The English Lord's Secret Son (13 page)

“Sure you didn’t write that note?” He lifted an indolent hand to remove the pretty art-nouveau clasp that held back her hair. “There, doesn’t that feel better?” he asked, unrepentant, as her beautiful hair, set free, slid forward in a smooth motion.

“You can’t take that clip,” she protested. “It’s an antique piece.” He had put it in his pocket.

“I’ll give it back,” he said. “Promise.”

There was such an extraordinary aura about him, a whole catalogue of advantages, the natural authority, the seeming calm and underneath a huge reserve of passion. It was shattering to know even if she wanted to, she couldn’t break her bond with him.

“I don’t know what we’re doing here, Ashe, but if it’s a ploy to soften me up, it won’t work. You can’t take Jules. My son is my life.” The tremulous note in her voice gave her away.

“What if I take you as well?” he suggested, staring down at her in such a way it fired her blood. “Like it or not Julian is part of us both. What do you think he would say if you told him I was his father? Told him how circumstance ripped us apart. Told him how I lived to marry you, to make you my wife? What would he say if I told him when my back was turned, you vanished out of my life never to tell me
or
him we are father and son.”

Of a sudden her nerve failed, ebbed away. “This is emotional blackmail, Ashe.”

“I don’t care what it is,” he returned bluntly. “It’s the
truth
.
”

“Jules is not ready for the truth, Ashe,” she cried, knowing she was becoming overexcited. “I was wrong to come here.”

A shadow crossed his handsome face. “But you’ve been wrong all along. I’m not going to give up my son, Catrina.” There was a quiet but deadly firmness in his voice.

Colour rose beneath her skin as he confirmed her own thought. She turned on him, racked by conflicting emotions. “So where is it all going to end?”

He looked at her sharply weighing that up. “Don’t you feel
some
guilt?” Anger spilled from eyes that were bluer than any Burmese sapphire.

“If we’re going to make denunciations, what about
you
?
” she hit back incautiously. “I’d say we’re about even when it comes to making mistakes.”

“Okay, okay.” He partly agreed. “Only my plan is to put it right. You’re not married. Neither am I. In a sense our lives were blown apart. Now I want you back in my life again. You’re the mother of my son. I remind you that you were born of an English mother and almost certainly an English father. Don’t you remember how you fitted in? You didn’t think you would, but you did. The English side of you came to the fore. Julian’s long vacation is coming up. May I make a suggestion? You could think about spending Christmas in England with me. You and Julian, Stella too if she wants to come. I would think she would like to return to her birthplace.”

“What, as a visitor?” she retorted hotly when she felt a wave of near-happy anticipation. “Stella and my mother were born at Radclyffe Hall, Ashe. But
you
got it all. So does that mean you get to make all the decisions too?”

“Go file a complaint,” he said caustically. “It was all legal, Catrina.
Your
grandfather, might I point out, made me his heir. Of course it would have been my father, but I was next in line. Julian one day may very well be the sixth Baron Wyndham. You can’t change that.”

“Try me!” She threw up her head. “Jules has already confided his ambition to anyone who will listen. He’s aiming to become Prime Minister of Australia. He wants to put things right. He wants to be in a position to make life better for everyone. He won’t change. He won’t turn into an upper-class English boy packed off to boarding school as soon as he can toddle.”

Ashe heard the conviction in her voice. He had to face the fact she could be right about their son and his long-term aims. He had fallen in love with Cate, reared in Australia where life was very open, confident and remarkably frank. Hadn’t she been different from all the other girls in his circle?

“Understand me clearly,” he said. “What Julian wants is important to me as well. I would never force a decision on him. But you’ve had our son for the past seven years. I am going to redress that. You can make it easy, or you can make it hard. It’s up to you.”

“So what roles do we play?” She swallowed with difficulty.

“I’ll tell my sisters quietly all they need to know.”

“I doubt they can keep it to themselves.” She managed a derisory laugh.

“We
all
have experience of keeping things to ourselves, Catrina. You would know that better than most. Julian is their nephew, therefore they will do everything to protect him.”

“In effect what I’m seeing is a Carlisle takeover.”

His eyes flashed. “I’m not saying that at all, Catrina. I’m saying nothing concrete at the moment.”

It was crisis point. The breath shook in her throat as she said, “But you will. When and if you do get to know more about Jules you might have to forfeit at least some of your plans. Since Jules was born I have been solely responsible for him.”

“Because you omitted to inform me, his father,” he shot back, rather bleakly.

That omission now hurt her. She strained away from him, but he held her fast.

“Cate!” he groaned.

She felt her heart constrict. “What happens if he doesn’t like you and your family?”

“That’s the worst possible scenario. Have you enough grace to accord me some understanding on this?”

“Not yet.” He was moving much too fast. “Don’t make me hate you, Ashe.”

“I think I can handle it.” His smile held a degree of self-mockery. “Besides you don’t hate me at all. Life has caught up with us, Cate.”

“But I’m not the Cate I used to be. Poor vulnerable little Cate. I’m
another
me. I have
another
life.”

He had the sense he had a tigress by the tail. “Your
life
was supposed to be with me. Remember what you called it—
destiny
.”

He had touched a psychic nerve. “Destiny did a darn good job of mucking us up.”

Within seconds their confrontation had moved from a kind of maddened frustration to a violent need to come together. To physically connect. There were layers upon layers of yearning beneath the conflict that was at best only skin deep.

“What I want to do now—what I
need
to do now is kiss you,” he said in a voice seductive with want. His eyes devoured her face, came to rest on her mouth. “Your mouth is no different from what it used to be, do you know that? It’s perfect. Perfect for me. Perfect for kissing. God, I couldn’t count the kisses.” His arms enfolded her, one hand very firm at her back.

Her whole body was pierced with awareness. “What is
this
going to solve, Ashe?” She knew where they were inexorably heading.

“That neither of us are going to fall in love with anyone else?”

“We’ve still got time.” Only residual pride allowed her to say that.

“A lifetime won’t be long enough for either of us to forget. I finally have you, Cate.”

He looked down at her with intensity. He was mesmerising her and she was letting him. The effect was spine-tingling. “You think you do.”

“I
know
I do,” he said in his resonant voice. “The image of you has stayed with me. Cate, the eighteen-year-old girl, ravishingly pretty, now a true beauty. The fine bone structure of your face is more apparent. Your skin is as translucent as porcelain.”

She knew she could have pulled away. Ashe would never handle her roughly. Only she stood there, held by his hypnotic gaze.

“Did you ever just once
mean
you loved me?” he asked as though he was trying to make sense of it all.

“I don’t want to go back that far,” she pleaded. Everything was totally different. Everything was the same.

“Let me remind you.” He tipped up her chin, only to trail a line of kisses over her cheek to behind her ear. His mouth moved lower to nuzzle her neck, sending thrill after thrill shooting through her. How had she ever thought she could stop caring? His roving mouth came to rest in the warm hollow above her collarbone. “Remember this?” he asked dreamily.

She felt the coaxing caress of his hand. “Maybe...” Her voice shook. There was more to come. Nothing she could or would do to stop it. She was locked into a spell. She never had been able to withstand the spells Ashe wove. She was programmed to respond.

His mouth came down over hers, almost but not quite kissing her. “Seven long years,” he muttered. “Misery for me. But a great thing happened to you, didn’t it, Cate? You had our son.” He pulled her in very tightly as though she would never be free to go.

A warm languor was sweeping through her, robbing her legs of strength. She had an idea she was leaning into him for support. She felt so light-headed it was as if she were weightless. His mouth was moving over her face and neck... He bent her backwards, kissing the shadowed cleft between her breasts.

Desire welled up as if from a gushing spring. “You hurt me badly.”

“You hurt
me
.
”

“It still matters, Ashe,” she gasped, hollow with yearning.

“Of course it does.” The pads of his thumbs were working her erect nipples.

Reason was obliterated. She closed her eyes the better to lock in the ecstasy. No one had ever made love to her like Ashe. His hand was on the zipper of her dress. He pulled it down and the silken fold of fabric fell away from her, sliding to her feet. She stood in her undergarments. “I want you so badly,” he said in such a quiet voice, it was barely a breath. “Don’t fight me on this, Cate.” His hands covered the slopes of her warm, smooth breasts.

I’m going to die of longing,
she thought. Only just coping, she eased herself into him, her flesh melting like candle wax. “One last time?”

“And the one after, and the one after that...”

He lifted her slowly, easily, carrying her into the bedroom and laying her down on the king-sized bed. “You never know, you might like it. You certainly used to.”

They were staring into one another’s eyes, each seeking their own reflection. “It was different back then. I’m not the same. I was young.”

His laugh was gently mocking. “You’re the same.” He passed a masterly hand over her body. It visibly quivered at his touch, awaiting further excitation. She was lying prone on the bed, her long legs extended, yet she felt as though he were drawing her up. “People change, but what we had lasts. I called it love. God knows what you called it, but you want me just as much as I want you.” He lowered himself onto the side of the bed studying her, so beautiful, so womanly, so made for loving. “Go on, deny it. If you can.” He began to caress her, his hand moving slowly over her, his palms against her flesh, her breasts, her stomach, his fingers sliding below the line of her briefs moving downwards, pressing, sending fiery sensations shooting through her. The sense of excitement, of utter intoxication, was extreme; the bursts of pleasure were such she thought she would come to a shuddering climax merely from the rotating movements of his long, caressing fingers.

That harsh breathing she suddenly realised was hers. She sounded very agitated. God, how she needed this! Her whole body was flowering, opening up to him. The needs of her body were in total control now. Her skin glittered with a faint dew as pressure built. She felt a crazed desperation to have him inside her.

“Ashe,”
she moaned like a woman only just holding it together. “Make love to me.” Far, far into the night. At the same time what remained of cold reason told her:

He planned this
.
Planned it perfectly
.

And you went along with it. Why?

She knew why. She was worn down by the years of intense loneliness, of the sense of deprivation, for that was what it had been without Ashe. Without love. Sex was a crucial part of it, but what they’d had had been more noble, engaging both mind and spirit. Still the lack of sex in the way she wanted it had weighed on her heavily. Now the drive towards fulfilment was gaining irresistible momentum.

She didn’t realise it but tears were rolling down her cheeks. He bent his dark head, catching them up with his mouth as though each teardrop were as precious as a flawless diamond...

Naked, her skin gleamed like satin in the soft light. He had turned away swiftly to strip off his clothes, not bothering to hang them over anything, but discarding them where they fell. She called his name, begging him not to delay. She was desperate to merge her body with his.

It had been so long. So long. No one before or after her. She was his woman, first and last. Rock-hard, Ashe moved towards the bed.

Their destinies were entwined.

He had found her. He had found his son.

They were his. He would never let them go. This was the most important mission of his life. His objective was to win. Nothing was as important to him as Catrina and Julian. They were his family.

He came to her, whispering into her open mouth, “Thy fate and mine are sealed.”

CHAPTER NINE

C
ATE
AND
S
TELLA
rarely had disagreements. They dealt calmly and considerately with one another and they had Jules in common. But when Cate arrived home much later than expected, Stella had the attitude of a woman on the warpath. Obviously there was some undisclosed crisis going on in her mind.

“Nearly twelve o’clock, right?”

“Hey, you gave me a fright.” Cate actually jumped. Stella was standing right inside the front door. Her expression made Cate feel like a problematic teenager home much too late. “I didn’t know I had to clock in and out.” Cate tried a joke. “What’s the problem?”

Stella’s dark eyes were deeply shadowed. “We both know what the problem is,” she said severely, as though Cate’s past were being reactivated. “It’s Julian Carlisle. He broke your heart once. Are you going to allow him to do it again?”

Cate groaned. “Stella, do you really want to get into this now?”

“Answer me.” Stella spoke as if she had the right.

“With respect, I think that might be my business.”

Stella wasn’t about to apologise. “He wants Jules. You know that. He’ll stop at nothing to get him. Jules,
my
Jules.
My
family.”

Cate put her bag down, counting to ten. “Stella can we have this conversation at another time? I want to go to bed.”

“But you’ve been to bed, haven’t you?” Stella accused. Strong emotion was swirling at the backs of her eyes. “You have the look of a woman who’s been very thoroughly bedded.” Concrete evidence Cate had no moral strength. Like Annabel perhaps?

Cate shook her head. “I don’t believe I’m hearing this, Stella. What I do is my business, not yours.”

But Stella was on a roll, challenging as she had never been before. “It’s clear to me you have no will of your own when he’s around. You know how hard it’s been getting over him. Now, you’re back in the firing line.”

Cate was dismayed and confused. Was this the Stella she had lived with all her life or a far more aggressive twin? “Stella, I’m not talking about this now,” she said carefully. “You didn’t have to wait up for me. I’m a grown woman. Not in
your
firing line. You’re actually overstepping the mark.”

“Am I now?” Stella gave a harsh laugh. “I certainly
did
have to wait up for you. I’m very worried about you, Catrina.” She thrust her hair behind one ear.

“Well, you don’t have to be.” Cate backed away.

“I don’t believe that,” Stella hit back. “You should see yourself!’

To Cate’s stunned ears it had a ring of
jealousy
.
Was that possible? Stella was jealous of her? It seemed preposterous. Yet if it were so, she didn’t know how to deal with it. She turned to look in the tall gilt-framed mirror over the hallway console. She did look different. She looked blazingly
alive
, an erotic creature still wearing the veils of ecstasy. “I look fine, though my hair is a bit on the messy side.” Unlike its usual order, her hair tumbled in a thick golden mane. Even she knew she looked beautiful. What did Stella see?

Stella saw something she didn’t like because her face was a set mask. “I hope you took precautions?” she said severely, as though endlessly plagued by concerns in this regard. “We don’t want a repeat of the last time.”

“The last time?”
This from kind-hearted Stella? Cate forced calm on herself.

“Like mother, like daughter,” Stella affirmed, wringing her hands like a latter-day Lady Macbeth.

“Now that’s uncalled for, Stella.” Cate suddenly exploded. “It would be very unwise of us to continue this conversation.”

But Stella, for the first time in living memory, was stripped of her calm façade. “No matter how clever you are, you’re not ahead of the game,” she said, just short of contempt. “You’re still liable to make mistakes.”

Cate’s stomach was lurching sickly. “I thought we all were.
You’re
making a mistake right now. This is
my
home, Stella, might I remind you.
I
pay the mortgage. You held on to your assets, which we both know are considerable. We’ve been very happy here. What’s all this about anyway? You’re saying I’m like Annabel, your
alleged
beloved little sister, maybe not so beloved after all?”

Stella’s dark eyes glittered with intensity. This was a Stella from another world, another time. “Both of you brought a mess on yourselves and I had to deal with it. Beguiling little Annabel and her legions of lovers!” she exclaimed bitterly. “She didn’t know about gentleness, tenderness, care. All she knew was running wild!”

“How dare you?” Cate found herself ready and willing to spring to her mother’s defence. “Listen to the way you’re talking. It’s disgusting. You’re talking about your dead sister and to
me
, her daughter. It’s far more likely Annabel was a fascinating woman. That’s why she had so many admirers. It’s even possible you’ve totally misrepresented her. I see that now. You made confidences to people about your sister and people listened. You told me yourself you were much admired for your utter selflessness.”

“I loved her,” Stella continued as though she hadn’t heard a word Cate said. “But I loved Ralph more. The tragedy was he didn’t see me with Annabel around. It made no sense. Annabel wasn’t anywhere near as stable as I. But men were like moths to the flame with her. Most people thought I was the nicer person and just as good-looking. Only I lacked the
look after me
image. It worked brilliantly for Annabel. I was the unselfish one who coped and endured.”

“Here is a woman who has eaten the bread of righteousness,” Cate quoted bleakly. “I hear what you say, Stella, now I’m making a belated assessment. You were
hugely
jealous of Annabel.”

“Nonsense!”

Cate continued unimpressed. “You envied the excitement, the allure, that rippled around her. She couldn’t help it. She was born that way. Please don’t erode the love I have left for you, Stella. Say no more. Go to bed. Sleep on it.”

“To be perfectly honest—”

“Have you ever been perfectly honest?” A hard core of grief and disillusionment was in Cate’s voice.

“I’ve never felt better.” Stella straightened her shoulders like a woman with a long list of good deeds behind her. “Seeing Julian Carlisle, now the two of you together, has brought it all back.”

“What does it bring back, Stella?” Cate asked, moving into the living room. It was a precaution. Jules was a deep sleeper, but there was a possibility he could wake up at the sound of their voices. “You’re saying you loved Rafe Stewart?” She had to press Stella into answering now. Stella might have the dubious gift of being able to wipe things from her mind, but
she
couldn’t. She had to
know
.

“Stop being such a complete idiot! Of course I did. I was mad about him. He was the most wonderful catch. He was attracted to me
first
,
I was thrilled,
but Annabel went after him. She felt no shame. She really needed to do penance.”

Cate felt as if she had been pitched head first into hell. “What,
die
?
” she exploded. “Annabel, my mother, deserved to die? And die relatively young? Are you saying all your years of self-sacrifice were no more than a cover-up orchestrated by you? I knew you didn’t love Arnold. Poor old Arnold knew it too. He knew he was second best. You loved someone else. Did you marry Arnold on the rebound? To save face. You couldn’t have Rafe, but eventually you learned you could have his child.
Me.
Is that it? Rafe Stewart is my father?” She drew closer to Stella, her voice soaring despite her efforts at restraint.

* * *

Jules woke with a fright. He sat up in bed, blinking his eyes. He could hear voices coming from downstairs. His mother and his grandmother were having an argument. It didn’t seem possible. They all loved one another. Something was wrong. Immediately he resolved to get up. He had to go and check. He often thought of himself as a soldier, a brave soldier, a fighting man, going into battle. He would fight to the death for his mother. And Nan too, of course. But his mother was the most important person in the world to him.

He tripped over a rug, muttered a little swear word he wasn’t supposed to say—all the kids did—then opened the door of his bedroom. He had left it ajar because he knew his mother always liked to kiss him goodnight. Most of the time he waited for it. But tonight he had fallen asleep. Out in the hallway the voices were louder. He moved very quietly to the top of the stairs, a lone little figure in pyjamas.

They
were
arguing. Just to know that was akin to what he thought an electric shock might be like. Nan was speaking in a voice he had never heard before. Or ever suspected she had. It was a voice that frightened him. Nan sounded as if she no longer loved his mother. She sounded as if she had been cheated in some way. Not by his mother, never!

Oh, please don’t let this happen!

I must stop it.

For some reason not at all clear to him a vivid picture of Lord Wyndham sprang into his mind. Lord Wyndham was a man of authority. Moreover, he was a relative of Nan’s, which meant there was an extended family connection to all of them. Lord Wyndham could help.

Nan’s new-sounding voice hung in the air. “When are you going to tell the boy Carlisle is his father?” she asked tersely.

That came like a great clap of thunder. Stunned, Jules jerked to one side, in case he be obliterated by a bolt of lightning.

“I must tell him. I will tell him.” His mother sounded tremendously upset. Her upset was transferring itself to him, forcing him to his knees. It was Nan who was going out on the attack. His mother was on the receiving end. He couldn’t let that happen. The Jules he was, Jules Hamilton, had suddenly ceased to be. He was Jules Somebody Else. Why hadn’t he put it all together? He was supposed to be smart. He wasn’t smart at all. He was just a dumb kid who had lost all his powers.

Carlisle! That means Lord Wyndham is your father.

But his father had deserted his mother and him years ago. Jules felt as if he were drowning. Not that he
could
drown. He was a very good swimmer. But his legs suddenly felt so weak he sank onto the top step, his head in his hands. Now he was unashamedly listening. This was all about him, his mother and Lord Wyndham, who had never been there for them.

“He’d love that, wouldn’t he?” Nan sounded close to snarling. Not like Nan at all. “He’s always wanted a father.”

“Why wouldn’t he?” his mother broke in. “Everyone wants a father, a loving father. You’ve always told me Annabel refused to name my father, even on her deathbed, but you’ve always known, haven’t you, Stella? You’ve always known I’m Rafe Stewart’s daughter. I was supposed to be the ‘little cross’ you took on. But you were actually
glad
to take me on, weren’t you, Stella? You couldn’t have him, but you had his child. You triumphed over Annabel there.”

Jules found himself gasping for breath. What was happening here? He could almost wish he had stayed asleep.

“Do I detect a note of daughterly love?” Stella sounded scoffing. “You’ve always been so down on
Aunt
Annabel.”

“How did you convince her to give me up?” It seemed to Jules there were tears in his mother’s voice. His mother never cried. Not in front of him anyway. His mother was his life.

“It was easy,” Nan said. “My influence over Annabel began when we were only small children. Our parents had one another. They didn’t need us, especially after the Big Tragedy. You know, losing the heir. I convinced Annabel she was doing the right thing. She knew poor old Arnie and I would take the greatest care of you.”

“Did Arnold know about Rafe?” his mother asked.

Rafe?
Who was Rafe?
Jules was struggling to understand but he couldn’t take it all in.

“He may have guessed,” Nan was saying. “He never knew. I certainly wasn’t about to tell him.”

His mother, who always sounded so bright and confident, now sounded deeply distressed. “Who the hell are you, Stella? How do I deal with the
two
of you? Stella One has been very good to me and to Jules. I thank her for that. But Stella Two, your alternate persona, is a formidable woman. I see how you built your life and my life on a pack of lies.”

Nan’s
new
voice burst out. “We could have gone on as before,
for ever
, if need be. The three of us, if only Carlisle hadn’t come back into your life. And of course you still love him. How pathetic! So what does he want to do—take you both back to England? Don’t think for a second he’ll marry you. He didn’t before.”

Oh, Mummy, oh, Mummy.
Jules wobbled to his feet. This wasn’t fair
.
Nan didn’t sound kind. She sounded cruel. It was important he be there for his mother.

“You’re not the only designing woman in my life, Stella,” his mother was saying. “You and Alicia Carlisle would have made a good match. I don’t know which of you has done the greatest damage. I don’t want to hear one more word from you. I’m going up to bed. We can’t go on like this, Stella. You realise that. Not after all you’ve said.”

There was the sound of high heels on the polished floor. His mother was coming upstairs.

“I love you, Catrina. I love Jules.” Nan was calling to his mother in a hollow voice.

“What price love?” his mother answered.

Jules didn’t know what to do. In a few moments his mother would reach the landing. He needed to talk to someone. He turned about, making a rush for the shelter of his bedroom. He knew he couldn’t possibly sleep. Not after all he had heard. His head was still ringing with the sound of Nan’s angry voice. Jules leapt into bed, pulling the light coverlet over him. He turned his face to the wall. He felt like crying, but dragged himself out of it. Soldiers didn’t cry.

A few moments later he felt his mother’s light kiss on his cheek.