His Son, Her Secret

by Sarah M. Anderson

  “I won’t,” Byron promised.

  This time, there would be nothing to regret.

  * * *

  Leona was in a constant state of anxiety. The contractors were ripping apart the future kitchen of Caballo de Tiro, plumbers were roughing in bathrooms and the electricians were pulling old knob-and-tube wiring out of everything. Leona was in charge of overseeing all of it and every ten minutes someone had to ask her about something. While it was nice not to have to defer to Mr. Lutefisk all the time, the sheer weight of being responsible for every single decision wore her down.

  Normally, when she got off work, she’d head home, change and do the mom thing with Percy. But this week she went to pick Percy up from either day care or from May and then she and the baby and Byron went wandering around cavernous furniture stores, where Byron deferred to her judgment in every instance.

  When she was done with that, Leona headed back to the apartment where May would give her the coldest of cold shoulders. Safe to say, May did not approve of a single choice Leona was making at this point.

  And of course, Leona was still getting up with Percy every night. He should have been over his ear infection by now, so Leona tried letting him cry himself back to sleep—only to have May burst into her room in the middle of the night and demand she do her job, accusing her of forgetting about her child in this rush to a new life with Byron.

  By the time another two weeks had passed, Leona was little better than a high-functioning zombie. She had no idea what clothes she’d packed for her two weeks at Byron’s house and if someone had asked her, she couldn’t have told them what she’d packed for Percy, either. She wasn’t even all that sure what day it was.

  But what made it worse was that there hadn’t been another time when she and Byron could be completely alone. The best she’d gotten was holding his hand while they debated the merits of this sofa versus that one.

  She’d gone a year without having him in her bed on a regular basis. She should be able to handle another two weeks without him bringing her to orgasm.

  But she couldn’t. Not when she kept looking up from her work and catching him watching her with a small, suggestive smile on his face. Not when he’d brush a hand over her shoulder or across her lower back whenever he passed her. And certainly not when he’d lean in close and whisper in her ear how pretty she looked today, how much he was looking forward to the day she moved in.

  He’d always watched her, always seen her in a way that no one else had. And that hadn’t changed. And, just like it always had, knowing Byron was watching her—thinking of her—made her want him.

  But desire was not love. It wasn’t. Just because Byron had gone a couple of weeks without suddenly turning into a Beaumont and blaming her for everything didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen again. So what if he was being sweet and attentive? So what if he was helping out with Percy? So what if those little touches and glances sent her pulse pounding with need?

  Her selfish physical wants were the least important thing going on right now. She wanted to believe this was the real Byron, the one she’d loved once. She wanted this to be a snapshot of what their lives together would be. She wanted more than a marriage in name only with separate bedrooms and separate lives.

  She wanted to love him. Even more than that, she wanted him to love her.

  And that was exactly the kind of thinking that had gotten her into this mess in the first place. She’d wanted a storybook love for the ages, one that ignored the distinctive realities of Harpers and Beaumonts and birth control.

  So what she wanted did not matter. What she needed was a happy, stable home for her son and a viable backup plan for when Byron lost interest in her. She’d had a year with him the first time.

  She didn’t know how she was going to make it to Saturday without collapsing. Saturday was the day she would load Percy into the car and head for the big house in Littleton.

  Somehow, Saturday arrived anyway. Leona wasn’t completely sure how she’d held out this long. The fact of the matter was that she’d been too damned busy working to do much of anything but collapse into bed when she could. Even then, Byron haunted her dreams, always kissing her and touching her yet still leaving her unsatisfied. She didn’t know what the female equivalent of blue balls was, but she had a bad case. The only thing that kept her from losing her mind was the fact that she’d probably already lost it and just didn’t remember when.

  They had separate bedrooms for a reason. A very good reason. She could not let him break her heart again and she especially could not let him break Percy’s heart.

  But did that mean she couldn’t let him relieve a little of her tension? Or was that the shortest path back to pain?

  She had the bags loaded into the car and a snack of raisins packed for Percy. All that was left was a final look around to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything.

  And, of course, dealing with her sister. “I can’t believe you’re really going to him,” May said from the couch where she was pouting.

  Leona sighed. She didn’t want to fight with May, but she was tired of being made to feel like a traitor. “You don’t know him like I do, May.”

  “That’s the understatement of the year.”

  Leona almost smiled at the sarcasm. “It won’t be bad. I promise.”

  May looked sullen. It was not a flattering look on her. “But he already left you once. What happens when he bails again?”

  “He won’t.” Leona said it with confidence, but she couldn’t ignore the little voice that insidiously whispered the same doubt in the back of her head.

  What would happen if he left again?

  May shook her head. “Well, I guess I’ll be here, waiting to help you pick up the pieces again.”

  Even though she had Percy on her hip, Leona impulsively hugged May. “I know, honey. That’s why I love you.” May sniffed and hugged her back. “You’re going to be just fine.”

  “Sure.” She did not sound enthusiastic about this pronouncement.

  “Come out next week. Percy will want to see you. And so will I.”

  “Will he be there?”

  “It’s a big place. You won’t have to see him if you don’t want to.”

  May nodded and then kissed Percy’s head. “All right.”

  And that was that. Leona walked out of the apartment that had been her home for a year without another look back. She loaded Percy into his car seat and began the long drive. For all her apprehension and resistance to the idea that she and Byron should live together, now that she was actually doing it, she had the oddest feeling of...

  Of coming home.

  That feeling only got stronger when she pulled into the drive. Percy had fallen asleep during the car ride. Byron came out to greet them.

  “You’re here,” he said as if he didn’t quite believe she’d actually made the trip.

  “We’re here,” she agreed, getting out of the car. “He’s just waking up.”

  “That gives me time to do this, then.” The next thing Leona knew, Byron had wrapped his arms around her and kissed her so hard that it nearly bent her backward. There was nothing slow or sensuous about this kiss—this was pure heat. God, how she’d missed this.

  When the kiss ended, Byron grinned down at her. “Been waiting to do that for weeks.”

  “Oh, my.” She blinked in the bright sunshine and gave him a lazy smile. “You’re the one who insisted on ordering furniture, you know.”

  “Don’t remind me.” He gave her a slightly less passionate kiss and then stood her back up on her feet. “Have you decided?”

  She fought the urge to rub her eyes. “About what? I’m here.”

  Byron reached over and caressed her cheek. “About where you’re sleeping tonight.”

  Her skin flushed hot under his touch. “Oh. That.”r />
  “Yeah, that.” He grinned. He picked up her left hand and kissed it.

  This shouldn’t be a huge deal. After all, she was physically moving in with him at this exact moment in time and they’d already done things. And it would be a relief to have him take care of her. But could she do it? Could she resume a physical relationship with him without losing her heart a second time?

  Byron stepped in closer and slid his hand around the back of her neck. The touch was possessive—and hot. “Tell me,” he said, his voice dropping an octave, “that you want me in your bed tonight.”

  There was nothing between them except some easily removed clothing. Heat, languid and powerful, built between them and her body ached for his. As tired as she was, she couldn’t wait to be awake in bed tonight. There were no contractors listening to every word they spoke, no siblings to cast judgment. Now, finally, it was just Leona and Byron and this need between them. Figuring out if she could trust him again would have to wait until the morning.

  And Percy. The baby fussed sleepily. But Byron didn’t let go of her, not just yet. Instead, he leaned forward and pressed a kiss right below her ear. “Tell me you want me, Leona.”

  “I do,” she said breathlessly. His lips brushed against her sensitive skin and her whole body screamed out for his. She couldn’t say no if she wanted to. “I want you in my bed. After Percy goes to sleep.”

  Byron released his hold on her, trailing his fingers down her neck and her shoulder. She shivered under his touch. “I’ll get your bags. Welcome home, Leona.”

  Fourteen

  For the first time in what felt like weeks, Leona took a day off. She did not think about supporting beams or color schemes. She did not have discussions that revolved around which toilet seats were more pleasing to the eye or which kind of leather made better chairs and couches. She didn’t even defend her relationship to anyone.

  Instead she spent the day playing with Percy on the playground set and eating the delicious lunch of roasted broccoli, sweet apple sausage and macaroni and cheese—homemade, not from a box—that Byron had fixed for them.

  The afternoon nap didn’t happen—Percy was far too excited by the new playground and the big house and Byron to even think about lying down for an hour and missing out on all the fun. Which meant that, by dinnertime, he was a tornado of unhappiness. Anything or anyone who touched him only made things worse.

  “Is he sick?” Byron asked, the concern writ large on his face as Percy screamed and tried to twist out of his arms.

  “No, just tired,” Leona said, dodging a handful of applesauce. “He skipped his nap. This is what happens with no nap.” She tried to grin at Byron, but the exhaustion and the screaming were wearing her down. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

  Byron paled as he looked down at the raging ball of adorable fury in his arms. “It gets worse?”

  A flash of fear hit her. Was this it? Would Byron change his mind? Up until this point, he’d only seen the mostly calm, totally cute side of Percy. He hadn’t been getting up at all hours of the night because Percy wouldn’t stop crying and he’d never seen an epic meltdown like this.

  She tried to steel herself. If he was going to back out, better to do it now. She hadn’t even unpacked her bags. They could pick up and be gone inside of fifteen minutes.

  The thought made her ache. Byron had made a promise and she couldn’t bear the thought of him breaking another one. Especially not this one.

  “Okay, yeah,” Byron said, looking at her with wide eyes. She thought he might be on the verge of panic, but at least he was doing an admirable job of keeping it contained. “Naps. Every day. Got it.”

  She felt a real smile taking hold of her lips. “If we can get some food into his tummy, I can nurse him and he’ll go to sleep early.”

  Byron’s eyebrows lifted. “Will he sleep all night?”

  “Probably not,” she admitted. “But hopefully for a couple of hours.”

  Byron exhaled heavily, which momentarily distracted Percy from his howling. “And you’ve been doing this alone for how long?”

  “Five months,” she replied. “But I had May with me.”

  Despite the squalling baby, the flying baby food, the fact that she was exhausted—Byron gave her the kind of look that seared her with heat. “And now you have me.”

  She was really too tired and coated in too much applesauce to feel this attractive. But that’s what Byron did to her. That was why she’d eventually agreed to go out with him, why she’d never been able to call it off despite knowing that it couldn’t end well. He made her want to melt into his arms and let the rest of the world fall away.

  And he knew it, too. His gaze intensified and he leaned forward. “An early bedtime, you say?”

  The warmth spread from her lower back all the way up to her face because she wanted to have him in every way possible. “Very early.”

  “Come on, Percy,” Byron said, enthusiastically scooping up another spoonful of applesauce. “Yummy, yummy!”

  * * *

  An hour later, Percy had eaten enough applesauce to count, had a soothing bath with only minimal screaming, and was sleepily listening to Byron read him a story. Leona decided to try out the new shower—it was hard to feel sexy with sauce in her hair. The bathroom had a huge two-person whirlpool tub and a separate shower. Byron had gotten some thick white towels and the basics of toiletries. Good enough.

  Leona shaved her legs and let the hot water run. Today had been much better than she had expected it to be, but still, a few hours of Percy screaming had taken its toll.

  She knew she wasn’t going to fall into a deep slumber the moment her head hit a pillow. All day long Byron had been giving her that look—the same look he’d been giving her for weeks now, only a hundred times more potent. That look said he couldn’t wait to rip all her clothes off and do bad, bad things to her.

  And truthfully? She wanted—needed—to have some bad things done to her. For a year, she’d locked down her sexuality. She’d been so danged busy—untangling her life and May’s life from her parents’ nose-to-the-grindstone rules, being pregnant, getting a job and being a mother. She hadn’t had time to even think about sex. And who would she have had sex with, anyway?

  A year’s worth of sexual frustration threatened to swamp her. Being touched by Byron every two weeks or so was simply not enough.

  But what was he going to do tonight? Somehow, she didn’t think it would be a quick and satisfying coupling before they both passed out. As tired as she was, the anticipation was more than enough to keep her awake. Before, he’d been patient with her, kind and loving and he’d never pushed her to do anything wild or kinky—all of which had made her feel very safe.

  But since he’d come back? Since he’d held her still on his lap and whispered into her ear that she couldn’t make a noise until he demanded she tell him she wanted him to let her come?

  That was something new. Something bad. And, God help her, it excited her.

  She hurried through the rest of her shower and threw her clothes back on. She didn’t even get her hair dried. When she got back to Percy’s room—which was across the hall and down one doorway from the master suite—Byron was just finishing up another story. Leona smiled at the small pile of books that had grown next to the chair. “Sorry,” she murmured. At the sound of her voice, Percy twisted and started to fuss.

  “We’re fine,” Byron assured her as he stood. “Have a good shower?”

  She nodded, feeling the water drip off the ends of her short hair. When she took her seat, Byron placed Percy back in her arms and whispered, “I’ll be right back.”

  Which turned out not to be the entire truth. The minutes passed slowly as Percy nursed himself into an epic milk coma and she continued to think.

  What was she doing with Byron? She’d made this big fuss�
��this promise to herself—that there would be separate bedrooms. That she would not fall into his arms again.

  And yet, Byron had basically reduced her to a quivering mass of need in the middle of the driveway. There’d been a time when she’d coveted the overnights in Byron’s bed. It had felt like the ultimate act of rebellion—not going home to her father’s house at the end of a date, but curling up under the covers with Byron and knowing she would have to come up with some kind of believable lie to cover the fact that she was sleeping with a man—and a Beaumont at that.

  Oh, the lies she’d told to be with Byron. She’d claimed she’d had to work late, that a friend of hers had asked her out to the bars and gotten too drunk to get home safely, that the roads were bad. Whatever she could make sound believable so her father wouldn’t start sniffing around.

  Maybe she’d known it wouldn’t last. Byron would find out, or her father would—it was only a matter of time. She wanted to think that she’d been preparing for the confrontation, that she would have stood up for herself and for Byron and finally shaken her father off.

  But then Percy had happened.

  She looked down at her sweet baby boy, touching his face. She could marry Byron. It wouldn’t guarantee that they’d live happily ever after, necessarily, but it was an important step in cementing their status as a family. And it’d make it that much harder for her father to steamroller his way back into her life.

  Yes, she could marry Byron. That wasn’t the question.

  The question was, did she want to?

  Would you have married me, if I’d asked a year ago?

  That’s what Byron had wanted to know. And she hadn’t answered him.

  But deep down, she knew. She knew that, had he asked—if she’d been carrying his child and he’d asked her to be his forever—she would have said yes.

  When Byron appeared in the doorway, Leona startled and glanced at the clock. It’d been over twenty minutes since he’d left. She started to get up—Percy was pretty passed out—but Byron motioned for her to sit. Grinning, he stood and watched as Leona finished up and patted Percy on the back. What a change from the first time he’d seen her do this, when he’d fled to the kitchen to make applesauce.