His Child: The Mistress's Child / Nathan's Child / D'Alessandro's Child. Catherine Spencer

maybe the time never would have been right, hmm, Lisi? Did you think you could get away with keeping me anonymous for the rest of his life, so that the poor kid would never know he had a father?’

      She met the burning accusation in his eyes and couldn’t pretend. Not about this. ‘I don’t know,’ she whispered.

      He rose to his feet. ‘Well, just make sure you do it. And soon. I don’t care how you do it—just tell him!’

      She nodded. She wanted him gone now—with as long a space until his next visit as possible. ‘And when will we see you again? Some time after Christmas?’

      He heard the hopeful tinge to her question and gave a short laugh. ‘Hard luck, Lisi,’ he said grimly. ‘I’m afraid that I’m not going to just conveniently disappear from your life again. I’m intending to be around quite a bit. Just call it making up for lost time, if it makes you feel better. And it’s Christmas very soon.’

      ‘Christmas?’ she echoed, in a horrified whisper.

      ‘Sure.’ His mouth hardened into an implacable line. ‘I was tempted to buy him a birthday present today, but I didn’t want to confuse him. However, there’s only a week to go until Christmas and some time between now and then he needs to know who I am.’ His eyes glittered. ‘Because you can rest assured that I will be spending part of the holiday with him.’

      She wanted to cry out and beg him not to disrupt the relatively calm order of her life, but as she looked into Philip’s strong, cold face she knew that she would be wasting her breath. He wasn’t going to go away, she recognised, and if she tried to stop him then he would simply bring in the best lawyers that money could buy in order to win contact with his child. She didn’t need to be told to know that.

      ‘Understood?’ he asked softly.

      ‘Do I have any choice?’

      ‘I think you know the answer to that. Don’t worry about seeing me to the door. I’ll let myself out.’

      As if in a dream she watched him go and shut the front door quietly behind him, and only when she had heard the last of his footsteps echoing down the path did she allow herself to sink back down onto the chair and to bury her head in her hands and take all that was left to her.

      The comfort of tears.

      CHAPTER SIX

      LISI was woken by the sound of the telephone ringing, and as she picked it up she was aware that something was not as it should be.

      ‘Hello?’

      ‘Lisi, it’s Marian.’

      Sleepily, Lisi wondered what her boss was doing ringing her this early in the morning… She sat bolt upright in bed. That was it! That was what was not right! She had overslept—she could tell that much by the light which was filtering through the curtains. ‘What time is it?’ she asked urgently.

      ‘Nine-thirty, why—?’

      ‘Wait there!’ swallowed Lisi, and left the receiver on the bed while she rushed into Tim’s bedroom. What was the matter with him? Why hadn’t he woken at his usual unearthly hour? Had Philip Caprice climbed in through one of the windows in the middle of the night and kidnapped his son?

      But to her relief her son was sitting on his bed, engrossed in playing with some of his new birthday toys. He looked up as Lisi flew into the room, and smiled.

      ‘Lo, Mum-mee,’ he said happily. ‘Me playing with tractor!’

      ‘So I see! And a lovely tractor it is too, darling,’ said Lisi, charging across the room to drop a kiss on top of his head. ‘Mummy’s just talking to Marian on the telephone and then we’ll have a great big breakfast together!’

      But Tim’s head was bent over his toy again and he was busy making what he imagined to be tractor noises.

      On the way back to speak to Marian, Lisi reflected how different things felt this morning. She no longer felt weak or intimidated by Philip. He had decided that he wanted contact and there was nothing she could do about it—but he could do all the legwork. She would just be polite. Icily polite.

      Because during the middle of her largely sleepless night she had come to her senses and a great sense of indignation had made her softly curse his name.

      He had been so busy attacking her that she hadn’t really had time to consider that he had shown no remorse about betraying his wife. Nor any shame for his part in what had happened. Philip obviously wanted to make her the scapegoat—well, tough! He should look to himself first!

      She picked the phone back up. ‘Hello, Marian—are you still there?’

      ‘Just about,’ came the dry reply. ‘Where did you go—Scotland?’

      ‘Very funny.’

      ‘You sound more cheerful today,’ observed Marian.

      ‘I am,’ said Lisi. ‘Much happier!’

      There was a short pause. ‘I don’t know if you’re going to be after what I’m about to tell you.’

      A sudden sense of foreboding filled Lisi with dread. This was something to do with Philip. ‘What is it?’

      ‘It’s Philip Caprice.’

      Exasperation and impatience made Lisi feel like screaming—until she reminded herself that the worst had already been exposed. There was nothing he could do to hurt and upset her now. ‘What now?’ she asked.

      ‘He wants you to show him round a property later this morning.’

      ‘He has to be kidding! Did you tell him that I’m off now until after Christmas?’

      ‘I told him that yesterday. Lisi, has something happened between you two?’

      ‘Apart from the very obvious?’ she asked tartly.

      ‘You know what I mean.’

      Yes, she knew what Marian meant and she guessed that it was pointless keeping it from her boss—especially as she had already guessed that Philip was Tim’s father.

      ‘I told him,’ she said flatly.

      ‘You told him?’

      ‘He guessed,’ Lisi amended.

      ‘And?’

      Lisi sighed. She had planned to get onto the phone first thing and tell Rachel all about it, but just then she badly needed to confide in somebody, and Marian was older and wiser. Lisi suspected that she had known straight away that a man as discerning as Philip would be bound to guess eventually.

      ‘He wants to be involved.’

      ‘With you?’

      ‘Oh, no,’ said Lisi with a hollow laugh. ‘Definitely not with me. With Tim.’

      ‘I see.’ Marian’s voice sounded rather strained. ‘That explains it, then.’

      That sense of foreboding hit her again. ‘Explains what?’ she asked, her voice rising with a kind of nameless fear.

      ‘He really does want to buy somewhere here. In Langley.’

      Lisi’s mouth thinned. ‘I see.’

      ‘And that’s not the worst of it.’

      ‘What do you mean?’

      ‘He wants you to show him around a property—’

      ‘But I’m on holiday, Marian!’

      ‘I already told him that.’

      ‘And even if I weren’t—I don’t want to show him around a property!’

      ‘He’s…well, he’s insisted, dear.’

      ‘He can’t insist,’ whispered