Captive Bride

Chapter Thirty

CHRISTINA had spent the entire morning trying to avoid Estelle. She couldn't bear the happiness in the girl's eyes, knowing that she loved Philip. Now it was late afternoon, and Kareen and Estelle had gone to Halstead to do some shopping while John went over the estate books in his study.

The house was quiet. Christina reclined in the drawing room trying to read a book so she could stop thinking about Estelle and Philip. But she kept imagining them together, kissing and holding each other. Damn him!

"Christina, I have to talk to you." It was Tommy Hun-tington.

She stood up and walked over to the fireplace, her red-velvet skirt swaying gently.

"I didn't expect to see you until tonight, Tommy. What's so important that you're here early?" Christina asked. She turned her back to him and busied herself rearranging the figurines on the mantel.

"I talked with John this morning. He agrees we should marry. You can't deny me any longer, Christina. I love you. Will you please marry me?"

Christina sighed heavily. Her answer was going to make everyone happy, everyone but herself. Even Johnsy had been arguing that marriages were made for convenience, not for love, and that it was enough that Master Tommy loved her.

"All right, Tommy, I will marry you. But I can't guarantee to ever—"

She was going to say "love you," but the sound of a deep voice stopped her. She turned deathly pale.

"I have been informed that I have a son, madam. Is this true?"

Tommy grasped Christina's arms violently, but she was too shocked to feel anything. Tommy released her and swung around to face the intruder, leaving her holding the mantel for support. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her.

"Who are you, sir," Tommy demanded, "and what is the meaning of asking my fiancee if you have a son?"

"I am Philip Caxton. Miss Wakefield may be your intended wife, but this matter does not concern you. I am addressing Christina. And I am waiting for an answer."

"How dare you!" Tommy raged. "Christina, do you know this man?"

Christina's mind was hi a whirl of confusion. She turned slowly to face Philip, and melted at the sight of him. He hadn't changed—he was still the man she loved. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to throw her arms about his neck and never let go. But the ugly hate in his eyes and the harsh coldness in his voice stopped her.

"Do I have a son, madam?"

Christina stiffened with fear at the menace in his voice.

But then her anger grew. How could he ask about her child so coldly?

"No, Mr. Caxton," she said "I have a son—you do not!"

"Then let me rephrase my question, Miss Wakefield. Did I sire your son?"

Christina knew there was no way out. Paul must have told him when she gave birth. Philip had calculated for himself and knew she must have conceived by him. Besides, he would need only to look at Philip Junior to know him for his son.

Christina sank into the nearest chair, averting her gaze from the two men awaiting her answer.

"Christina, is this true? Is this man the father of your child?" Tommy choked. "It's true, Tommy," Christina whispered. "How dare you come here, Mr. Caxton?" Tommy demanded.

"I'm here for my son, and I suggest you not interfere!" "For your son!" Christina screamed, springing from her chair. "But you never wanted him. Why do you want him now?"

"I'm afraid you misinterpreted what I told you long ago, Christina. I told you that I hadn't brought you to my camp to bear my children. I never told you I wouldn't want a child if you happened to conceive," Philip replied calmly.

"But I—"

Christina was cut off when John came to the door. "What is all this yelling about?" he asked sternly. Then he saw Philip standing just inside the door, and he smiled warmly. "Philip—I didn't expect to see you again so soon. But I'm glad you decided to accept my invitation to visit us. Estelle will be delighted to see you."

"Good Lord! Has everyone here gone crazy?" Tommy blurted out. "Don't you know who this man is, John? He's the father of Christina's child!"

John's smile faded. "Is this true, Christina?" he said.

"Yes," she whispered tensely.

John slammed his fist into the wall. "Damn it, Christina! I became friends with this man! You told me your child's father was an Arab!"

"But Philip is half-Arab, and I told you he had another name!" Christina yelled back at him.

"And youl" John stormed, turning to Philip again. "You come with me."

"John!" Christina screamed. "You gave me your word!"

"I well remember the promise you extracted from me, Crissy. I am just going to talk with Philip privately in my study," John said more calmly, and they left the room.

John poured two brandies and handed one to Philip. Then he sank into his black-leather desk chair.

"Why did you come here? Good God, Philip! I have every right to call you out for ruining my sister!"

"I hope it will not come to that," Philip replied. "I learned about my son from my brother, and I came here to marry Christina and take her and the boy to my home in Benfleet But I overheard her accepting that belligerent puppy's proposal, so marriage is now out of the question. But I still want my son."

"Christina will never give up her child!"

"Then I must ask that you let me stay here to try to persuade her otherwise. You can understand how I feel. The boy is my heir, and I am a rich man. He would have more to gain if I raised him."

"I just don't understand it. You are a gentleman, yet you kidnap a lady and keep her as your mistress. How could you do such a thing?" John asked.

Philip was amused that John asked the same thing his own brother had asked.

"I wanted your sister more than I have ever wanted a woman before. She's so beautiful, you can hardly blame me. I am used to taking what I want, and I asked her to marry me when we first met in London. When she refused, I had you sent to Egypt, my father's land."

"So you were the one!"

"Yes, and you probably know the rest."

John nodded. He was amazed at the lengths to which this man had gone to obtain Christina. He would probably go just as far to get his son. So Crissy was wrong—Philip did want her and the child, and he had come here to marry her. John felt guilty for persuading her to marry Tommy. He might have ruined Crissy's one chance for happiness. But if he let Philip stay here, he and Crissy might be able to work things out between themselves. John decided not to interfere again.

"You may stay here as long as you like, Philip, although it will probably cause quite a commotion. As you know, Estelle is also here, and she fancies herself in love with you. I don't know how you feel about her, but please handle the situation carefully—for Christina's sake." John stood up and walked to the door. "I'm sure you want to see your son now. Ill try to explain things to Tommy Huntington while Christina takes you to the nursery."

"I am grateful for your understanding," Philip returned.

Standing outside the study with Philip beside him, John called Christina, and she appeared in the hallway, her face a mask of trepidation.

"I've decided to let Philip stay for a while," John said.

"But John—"

"It's already settled, Crissy. Now take Philip up to the nursery. It's about time he met his son."

"OhI" She turned and started for the stairs, not waiting for Philip.

"You didn't expect it to go easily, did you?" John asked.

"Nothing is ever easy where Christina is concerned," Philip replied, and followed her up the stairs.

She waited for him at the door to the nursery. She felt tense and angry, and when Philip reached her, she could no longer control her temper.

"What do you expect to gain by staying here?" she said harshly. "Haven't you caused enough misery as it is?"

"I've already told you, Christina. I came here for my son."

"You can't be serious! After what you did to me, you expect me to hand over my son? Well, you can't have him!"

"Is he in this room?"

"Yes, but—"

Philip opened the door and walked past Christina into the nursery. He went directly to the bassinet and stood there looking down at his son,

Christina came up beside him, but she didn't say anything when she saw his proud smile as he gazed at Philip Junior.

"He is a handsome lad, Tina—thank you," Philip said warmly, and Christina melted again at the softness in his voice. Philip picked up his son gently. Surprisingly, the baby didn't cry, but stared curiously at the stubble of whiskers on his father's face. "What did you name him?"

Christina hesitated and averted her eyes. What could she tell him?

"Junior," she whispered.

"Junior! What kind of name is that for my son?" Philip stormed, and Philip Junior began to cry.

She quickly took her baby from Philip's arms, as he stood there helplessly. "Hush, darling, it's all right—mama's here," she soothed. He stopped crying immediately, and Christina glared at Philip. "The name was my choice, since you weren't here. Oh—why did you have to come?"

"I came here with good intentions, but then I overheard you agreeing to marry your lover," Philip returned, his eyes dark and menacing.

"My lover!"

"Oh, come now, Christina—spare me your denials. I of all people know what a passionate woman you are. After all these months, I expected to find you in another man's arms."

"I hate you!" Christina cried, her eyes turning a dark, shadowy blue.

"I am well aware of how you feel about me, madam. If you hate me so, why do you wish to keep my son? Every time you look at him, you will see me."

"He is also my son! I carried him for nine months. I suffered the pain of bringing him into this world. I will not give him up! He is a part of me, and I love him!"

"There is another matter that puzzles me. If you hate me so, why did you go to Victory to bear my son?"

"I didn't know it was your home until after I arrived. I didn't want to stay here, and so Johnsy, my old nanny, suggested I go to her sister, who happens to be your cook. I went to Victory. How was I to know it was your estate?"

"That must have been quite a surprise," Philip sneered. "Why didn't you leave when you found out the truth?"

"Emma insisted I stay. Now I don't want to discuss it any longer," she replied. "You will have to leave now, Philip. It's time for his feeding."

"Then feed him. It's rather late for false modesty on your part, Christina. I'm well acquainted with the body bidden underneath your dress."

"You are impossible! You haven't changed one damn bit."

"No—but you have. You used to be more honest."

"I don't know what you're talking about." She walked toward her bedroom door. "I suggest you have someone show you to your room. You may see your son later—if you wish."

She sat down in a chair in the far corner of her room and rested Philip Junior on her lap while unbuttoning her bodice. But she still felt Philip's presence and looked up to see him leaning against the doorframe, watching her intently.

"Please, Philip! You are welcome in the nursery, but this is my room. I would like some privacy—if you don't mind."

"Do I embarrass you, Christina? You have never bared your breasts in front of a man before?" he taunted. "I suggest you stop acting indignant, and feed my son. He is hungry, is he not?"

"Oh!" She decided to ignore him, and hoped he would leave. She pulled one side of her dress open and gave Philip Junior her breast. He sucked greedily, resting one tiny fist against her. She was fully aware that Philip still watched her.

"Christina, what are you doin'?" Johnsy shrieked, coming into the room from the other entrance and seeing Philip.

"It's all right, Johnsy. Calm yourself," Christina said irritably. "This is Philip Caxton."

"So you be Philip Junior's father," Johnsy snapped, turning to face Philip. "Well, you 'ave your nerve comin' 'ere after what you did to my baby."

"Oh, hush, Johnsy! You've said enough already," Christina bit off. Philip started laughing, and she cringed, knowing full well what he found so amusing. "It's a common name, damn it! I need not explain myself to you!" Philip Junior began crying again.

"You get yourself out of 'ere, Mr. Caxton. You're dis-turbin' Crissy an' your son," Johnsy scolded. She closed the door behind Philip, but Christina could still hear him laughing. She quickly closed the other door, then looked at Christina, shaking her head. "So 'e did come—I knew 'e would. Does Master John know?"

"Yes. John has decided to let Philip stay here. And Tommy knows, too. Philip walked in just when I was agreeing to marry Tommy. Oh, Johnsy, what am I going to do?" Christina started crying. "He came here for his son—not me! Philip is so cold to me, and how can I bear seeing him and Estelle together?"

"It will be all right, Miss Crissy—you'll see. Now you stop your cryin', or that little one will never settle down."

Christina closed the door to the nursery very quietly and turned to see Philip coming out of the next room. She had to walk toward him to get to the stairs, but he blocked her way.

"Is Philip Junior asleep?" he asked teasingly.

"Yes," she replied, avoiding his eyes. "Is your room satisfactory?"

"It will do," he returned, and tilted her face up to his. "But I'd prefer to share yours."

Philip pulled her against him, molding her body against bis, and his lips covered hers, demanding a response. She gave it willingly. All the long, lonely months disappeared.

"Ah, Tina—why didn't you tell me you were carrying my child?" he murmured huskily.

"I didn't know I had conceived until I was three months' pregnant. And it was too late then—you had already married Nura."

"Nura!" he laughed, looking down into her soft blue eyes.

But then he stiffened. So—she had gone back to her brother because she wanted to. Philip thought she might already have known of her pregnancy, and been afraid he would be angry. When would he learn that the woman hated him!

"Philip, what's the matter with you?" Christina asked, seeing the coldness in his eyes.

"You had best go to your lover, madam. I'm sure you prefer his kisses to mine!" Philip said harshly, and pushed her away.

Christina watched him walk away and felt as if her knees would give way. What had she said to make him hurt her so cruelly? She had been deliriously happy only a moment before, and now she felt like dying.

"Philip! Oh, I knew you would come!"

Christina heard Estelle's happy voice coming from the hall downstairs.

"I was hoping you'd still be here, my sweet. You'll make my stay here much more pleasant," Philip's deep voice answered cheerfully.

The tears came easily to Christina's eyes as she walked slowly back to her room and closed the door behind her. She fell onto the bed and buried her face in the pillow.

She couldn't bear to go downstairs and watch Philip flirting with Estelle. Why did he hate her so? Why couldn't he still desire her? How could she bear seeing them together, when her own heart was breaking?