Their Secret Baby (12 page)

‘You first,’ he said.

‘That’s not f—’ Caitlin began but he cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand.

‘I don’t give a damn about what’s fair! Nothing in this whole bloody mess is
fair
! So let’s not waste time on that. You tell me why you believe Joshua Hewland is Fleur’s father.’

S
HE
didn’t dare to argue. It would be wasted energy; she knew that. And besides, like Rhys, she wanted this sorted—if it was at all possible to get it sorted.

‘He told me.’

‘Hewland? Not Amelie?’

‘No…’

She felt as uncertain as she sounded. When Josh had told her, she could see no reason to doubt him. But now…

‘When and why?’

‘Why did he tell me?’

Caitlin dug sharp teeth into her bottom lip, using the small physical pain to try and distract her from the memory of the much more intense emotional one.

‘Because I’d found out about him and Amelie. Because I’d challenged him with my suspicions that he was being unfaithful. And because he’d wanted to prove how committed to her he was.’

‘By saying they were having a child together?’

Was that a note of sympathy in his voice? Caitlin couldn’t bear even to consider that it might be. She didn’t want Rhys’s sympathy—his pity. Right now, it felt so much worse, so much more painful than ever Josh’s betrayal had done.

To her horror, bitter tears stung the back of her throat so that she could only nod silently.

‘And that was the only time?’

She wished it was.

‘No; later—when it was all out in the open about him and Amelie—he kept making comments, saying things like “If I’m going to be a dad.” And Amelie never contradicted him.’

‘Tell me something.’

Rhys’s tone had sharpened noticeably so that Caitlin was reminded irresistibly of the cross-questioning scene in a courtroom drama she had recently watched on television.

‘Your…this Joshua—was he rich, by any chance?’

‘Loaded.’

Caitlin’s mouth twisted as she said it.

‘His family own a string of hotels—a major concern, not like this little place. That’s how we met. I worked…’

The words trailed off as she saw his expression, recognised the way his thoughts were heading.

‘You think Amelie…?’

‘I
know
Amelie—knew her,’ he corrected awkwardly. ‘She always had an eye for the main chance where money was concerned. If she had thought that Hewland could keep her in the manner to which she’d once become accustomed, then I’m afraid she wouldn’t have let a small thing like his possible engagement to you stand in the way.’

‘You think she…’

It was just a whisper, and her hand crept up to her mouth as if to stop the words she didn’t want to hear escaping.

Rhys nodded sombrely.

‘If you’re asking if I think she deliberately targeted Joshua—set herself at him, in spite of knowing how you felt about him—then the answer’s yes. I can well believe that’s exactly what she did. I learned that to my cost when I found out why she’d married me. She was an actress, but she hadn’t had any decent parts in almost two years. She had no money of her own—and I was a blind, besotted fool who had plenty.’

‘So why did she leave you?’

‘She knew I wanted kids. She didn’t—or so she said. So she walked out. She stayed away until she ran out of money and then she came crawling back, claiming she wanted a reconciliation. I swallowed that story just long enough to let her back into my bed, but when she made it plain that all she wanted was my money I told her to get out.’

‘So she came to France. Where I met her and invited her to come and stay for a while. And within a week she was sleeping with Josh.’

Caitlin shook her head, her bronze eyes wide and dazedly unfocused in shock and disbelief.

‘I’m sorry.’

Rhys had to say it. She looked so emotionally battered—so pale and vulnerable—that no one with an ounce of human feeling could have felt anything but sympathy for her right at this moment. Silently he cursed Amelie, who, with characteristic carelessness for other people’s feelings, had walked into this woman’s life and totally destroyed it. And there was a nasty twist of guilt in there too at the thought that if he had had more patience with Amelie—or at least provided her with the income she wanted—then his wife would never have set herself at Josh, stealing him from Caitlin so cold-bloodedly.

Though if the truth were told, Caitlin hadn’t lost much when Joshua Hewland had transferred his affections from her to Amelie. If he could be that easily seduced, then he was not truly husband material.

As he’d expected, his sympathy had the effect of toughening Caitlin’s state of mind. Her chin came up defiantly and her eyes clashed sharply with his.

‘But this doesn’t prove anything about Fleur. I overheard Amelie saying that Josh
could
be the father.’

‘But not that he
was
. What name did Amelie put on the birth certificate?’

He knew that she was following his line of thought when he saw how her face changed, the look in her eyes.

‘She—she didn’t. She left the name off completely.’

‘And don’t you think she
would
have put it in there if she could? If she could have proved to Josh—and his family—that the baby was his? Don’t you think she’d have asked them to take care of Fleur if it was true?’

‘So she conned Josh too.’

He hated the tears that flooded her eyes. Hated the fact that they were there for Josh—that even after the way the bastard had betrayed her she could still weep for him. But all the same he couldn’t stop himself from moving to her side, taking her in his arms, holding her tight.

Too tight for his own peace of mind.

He didn’t want to feel the sudden jolt of his heart, the instant tightening of his body. He didn’t want to sense his blood heat in his veins, his pulse speed up, the basic, primal yearning uncoil deep in the pit of his stomach. But he couldn’t stop himself.

One breath of the scent of her skin, the perfume of her hair as he came so close, one touch of his skin on hers, as his hand fastened over her bare arm in the short-sleeved top, and he was lost. The need to kiss her, caress her, to
take
her, make her his and his alone, swept over him like a tidal wave, drowning him instantly, even as he struggled to resist it.

But he
had
to resist it. At least for now, until they had this whole damn mess sorted out.

If they ever could get it sorted out.

Against his shoulder he felt Caitlin stir and sigh, drawing in her breath on a faint sound that was almost a sob.

‘There was something you said. Something about—something you knew that I didn’t…’

‘Her name.’

‘What?’

Tilting her head up, she looked into his face, a faint, puzzled frown drawing her brows together.

‘The baby’s name—Fleur. It was what I—once—used to call Amelie.’

The memory was bitter, but overlaying it was the softer, sweeter one of the moment he had held the little girl—his little girl, he was sure—in his arms for the first time.

‘Ma petite fleur,’
Caitlin said, obviously remembering. ‘My little flower.’

‘Yes. That’s it. So you see, if she used that name for the baby, then it was clearly me she was thinking of. Naming her baby for its father. For something I said.’

She was silent so long that he thought she would never answer. But then at last she stirred and moved away slightly so that she could look him in the face.

‘Oh, Rhys—I don’t know. I don’t know what to think. What to do.’

He almost laughed. To him there was no problem. None at all.

He wanted his child. And he wanted this woman. If he had any doubts, then coming back here tonight had wiped them from his mind. Holding her as he had been just a few moments ago, he had known that he would do anything, anything at all, if he could just keep her with him, get her back into his bed.

Keep her in his life.

‘That’s easy,’ he said lightly.

No need to show her yet how much this meant to him. No need to come on heavy and intense when she obviously wasn’t ready for it. She had had enough to cope with today already. The revelations about Fleur, about Amelie, and of course about her beloved Joshua had been hard enough for her to take. He didn’t want to overload her with anything more.

‘Easy?’

‘Of course. I’ve said it before. I’ve told you what we do.’

She looked strangely dazed, unbelieving.

‘You said it before—you mean when you told me I could come and live with you?’

It wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. It wasn’t anything like the response he’d thought she might have. OK, so he hadn’t been fool enough to think that she would fall into his arms straight away. That she’d be overwhelmed with delight at the prospect of moving to London, of starting life afresh in the capital.

But he had expected that she would at least be moderately pleased—at worst accepting of the idea.

Instead she looked as if he’d just suggested that she sell herself—and the baby—to the nearest white-slave trader.

‘Why would you think that would work?’

‘I would have thought that was self-evident—I’ve made no secret of the fact that I want you. And you’re plainly not…averse to me. Oh, come on, Caitlin!’

His exasperation began to show through, his control over his voice slipping as she still looked dubious.

‘It’s the obvious answer.’

‘It isn’t to me.’

‘And can you come up with another one that means I get Fleur but you don’t have to—?’

‘You get Fleur!’

Caitlin had been struggling with her temper. She had been fighting a losing battle with the words of shock and disappointment that had been forcing themselves up her throat, threatening to spill out, pour themselves in a tirade of pain and distress at the thought of what he was offering. And now she gave up.

Twisting away from him, she whirled to face him fully, eyes blazing rejection, hands clenched into fists at her sides.

She couldn’t hold back any longer. Couldn’t hide her unhappiness at the realisation that he only saw her as a way to get Fleur. That she was part of a package deal, along with the baby he believed was his daughter.

The baby who was truly the one he wanted. While she was just an added extra. A live-in nanny for the baby, who was also someone he fancied sleeping with on the side. A nice sexual bonus, one that also got rid of the potential problems she could cause if she decided to fight him for the baby.

‘You get Fleur!’ she repeated, her voice creeping up an octave or more in her distress. ‘And Fleur’s what you really want!’

‘Caitlin…’

There was an ominous note in his voice now. One that warned of the dangers of the path she was following, threatened retribution if she didn’t see sense.

Sense as he saw it.

‘Stop this stupidity, Caitlin! Of course I want Fleur. I’ve always wanted her, ever since I learned she existed. I want to take her home, to live with me, grow up to know me. She’s my baby—my child—’

‘There isn’t any proof of that!’

She regretted the words as soon as she had said them. There wasn’t any proof that Fleur
wasn’t
Rhys’s child either. There was no proof either way.

‘Oh, so that’s it!’

‘That’s what?’ she managed miserably, knowing deep down inside that really she didn’t have to ask.

She knew from his face, from the way that his eyes had turned to the icy blue of an Arctic sea, the hard set to his jaw, the cruel, bitter line to his mouth, just what was in his mind. There was only one interpretation he would have put on her reaction. And she knew without a hope of redemption just what that was.

His thoughts had gone immediately to Josh. To his firmly held belief that she was still in love with the man who she had once believed was going to be her fiancé—her husband. He still thought that she couldn’t get over his death.

And his first words in response confirmed as much.

‘It’s him, isn’t it—it’s Hewland?’

He spat the name out as if it was a curse that tasted vile in his mouth.

‘You still can’t let go of Joshua Hewland. You’re still carrying a torch for the bastard, even after the way he treated you.’

She shook her head, but her eyes wouldn’t meet his, and she knew that Rhys would interpret that as meaning that she wasn’t telling the truth. That she was avoiding his gaze because she couldn’t admit that he was right.

But at least letting him think that was safer than letting him guess at the real truth.

A truth that she was only just beginning to realise for herself.

That she was in love with Rhys. That once again she had been foolish enough, naïve enough, to give her heart to a man who really didn’t care for her at all. A man who just wanted to use her to get what he wanted—Fleur.

‘I don’t believe it!’

‘Believe what you like!’ It was the nearest she dared to come to defiance and she knew the danger she had provoked as soon as she saw the darkening of his eyes.

‘At least Josh wanted me for myself—for a while; he didn’t just want me as part of a job lot with a baby. At least Josh, whatever his faults, spared me that.’

‘So you’re still obsessed with him.’

It was a vicious snarl, one that made her blood run cold just to hear it.

‘The bastard can still reach out from beyond the grave and hold you captive. Well, let’s see…’

She didn’t see the movement coming, wasn’t prepared for the way that he suddenly pounced, so when his hand came out and fastened on her arm she wasn’t prepared, had no defences available, no way of fighting him.

Before she quite realised what was happening he had twisted her violently into his grip, his arms coming tight round her, hauling her up against the hard length of his body.

‘Well, let’s see, shall we, angel? Let’s see, my sweet Caitlin, how your dear, dead Joshua can compare with the touch of a real live, warm-blooded man. Can he hold you like this?’

Deliberately he tightened his grip until the air was crushed from her body, making her gasp in shock and instinctive response.

‘Can he touch you, caress you…?’

He suited action to the words, combing long fingers through her hair, stroking his hand all the way down her body.

He curved warm palms over her breasts, squeezed gently until she moaned. And then he took her mouth again, tormenting, teasing, enticing, stroking her tongue with his until her blood caught fire.