The Mistress's Child (19 page)

'Indeed,' came Philip's murmured response as he followed Khalim out of the room. It never failed to amuse him—the autocratic leader of Maraban's ruling family capitulating to his English wife's every whim!

Once they had left, Rose beckoned towards the sofa. 'Come and sit by me.'

Lisi waited until Rose was seated and then sat down next to her.

'Philip has told us much about you,' observed Rose softly.

Lisi bit her lip. 'Oh? May  ask what he said?'

'That you were an exemplary mother. And that you were very beautiful.'

Lisi hesitated.

'Do not be afraid to speak,' commanded Rose softly. 'We are not on ceremony here.'

'Did he tell you about...about...'

Rose shook her head. 'He told me nothing that you would not wish us to hear, I think—though he is naturally closer to Khalim. Just that the circumstances surrounding Tim's conception were not ideal.'

Which Lisi supposed was a fairly diplomatic way of putting it.

'But my romance with Khalim was not a simple, straight road either,' mused Rose. 'We encountered many rocky paths along the way. This is often the way of love, you know.'

Love, thought Lisi. And although her heart ached with longing, she knew that she could not confide in the princess and tell her that Philip did not love her, nor ever would. To the outside world their relationship might look close, and it was not her place to make the reality known to his friends.

Rose leaned back against one of the cushions and gave another dreamy smile. 'Now, tell me, Lisi,' she said softly. 'Is childbirth really as bad as they say it is?'

Lisi narrowed her eyes, but did not ask the obvious question. 'It's different for everyone,' she said slowly. 'Some women find it easier than others.'

'And you? Was it easy for you?'

Lisi stared into the princess's clear blue eyes. 'It was different for me,' she answered candidly. I was all on my own. There was no partner to hold my hand or massage my

back, or just to tell me that everything was going to be all right.'

'I will be on my own, too,' sighed Rose and nodded in answer to the silent query in Lisi's eyes. 'Yes, I carry the prince's child. But Khalim will not be permitted to enter the birthing chamber—it is not the Maraban custom for fathers to be present. I will be attended to by his sisters and my ladies-in-waiting, and with that I must be content.'

'I would buy every available book on the subject if I were you,' advised Lisi. 'And practise breathing techniques and relaxation—that can really help.'

Rose nodded, and then she laid her slim hand on Lisi's hand. 'You know that Philip can be very hard on himself, don't you?'

Lisi opened her mouth to ask her what she meant, but the moment was lost when Philip, Khalim and Tim reappeared, carrying the tray of mint tea.

A car arrived to pick them up, and it wasn't until they were speeding towards Hyde Park that Lisi turned towards Philip's shadowed profile.

'Rose is pregnant,' she said. 'Did you know?'

The profile shifted so that he was facing her. 'She told you that?'

Lisi nodded. 'Yes. You sound surprised.'

'I am. I would not normally expect such a personal admission from her, not on such a short acquaintanceship.'

'Actually, I'd kind of guessed.' She saw his eyes narrow. 'It's a woman thing—you can usually tell if another woman is pregnant.'

'Khalim is over the moon,' he observed softly, looking at the soft line of her lips and knowing that later he intended to kiss them. 'They both are.'

Lisi stared out of the window without really seeing anything. If only she could have had Philip's baby within the

context of a warm and loving relationship like Rose and Khalim's.

'Why did you invite me tonight, Philip?' she asked suddenly. 'Did somebody let you down at the last minute?'

He swore softly beneath his breath. 'If any question was designed to remind me that you continue to think the worst of me, then that one was. I asked you, Lisi, because I thought it would be a treat for you.'

'The country girl let loose in the Big City?'

He ignored her sarcastic tone. He didn't want to fight. Not tonight. I can assure you that tonight you look like the most sophisticated city slicker I've ever seen!'

'Shall I take that as a compliment?'

'You could try. Now stop frowning—you'll grow old before your time. Try smiling—we're here.'

The ball was lavishly spectacular and filled with beautiful people, yet Lisi did not feel out of place—though that probably had something to do with the fact that Philip did not leave her side all night.

He danced with her and introduced her to countless people. He fetched her food and idly fed her titbits with his fingers, and because she didn't want to make a scene she didn't stop him. Didn't want to stop him, if the truth be known.

Just after midnight, the party was still in full fling, and they had just finished dancing a very slow dance in the candlelit ballroom. Lisi was reluctant to move from his arms, and he seemed in no hurry to make her. She sighed, wanting to rest her cheek against his shoulder once more, to breathe in the heady masculine scent of him and to pretend for a while that they were real lovers as well as parents.

'Lisi?'

'Mmm?'

'Look at me—I want to ask you something.'

She glanced up, something in his voice telling her that this was not a perfunctory question about whether she would like another drink. 'Yes, Philip?'

His face was as emotionless as if he were asking her the time. 'Will you share my bed tonight?'

CHAPTER ELEVEN

'Much as I adore Khalim and Rose, I thought they'd never go,' whispered Philip as he drew her into his arms, and quietly closed the door of his bedroom behind them.

Part of Lisi had not wanted them to go. All during the drive back from the ball she had been a bag of nerves, sitting bolt upright in the seat and wondering if she had dreamt up his provocative question and her breathless agreement to sleep with him. But this was what she had wanted for much too long, wasn't it?

He had glanced at her set features on the journey home. He certainly hadn't been going to start making love to her there, with the interested eyes of the driver looking on. Not that he'd trusted himself. If he'd started, he couldn't imagine ever wanting or being able to stop, and tonight he wanted to do it properly—with a lazy and unhurried dressing and the comfort of his big bed awaiting them.

'Lisi,' he said softly now. 'Have you changed your mind?'

She shook her head.

'Scared, then?'

She nodded. 'A little apprehensive.'

'Well, don't be. There's nothing to be apprehensive about. Here.' He lifted her fingers to his mouth and slowly kissed them, one by one, and he felt a little of the tension melt away from her. Then he pulled the diamante clips from her hair and it fell down around her pale shoulders in streams of dark satin.

With wide eyes Lisi stared up at him, and he thought that she looked like a trapped and cornered animal. 'Lisi,'

he sighed. 'We don't have to do this, you know. I thought
that you wanted it as much as I do.'  

Her voice trembled. 'And I do. You know I do. It's just...'

'What?'

'You haven't come near me for weeks, nor shown the slightest inclination to. I thought that you didn't want me, not in that way.' She swallowed. 'So what's happened to change your mind?'

He gazed down at her with a mixture of dismay and disbelief. Not want her? He had never stopped wanting her! Was he really so difficult to read, or just a master at keeping his feelings disguised?

'I've always wanted you, Lisi,' he said quietly. 'But our passion always seems to spring up on us unawares. I didn't want to try to make love to you at your cottage, afraid that Tim might hear because he's next door.'

'He's next door now,' she pointed out.

'And the walls here are decidedly thicker,' he commented drily.

She wasn't going to get offended by that. He was merely stating a fact, not making a comparison between the basic structure of her little cottage and the luxurious proportions of his.

I want to make love to you properly,' he whispered and began to trace the outline of her trembling mouth with the featherlight brush of his fingertip.

The glitter from his eyes made her glow from within. I always quite enjoyed it when you made Jove to me improperly,' she joked, and he leaned forward and dropped a kiss on her lips.

'That's better,' he murmured approvingly, and her arms went up around his neck and the kiss became extended. "Much better. Isn't it?"

'Mmm!' She swayed against him, her doubts banished

by the warmth of his mouth and the expert caress of his tongue.

'Shall I undress you, sweetheart?'

The term of endearment made her shakier than the kiss had, and she nodded, her heart beginning to pound as he slid her zip down and laid bare her breasts.

He bent his head to take each sweet nipple in turn, inciting them into instant life with the lazy flicker of his tongue as he slid the dress down over her hips and it fell with a sigh to the floor.

He looked down at her and sucked in a ragged breath. 'Stockings,' he said thickly. 'You're wearing stockings.'

Yes, she was. 'Y-you said that you liked them,' she said, almost shyly. And tights would have seemed all wrong beneath such a fairy tale of a dress.

He wanted to beg her to keep them on, to make love to him with those silken thighs pressed hard into his back, but he knew that there would be another time for that. Right now he wanted—no, needed—her to be completely naked, there to be nothing between the two of them except skin.

'Shall I take them off for you?' he questioned unsteadily.

'Yes, please.'

His hand was shaking as he undipped the suspender and then took a deliberately long time sliding the gauzy silk down over every delicious centimetre of her legs, his face moving tantalisingly close to the dark, triangular blur of hair which concealed her most precious gift. He longed to bury his mouth in her most secret place, but resisted, fearing that he would only end up taking her on the floor.

He unhooked the suspender belt and it joined all the other garments on the carpet and then he lifted her up and carried her over to the bed, covering her up with a duvet, so that only her cute nose and those huge aquamarine eyes were showing, and the shiny fan of black hair lay all over his pillow.

He began to unbutton his shirt, never taking his eyes from her face. 'Want me to undress for you?'

Beneath the concealment of the duvet she felt herself melt. 'Y-yes.'

The shirt fluttered from his fingers and he began to undo his trousers. It was hard to reconcile this sweetly shy Lisi with the wild lover who had gripped his shoulders so ecstatically, her fingernails making tiny little nips into his skin, her back pressed up against the wall as he'd driven into her over and over again. He stifled a groan.

Her eyes growing wider by the second, Lisi wondered what had made him briefly close his eyes like that, or why suddenly he seemed to be having more than a little difficulty sliding his zip down.

Arrogantly, he kicked off the trousers and the silk boxers followed and he stood in front of her for a moment, wanting her to see what she did to him. How she could turn him on to this pitch without having laid a finger on him.

He pulled back the duvet and climbed in next to her, and pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head and enjoying its meadow-sweet scent. He would just hold her for a while, stop her trembling and make her feel safe.

But the trembling only seemed to get worse, and he pulled away from her, noting the look of acute distress which had creased her brow into a deep frown.

'What's the matter, sweetheart?' And then he saw that her eyes were almost black, they were so dilated. And her breathing was shallow and rapid, and he moved his hand down between her legs to feel her slick, inviting heat. He groaned. He had been planning to make this one last and last—but what the hell? They had all night.

But he had something he needed to tell her, something she deserved to know. 'You remember the last time we did this, that morning at the rectory?' he asked, in a low voice.

'I'm not likely to forget in a hurry.'

'And you told me that there had been no other lover since me?'

She nodded. Had she been mad to expose such obvious vulnerability?

He gazed down into her watchful eyes. 'Well, it was the same for me, Lisi. There had been   no one else. No one.'

There was a short, breathless silence and she could have wept with the pleasure of discovering that. 'Oh, Philip,' she murmured, and held him very close.

Lisi lost count of the number of orgasms she had that night; her last reality check was drifting into sleep sometime in the early hours, when dawn was already beginning to bring a pale, clear light to the sky.

He woke her at six and made love to her again, and she knew that she really ought to get up and get out of there before Tim got up, when there was a little rap on the door, and Tim's voice calling.

'Daddy?'

Locked in each other's arms, they both froze and looked at one another, but Lisi knew immediately that there was no way around this without the whole situation being turned into some kind of farce.   

She nodded at him and he understood immediately.

'In here,' he called back. 'Come in, Tim.'

Lisi held her breath, expecting shock or outrage or even—perhaps—a touch of early masculine jealousy from the male who had been in her life the longest, but Tim displayed none of these.

Instead, he ran over to the bed, carrying his night-time bunny, glanced over at the two of them and said happily, 'Oh, goodl Now you're just like Simon's mummy and daddy!'

And Lisi didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

'Why don't you go downstairs and do me a drawing?' suggested Philip. 'And I'll come down in a minute and get

you some juice while I'm making Mummy her morning coffee.'

'But Mummy has tea in the morning.' Tim pouted.

Philip nodded. 'Then I'll make her tea,' he said gravely.