Marrying His Majesty: Claimed: Secret Royal Son. Marion Lennox
supposed to feel,’ he snapped. ‘I needed time.’
‘Like I needed time when I saw the thin blue line,’ she retorted. ‘Parenthood isn’t something you can think about and then decide ooh, maybe I’d like a little bit.’
‘Isn’t that exactly what you did?’
‘I had no choice.’ She moved still closer to the cot, putting her body between him and her baby. It was a gesture of defence as old as time itself.
‘So why did you give him up?’ he demanded, trying to keep his focus on indignation. Trying not to think how beautiful she was when she was angry. How vulnerable. How… frightened? ‘How much did they pay you?’
‘Millions!’ The word was a venomous hiss.
Okay, not millions, he conceded.
What, then? Had she simply offered her son to her sister instead of having him adopted?
Had she really been ill?
His eyes flew to her baseball cap. She’d covered her curls at the coronation, too.
Cancer? But Lily didn’t have that look. Soft curls were escaping from under the cap—short, yes, much shorter than last year, but not regrowth short.
‘Just how ill were you?’
‘It’s none of your business.’
‘Your hair… ’
‘I had an operation,’ she snapped. ‘I’m fine now.’
He got the message. Ask no more questions. Move on.
Okay, he would. But maybe here there was an explanation.
The consequences of illness, even if relatively mild, might well have been catastrophic. If she didn’t have insurance, medical expenses could be huge.
If Mia and Giorgos had paid her expenses and in return taken a child she could ill afford to keep… A child she didn’t really want, until Mia’s abandonment had given her second thoughts…
It didn’t absolve her from blame, but it might explain it.
Maybe something of what he was thinking was apparent.
‘Don’t even think about pushing into what’s my business,’ she told him coldly. ‘Let’s get this sorted. If you want to deny Michales is your son, that’s fine by me. I don’t need or want financial aid. If you want access I won’t block it—as long as he stays with me. But that’s my bottom line. He stays with me.’
‘I can’t let him stay here.’
‘He will stay here.’ She sounded blunt and cold and definite. But, underneath, he heard the beginnings of fear.
There was no way he could allay that fear.
‘I have to take him back to Sappheiros.’
‘You’re taking him nowhere.’
‘Michales has to be my son.’
‘So he is,’ she snapped. ‘Move on.’
‘He has to be my legitimate son.’
That confused her. ‘Excuse me?’
‘Can you imagine the furore there will be if he disappears? The islanders are upset enough now that you’ve taken him. For you to keep him… ’
‘He’s mine!’
‘The islanders think he’s theirs.’
‘He’s not.’
‘He is,’ he said. ‘You and Mia and Giorgos gave him to the island. The islanders have taken him to their hearts. I won’t take him away from them.’
‘It’s not you who’s taking him away.’ She was whispering but she might as well be yelling, it was said with such vehemence. ‘It’s me. He’s mine, and he stays with me.’
As if on cue, Michales stirred again, uttering a small protesting whimper. She scooped him from his cot and held him against her. He snuggled into her and her fingers stroked his hair.
The sight… watching her stroke the little boy’s hair did something to him he didn’t begin to recognise.
This was getting harder. He’d come here fuelled with anger against this woman. He’d come here to try and sort a solution.
What he hadn’t counted on was how she made him feel. He’d slept with Lily over twelve months ago and his body still knew why. He was reacting to her as he had then—with a desire that was inexplicable but inarguable.
And Michales…
He’d never thought of himself as a father. This child had nothing to do with him.
Except… He had the look of him. His son.
His world was shifting into unchartered territory.
Just say it, he told himself again, feeling cornered. Lay it on the line.
‘Lily, this is hard,’ he said. ‘But you need to listen. The islanders have lived with such uncertainty that when the truth comes out about Michales’s parentage their likely reaction will be disbelief. And why wouldn’t it be? They’ve been lied to by Mia and Giorgos. They have no reason to trust me—or you.’
‘I don’t… It can’t matter.’
‘But it does matter,’ he said forcefully. ‘We need to give them reason to believe, and the way to do that is by acting truthfully and acting with honour.’
‘Honour… ’ She filled the word with scorn. ‘Honour!’
‘I know it’s been in short supply, but this is my honour,’ he said, ruefully now. ‘I need to be seen to do the right thing.’
‘Finally.’
‘Okay, finally,’ he admitted and spread his hands in apology. ‘I concede my behaviour until now has been less than perfect. I shouldn’t have slept with you. I shouldn’t have blocked your phone call with such a response. But we… both of us… need to move on. The islanders need to be told that Giorgos and Mia lied, but they need to accept that the lies are finished. They need to know I’m to be trusted—and that I’m truly Michales’s father. Right now the island is on the brink of rebellion, but my advisors believe that it would be reluctant. We can head it off by giving the island stability, good government and hope for the future. The island needs an honourable royal family and it needs an heir.’
Lily stared at him over Michales’s small head. ‘S-so?’
But maybe she was already seeing where he was going, he thought. She looked suddenly terrified. She was a lot smarter than Giorgos, he thought. Or her sister.
‘I’m assuming you know the state of the Diamond Isles.’
‘Yes, but… ’
‘But ruin,’ he said forcefully. He couldn’t let the shock on her face deflect him from what needed to be said. ‘The islanders are poverty-stricken. The islands’ land titles are mortgaged to the hilt and there’s threatened takeover by outside interests. We’re facing destruction of our lifestyle—everything we stand for. That’s inevitable, unless these people put their faith in me and in what I can do. The islanders have to accept their new royal family—they can’t think I’m inventing this story merely to claim the throne for my own ends. Lily, I’ve thought about this all week. I’ve listened to the wisest lawyers and political advisors I can find. And they’ve come up, over and over, with the one sure answer.’
‘Which… which is… ’
‘Which is that you marry me.’
FOR