The English Lord's Secret Son Read online

  She had to make a contribution. “They tried much the same experiment with the colour red. Professional footballers were given either a red or a blue jersey to wear in a game. Those wearing the red jerseys not only felt more confident of a win—their own explanation—they did win.”

  “Well, the theory can be demonstrated tonight,” he suggested, the curve of his mouth frankly mocking.

  “I can promise you it won’t be a late night for me,” she answered repressively.

  “Why so anxious to get rid of me?” he asked with mock humour. “Surely I’m someone from the old days? A one-time boyfriend? I mean, it wasn’t as though you were fixated on me.”

  She turned her blonde head away, exposing a sculpted jaw line and throat. “That wasn’t the plan.”

  “What was the plan? Two-timing someone at home?” A hardness had entered his voice.

  “A variety of reasons,” she said.

  “All tainted.”

  “Nothing could have been further from my mind. Can we keep the focus on the present,” she said firmly.

  “By all means. Why can’t you say my name?”

  He was exerting far too much pressure. “I don’t trust myself to.”

  “Meaning?” Baffled, he stared into her eyes, not knowing what the hell she was talking about.

  Why can’t you keep your mouth shut? the voice inside her head cut in.

  “It was good to walk away from you, Ashe. Good to walk away from your family, England.”

  “When my family liked you so much?” Anger hit him. “You just pulled the plug on all of us?”

  His sisters had really liked her. She had liked them. They had treated her like a friend, respected her and her opinions. Briefly they had touched her life. His mother? Another story. Memories of Alicia would stay with her for ever. She would always feel that backlash of rejection. It was a wonder Marina had been considered good enough for her son. “Surely it can’t be of any importance any more,” she said, with no emotion in her voice.

  Provoked, he suddenly caught her hand across the table, his fingers very tight on hers. “You claimed you loved me.”

  Denial was impossible. “Oh, for God’s sake!”

  Betray nothing.

  Only he wouldn’t let her fingers go. That mystical clasp of their hands! She had to suck in her breath. She was no better at controlling her responses now than she had been years ago.

  “You inherited your Gothic pile, the title, Marina, the Earl’s daughter, Radclyffe Hall. Wasn’t that enough?”

  “Not Gothic at all as you very well know,” he returned shortly. “What the hell are you hiding, Catrina?” His black brows drew together, making him look extraordinarily formidable.

  “And I suppose you’re so up front?” she retaliated, still keeping her voice low. “We’ve been thrown into this situation. I’m not enjoying it any more than you.”

  “Brave words, but what’s the reality?” he challenged. “Your hand is trembling.”

  “That’s because you’ve got my fingers wedged tight.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “Look,” she said in what she hoped was a conciliatory manner. “Don’t let’s have a spat in public. We’ll finish up, then walk back to the hotel.” It was much too dangerous to stay within his orbit. “I gather I might become privy to an announcement some time tomorrow so we can head back. No doubt you’ve told Lady McCready all about yourself and your illustrious family. You can’t help looking and acting very grand. Lady McCready would like that. A mega-hero.”

  “Please, no fake admiration. It’s just a waste of time. I have no doubt of your powers, Catrina, and I’m speaking from experience, but it appears all you can offer a man is delusion.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  He had been busy finding his credit card but his dark head shot up. “What did you say?”

  “I’m just going with the flow, Ashe.” Her green eyes beneath their naturally dark brows were enigmatic.

  Sexual attraction was hell, he thought. No way to get rid of it. “Know what I think? You’re still playing tricks,” he returned with a lick of contempt. “You started out that way as a girl. You’ve kept going.”

  She was rattled, but managed coolly, “The short answer is, not with a married man. That’s a no-go zone.”

  “Is it? What about the man who fathered your child? I have to say I feel sorry for the guy. Did you even tell him you were pregnant?”

  Her control almost slipped. “That’s the tricky part,” she said, tossing a long lock of her hair over her shoulder. “Write me off, Ashe.”

  Just like you wrote me.

  * * *

  On the way back to the hotel he had to rescue her again. She had stepped off the pavement precipitously; a second later a car window was wound down and a young male voice bawled at her, “Yoo-hoo, blondie, are you trying to get yourself killed? You can get in if you like.”

  Heads swivelled everywhere. Wyndham grabbed hold of her and smartly waved the young driver on. She was staggering now under the rush of adrenaline, dry-mouthed with fright. She had stepped off the pavement looking right but not left, the reason being he was to her left. She had made it clear she hadn’t wanted him to take her arm. The bad news was, she was such a mass of leaping nerves she hadn’t been paying sufficient attention to the road or indeed anything much. The traffic was by no means heavy. Couples were strolling arm in arm enjoying the balmy breeze but the beetle-

  sized vehicle approaching the corner would have come close to collecting her only for Wyndham.

  A dead silence lasted for several seconds. “As the kid said, are you trying to get yourself killed?” he snapped. He sounded deeply angry.

  “Hey, don’t get excited. Nothing happened.”

  He didn’t buy that. “Come on.” His retort was sharp. “Your heart is hammering.”

  He would know. His arm was pressed over it. “Well, you see the problem, don’t you? You’re manhandling me.”

  “You need manhandling,” he said, abruptly releasing her.

  She said nothing. She was so shocked she was able to maintain a spurious air of total calm. They set off again, but this time he kept a light hold on her arm. She didn’t protest. Her brain wasn’t working yet.

  * * *

  Back at the hotel he walked along the empty corridor, stopping first at her door. His room was further down.

  This is your chance to self-destruct.

  “Goodnight,” she said rapidly, her agitation evident. What she had here was a major departure from her rational, ordered life.

  “What on earth’s the problem?” He stared down into her overwrought face. The first time he had seen vulnerability from the Frost Queen. Oddly enough it hurt him.

  “Okay, I feel a bit shaky,” she admitted. “If you hadn’t pulled me back I could have been injured.” It was Jules she was thinking about. She had to stay safe and well for her son.

  “Would have been,” he corrected. “You’re pale enough to pass out.” Indeed her creamy skin had lost colour. “You want a slug of something. Come to that, I need one too.” He felt like a man standing on a cliff with his feet halfway over. She wasn’t worth loving. She never had been. But by God she was more of a threat than ever. She still possessed her powerful sexual allure in spades. He didn’t need her love any more. But he was mad to take her to bed. The surest way to move on. Taking her to bed was a strategy of sorts. Finally get her out of his system.

  He took the entry card out of her nerveless hand, opening the door, waiting a moment for her to precede him. She had such grace in her movements. Her lovely subtle perfume was in his nostrils. He even knew it. Chanel. He was the one who had actually introduced her to Chanel, buying her perfume along with a dozen and more Christmas presents all packaged up beautifully, the card bearing her name. Those were the days when he was just Julian Ashton Carlisle with no idea a peerage was waiting for him. That honour should have been for his beloved father, a hero in many people’s eyes, not ju
st his family’s.

  “Ashe, this is—” She broke off, unable to find the right words.

  “Madness?” he asked. The black humour of it overtook him and he began to laugh.

  “Leave now.” She was in near despair.

  “It would be a very good idea, but let’s have a drink first. Settle the nerves.” Settle the feelings that threatened to become overwhelming. He went to where the drinks were kept.

  “I’ll go splash water on my face,” she announced.

  “Might as well,” he said, as laconic as any Aussie.

  She returned after about five minutes, feeling a bit closer to normal.

  He on the other hand looked as though he had zipped back into top gear. “You look better,” he said casually. She looked exquisite. But she had lost the ultra-control he had seen from her. “Recovered?”

  “I didn’t actually fall apart, did I?” she shot back.

  “You could have fooled me.” He passed her a glass containing a small measure of whisky.

  “Cheers,” she said idiotically and drank it down, shuddering a little as the fiery spirits kicked in. Her capacity for controlling herself was stretched so far it was about to snap. “Thank you for tonight. But time to go,” she said with determination, before she was drawn even further into the whirlpool.

  “I know that. I know if I were in my right mind I’d have steered clear of you.”

  “What a relief it is to hear you say that.”

  You breaker of hearts.

  “Only exposure to you has quite clouded my better judgment.”

  “Well, it hasn’t clouded mine. What I told you is true. Married men are in the no-go zone.”

  “As though I believe it,” he scoffed. “You’d have married men falling over one another with insatiable desire. Look at poor old Saunders.”

  “I’m not happy to hear you call my boss ‘poor old Saunders.’”

  “I’ll be glad to call him ‘poor old Hugh Saunders, CEO Inter-Austral’ if you like. Give me your hand.”

  “Sorry. Holding hands with you is way down my list.”

  “Whatever did you see in me? No, seriously, I want to know.”

  “It was like a switch was turned. On. Off. You know how it goes.”

  “Catrina, that’s wicked,” he condemned her. “Seriously wicked. No one has the right to deliberately break the heart of someone who cares for them.”

  She stared at him in amazement, then snapped, “Destroyed by grief, were you? How long after did you get married?”

  Something was all wrong, he thought. The expression in her crystal-clear green eyes was haunted. How could that be? It was the moment to come clean and tell her he and Marina had never tied the knot. That had been his mother’s grand design. But why should he answer head-on and expose himself to even more humiliation? She would find out soon enough.

  Cate waved the question off. “Hey, no need to tell me. Wedding of the year, was it?” There was a definite giddiness in her head. “Please go, Ashe.” She made an effusive gesture towards the door.

  Mockery was in his glittering eyes. “See you for breakfast?”

  She laid her palms against her ears. “Never!”

  “How about coffee? I’ll have Lady McCready’s answer by tomorrow afternoon.”

  “Coffee will be fine,” she bit off. “We’ll have it at the airport.”

  She went to move past him, but as she did so his arm encircled her waist. That was the trigger. Immediately she was engulfed in fire as her flesh came into contact with his. She could feel the searing glow on her skin. She could feel the blood pumping in and out of her heart. Surely he could hear the loud beat? For a shocking moment she actually leaned against him, compelled to, assailed by memories so vivid they could never be erased.

  At a touch, I yield.

  “So the seduction scene,” he murmured, blatant cynicism in his voice. “Who planned it, you or me?” His arm tightened.

  “None of it was ever planned.” She twisted her body away from him.

  Something inexplicable was in her tone. It frustrated him immensely. He swung her fully into his arms, more roughly than he intended. For all he knew she could be in some way deranged. “Look, I’m not following you at all,” he cried with more than a hint of desperation. He stared into her translucent green eyes that hid so much. “Is this your on-and-off stunt? If it is, stop it.”

  “Pray it isn’t!” Masses of her long blonde hair had fallen back. At this moment of extreme upset the very worst thing could happen. It lured her as much as frightened her.

  The promise of her was too lavish for him.

  The rush was headlong.

  His mouth on hers. Call him a fool, but this was what he wanted. This helpless, hopeless admission of need.

  It blitzed all rational thought. Her full mouth was luscious, a magnet for his. Their tongues flickered briefly, coiled in a dance of love to some hypnotising rhythm. Cate’s eyelids fluttered shut. There was no tenderness to their kiss. Rather, raw passion, a kind of anger, like a two-edged sword. What had started off as a moment of shock rapidly turned to intense physical pleasure. But even the extravagant passion of kissing couldn’t satisfy the deep hunger, the force of it that shook them. She could never mistake any other man for Ashe. No other man could arouse such feelings. No other man could be so addictive.

  She was hooked. Her love-starved body wanted more and more of him.

  He hauled her right up against him, his hands slipping down over her, warm and strong, The hardness of his arousal pressing urgently into her cleft. The miraculous feel of her body against his! Would he never stop wanting her? He hadn’t been able to erase the memories. She had buried herself deep in his psyche, locking him in with a golden key.

  Now they were totally absorbed, the one in the other. The pleasure was ravishing. Cate’s body felt full to the brim of it. There had never been anything measured in their love-making. It had always been total. She was a one-man woman. That was the reality she had to face. Only she couldn’t allow him to see it. This could be written off as an aberration; an overwhelmingly powerful sexual attraction. No more to it than that. She had to make him understand that if she could only control the hunger.

  It would be so easy to forget everything. Forget he near mortally wounded you. Forget he’s the father of your child. Forget he’s a married man. He certainly has. He expects you to lie back, invite him into your yearning body. Enjoy it.

  Enjoy was a nothing word.

  Once burned she was for ever marked.

  The palm of his hand covered her breast. Her nipple was so painfully taut she gave an involuntary gasp as his palm brushed it. Her stomach muscles spasmed. What they were doing was scandalous.

  She jerked away in a panic, pressing her hand hard against his chest. “No.”

  “No? Catrina, you crazy woman, you were loving it. We both want it.” His tone was ragged with intimacy.

  “I’m too full of pride.” Her whole body was shuddering, trying to cope with the assault on her senses.

  The past was as yesterday.

  He felt driven beyond endurance. “Pride, really?” His hands shot out of their own accord, clenching her shoulders. “What does a treacherous woman like you have to do with pride?” His blue eyes flashed lightning.

  She had to force herself to speak. That he could say that! “Go!” She was gripped by a helpless rage. “Go.” Before the whole fragile edifice of her self-control collapsed in a cloud of dust.

  She sounded as though he intended to harm her. “Just how sane are you?”

  “I’m not sane at all.” Not around you. The love of my life. The enemy. How I hate you for it.

  There was a harsh mocking edge to his voice. “You’re a remarkable woman, Catrina, but critical little bits and pieces have been left out of your genetic code,” he said, preparing to leave.

  “Not to the extent of yours,” she shot back, his opponent. “Goodnight, Ashe, or should I say Lord Wyndham? I remembered you’re a married
man even if you didn’t.”

  Everything she was saying was hitting him blindside. Fancy her taking the high moral ground. He nearly told her then he had never married, only damn her! She was the one who had betrayed him yet she was acting the part of a victim. It didn’t make sense. He could hear his mother’s voice:

  Julian, my darling, the poor girl needed help. Lots of help. She was just using you. Using us. She’ll probably spend her time when she gets back home amusing her friends with what was no more to her than an adventure.

  His mother had talked and talked until he was drained of all emotion. His mother had never thought his love for Catrina was a fairy story. His sisters had not been so severe, but they too had been shocked and confused.

  I had thought you two were madly in love. That from Olivia, shaking her head. You were the one, Ashe, who was building the dream. I’m so, so sorry.

  She wasn’t cut out to be your wife, Julian darling, his mother had lamented. Perhaps she was frightened of taking on a new way of life? Eighteen is just a baby after all.

  And that was the last he ever heard from her. A pretty destructive “baby”.

  Cate shut the door on him, promising herself...promising herself...that would never happen again. The urge had been on them to make love, satisfy a physical hunger. That was all it was.

  Shame for her own weakness hung over her.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ON THE FOLLOWING Monday afternoon he drove the car put at his disposal to the house where she lived. He parked in the leafy tree-lined street looking upwards. The house looked pretty impressive from the outside. Built on the side of a hill, it would have a stunning view of the blue marina he had passed along the way. Not that marinas weren’t scattered all around the harbour. This was an island continent. People loved their boats. Loved their sailing. He knew the famous Sydney Hobart Yacht Race had become an icon of Australian sport attracting yachts from all around the world as well as a huge international media coverage. So there was sailing, swimming and of course the cricket.