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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

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