The Paternity Proposition

by Merline Lovelace

  She stood in front of the bathroom mirror and pulled her hair back into a ponytail. As the dress hadn’t created any magic the day before, she was back in slacks and a T-shirt. Maybe now he would want to kiss her.

  She finished with her hair and dropped her hands to her side. After only two days in the company of a handsome man, her brain was spinning. It was probably for the best that there hadn’t been any kissing. Except she’d really enjoyed how she’d felt in his arms.

  “At least I’m having an adventure, Ayanna,” she said as she smoothed sunscreen on her arms. “That should make you happy.”

  She was still smiling at the thought of her aunt’s pleasure when the phone rang. Phoebe turned to look at it, her stomach clenching. There was only one person who would be calling her, and she already knew the reason.

  “Hello?”

  “Phoebe, this is Mazin. Something has come up and I will not be able to join you today.”

  She was sure he said more, that he kept talking, but she couldn’t hear anything. She sank onto the bed and closed her eyes.

  He wasn’t coming. He was bored with her. He thought she was a child, or maybe he’d been lying when he’d said he appreciated her past. It doesn’t matter, she told herself, squeezing in the pain. This trip wasn’t about him—it never had been. How could she have forgotten?

  “I appreciate you letting me know,” she said brightly, interrupting him. “I’ll let you get back to your day and I must begin mine. There is so much to see on this beautiful island. Thank you, Mazin. Good-bye.”

  Then she hung up before she did something stupid like cry.

  It took her fifteen minutes to fight back tears and another ten to figure out what she was going to do. Her aunt had specifically left her the money to visit Lucia-Serrat. Phoebe couldn’t repay her by wasting time sulking. She read Ayanna’s list and then studied the guidebook. The church of St. Mary was within walking distance. Next to that was a dog park. If the beauty of the architecture and stained glass didn’t ease the disappointment in her heart, then the antics of the dogs would make her laugh.

  That decided, Phoebe headed out on her own. She found the church, a stunning structure with high arches and cool interiors. She admired the carvings and let the silence and peace ease her pain.

  She’d known Mazin only a little over two days, she told herself as she sat in a rear pew. He had been more than kind. It was wrong and foolish of her to expect more of him. As for the kiss and her fantasies that he might want to seduce her, well, at least she had been kissed. The next time, with the next man, she would do better. Eventually she would figure out how to be normal.

  She left the church and walked to the dog park. As she’d hoped, there were dozens of dogs playing, running and barking. She laughed over the antics of several small dalmatian puppies and helped an older woman put her Irish setter in the back of her car.

  By the time she stopped for lunch her spirits had risen to the point where she could chat with the waitress about the menu and not think about Mazin.

  While waiting for her entrée, she made friends with the older English couple at the next table, and they recommended she try the boat tour that went around the island. The trip took all day and offered impressive views of Lucia-Serrat. As they were all staying at the Parrot Bay Inn, they walked back together and Phoebe stopped at the concierge desk to pick up a brochure on the boat trip. Then she headed up to her room, pleasantly tired and pleased that she’d gotten through the day without thinking of Mazin more than two or three dozen times.

  Tomorrow she would do better, she promised herself. By next week, she would barely remember his name.

  But when she entered her room, the first thing she noticed was a new, larger spray of flowers. Her fingers trembled as she opened the card.

  “Something lovely for my beautiful dove. I’m sorry I could not be with you today. I will be thinking of you. Mazin.”

  Her throat tightened and her eyes burned as she read the card. She didn’t have to compare the handwriting with that on the first card she’d received—she knew they were the same. The fact that he had just been trying to be nice didn’t lessen her pain. Perhaps she was being foolish and acting like a child, but she missed him.

  The phone rang, interrupting her thoughts. Phoebe cleared her throat, then picked up the receiver.

  “Hello?”

  “Here I had imagined you spending the day pining for me when in truth you were out having a good time.”

  Her heart jumped into her throat. She could barely breathe. “Mazin?”

  “Of course. What other man would call you?”

  Despite her loneliness, she couldn’t help smiling. “Maybe there are dozens.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised.” He sighed. “Aren’t you going to ask me how I knew you weren’t alone in your room, pining for me?”

  “How did you know?”

  “I’ve been calling and you have not been there.”

  Her heart returned to her chest and began to flutter, even though she knew she was a fool. “I went to the church and the dog park. Then I had lunch. A lovely couple told me about the boat tour around the island. I thought I might do that tomorrow.”

  “I see.”

  She plowed ahead. “You’ve been more than kind, but I know you have your own life and your own responsibilities.”

  “What if I wish to see you? Are you telling me no?”

  She clutched the receiver so hard, her fingers hurt. Tears pooled in her eyes. “I don’t understand.”

  “Nor do I.”

  She wiped away her tears. “Th-thank you for the flowers.”

  “You are welcome. I am sorry about today.” He sighed. “Phoebe, if you would rather not spend time with me, I will abide by your wishes.”

  Tears flowed faster. The odd thing was she couldn’t say exactly why she was crying. “It’s not that.”

  “Why is your voice shaking?”

  “It’s n-not.”

  “You’re crying.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Would it help if I said I was disappointed, as well? That I would rather be with you than reading boring reports and spending my day in endless meetings?”

  “Yes, that would help a lot.”

  “Then know that it is true. Tell me you’ll see me tomorrow.”

  A sensible woman would refuse, she thought, knowing Mazin would not only distract her from her plans for her future, but that he would also likely break her heart.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Good. I will see you then.”

  She nodded. “Goodbye, Mazin.”

  “Goodbye, my dove. Until tomorrow. I promise to make the day special.”

  He hung up. She carefully replaced the phone, knowing that he didn’t have to try to make the day special. Just by showing up he would brighten her world.

  Five

  “Where are we going?” Phoebe asked for the third time since Mazin had picked her up that morning. They’d already toured the marketplace, after which he had promised a surprise.

  “You will see when we arrive,” he said with a smile. “Be patient, my dove.”

  “You’re driving me crazy,” she told him. “I think you’re doing it on purpose.”

  “Perhaps.”

  She tried to work up a case of righteous indignation, but it was not possible. Not with the sun shining in the sky and the beauty of Lucia-Serrat all around them. Not with Mazin sitting next to her in his car, spending yet another day with her.

  She had known him little more than two weeks. They had spent a part of nearly every day together, although not any evenings. So far they’d worked their way through a good portion of Ayanna’s list. Phoebe had seen much of the island, including a view from the ocean on the tour boat.

  “Is it a big place, or a small place?” she asked.

  “A big place.”

  “But it is not on my list.”

&nbs
p; “No.”

  She sighed. “Did my aunt visit there?”

  “I would think so.”

  They drove toward the north end of the island, heading inland. Gradually the road began to rise. Phoebe tried to picture the map of the island in her mind. What was in this direction? Then she reminded herself it didn’t really matter. She had memories stored up for her return home. When she was deep in her studies, she would remind herself of her time on Lucia-Serrat, when a handsome man had made her feel special.

  She glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. He was concentrating on his driving and did not notice her attention. Although he was unfailingly polite, he had yet to kiss her again. She wasn’t sure why, and her lack of experience with men kept her from speculating. She thought it might have something to do with the fact that she was inexperienced, but couldn’t confirm the information. Asking was out of the question.

  They rounded a corner. Up ahead, through a grove of trees, a tall house reached up toward the sky. She squinted. Actually it was more of a castle than a house, or maybe a palace.

  A palace?

  Mazin inclined his head. “The official residence of the prince. He has a private home, but that is not open to the public. Although this is not on your Ayanna’s list, I thought you might enjoy strolling through the grounds and exploring the public rooms.”

  She turned to him and smiled with delight. “I would love to see it. Thank you for thinking of this, Mazin. My aunt came here often to attend the famous parties. She danced with the prince in the grand ballroom.”

  “Then we will make sure we see that part of the castle.”

  They drove around to a small parking lot close to the building. Phoebe glanced at the larger public lot they had passed on their way in.

  “You forget I have a position of some importance in the government,” he said, reading her mind as he opened his car door. “Parking here is one of the perks.”

  He climbed out of the car, then came around to her side and opened the door. Phoebe appreciated the polite gesture. Sometimes she even let herself fantasize that he was being more than polite, that his actions had significance. Then she remembered she was a nobody from Florida and that he was a successful, older man simply being kind. Besides, she had her life already planned. Okay, maybe her plan wasn’t as exciting as her imaginings about Mazin, but it was far more real.

  “This way,” he said, taking her hand in his and heading for the palace. “The original structure was built at the time of the spice trade.”

  “You told me that the crown prince is always a relative of the king of Bahania. He was probably used to really nice houses.”

  Mazin flashed her a grin. “Exactly. Originally the prince lived in the palace, but as you can see, while it is a beautiful palace, it is not especially large. Quarters were cramped with the prince’s family, his children and their children, various officials, servants, visiting dignitaries. So in the late 1800s the prince had a private residence constructed.”

  Mazin paused on the tree-lined path and pointed. “You can see a bit of it through there.”

  Phoebe tilted her head. She caught a glimpse of a corner of a building and several windows. “It looks nearly as big as the palace.”

  “Apparently the building project grew a little.”

  She returned her attention to the graceful stone palace in front of them. “So official business occurs here? At least the prince doesn’t have much of a commute.”

  “I’m sure he appreciates that.”

  They crossed the ground around to the front of the palace. Phoebe still felt a little uneasy about trespassing, but as Mazin wasn’t worried, she did her best to enjoy the moment. He was a knowledgeable host, explaining the different styles of architecture and telling her amusing stories from the past.

  “Now we will go inside,” he said. “Our first stop will be the ballroom.”

  They headed for the main gates overlooking the ocean. As they crossed the open drawbridge, a distant call caught Phoebe’s attention. She looked toward the sound. A small boy raced toward them, down the length of the drawbridge. Dark hair flopped in his face, while his short, sturdy legs pumped furiously.

  “Papa, Papa, wait for me!”

  Phoebe didn’t remember stopping, but suddenly she wasn’t moving. She stared at the boy, then slowly turned her attention to Mazin. Her host watched the child with a combination of affection and exasperation.

  “My son,” he said unnecessarily.

  Phoebe was saved from speaking by the arrival of the boy. He flew at his father. Mazin caught him easily, pulling him close into an embrace that was both loving and comfortable. They obviously did this a lot.

  A tightness in her chest told her that she’d stopped breathing. Phoebe gasped once, then wondered if she looked as shocked as she felt. She knew Mazin was older. Of course he would have lived a full life, and it made sense that his life might include children. But intellectualizing about a possibility and actually meeting a child were two very different things.

  Mazin shifted his son so that the boy sat on his left forearm. One small arm encircled his neck. They both turned to her.

  “This is my son, Dabir. Dabir, this is Miss Carson.”

  “Hello,” the boy said, regarding her with friendly curiosity.

  “Hi.” Phoebe wasn’t sure if she was expected to shake hands.

  He appeared to be five or six, with thick dark hair and eyes just like his father. She had been unable to picture Mazin as a child, but now, looking at Dabir, she saw the possibilities.

  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?