To make everything right.
She took another deep, steadying breath. “The timing is…it will never be… We should tell Edward now, Clay. I want him to know you are his father. You and your mother…you are Edward’s family. He needs that now more than ever. He needs you both.”
“Are you certain, Ara?” His voice was conflicted. “I would like nothing better, but I do not want to frighten the lad, or upset him in any way.”
Of course she was not certain. She had kept her son’s true father from him for his entire life. Edward would be angry. Confused. Upset. But the time had come for the truth. She may have been a young lady with no options when she had married Freddie, pregnant with another man’s child, but much had changed since then.
She nodded slowly. Tears pricked her eyes and she blinked them away. Something about this felt so very right. Frightening, butright. “Yes. Edward deserves the truth.”
“Aye.” Clay’s voice was thick. He swallowed. His heart drummed.Thump, thump, thumpagainst her ear.
“Before we tell him, however, I will have your promise,” she said, knowing she had to protect her son as best she could. Clay had left her once. Had disappeared from her life for eight years. She understood the reasons. He had been beaten, disfigured, and left to believe she had betrayed and abandoned him. But he was also not the same man now as he was then. She had only known him for weeks after eight years of separation. There remained so much of him that was a mystery, so much of him that was a stranger.
She was still a mother, above all. She had to put her son first. He depended upon her. He needed her. And he had already been denied so much.
Accordingly, she had to be certain he was willing to remain in her and Edward’s lives now, despite the dangerous missions he undertook. In spite of everything. “Promise me you will not disappear from his life, and that you will stay a permanent part, just as he needs you to be. I do not think he can bear to lose you.”
And neither could she, but she kept that bit to herself. Silence was better. Sometimes, silence was necessary. It kept her from saying too much. From revealing all the humiliating, dark recesses of her heart.
“You need not ask it of me. I give my promise freely. I could not ask for more than to be a part of Edward’s life. He is my son.” Pride rang in his voice. “You have raised a good lad, Ara. You can be proud of him.Iam proud of him.”
She smiled again. “Yes, he is a very good lad. Let’s go tell him now, Clay. Together.”
He tensed beneath her touch. “You’re certain, Ara?”
“Certain,” she echoed.
He set her from him, and then his mouth came down on hers, firm and hard. The kiss was swift, ruthless, and beautiful in a way that took her breath. It claimed. It promised.
It healed.
Their lips parted. She met his gaze, nose to nose, she on her tiptoes, her hands roaming the rigid planes of his back. She had never been more certain of anything in her life. And though she had no notion of how Edward would react to the news, the time had come. The truth needed to be told at long last.
“Thank you,” he whispered against her mouth. “Ara mine.”
She kissed the corner of his lips. “It is long overdue.”
Hand in hand, their fingers intertwined, they made their way from the protective shade of the forest and into the dazzling sun.
Clay stood inthe library alongside Ara, facing her son.
Hisson.
Theirson.
How surreal to think the lad was his own, and that at long last he would know the truth. Within seconds. Mayhap minutes. Clay was sweating. His scar itched. He had never been so nervous in all his life.
And then, Ara slipped her hand back into his. Her fingers delivered a tentative squeeze. He swallowed, squeezing back, grateful for her. Grateful she had been strong enough to keep their son when he had been absent from her life. Whether or not it was of his own volition no longer mattered. He could not change it, but he could appreciate the fight Ara must have waged, unmarried and with child, doing her utmost for Edward.
The lad eyed their laced fingers, his brow furrowing. He was an observant little chap. Damn, but he reminded Clay of himself.
“Mama, why are you holding Mr. Ludlow’s hand?”
“Because I…” Ara turned to Clay, her expression seeking.
Bloody hell, he did not know what to say either. What to do.
He improvised.
