The Paternity Proposition(37)

Mazin settled his free hand at Dabir's waist. "So tell us what you're doing here at the castle. Don't you have lessons today?"

"I learned all my numbers and got every question right, so I got a reward." He grinned at Phoebe. "I told Nana I wanted to see the swords, so she brought me here. Have you seen them? They're long and scary."

He practically glowed as he spoke. Obviously viewing the swords was a favorite treat.

Phoebe tried to answer, but her lips didn't seem to be working. Mazin spoke for her.

"We were just about to walk into the castle. We haven't seen anything yet. Miss Carson is visiting Lucia-Serrat for the first time."

"Do you like it?" Dabir asked.

"Um, yes. It's lovely."

The boy beamed. "I'm six. I have three older brothers. They're all much bigger than me, but I'm the favorite."

Mazin set the boy on the ground and ruffled his hair. "You are not the favorite, Dabir. I love all my sons equally."

Dabir didn't seem the least bit upset by the announcement. He giggled and leaned against his father, while studying her.

"Do you have any children?" he asked.

"No. I'm not married."

Dabir's eyes widened. "Do you like children?"

Phoebe hadn't thought the situation could get more uncomfortable, yet it just had. "I, ah, like them very much."

"Enough," Mazin said, his voice a low growl. "Go find Nana."

Dabir hesitated, as if he would disobey, then he waved once and raced back into the castle. Phoebe watched him go. Children. Mazin had children. Four of them. All boys.

"He's very charming," she forced herself to say when they were alone.

Mazin turned toward her and cupped her face. "I could read your mind. You must never try to play poker, my dove. Your thoughts are clearly visible to anyone who takes the time to look."

There was a humiliating thought. She sighed. "You have lived a very full life," she said. "Of course you would have children."

"Children, but no wife."

Relief filled her. She hadn't actually allowed herself to think the question, but she was happy to hear the answer.

"Come," he said, taking her hand in his. "I will show you the ballroom where your Ayanna danced. As we walk, I will tell you all about my sordid past."

"Is it so very bad?"

"I'm not sure. Your standards will be higher than most. You will have to tell me."

They walked into the castle. She tried to catch a glimpse of Dabir and his Nana, but they seemed to have disappeared.

"Some of the tapestries date back to the twelfth century," he said, motioning to the delicate wall hangings.

She dutifully raised her gaze to study them. "They're very nice."

Mazin sighed, then pulled her toward a bench by the stone wall. "Perhaps we should deal with first things first, as you Americans like to say."

He sat on the bench and pulled her next to him. She had the brief thought that actually sitting on furniture in the royal castle might be punishable by imprisonment, or worse, but then Mazin took her hands in his and she couldn't think at all.                       
       
           



       

"I am a widower," he told her, staring into her eyes. "My wife died giving birth to Dabir. We have three boys. And I have another son from a brief liaison when I was a young man."

That last bit of news nearly sent her over the edge, but all she said was, "Oh."

Four sons. It seemed like a large number of children for one man. No wonder he hadn't been spending his evenings with her; he had a family waiting at home. If they were all as charming as Dabir, he must hate being away from them.

"I've been keeping you from them," she said softly. "I've told you that you don't have to keep me company."

"I choose to be here."

She wanted to ask why, but didn't have the courage. "You must have help with them. Dabir mentioned Nana."

He smiled. "Yes. She is a governess of sorts for my youngest. The two middle boys are in a private boarding school. My oldest is at university in England."

She tried not to show her shock. "How old is he?"

"Nearly twenty. I am much older than you, Phoebe. Did you forget?"

"No, it's just … " She did the math. He'd had a child when he'd been seventeen? She was twenty-three and had been kissed only once. Could they be more different?

"I know you say you choose to be here," she said, "but you have a family and work obligations. I must be a distraction. Please don't be concerned. I'm very capable of entertaining myself. How could I not enjoy my time on this beautiful island?"

"Ah, but if you remain alone, you will never be able to visit Lucia's Point."

She ducked her head as heat flared on her cheeks. Lucia's Point-the place for lovers. It seemed unlikely that she would be visiting that particular spot on this trip.

A horrifying thought occurred to her. She tried to push it away, but it refused to budge. Then she found herself actually voicing it aloud as she risked looking at him.

"You have four sons, Mazin. Do you see me as the daughter you never had?"

He released her hands at once. She didn't know what that meant, but she was aware of his dark eyes brightening with many emotions. None of them seemed paternal.

"Do you see me as the father you never had?"

Her blush deepened. "No," she whispered. "I never thought of that."

"I do not think of you as a child, especially not my own. On the contrary. I see you very much as a woman."

"Do you? I want to believe you, but I've lived such a small life."

"It is the quality of one's life that matters."

"Easy to say when you had your first affair at seventeen," she blurted before she could stop herself. She pressed her fingers to her mouth, horrified, but Mazin only laughed.

"An interesting point. Come. We will walk to the ballroom. When we are there, I will tell you all about my affair with the ever-beautiful Carnie."





"She was an actress," Mazin said ten minutes later as they strolled through a vast open area.

Tall, slender windows let in light. Dozens of candelabras hung from an arched ceiling. There was a stage in one corner, probably for an orchestra, and enough space to hold a football game.

Phoebe tried to imagine the room filled with people dressed in their finest, dancing the night away, but she was still caught up in his description of his first mistress as "ever beautiful."

"Was she very lovely?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"Yes. Her face and body were perfection. However, she had a cold heart. I learned very quickly that I was more interested in a woman's inner beauty than her outside perfection."

His statement made her feel better. Phoebe knew that in a competition of straight looks, she wouldn't have a chance, but she thought her heart would stand up all right.

"We met when the film company came here to shoot part of a movie. She was an older woman-nearly twenty-two. I was very impressed with myself at the time and determined to have her."

She didn't doubt he'd achieved his goal. "What happened when you found out she was pregnant?"

He took her hand in his. The pressure of his palm against her, the feel of their fingers laced together nearly distracted her from his words.

"She was upset. I don't know if she'd hoped for marriage, but it was out of the question. My father … " He hesitated. "The family did not approve. We had money, so an offer was made. She accepted."

Phoebe stared at him. "Didn't you love her?"

"Perhaps for the first few weeks, but it faded. When I found out about the child, I wanted my son, but I didn't think Carnie and I had much chance at happiness. She stayed long enough to have the baby, then left."

"I could never do that," Phoebe said, completely shocked by Carnie's behavior. "I would never give up my child. I don't care how much money was involved."

Mazin shrugged. "I don't think my father gave her much choice."

"That wouldn't matter. I would stand up against anyone. I'd go into hiding."                       
       
           



       

"Carnie preferred the cash."

Mazin heard the harshness in his voice. Most of the time he was at peace with his former lover, but occasionally he despised her for what she had done, even though it had made his life simpler.

"Is she still alive?"

"Yes, but she rarely sees her son. It is better that way."

He watched the play of emotions across Phoebe's face. She was so easy to read. She was outraged by Carnie's decision, yet it went against her nature to judge anyone negatively. Her wide mouth trembled slightly at the corners and her delicate brows drew together as she tried to reconcile harsh facts with her gentle nature.

She was a good person. He couldn't say that very often, not with certainty. She wanted nothing from him, save his company. Their time was a balm and he found himself in need of the healing only she could provide. Being with her made him quiet and content. Two very rare commodities in his life.