’re asking me to believe you’re in the habit of rescuing women these days?”

He understood her skepticism. Five years earlier his playboy reputation had been well earned. But the day he’d arranged for Noelle to study in Paris was the day he’d begun to change. She’d been the first woman he’d saved. And the only one who’d needed to be rescued from him.

“There’s a long list of women I’ve helped. I could put you in touch with some of them if it would help improve your perception of me.” She wasn’t going to take his pursuit seriously if she thought he hadn’t changed.

“I’m sure there are scads of women who would line up to sing your praises.”

“Have dinner with me.” He repeated his earlier invitation, determined to convince her this wasn’t a ploy or a scam. “We have a great deal to talk about.”

She shook her head. “The only thing that concerns me is your intentions for my son. We can talk about ground rules here or at your office. There’s no reason for us to become more than civil acquaintances.”

“That’s where you’re wrong. I can name several very good reasons why we should take our relationship to a close, personal level. Starting with the fact that I make you nervous.” He caught her chin and turned her face so he could snare her gaze. “I think that means you still have feelings for me. I know I have feelings for you. We belong together.”

“I’m with Geoff. Nothing you can say or do will change that.”

Christian slid his thumb across her lower lip and watched her pupils dilate. No doubt she was counting on her words and actions to effectively put him off, but there was no hiding her body’s reaction.

With a slow smile, his hand fell away. “We’ll see.”

Four

With her pulse hammering in her ears, Noelle spent a full minute staring at the empty hallway after Christian had gone. What had just happened? Knees shaking, she retreated to her desk and dropped into her comfortable chair with a hearty exhalation. To her dismay, her fingers trembled as she dialed a familiar number. When Geoff answered the phone, his deep voice acted like a sturdy net she could fall into and be safe.

“Geoff, thank goodness.”

“Noelle, are you okay? You sound upset.”

“I’ve just done a terrible, cowardly thing.” Such drama wasn’t like her, and she noticed that several beats passed while Geoff adjusted to her tumultuous state.

“I’m sure it’s not as bad as all that.”

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