Claimed: Secret Royal Son. Marion Lennox

on the docks.

      Maybe he couldn’t just pick up Michales and take him.

      ‘What do you want?’ Spiros demanded from below. ‘What the hell are you doing in Lily’s apartment?’

      ‘It’s okay, Spiros,’ Lily said. ‘I’ve been expecting him. Though I shouldn’t have left it unlocked.’

      ‘It’s okay,’ the woman called to Lily. ‘I’m here.’ She stalked over to the cot and put her body between him and his…the baby.

      He couldn’t look at…the baby.

      Unnerved, he looked down at the docks again. Lily was only ten feet under him, giving him a bird’s-eye view. She was too thin, he thought. Her bib-and-brace overalls were loose and baggy. Her glorious curls were caught up under a boy’s baseball cap, worn back to front. She had a smudge of grease down one cheek.

      She looked about fifteen.

      But then, ‘I’m hoping he’s here to organise paternity payments,’ she told Spiros, and he stopped thinking of what she looked like.

      ‘He’s your baby’s father?’ Spiros demanded.

      ‘He is. This is Alexandros, Prince Regent of Sappheiros.’

      If he’d expected a bit of deference he would have been disappointed. Spiros’s aggression simply doubled. Tripled. And the gasp from the woman at the cot was one of indignation and affront.

      ‘So where the hell have you been?’ Spiros demanded from below. ‘Alexandros of Sappheiros. A prince of the blood, leaving Lily alone with a child…What were you thinking?’

      This was crazy. He didn’t need these accusations.

      He should go down.

      Not with the amount of aggression directed at him, he decided. He could talk a lot more reasonably from up here. Especially if he kept his back turned to Madam Fury.

      ‘I searched for her,’ he told the boat-builder, trying to keep his voice moderate. Reasonable. ‘You know I did.’

      ‘Once,’ Spiros said, and spat his disgust. ‘You came here once. If she’d been my woman I would have hunted her to the ends of the earth.’

      ‘I’m not his woman,’ Lily retorted.

      ‘He’s the father of your baby,’ Spiros countered, pugnacious. ‘Of course you’re his woman.’

      ‘Times change,’ she said softly. ‘You know they do. Spiros, I need to talk to him.’

      ‘Then talk,’ he said, glowering. ‘Go on. But, prince or no prince, remember he has no rights here. Leave your window open and call us if you need us.’ And with a humph of indignation—and a meaningful and warning stare at Alex—he turned his back on him.