Theseus Discovers His Heir

by Michelle Smart

  Her parents had once lusted after each other. Her brother Jonathan had been the result of their passion and the reason they had been forced to marry. A decade later, when Jo had been born, their marriage had deteriorated into a union as cold and barren as Siberia. It was a surprise they’d thawed enough to make her.

  For Jo, having a father who spent his days in an alcoholic stupor and a mother who treated flea-ridden hedgehogs with more compassion than she extended to her husband or daughter had been normal.

  As she’d grown up and seen how other families interacted she’d slowly realised it wasn’t normal.

  And so she’d vowed never to be like them, to never treat her husband or any children she might have that way.

  Her very worst nightmare was being trapped in a cold, loveless marriage like her parents.

  She choked in a breath.

  All her dreams were over. The nightmare had come to life.

  She would never find love. And love would never find her.

  Theseus would never love her. All he wanted was their son. She was the unwanted appendage that came with Toby.

  She was trapped.

  With fresh tears falling, she shuffled out from under Theseus’s arm and rooted around until she found her T-shirt, slipped it back on and stole into the bathroom. She blew her nose, trying desperately to get a grip on herself.

  She couldn’t fall to pieces. All she could do was try and salvage something from this mess. If she could survive pregnancy and motherhood alone, she could survive anything.

  When she stepped back into the bedroom her eyes were drawn straight to him. The dusky light solidified his sleeping form. A lock of black hair had fallen over his cheek. The lines that had etched his face since their return from the club had been smoothed away.

  Her heart stuck in her throat. He looked so peaceful.

  Hate was an alien emotion to her. Even throughout all the years of her mother’s cold indifference she’d never hated her. Neither had she hated her father for his weakness and failure to stand up for her, nor hated her brother for being treated as if he mattered.

  She didn’t want to hate Theseus. He was the father of her son.

  She’d loved him once. To hate him would be to turn all those memories into dust.

  As she climbed back into bed, trying hard to keep her movements smooth so as not to wake him, she realised his breathing had quietened.

  Pinching the bridge of her nose to stop another batch of tears from falling, she slid under the covers and held herself tightly.

  After long minutes of silence, during which she became certain that he was as awake as she was, the words playing in her head finally came out. ‘I want to tell you the story of a young woman who graduated from university with her virginity intact.’

  She spoke quietly, keeping her eyes trained on the ceiling. She could feel his gaze upon her. If she said it as if she were talking about someone else, maybe she could tell it all without any more tears.

  ‘That young woman had spent her life as the butt of her schoolmates’ jokes—mostly on account of the size of her actual butt.’

  She laughed quietly, but there was nothing funny about the memory. Jo’s only truly happy memories were of that magical time on Illya and the birth of her son.

  ‘She thought university would be different but it wasn’t. She made a couple of good friends, but socially she was never accepted. She graduated with her virginity because the only men who had wanted to sleep with her had only tried it on for a bet.’

  Theseus jerked, as if recoiling, but she didn’t look at him. She had to stay dispassionate or she would fall to pieces, and that was the last thing she wanted. Theseus had enough power over her as it was.

  ‘She had her life mapped out. She was finally leaving the home she’d never felt wanted in and moving to London with her friends. She even had a job lined up. And before she moved into her new life she took her first trip abroad, as a goodbye to her old life. There she met a man—a Greek engineer.’

  She laughed again at her naivety.

  ‘One night some men came into the bar and started harassing her. Her Greek crush stepped in and... Well, you know the rest.’

  She swallowed and finally turned onto her side to face him. His expression in the half-light was unreadable.

  ‘You were good to me like no one had ever been before. You included me. You were nice to me. And do you remember when you turned up at my chalet? You were a mess.’

  She caught the briefest of flickers in his eyes.

  ‘I’d never been in love before,’ she whispered, staring intently at him.

  His face was inches from her own, close enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath.

  ‘I hero-worshipped you like you were a sun-kissed idol. And you needed me that night. You made me feel...necessary. When you kissed me...it was like a dream. You wanted me. That was the best moment of my life. So my lie about being on the pill came out without any thought or regard for the consequences. I didn’t want that moment to end so I was stupid and reckless, and I deserve your contempt. I hate that I lied to you, and I will live with it on my conscience for the rest of my life. But even if you never believe anything else, please believe that I was going to tell you about our son and that I’m more sorry than I can ever say.’

  He was silent for a long time before he hoisted himself onto an elbow to stare down at her. His eyes were penetrating, as if he were trying to read her.

  Jo held her breath as she waited for him to speak.

  Instead of saying anything, he turned away and threw off the covers, then swung his legs over to sit on the edge of the bed.

  ‘That night on Illya, I behaved very badly towards you,’ he said, his back to her.

  ‘No...’

  ‘I knew you had feelings for me. I took advantage of that.’ Now he turned his head. His jaw clenched and he looked at her with hard eyes. ‘But those feelings you once had for me...keep them locked away. Never let them return. You know what I expect from a marriage and there will be no place in ours for love. You need to get that in your head now.’

  He rubbed his palm over his face, then slid his underwear on.

  ‘Any romantic notions you may have—kill them. I will try to be a good husband to you but I will never love you. Protect your heart. Because if you don’t it will not only be you who suffers for it but our son.’

  She stared at him, the heart he wanted her to protect against him beating so hard that pain shuddered against her ribcage.

  He pulled his trousers on, slung his shirt over his shoulder and faced her.

  ‘My parents’ marriage was a disaster. If they hadn’t died so young they would have likely killed each other anyway. She loved him too much to share him; he loved himself too much and was too spoiled and pampered to deny himself anything he wanted—and that included other women. He would hit my mother for questioning his infidelities and yet, still she loved him. It was a lethal combination and not the kind of marriage I would wish on anyone. I will not have our son exposed to the horrors I witnessed. I will not have him used as a pawn in a game between two adults who should know better.’

  He reached the door to the secret passage which led to his apartment and looked at her one last time.

  ‘Just think—you will be a princess, agapi mou. That must go some way to mitigating the restrictions you will now face.’

  ‘Like being a prince has in any way mitigated the restrictions you live with?’ she countered pointedly, a tremor in her voice.

  Eyes narrowed, he slowly inclined his head. ‘I learned, and you will learn too—fighting destiny is pointless. Embrace your new life. It’s the only way to survive it.’

  * * *

  Knowing there was no chance of falling back to sleep, Theseus took a long shower, hoping the steaming wa
ter would do something to soothe the darkness that had dragged him under after his dawn-lit talk with Jo.

  He hoped she’d take his warnings to heart.

  She was a dreamer like his mother. He’d seen it in her eyes when he’d told her not to fall in love with him and bluntly spelt out that he would never love her.

  He had done it the way a cruel child might pick the wings off an injured fly. Except he’d taken no enjoyment in destroying her dreams.

  Yes, she’d told him a lie, but listening to her explain how it had been for her had released more memories and he’d found himself feeling sickened. At himself.

  He’d known she’d had feelings for him and had taken advantage of that because he hadn’t been able to cope with his grief alone. He had turned to the one person on the island he’d instinctively known would be able to give him comfort.

  But he couldn’t forgive her for not telling him of his son sooner. They’d spent a week working closely together and all that time she’d been keeping something life-changing from him. No, that was a deception he would struggle ever to forgive.

  Yet he would try. The only way they were going to endure spending the rest of their lives together would be through mutual respect. He needed to find a way to let the anger go, otherwise his bitterness towards her would nullify any respect.

  At least making love to her and those few hours of snatched sleep had driven out much of the anger, allowing him to look at the situation with a fresh perspective.

  He laughed bitterly. A fresh perspective? In less than twelve hours his whole life had changed. He’d learned he was a father. And soon—very soon—he would be a husband: a role he’d known was looming but which he had hoped to avoid a little longer...at least until after Helios had married Princess Catalina.

  After years of silent dread at the thought of marrying and starting a family it turned out he had a ready-made one. He would laugh at the irony, but his humour had dried up over the past twenty-four hours.

  After drying himself and dressing, he splashed cologne on his face and caught sight of his reflection in the mirror. He looked exactly like a man who had managed only two hours’ sleep.

  He was surprised he’d managed even those. So many thoughts in his head had clamoured for attention, the loudest of which was trying to ensure the news of his son was kept secret for another two weeks. He had a good body of personal staff in his employ, whom he trusted implicitly, but, short of keeping Jo and Toby locked up there was nothing he could do to remove the danger that someone would see them and put two and two together.

  God alone knew how his grandfather would react. Would the fact that his most wayward grandson had fathered a child out of wedlock and intended to marry a woman with minimal royal blood be another disappointment to add to the long list?

  He closed his eyes, his brain burning as he recalled his grandfather’s words when Theseus had finally arrived back on Agon.

  He’d gone straight to his grandmother’s room, knowing this would be his last goodbye. His grandfather had been alone with her, holding her hand.

  He’d looked at him with eyes swimming with tears. ‘You’re too late.’

  Too late?

  He’d inched closer to the bed and, his heart in his mouth, had seen the essence which made life had gone.

  He’d staggered back, reeling, while his grandfather had pulled himself to his feet and faced him. The King had aged a decade since he’d last seen him.

  ‘How could you not be here for her? She asked for you—many times—but you let her down again. And this time right at the moment she needed you the most. You disappointed her. I’m ashamed to call you my blood.’

  It had been five years and still the words were as fresh to Theseus’s ears as they’d been back then.

  He wanted them fresh.

  He needed to remember how low he’d felt and how sickened he’d been with himself. It was what kept him focused when the walls of the palace threatened to close in on him and the urge in his heart for freedom beat too hard.

  A quiet knock on the door that connected his apartment with Jo’s brought him out of his painful reverie.

  Opening it, he found her standing there, shielding her stomach with her laptop, her eyes wary.

  She’d donned a pair of black jeans and a pale blue sweater that hugged her generous curves. Her hair was damp.

  ‘I thought you’d like to be there when I call Toby,’ she said, making no move to enter the room.

  His pulse raced and a lump formed in his throat.

  ‘I’ve spoken to my brother and told him what’s going on,’ she added, pulling a wry face. ‘They’re expecting me to connect in the next five minutes so I can prepare Toby.’

  A blast of dread shot through him.

  Theseus had no experience whatsoever with children. How was he supposed to talk to his son? He didn’t know the language of four-year-olds.

  ‘I think it’s best if you stay off-camera.’ She looked unashamedly around his bedroom. ‘Let me talk to him.’

  He gave a curt nod and led her through to the living area.

  ‘How did your brother take the news?’ he asked.

  ‘He was shocked. I don’t think any of my family ever expected me to find you.’ She shook her head, then flashed him a sly grin. ‘I should warn you he’s liable to punch you in the face for lying about your identity.’

  ‘He’s protective of you?’

  ‘He discovered his protective gene when I had Toby.’

  So at least there was one member of her family who acted as they should towards her. In Theseus’s world blood looked out for blood, even if someone was in the process of spilling another’s blood. That had been what had made his desertion and subsequent failure to be there during his grandmother’s final hours so unforgivable.

  ‘What about when you were growing up?’ he asked, determined to keep his mind focused and far away from his own past.

  ‘I was the nuisance kid sister, ten years younger than him. He had zero interest in me.’

  ‘There’s ten years between you?’ Theseus thought of the tiny age gaps between him and his brothers, who had all been born in quick succession. It had led to much fighting and sibling rivalry, but it had also given them ready-made playmates—something he felt was an important aspect of a child’s life, especially for children unable to form other friendships in their homeland.

  ‘I was an accident,’ she said matter-of-factly.

  ‘Talos was a happy accident too,’ he mused. ‘My parents bred their heir and their spare and then two years later he came along.’

  Her eyes flashed with something dark, but her lips moved into a smile. ‘I don’t think my mother has ever regarded me as a happy accident.’

  ‘Surely you don’t mean that?’ But then he recalled how she’d described her parents’ marriage and her mother’s coldness and knew that she did mean it.

  ‘She never wanted more children. She especially didn’t want a girl.’

  She must have felt his shock, for she raised a shoulder in a half-shrug.

  ‘My mother is one of four girls. Her sisters are all very girly, which she’s very contemptuous of. She has no time for what she considers “frills and fancy”. I don’t think she actually sees herself as a woman.’

  ‘How does she treat you?’

  ‘My mother is difficult—my relationship with her even more so. Maybe she would have treated me differently if I’d been a boy. Who knows? Still, that’s all ancient history. Let’s concentrate on Toby and not on my mother.’

  Jo took a long, steadying breath and brought her son’s face to the front of her mind as a reminder to stay calm. Talking of her mother’s contempt towards her did nothing to induce serenity.

  Now that she had semi-recovered from the distress she’d felt at Theseus’s reac
tion last night she could appreciate the charms of his apartment, which was a shop of wonders.

  While his offices were functional spaces, created for maximum efficiency, his private rooms were a masculine yet homely delight. The huge living space with its high ceilings had dark wood flooring and enormous arched windows, the walls filled with vibrant paintings, ceramics and wooden carvings that had a strong South American vibe—no doubt objects collected on his travels. She remembered him telling her he’d scaled the highest peaks of the Andes and remembered how impressed she’d been. She had trouble scaling an anthill.

  She placed her laptop on the bureau where only hours before she had been forced into signing the forms which recognised Toby as Theseus’s son.

  For all his fury towards her, not once had he questioned Toby’s paternity. He hadn’t even asked to see a photograph as evidence. But then, he’d been too busy laying down the law over his rights as a father to bother with anything so trivial as what his son actually looked like.

  Stop it, she chided herself. You can’t judge him for his reaction. You don’t walk in his shoes. You knew it wouldn’t be easy.

  Whatever Theseus might think of her—and she knew it would be a long time before he forgave her—it seemed not to have crossed his mind that someone else might be the father, and from that she took comfort.

  It was the only comfort she could take.

  She had no idea what the future held, and that terrified her.

  How could she keep her heart away from him when they would be sharing a bed and a life together? Making love...

  His words of warning against loving him had come at the right time. She’d loved him once. Desperately. She couldn’t take that pain again. Especially not now, when he’d categorically told her he would never love her.

  She would build on the strength she had gathered over these past few years and make her heart as impenetrable to love as his.

  Even if it did mean saying goodbye to all her dreams.

  Most little girls dreamed of being princesses, but for her it had never been about that. All she’d wanted was someone to love her for who she was.