The Beaumont Children: His Son, Her Secret

“Good,” Byron said, watching Percy swallow another mouthful. “I used to cook for the new kids, you know. When my dad would remarry and his new wife had babies. Dad expected us all to like the same things he did, but it was hard for a four-year-old to really get into steak au poivre, you know? George always had something else for us, but we had to eat it in the kitchen so neither of our parents would catch us.” He looked at his plate. “That was a long time ago.”

“That sounds a lot like dinners in my house growing up.”

Byron looked at her. “We never really did discuss your past. You always changed the subject.” He stabbed at his chicken viciously. “And I never caught on.”

She couldn’t tell who he was madder at—her or himself. “I knew who you were—it was hard to miss that last name. But I...” She sighed. “I wanted something different than Harpers versus Beaumonts. I wanted to see if you were really what my father claimed you were. I wanted to know if you liked me for me, not because I was heiress to a fortune.”

She’d never gotten the chance to say those words out loud to him. Everything had happened so fast that night... “I just wanted to be something more than Leon Harper’s daughter.”

Byron set down his fork. “You were.” He stood, picked up his plate and headed back to the kitchen. “You were...”

Leona leaned forward to catch the end of that sentence because it seemed important. But when she didn’t hear the ending, she got up and followed Byron into the kitchen. “What?”

“Nothing,” he said gruffly, scraping his plate into the trash and running hot water into the sink.

“Byron.” She stood next to him and put her hand on his shoulder in an attempt to turn him toward her. He didn’t budge. “What?”

“You should have told me,” he replied, grabbing his plate and scrubbing it furiously. “It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d told me yourself. Instead I had to learn it from your father.”

Guilt, which had been creeping around the edges of their conversation for the past few minutes, burst out into the open. “I wanted to. But I didn’t want to risk ruining the best thing that had ever happened to me.”

For a second, she thought he was going to give her that smile, the one that always melted her. But then his face hardened. “You didn’t trust me.”

She stared at him as a new emotion pushed back at the guilt—anger. “First off,” she snapped, “I’m not the one who bailed. I was right here, dealing with the fallout of you abandoning me. I went on with my life when all I wanted to do was run and hide, too. I did not have that luxury, Byron.”

Byron opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. “Secondly, this is exactly why I haven’t said yes to your marriage proposal. At least this time it wasn’t an order, but I simply do not know when you’re going to switch from doting father to angry ex-lover.”

Percy began to fuss, no doubt unhappy about being left behind while everyone else was in the kitchen. However, for the first time in her life, Leona didn’t rush off to pick him up.

“And finally, you didn’t trust me, either. Four days, Byron. That’s how long it took to get away from my father—and you were gone. Gone. You couldn’t even stick around for a damn week to wait for me.” Unexpectedly, her throat closed up, but she would not crack. “So you’ll forgive me if I want a little more reassurance that you’re not going to up and disappear again, that you’re not going to marry me only to dump me and take my son.”

“You need me,” he said in a quiet voice.

Percy let out a wail of impatience. Leona heard a spoon clatter to the ground.

“I need child support,” she corrected him. “I need a job. You have yet to prove to me that I need you.”

And with that, she turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Nine

It was hard to focus on bathing Percy with Leona’s words ringing in Byron’s ears. Wasn’t offering to marry her enough reassurance that he wasn’t going to disappear and take the baby? Marriage was... Okay, maybe it wasn’t a permanent legal bond, but it was not something to be taken lightly. Once they were legally wed, it wasn’t as though he could just walk off with the boy. Didn’t she see that?

Besides, where were the reassurances he needed? The promises that she wouldn’t lie to him again? Or that she wouldn’t sic her father and his horde of lawyers upon Byron and his family? The reassurance that she wasn’t just waiting until he let his guard down all the way to hit him where it would hurt the most—Percy? She’d already lied to him twice. Even if that had been a series of massive misunderstandings, it didn’t change the fact that she had lied to him for months and months. How could he trust her, really?

Of course, he didn’t get far in these thoughts because Percy slapped at his bathwater, splashing it into Byron’s face. The baby made a trilling noise as a toy boat floated past him. There was more splashing. Byron’s shirt was getting soaked and Percy was not getting any cleaner.

Just then, Percy twisted to reach the boat and Byron lost his grip. “Whoa!” he cried as Percy’s head dunked under the water.

Immediately, Leona was next to him, pulling Percy upright. “I’ll hold him,” she said and amazingly, she didn’t sound panicked. “You wash.”

“I’m sorry,” Byron said as Percy sputtered and coughed. He let out a disgruntled cry but stopped when Leona nudged the boat back in front of him.

“It’s okay,” she said softly and Byron was surprised to see she was smiling. “It’ll get easier.”

“If you say so,” he said, scrubbing Percy’s legs as fast as he could.

The argument—well, it wasn’t quite an argument, but it’d certainly been more than a discussion—hung in the air between them. As they finished Percy’s bath and got him ready for bed, Byron thought about what Leona had said. That she hadn’t told him who her family was because she didn’t want to be a Harper.

Did he believe her?

For the past year, he’d been operating under the assumption that she’d misled him on purpose, that she’d intentionally withheld the information so she could use her family name against him at the right time. And hadn’t the right time been that awful night?

But maybe...maybe that’s not what had happened.

He ran through his memories again—of Rory calling him out and, when Byron mouthed off, firing him. Of taking a swing at Rory because, damn it, he’d put up with enough of that man’s crap over the year and a half he’d worked there and that was not how it was supposed to end.

And then Bruce—the pastry chef Byron had counted as a friend—had grabbed him from behind and physically hauled him out of the restaurant and thrown him down on the sidewalk, just in time to see Leona getting into Leon Harper’s chauffeured vehicle.

Except...had she? Or had Leon shoved his daughter into the car? It’d been dark and rainy and Byron had thought...

Had it been part of the lie? Or was she now telling the truth? Was she being truthful about the lies she’d already told? Was that even a thing?

This was what she did to him. She spun his head around and around until he didn’t know which way was up anymore.

While Leona nursed Percy, Byron furiously washed and dried the dishes, trying to remember exactly what Leon Harper had done in the minute before he’d gotten up into Byron’s stunned face and taunted him.

That’s when Leona came back into the kitchen.

“He go down okay?” Byron asked, because it seemed like the thing a parent would ask about.

“I gave him something for his ears. Hopefully he’ll sleep for at least a couple of hours.”

“Hopefully?” A couple of hours did not seem like enough.

Leona gave him a tired smile. “That’s why we were looking at tubes.”

“Yeah, I guess.” He dried another dish. “How many ear infections has he had?”

“I’ve lost count. May gets up with him sometimes, but he usually just wants to nurse.”

Byron’s gaze dropped to her chest. She wasn’t wearing a bra and he could see the outline of her nipples poking through the thin fabric of her shirt. Lust hit him hard and low as his mind chose exactly that moment to remember the kiss from earlier this evening and the one from last night.

“A-hem,” she said, crossing her arms.

“Sorry,” he replied, focusing all his attention back on the pots and pans.

Leona sighed. “Are you sure we should live together?”

He tensed. Damn it, this was going from bad to worse. “As opposed to what?”

“As opposed to a regular custody agreement where we each have Percy for a week or two and then trade, with child support and the like.” She paused. “It might be better that way.”

“Better for who? Not better for Percy—not when your father can take him. No way.”

She grabbed a towel and one of the few remaining pots. “Byron, I don’t want this to be hard.”

“Hard?” He snorted. “I hate to burst your bubble, but nothing about this is easy.”

“Fine,” she snapped. “All I’m saying is that you’re obviously still mad at me and I don’t want Percy to grow up in a household where his parents are constantly sniping at each other. That doesn’t make me the bad guy here.”

“I didn’t say you were the bad guy. And I’m not mad at you.” He was, however, getting pretty pissed at himself. He couldn’t be doing a worse job fighting for what he wanted if he tried. His father was probably rolling over in his grave.

If Hardwick Beaumont were still here, he’d slap Byron on the shoulder and say, “Stop screwing around. She’s just a woman, for God’s sake. You’re a Beaumont. Act like one.”

Except Byron didn’t want to be a Beaumont if it meant bending Leona and Percy to his will just because he could. He didn’t want to rule by force and fear.

She glared at him. “No, but you don’t have to say the words, Byron. Your actions speak quite loudly.”

“Oh, yeah? Then what does this say?” He grabbed her by the arms and hauled her to him. The kiss was not sweet or gentle—it was hard and unbending. He might not be able to get her to say yes to his proposal, but he was damned sure she wasn’t going to say no.

After a moment, she bent. Her head slanted sideways and she opened her mouth for him with a sigh. He deepened the kiss. Could he kiss her like this without getting lost in the soft sweetness of her body?

Because that’s what she was now, all soft and warm in his arms. His pulse beat out a faster rhythm. When she broke the kiss, he let her. “What are we going to do, Byron?”

“We’ll do a trial run. I’ll get us a place and you and Percy can come stay for a little while—say a week or two. You won’t have to pack up all your things here. And if it doesn’t work...” He paused and swallowed. He didn’t want to admit it might not work. He didn’t want to be wrong. But he had to give her something, a fallback to prove that he wouldn’t hold her hostage once he had her and Percy with him. “If it doesn’t work, then we’ll go to your plan.”

He could do that. He could trust her enough to bring her under his roof. And once he had her there, then he could figure out which part of her story was the truth—or if she was still lying to him.

For some reason that could only be described as self-destructive, he wanted to take her at her word.

She leaned back to look at him. “And if it does?”

Her eyes were wide—but not with fear. Instead, she looked hopeful. And hope looked good on her. He lifted his hand and stroked her cheek. “If it does, I’ll ask you to marry me again.”

She leaned into his touch and exhaled through slightly parted lips. He’d kissed her to end the argument and remind her that he was in control, but instead of it dampening his desire for her, it’d only ramped it up. He needed her—only her. No one, not even sensual European women, could satisfy him like this woman did.

“Two weeks?” she said softly, staring into his eyes.

He could get lost in her light brown eyes. As corny as the sentiment was, it was true. “Yeah,” he said, his head dipping to meet hers. “That sounds good.”

“Mmm,” was all she could say because by then, Byron was kissing her and she was kissing him back and there weren’t any more words, any more negotiations. There was just him and her, the way it had been. The way it should still be.

The kiss deepened when she touched his lips with her tongue. It was a hesitant touch, as though she wasn’t sure what would happen next.

Byron knew what he wanted to happen. He wanted to sweep her off her feet and carry her back to the bedroom and spend the rest of the night remembering what they’d once had. He didn’t want to think about betrayal and lies. He just wanted her.

He swept his tongue into her mouth and felt her body respond. Old memories—good ones of the first time he’d kissed her—came rushing back. She’d been hesitant then, too. Now he knew it was because he was a Beaumont but back then he’d thought it was because she was sweet and innocent and afraid he’d push her too far. So he’d just kissed her good-night against the side of her car before she drove home alone.

Which was what he should do now. He should kiss her long and hard and then remove himself from the apartment. He should go home and take care of business himself instead of burying his body into hers over and over again. He shouldn’t push his luck. Hell, he didn’t have much luck left to push.

But Leona ran her fingers through his hair and leaned back, exposing her neck as she moaned, “Oh, Byron,” and he was lost. He would always be lost to her.

He kissed her on the spot just under her ear and was rewarded with a shudder of pleasure. “Tell me what you want,” he whispered. “Do you want me?”

She didn’t answer right away, so he kissed her again. Their tongues tangled as heat built between them. Every moment he spent holding her made it that much harder to walk away and soon he would barely be able to walk at all. But he didn’t care. If she brought him to his knees, so be it.

“Tell me,” he demanded again. This time he took a step forward and pivoted, leaning her up against the counter. He slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her. Her body felt so good in his hands. “Tell me you want me.” As he said it, he tilted his knee forward and pushed her legs apart.

She hadn’t let go of him, hadn’t pushed him away. Instead, she trailed her lips over his jaw and down his neck.

He stepped into her and tilted his hips so his straining erection rubbed against her very center. Leona gasped at the contact. She jolted upright, her eyes even wider as she stared at him.

This was it—the absolute last moment he could walk away from her tonight.

He thrust against her a second time without taking his eyes off hers. Her mouth dropped open into a perfect O and he couldn’t help himself. He kissed her, unable to restrain the passion that was driving him forward over and over again.

She wrapped her legs around his waist, holding him tight. “You,” she whispered in his ear. “I want you.”

That was all he needed. He lifted her off the counter and carried her down the short hallway to her bedroom. Each step drove him against her, harder and harder, so that by the time he managed to kick the door shut behind them, she was moaning in his ear. “Byron—oh, Byron.”

He all but threw her onto the bed. “Babe,” he groaned as he covered her body with his. A nagging thought in the back of his brain told him it’d be a good idea to take this seduction and bedding slowly—that he should do it right.

But then Leona dug the tips of her fingernails into his back and the sensation drove any lingering rational thought from his mind.

He sat back on his knees and pulled her up enough that he could strip off her shirt. Then he traced the pads of his fingers over her skin and around her nipples. The little pink buds stiffened at his touch and he grinned.

Leona lay back, her hands over her head. “It’s not—You’re not weirded out, are you?”

“Nope. Your breasts are amazing. Your body is amazing.” He flicked his fingers over the hard tips.

“It’s not the same,” she said and he heard the concern in her tone. “Everything changed. I’m not the same girl you remember.”

“I know.” He snagged the waistband of her pants. “You’re better. You’re a woman now.” With that, he pulled.

Her pants peeled right off her legs and then she was in nothing but a pair of white cotton panties. Keeping one hand on her breast, he moved down. He pushed her legs apart and lowered himself onto her. He pulled the panties aside and kissed her on her sex. “Not so different,” he murmured. He inhaled her scent deeply and everything he’d tried to forget for a year came crashing back on him. “Oh, babe,” he said before he licked her.

Leona’s body shook at his touch as she moaned. Her legs tried to close around him but he used his free hand to hold her open as he worked on her body. “Yeah, that’s it,” he whispered against her skin as her back arched. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Need...more,” she ground out through clenched teeth.

“All you had to do was ask.” He released his hold on her breast and trailed his hand over her stomach until he got both hands into the elastic waistband of her panties. He pulled them down and Leona kicked free.

She was completely open to him now. She held her hands over her stomach but he pried them away. There, permanently etched into her skin, were pale pink lines that hadn’t been there before.

“Byron,” she said in a trembling voice, as if she were waiting for pain to hit.

“Beautiful,” he murmured as he kissed the stretch marks. She’d brought his son into this world with her body and he wanted to show her just how much he appreciated that.

So, even though he was about to bust out of his jeans, he took the time to kiss all of her stretch marks before moving lower a second time. He pressed his mouth against her again. This time, he didn’t do tender or gentle. This time, he was hell-bent on bringing her right up to the edge and then pushing her over. He looped his arms around her legs and pulled her up so he had a better angle.

She tangled her fingers into his hair, pulling it loose from the low ponytail. “Oh, Byron,” she gasped quietly.

“You still need more?”

“Please,” she got out in a high voice filled with need. “Please, Byron.”

He couldn’t help but grin. “This is how much I missed you,” he murmured as he slipped a finger inside of her. She moaned in pleasure as he stroked her and licked her and kissed her.

“Yes,” she whispered. She let go of his hair and pulled his face up so she could look him in the eye. “More. Need more.”

“This?” he asked, slipping a second finger into her. “Is this what you want?”

Her mouth dropped open again, but she shook her head no.

“Tell me what you want, Leona. I need to hear the words.” He didn’t know why, but he did. No misunderstandings this time—just the truth between them. The truth he’d never been able to deny.

“I want you—all of you,” she whispered. “Make love to me, Byron. Please.”

He hopped off the bed to shuck his jeans. He had a condom in his wallet. He dug around until he found it, which took a few minutes because Leona had leaned forward and pressed her lips to his tip. He groaned in the small space between the pleasure of her mouth on his erection and the pain of needing to hold back his climax. “Babe, please.”

As she lifted her eyes to look at him, her other hand cupped him. Too much—she was too much. “Babe,” he said in warning. He didn’t want to lose it before he’d shown her how good it could still be between them and he didn’t know how much time they had before the baby awoke or her sister came back. “Let me do this for you.”

With his last bit of self-control, he pushed her away—at least, far enough away that he could roll the condom on. Then he climbed back onto the bed, back between her legs, and lowered himself to her. “You still like it like this?” he asked as he tucked her knees under his arms and pinned her to the bed.

“I think so. I’ll let you know.” Then she licked his lips and he couldn’t hold back any longer.

He fit himself against her and plunged into her body. She was so wet and ready for him, as though she’d been waiting for just this moment, too. He buried himself in her and kissed her and thought, I’ve finally come home.

“Yes,” she hissed as he drove into her again and again. “Still like that. Harder.”

“Yes, ma’am,” was all he could say. He had to focus on holding off his climax until she’d come. He had to show her how good he could be for her—to her.

So he thrust in harder and harder until the bed was squeaking and she was moaning and all he could see and feel and hear and taste was Leona. His Leona.

“Oh—oh!” she gasped as he gave her everything he had. Her body clenched down on his and her head came off the pillow and as the climax took her, he kissed her and kept thrusting while she rode it out.

Then she fell back onto the bed and his climax began to roar through his blood. Then—unexpectedly—something changed. The sensation surrounding his erection shifted. Deepened.

He tried to pull out but it was too late. He’d come—and the condom had broken.

Oh, hell.

“What?” Leona panted when Byron pulled away from her.

“I lost the condom,” he said in a state of shock.

“Oh.” Leona hopped out of bed and basically ran for the bathroom.

Byron sat down heavily on the edge of the bed and threw the remains of the useless condom into the trash. For the love of everything holy—he’d barely gotten used to the idea of being a father to one. Was he already on his way to being a father of two?

Stupid. He shouldn’t have used an old condom, shouldn’t have kept it in his wallet. He shouldn’t have taken Leona to bed, not yet.

But this was how it always seemed to happen with her—he couldn’t help himself. He’d wanted to show her how good they could be together and instead?

He’d set them both up for another pregnancy scare. What a freaking mess.

Maybe she was right. Maybe they shouldn’t live together, shouldn’t get married. Because this was how it was going to be. They’d always be walking the thin line between love and disaster.

The only difference was that, at least this time, he knew when they’d crossed that line.

Leona walked back into the bedroom, head down, arms crossed over her bare breasts. “Come here,” he told her, pulling her onto his lap.

She sucked in a shuddering breath. “Might not be anything, after all.”

“Might not,” he agreed, trying to sound optimistic.

“This doesn’t change the plans,” she added. “Two-week trial.”

“Are you sure?” He kissed her cheek. “Because, right up until the end there, I was... Well, I don’t know if I’m going to be able to keep my hands off you.” That got him a small smile. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to keep my hands off you, Leona,” he said in all seriousness as he stroked her hair. “Not even for two weeks.”

“I wish...”

“Yes?”

She leaned into him and sighed. “I wish I knew if that was a good thing or bad thing.”

“Parts of it were very good. Great, even.”

She giggled, but just then a small cry came from the other side of the wall. “Oh—the baby!” Leona said, shooting up and gathering her clothes. She was dressed in seconds and rushing out of the room.

Byron grabbed his shorts and his pants and pulled them on. He didn’t know if he was staying here tonight or not. Not, he decided. He didn’t have another condom and he couldn’t risk the temptation of Leona again, not when there was still a chance that the condom failure might be nothing, after all.

He finished dressing and then peeked his head into Percy’s room. The only light spilled into the room from the hallway. Leona sat in the dark, holding Percy to her breast. This time, he noted the things he’d need to get for his new place—the crib, the dresser, the glider.

But he also watched Leona and Percy. One of Percy’s hands lazily waved around in the air, as if he wanted to grab on to something but was too sleepy to know what. Leona smiled down at him, her eyes full of love as she offered her finger for him to grip.