His Son, Her Secret

by Sarah M. Anderson

  She’d gone with her father. Leon Harper was her father and she hadn’t told Byron that truth. And when Harper had demanded Leona come with him, she had. She’d left Byron standing on the sidewalk, in the rain, his heart in shards at his feet.

  If she’d dumped him, he could have dealt with it. He might have still wound up in Europe, but if she’d said “Gee, Byron, this just isn’t working, we should see other people, it’s not you, it’s me and we can still be friends” or whatever, he’d have moved on.

  But she’d lied to him. She was the daughter of the man who was hell-bent on destroying Byron and his entire family. By all accounts, the man was doing a hell of a job at it, too. The brewery—a hundred and sixty-six years of Beaumont history and ownership—was gone, all because of Leon Harper. And his daughters.

  Byron knew what betrayal looked like. He knew his father had cheated on his wives. He knew that at least one of the ex-wives had cheated on Hardwick. Byron knew there was always a risk that any relationship could go wrong. The Beaumonts didn’t have exclusive rights to dysfunctional marriages.

  But when he’d been with Leona, he’d managed to convince himself that he was different. That they were different. Byron and Leona had loved each other.

  Or had they?

  She’d lied to him before. Twice. Was she lying again? Even if she was, would he be able to tell the difference?

  Apples were not going to solve that mystery. He had more pressing issues to deal with.

  Percy was his son. Byron wanted to be there for the boy, to let Percy know that Byron loved him in the big ways and the little ways. All the ways Byron’s own father had never loved Byron.

  But how was that going to happen? He was still living in the mansion—he didn’t even have his own place. And getting a restaurant off the ground wasn’t a nine-to-five job, that was for damned sure. Not now, not ever. How could he make sure he was a part of Percy’s life?

  The sauce was halfway done when Leona came into the kitchen. She was wearing leggings and a T-shirt but there was still something about her. There’d always been something about her.

  “Ah,” she said when she saw the bubbling apples. She gave him a small smile. “I should have known.”

  “Applesauce. For Percy,” he explained. “Just apples and a little lemon. I didn’t know if cinnamon would be too much for him.”

  “It smells wonderful. He loves apples.”

  They stood there silently for a minute.

  “It’s not a big batch. Do you have a container for it?”

  Leona dug out a plastic bowl and Byron moved all the dirty dishes to the sink. Yes, he needed answers. But honestly? He had no idea where to start. So he didn’t. He did the dishes instead.

  The uncomfortable silence lingered for a few more minutes as he washed the knife and the cutting board. Leona dried. Finally, she broke the silence.

  “We should come up with a plan, I guess.”

  “A plan?”

  “Yes. If you’re really going to stay—”

  “I am,” he interrupted, stung by the insinuation that he’d bolt.

  “Then we need a plan.” She swallowed, her gaze focused on the sink. “A custody plan. I know I can’t keep Percy from you, but I’m not going to just give up custody.”

  “You already kept him from me.” She winced but he refused to feel bad for her. “And I didn’t say you had to give up custody. But why didn’t you tell me?” he demanded. “Why did you keep this from me?”

  “I thought...” She dropped the dish towel on the counter and turned away from him. “I thought you didn’t want anything to do with me. Your phone was disconnected and you were in Europe—pretty damned far away from here.”

  That was true. But it was the way she said it that confused him. He looked at the back of her head as if he could peer inside and find the answers he was looking for. “You could have sent an email.”

  “I could have,” she agreed. Her shoulders heaved with a massive sigh. “I should have. But I was afraid.”

  “Afraid? Of what?”

  She turned to him, her wide eyes even wider. “Of you, Byron. Of all the Beaumonts.”

  He gaped at her. Before he could remind her that he was not the one who’d lied, she went on, “And we left home with only as much as we could carry, and I had to get a job. Being pregnant wasn’t as fun as it seems on television and May had classes and...and you weren’t here. And I guess I convinced myself that you weren’t coming back and it was just me and May and Percy on our own. It was better that way. We didn’t need anyone else.”

  He dried off his hands and placed them on her shoulders. “I could have helped. Even if...even if I didn’t come back, I still could have helped. Child support or whatever. You shouldn’t have had to do this on your own.”

  She dropped her head and he heard her sniff. “Well, you’re here now. I can’t change what happened in the past but if you’re going to stay—”

  “I am,” he told her again.

  “Then, yes. Child support and custody visits. But I can’t lose him, Byron.” Her voice broke over this last bit. “Please don’t try to punish me by taking him.”

  The anguish in her voice—her assumption that he’d exact some sort of twisted revenge... He spun her around and lifted her chin until she had no choice but to look him in the eye. Child support and custody visits were all very clinical-sounding things, like the few hours a year that he was shipped off with Frances and Matthew to visit their mother, who’d then spend most of the visit trying not to cry.

  That’s not what he wanted. He was not his father, for God’s sake. He was better than that.

  Except, was he? He’d gotten a woman pregnant and then left her in the lurch, completely alone with no other resources. Yeah, he’d thought her father would still be paying the bills and yeah, she’d rejected him, but when the facts of the situation were laid plain, he’d left her alone just when she’d needed him most.

  She was right. That was exactly what Hardwick Beaumont would have done.

  “I’m not going to take him away from you,” Byron told her, feeling the certainty of the words. “Because you’re both going to come live with me.”

  * * *

  Leona’s mouth fell open in shock. “What?”

  Byron’s grip tightened on her shoulders. “I don’t have a place yet. You can either move into the mansion with me or help me pick something out—whatever you think is better. But you need to move in with me as soon as possible.”

  Maybe this wasn’t happening. Maybe none of it was happening—not Byron returning, not him kissing her, not him reading a bedtime story to Percy. She could be hallucinating the whole kit and caboodle.

  Sadly, the way he was holding her, the look in his eyes? She knew she wasn’t hallucinating a damned thing. And that was a problem.

  “You want me to pack up and come with you?”

  The tendons in his neck tightened. “I want my son with me. And if that means you have to be with me, then so be it.”

  Ah. So he didn’t want her, not really. He would put up with her if that got him what he wanted, though. His words cut like a dull butter knife—painful and ragged.

  She’d promised May she would not let Byron hurt her again.

  She hated lying to her sister.

  Still, Leona was making remarkable progress. She didn’t agree to Byron’s demands just to keep the peace, and she didn’t dissolve into useless tears and, most important, she didn’t do both of them at the same time. Those days were done. She might not be able to be strong enough to protect her own heart, but she had to protect Percy.

  So she cleared her throat. “What if it’s not a good idea for us to live together?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Why not?”

  She couldn’t look at that hardness, couldn’t be
ar to feel the pain again. So she closed her eyes. She couldn’t help it. “Look, I know we had something once but it fell apart.”

  “But—” he started to interrupt.

  She cut him off. “And it doesn’t even matter who did what. If we live together...we’ll have to face those choices every single day.”

  Every day she’d have to wake up knowing that Byron was mere feet away, not oceans and continents. Every single day she’d have to look him in the eye to discuss what Percy had done and every single damned day, he’d probably cook her a meal and she’d love it.

  And every day—every minute—she’d wonder when it was all going to end.

  Byron pulled her in closer and she felt his hot breath on her ear. “You listen to me, Leona Harper.” Panic blossomed in her stomach at his cold tone. “Maybe it doesn’t matter who did what, maybe it does. That doesn’t change the fact that I have a son and I am not going to stand aside a moment longer because you think it might be awkward around the breakfast table. You will move in with me and, until further notice, we will raise our son together.”

  An unspoken or else hung in the small space between his lips and her ear.

  She would not cry, by God. She wouldn’t do it. Not in front of him. Not in front of any man. Not anymore. She was an adult responsible for her sister and her son and she would not give.

  “I can’t afford very much. That’s why we live here.”

  “I will pay for it,” he replied firmly.

  “But—”

  “No buts, Leona. You’ve had to cover everything for a year. It’s my turn to step up to the plate. It’s the least I can do.”

  God, that sounded so good. She could live with him, let him take care of her, of Percy, with his part of the Beaumont fortune. She wouldn’t be teetering on the edge of genteel poverty anymore. Things like doctor’s visits and ear drops wouldn’t be monumental mountains she struggled to climb. Byron had the ways and means to make that part of her life easy.

  Of course, if she’d wanted easy—if she’d wanted to step back and let someone else call all the shots in her life—she’d still be living under her father’s roof. She’d still be subjected to his rantings and ravings about the Beaumonts in general and Byron in specific.

  Yes, that was easier. But it was not better.

  She couldn’t allow herself to be dependent on a man again, especially a man who’d already left her high and dry once. Byron could not be trusted, not on a kiss and a promise. Because this time it wouldn’t just be her heart in danger. It’d be Percy’s, too.

  “May,” Leona managed to say without her voice cracking. “She watches him. I can’t just leave her.” It was the best defense she had. May was twenty, yes—but she was a fragile young woman who was not ready to be thrown out on her own because a billionaire’s son demanded it.

  “Percy loves her,” she offered, hoping that would help.

  It didn’t. Byron sighed wearily. Then, unexpectedly, his grip loosened. He didn’t lean back, though—he just skimmed his hands up and down her upper arms. “Is that the deal? I have to provide accommodations for your sister before you’ll move in with me?”

  Once, they’d talked about moving in together. She’d been staying over at his place more and more—which had run the risk of drawing her father’s attention to her activities. She’d known then that when her father found out, it would be a problem. But Leona hadn’t cared because waking up in Byron’s arms was worth the risk.

  Of course, once she’d been sure that he’d marry her right away, when she told Byron she was pregnant. It wouldn’t have mattered who her father was because Byron loved her and she loved him. She’d been sure that once she told him the truth he’d realize she hadn’t been trying to hide anything. She’d just wanted someone who didn’t care about her last name. She’d thought she’d found that man.

  She was still paying for that mistake. She couldn’t afford any more.

  “I won’t move into the mansion.”

  “Fine. I was going to look for a place close to the restaurant anyway.” His hands were still moving up and down her arms and dang it all, she was leaning into his touch. “Is that all right with you? Or do you need to be closer to your job?”

  She leaned her forehead against his shoulder. It wasn’t much of a choice, not after he’d demanded that she uproot her whole life to be with him for the sake of their son. But he’d still thrown her a small bone. “The office is downtown. As long as we’re not too far out, it should be about the same travel time.”

  “I’ll make some calls in the morning. We’ll move as soon as possible.”

  What was she going to tell her sister? No, I’m not going to let him break my heart again, but by the way—pack up everything you own because we’re all going to set up house together.

  May would be furious.

  Still, Leona didn’t think she could refuse. What were the alternatives? Byron was not interested in coming by to visit Percy here and, as far as she could tell, the only other possibility was Byron suing for custody. She couldn’t let that happen—where would she get the money to defend herself? Lawyers weren’t cheap, that she knew. She couldn’t ask her parents for help, either. If her father knew Byron wanted the boy... It’d be an all-out war.

  And if she lost? Once, she’d thought she knew Byron. But he’d turned out to be more of a Beaumont than she ever would have guessed. She had no idea what lengths he would go to, and she didn’t really want to find out the hard way.

  It was a risk she couldn’t take. It’d be a short-term solution, she tried to tell herself. Just until they could get a formalized custody agreement arranged.

  Byron’s arms went around her, holding her to his chest. “I don’t want to punish you, Leona,” he said. None of the coldness was left in his tone. “But he’s my son, too.”

  “I know.” That’s what she wanted to believe.

  “It won’t be bad, will it?” He swallowed. “At least, better than living with your parents?”

  She shuddered at the thought. “We’ll have to have rules. No fighting or anything in front of the baby.”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “But I’m not looking for a fight.”

  If only she could believe that. There was one other important detail that had to be settled before she agreed. “We’ll sleep in separate bedrooms. Just because we’re living together doesn’t mean I want you back.”

  His hands stilled and then he snorted. “This is for Percy. You can have your own bedroom. I don’t expect you to sleep with me.” There was a brief pause. “It’d probably be best if we keep things simple between us until we decide on what to do next.”

  “Agreed,” she said. Which completely disregarded the fact that, at this very moment, he was holding her in a highly not-simple way. Could she really expect either of them to maintain a respectable distance? “Simple is better.”

  “And you’ll keep helping me with the restaurant?”

  “Yes.” The absolute last thing she could do now was quit her job. Even if Byron was covering the rent, she still needed to maintain her independence. He might not be looking for a fight—and she wasn’t exactly spoiling for one, either—but if things went wrong, she needed to be able to pick up and start over again.

  Again.

  He swallowed. “And your parents? Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t want my son anywhere near your father.”

  “They’re not a part of this. I cut ties when we left.”

  He leaned back and looked her in the eye again. “Why did you leave? I mean, we’d talked about getting our own place or you moving in with me—but you wouldn’t do it then.”

  The corners of her mouth turned down as she pushed back against tears. She hadn’t moved in with Byron before because moving in would mean telling him who she really was and she hadn’t wanted to risk i
t. Looking back, she should have. But instead, she’d convinced herself that once she finished college and got a job—that would be the time to leave home. But she didn’t explain any of that. Instead she said, “May and I had to get out. My father was...unbearable.” She shuddered again at the memory of her father’s completely unfiltered rage.

  “Did he hit you?” Byron demanded, a fierce look in his eyes.

  “No.” But there are other ways to make a person hurt. “He threatened to have me declared unfit and to take the baby after he was born.”

  “He did what?”

  “Because it was you.” This time, she couldn’t push the tears back. “Because of who you are. He wanted to make sure you’d never get the baby.”

  For years, her father had berated Leona, her sister, her mother. All of them bore the brunt of his rage. And she’d put up with it for far longer than she should have because she hadn’t known any better.

  Until she’d met Byron. Until he’d shown her that there was a different way to live, that people could actually care for each other. If only she’d been brave enough before...

  But then again, now she knew Byron’s true colors. She could have escaped her father only to be stuck with a man who’d abandon her anyway.

  Still, it had been those times with Byron that had given her the courage to leave home, single, pregnant and with May. She’d realized then that she had to get out while she could, before Leon Harper got ahold of her son.

  Byron was staring at her in total shock. “He would, wouldn’t he?”

  She nodded.

  A moment passed as he gaped at her. “Then there’s only one thing to do,” he finally said in a shaky voice.

  No, she wanted to say, even though she didn’t know what that one thing was. She knew she wasn’t going to like it, wasn’t going to want it.

  “We have to get married.”

  Six

  This was his life now, he realized. Proposing marriage in whispers to a woman who was crying, all so they wouldn’t wake the baby. “Why hasn’t he done it yet? Why hasn’t he taken Percy away from you?”