To Claim His Heir by Christmas(25)

Whether or not Garcia picked up on his inner turmoil Thane wasn't sure, but he abruptly let loose a sigh that marginally shrank his impressive shoulders.

'Look, I understand this must be a shock-difficult for you.'

Thane wanted to ask him how the hell he would know how it felt, but then he remembered the man had just had a child of his own.

'But know this: she has not had one moment of peace in the last five years. Knowing you were out there has tormented her. There is a reason they say ignorance is bliss. She's had to live with her decision for years. Do not forget we have been enemies for a long time, Guerrero. She begged. She bartered. She made a pact. Just to bring Natanael into the world. I know she wanted your son more than anything in this life.'

Begged? Bartered? Meaning Henri had wanted her to destroy their son? For the umpteenth time in history Thane wished he'd pulled that trigger. Vibrated with the urge to rain a hellish firestorm on the man's head. Crush him beneath his almighty foot.

Of one thing he was certain. He would do everything in his vast power to ensure Henri Verbault was erased permanently from his wife's life. And his son's too. Their relationship was officially at an end.

Dios, he was so vexed his insides shook. In fact blistering fury was all he could feel in every molecule of his body as it ran like red-hot lava through his veins. Anger towards every person who'd kept him from his son. He wanted to punish them all.

And that still included Luciana. Because she should have come to him five years ago. He would have protected her from the start.

Thane crossed his lethal arms over his wide chest. 'You love your daughter, don't you? How would you feel if she'd been kept from you for the first four years of her life?'

His voice was iron-hard but he was genuinely interested to hear this answer. What would a normal person feel right now? Should his insides be so black with hatred? Or was he truly twisted with darkness inside?

But then Garcia had to shock him by being brutally frank.

'Not just angry. Furious. Cheated. Betrayed. All of the things you are doubtless feeling. But if I looked at the bigger picture I would see that above all else Luciana put her son-your son-first, believing he was unsafe. I have no idea how much of your reputation is true, but one fifth of it would be enough to persuade me. She protected him as any mother would. And I could not hate her or blame her for that.'

On that note, he spun on his heels and strode back to the helicopter.

Thane watched the blades whip into a frenzy, slicing through the air. The vociferous clamour lent him a moment of mental peace. A chance to breathe without it physically hurting.

'I only wanted to keep him safe …  We're enemies …  I was scared … '

Then the sonorous roar receded and it all came rushing back in one titanic tsunami of agony-and he turned and ploughed his fist into the stone wall.

* * *

Dressed in Hawaiian-style shorts and a funky matching T-shirt, Natanael was a red blur, sprinting along the shoreline, dragging a long stick that drew a wavy line in the damp sand, while those great lumbering dogs pranced around him. Her little boy in seventh heaven was a glorious sight to see.

Slanting another glance over her right shoulder, she kept watch for Thane. The helicopter had soared into the sky over an hour ago and she felt flimsy and tenuous-like a kite that would blow away with one gust of wind.

Sloshing through the shallow waters, she slowed her step, 'Hey, Nate? Shall we build a sandcastle and wait for Thane?'

'Sure, Mamá.'

Together they scooped sand into a mound, and Luciana watched those sweet little hands pat-pat-pat their creation into shape. This was good. She had to keep busy. Too much time to think and regret and fret would drive her loopy.

'May I join in?'

She flinched at Thane's low, masculine tone and rocked back on her knees to peek up at him.

'Of course,' she said, her stomach hollowing at the pain that darkened his eyes. At the way he shunted frustrated fingers through the swarthy mess of his hair.                       
       
           



       

When his hands plunged to his sides her gaze snagged on his raw swollen knuckles and air hit the back of her throat.

'Thane?'

Lord, had he hit Lucas? Reaching up, she dusted over his torn skin.

'Did you fight?' she whispered.

'No.'

He snatched his hand away and she curled her fingers in her lap. He'd closed himself off to her. Emotionally. Physically.

Natanael-oblivious to it all-said, 'Sure, you can help. You can build the moat of the castle if you want. That's a biiig job.'

'I think you're right,' Thane said easily, sinking to his knees. 'Where do you think I should put it?'

'Right there.'

Nate pointed to a slope that was close to him, Luciana noticed. As if he wanted Thane closer, in his space.

That was a big enough clue for her and she shuffled backwards, giving them some room, some time together, while her heart lodged itself in her throat. It was like watching a fantasy she'd replayed in her mind, but reality was even more incredibly beautiful.

'Is your name really Thane? Like the warrior?'

Those broad shoulders seized up. 'Yes. But … '

Dark turbulent eyes darted her way in a silent plea that said he didn't want Natanael to call him Thane. Of course he didn't.

'Do you want to tell him now?' she whispered.

Incredible as it was, he blanched-as if drowning in pure fear. Almost as if he expected a rejection.

She couldn't abide it. This was her doing and she didn't want him hurting any more than he already was.

'Nate … ' she began. 'You know how Auntie Claudia is Isabelle's mamá and Uncle Lucas is his papá?'

'Mmm-hmm.'

'Well … ' She licked lips salty from the sea breeze. 'Thane is … your daddy. He's your papá.'

His dark head jerked up. 'Really?'

'Yes.'

A huge smile stretched his face as he looked at Thane, then back to her. 'Oh, wow-my daddy is a New Warrior.'

'He is,' Luciana agreed, fighting tears. 'He saved me once. Many years ago.' Her throat felt thick, and it burned as if aflame. Stung so badly her words came out on a choked whisper. 'He's a real superhero.'

She could feel Thane's eyes searing into her cheek, but before either of them could exchange a glance or say a word Nate launched himself at Thane like a cannonball, almost knocking him over.

Luciana watched those big, strong, protective arms curl around their son, wrapping him in instantaneous instinctual love. And knew, no matter what the future held, she'd done the right thing.

So while she kissed goodbye to any chance of a loving marriage those glorious sounds of male bonding were sure to keep her warm at night. And as Nate tugged on Thane's hand, to coerce him down to the water's edge, half of her felt as if she'd lost her little boy. The other half reasoned that there had merely been a part of her son that was never hers to begin with. That part was solely for his daddy.

As for her and Thane …  Some things were meant to be. And some things were not.





CHAPTER TWELVE

HIS SON NEVER stopped talking, Thane realised, not even to take a breath. And within three days he had the entire household wrapped around his tiny butterscotch pinkie finger.

He said, 'Christmas tree!' and Pietro was lugging ten-feet-tall firs into the main lounge, trailing dirt across the antique Persian rugs. The biggest monstrosity Thane had clapped eyes on was deftly smothered with garish ornaments and enough twinkling lights to illuminate the Taj Mahal.

To say Thane didn't 'do' Christmas was the understatement of the millennia, since it ordinarily tainted his mind with an abundance of achingly dark memories. But he couldn't seem to say no to Nate any more than anyone else could.

Luciana included.

Which was how now, fresh from his shower and dressed to kill in sharp business attire at the ridiculous hour of seven in the evening, he'd known where to find them. Known she'd be clearing the debris in the kitchen after baking Nate his favourite white chocolate cookies for supper while he happily munched and drank his milky way into bed.                       
       
           



       

Pandering to his every whim. As if she yearned to be needed. As if she had to keep busy or she'd shatter to smithereens. Not that her outward regal poise had faltered, but he didn't trust that cool façade of hers. It wasn't the real Luciana and it set his teeth on edge. Though he only had himself to blame. By creating this ever-widening gulf between them.

But, Dios, he'd felt so volatile after her revelation. Drowning in emotions he was ill-equipped to handle. So angry. Betrayed and devastated. So black inside he'd been petrified to go anywhere near her. Unsure whether he wanted to yell and vent or bury his pain inside her. Beg her to touch him, make him forget-which felt tantamount to an insult to his pride. So conflicted. Torn. His usual ruthless decisiveness obliterated until he felt weak. Less of a man. At the whim of dangerous emotions that no hardened commanding warrior should feel.

Every day he waged an internal war. Knowing that in many ways her arguments held weight. They'd been enemies for centuries. He had almost assassinated her father. And for the last three nights he'd been engaged in political warfare with his uncle, who was going to extreme lengths to keep Thane from his throne. Instigating trouble left and right. Leaving Thane uneasy, in no doubt that he needed to get Luciana down the aisle-preferably yesterday. Needed to claim his heir before Christmas. Ensure his absolute safety.