Secret Child, Royal Scandal. Cat Schield

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.