The Mistress's Child (18 page)

An elderly woman behind the till saw her looking at it.

'Beautiful, isn't it?' She smiled.

'Exquisite.'

'Only came in this morning—must have cost someone a fortune.'

'Can I...can I try it on, please?' asked Lisi breathlessly.

The woman wrinkled her nose. 'We're not really supposed to take it out of the window for a month.'

'Oh, please,' begged Lisi. 'Please.' And the next moment she found herself telling the woman all about Philip— well, not all, but the bit about going to the fancy ball and refusing his offer of a dress.

'How can I refuse after a story like that? I'll get it out of the window. But don't get your hopes up too much—it might not fit. The waist is absolutely tiny.'

But it did. Just. Lisi breathed in and knew a moment's anxiety as the assistant struggled slightly with the zip, but once up, it fitted as though it had been designed for her.

'I won't be able to eat a thing!' she groaned.

'You won't want to, I shouldn't think. Looking like that I doubt whether you'll leave the dance-floor all night!'

It was the most beautiful thing she had ever worn. Tiny sequins were dotted here and there over the skirt, so that they glittered and caught the light as she moved. 'I'll take it,' she said instantly. 'Provided that I can afford it!'

'I'll make sure you can!' The woman gave a dreamy smile. 'It's such a romantic story!'

If only she knew! Still, she was not going to dwell on what she hadn't got—she was going to enjoy what she had—and a ball with Philip sounded pretty near perfect.

The car arrived on Saturday at three o'clock on the dot— an outrageously luxurious vehicle, complete with a uniformed chauffeur, and Tim squealed in excitement, and chatted incessantly for the whole journey.

'Calm down, poppet,' murmured Lisi, thinking that if he carried on at this rate they would never get him settled for the night.

But when the car drew up outside a house situated in a quiet, leafy lane in Hanipstead, Lisi very nearly asked the chauffeur to take them straight back home again.

She swallowed. She had known that Philip was rich, of course she had—but not this rich, because the house she glimpsed as the car purred its way up the drive was more the size of a small castle! And land in London was unbelievably expensive—so just how wealthy was he to be able to afford a plot this size?

'Big house, Mummy!' squealed Tim excitedly.

Why hadn't he told her? Prepared her? She twisted the strap of her handbag nervously. But what could he have said that wouldn't have sounded like boasting? And Philip

was not a boastful man, she realised. He carried his obvious success with an air of cool understatement.

Nevertheless, her heart was still beating like a piston when he opened the door before she had a chance to knock and the sight of him on his home territory quite took her breath away, and drove all thoughts of his intimidating wealth away.

He was wearing black jeans and a soft blue cashmere sweater and his dark hair was ruffled and his eyes very green, if a little wary.

'I wasn't sure if you'd pull out at the last minute,' he admitted.

'At least I'm not wholly predictable!'

Predictable? Never, ever. He still hadn't got over that highly erotic scene in her old bedroom. He felt his heart accelerate and he silently cursed himself for breaking his self-imposed promise not to dwell on that. For once, with Lisi—he was going to make his head dictate events, and not his body.

'Hello, Tim,' he said softly and crouched down to smile on a level with the boy. 'Come on in.'

Tim was strangely silent, but he slid his little hand into Philip's proffered one and went inside.

Lisi was too excited and nervous to take much in except for the feeling of light and space and exquisite decor.

'Shall we have tea in the sitting room first?' Philip asked. 'You can have the guided tour later.'

Tea was all laid out on a table by a roaring log fire—a proper, old-fashioned tea with sandwiches and scones and cake and biscuits. Tim gave a little whimper of delight, which turned into a whoop when he spotted the wooden train-set which had been laid out beneath the window, and he dashed over to it immediately. It was just like the one he had at home, Lisi noted. Only bigger.

Wondering just how she would be able to bring him—

and her—back down to earth after an experience like this, Lisi gestured nervously towards the teapot.

'Shall I be mother?' she asked brightly.

'You are mother,' Philip responded softly. 'Aren't you?'

She sat down and busied herself with pouring the tea. She had gone so long without mixing with men that she was in danger of misinterpreting everything this particular one said.

She glanced up to find him watching her, the beautiful green eyes narrowed thoughtfully. 'Who's babysitting tonight?' she asked.

'It's a surprise.'

'I don't know that I really like surprises—and I think I ought to know, so that I can prepare Tim.'

Philip hesitated. Was he about to break an unwritten law of betraying an official confidence? But it was to Lisi, and Lisi he could trust.

He looked over at Tim, but Tim was oblivious to everything, save his exciting new train-set.

'Choo!' he crooned. 'Choo!'

Philip lowered his voice. 'It's Khalim,' he explained.

'Sorry?'

'Khalim,' he repeated.

'P-Prince Khalim?' Lisi gulped in disbelief.

'That's right. And his wife. Rose.'

Who just happened to be a princess! Lisi put the teapot down with a shaking hand. Her son was about to be looked after by the leading members of Maraban's royal family! 'Surely they're not that strapped for cash!' she joked, her voice rising with a very faint note of hysteria.

Philip gave her a rueful smile. 'It does tend to have that effect on people,' he admitted. 'Everyone was a bit taken aback when they first knew he was joining us at Cambridge—but only for a time. When you are young, these things seem to matter less. Some people liked him for all the wrong reasons, of course—but Khalim is adept

at picking out falsehood. He is a consummate judge of character, despite the isolation his position inevitably brings.'

'What will I say to them?' moaned Lisi.

Philip smiled. 'Say what you would say to anyone. Just be yourself.'

Lisi handed him his tea and gave him a puzzled look. 'I can't understand why they want to spend their Saturday evening babysitting for someone else?'

Philip took the tea and gave her a noncommittal smile. There were some confidences which were not in his gift to break. 'Normality is what they crave above all else,' he said blandly. 'Somewhere where they can relax, and be themselves.'

After tea he showed Tim his room. It had obviously been decorated especially in his honour. There were bright walls and framed posters of cartoons and more toys.

'You're spoiling him,' protested Lisi weakly.

He shrugged. I have a lot of time to make up for.'

She walked quickly over to the window, his remark reminding her that he would never forget the secret she had kept from him all those years. But would he ever forgive her?

'Come on,' he said. 'I'll show you where you're sleeping. Next door to Tim—of course.'

It was surprisingly small and cosy, with a fire burning brightly in the grate.

I know how much you like fires.' He smiled. 'And this is the only bedroom in house which has a fire, apart from mine, of course.'

Her heart gave a skip of disappointment. Of course he wasn't going to move her into his bedroom—why on earth should he, when the physical attraction between them had obviously died? For him, at least. But, oh, she knew one

mad, wild moment of longing as she pictured herself in his arms, and in his bed.

'Shall I start to get dressed now?' she asked, with a glance at her watch. 'What time are they getting here?'

'Seven-thirty,' he said.

'I'll make sure I'm ready on time.' She smiled. 'Don't worry, Philip—I won't keep them waiting.'

He smiled back. Very astute of her to realise that, despite the fact that Khalim and Rose were as close to him as they were to anyone outside their family—the fact remained that they were different. Only a fool would keep them waiting and Lisi was no fool. 'I'll leave you to it.'

She showered, made her face up, blow-dried her hair and pinned it back with tiny, diamante clips, but she couldn't do the damned zip of her dress up!

She sighed, knowing there was nothing else for it but to ask Philip—and there was absolutely no reason to be shy when he knew her body more intimately than any other man.

Nevertheless, she could feel her cheeks pinkening as she called along the corridor.

'Philip! Can you zip me up?'

Philip paused in the act of clipping on his cuff-links and grimaced. Yes, he could zip her up, but was there any worse torture for a man who had vowed not to lay another finger on her until the time was right?

'Philip?'

'Coming,' he replied, silently cursing himself for his poor choice of word.

She stood outside the door of her room, and shrugged her shoulders apologetically, trying desperately to distract herself from the magnificent sight he made in formal dinner clothes which set off his lean physique to perfection. 'I'm afraid that I have to be almost shoe-horned into it!' she babbled.

Shoe-horned? All he could think of was how stunning she looked in black, the stark colour setting off the paleness of her skin to perfection and reflecting the deep ebony of her hair.

She turned around so that her bare back was facing him, and he sucked in a raw breath to see that she was not wearing a bra, and that her magnificent breasts were to be held in place only by the clinging folds of heavy silk.

He caught hold of the zip as gingerly as if it had been a poisonous snake. He could feel the warmth radiating off her skin, and the drift of some sweet, subtle perfume invaded his senses.

The temptation not to close her dress up, but instead to lay his fingertips against the silky surface of her skin was so powerful that he felt the unwanted jerk of arousal. He wanted to lead her by the hand to his bedroom, and to slowly undress her and make love to her all night long, but he knew that he could not. And not just because Tim was up and awake.

Time seemed to have stood still, and Lisi felt the waves of longing as they washed heatedly over her skin. She could hear the very definite sound of his breathing and she wondered whether he was actually going to get round to doing her dress up, even while her body craved for him not to, but to turn her round and kiss her instead.

'How's that?' he ground out, using every atom of self-restraint he possessed as he jerked the zip up.

'Fine! Thanks,' she gulped and fled back into the sanctuary of her room, hating herself for wanting him so badly, but hating him even more for not wanting her. What could have happened to kill all his desire for her?

Her impulsive response might have turned him off. That eager and frantic bout of love-making might have prompted him into thinking that it was inappropriate behaviour for the mother of his child to act in such a free and easy way.

When she eventually emerged from her room, she found him waiting for her and thought that she heard a distant barking. 'Do you have a dog?' she asked in surprise.

He shook his head, pleased to be able to focus his mind on something other than how utterly irresistible she looked. 'That'll be Khalim's people.'

'People?'

'Bodyguards,' he explained. 'They'll have dogs patrolling the grounds, as well as a couple of people stationed out front and out back.'

Lisi nodded thoughtfully. 'It must be strange to live your life like that—always being monitored and never alone.'

'They have each other,' said Philip simply. 'Their love makes everything bearable.'

Lucky Rose, thought Lisi, with a painful leap of her heart. What wouldn't she give to have that kind of closeness with Philip?

'Let's take Tim downstairs and feed him, before they arrive,' he suggested, then added, almost as an afterthought, 'You look beautiful, by the way.'

'Thank you.' She gave a weak smile, wishing that he had said it as though he really meant it, rather than just subjecting her to the kind of cool, green gaze as if he had been admiring a particularly expensive piece of furniture.

They gave Tim boiled eggs and toast and then settled him down in one of the big armchairs, happily drinking a glass of milk and watching one of many videos which Philip must have bought specially. Lisi looked at them with interest. He had certainly gone out of his way to make sure that Tim felt at home here. She might hope in vain that he would be openly demonstrative to her, but there was no doubting the love and pride he felt for his son.

Khalim and Rose arrived at the appointed hour, and Lisi stood nervously at Philip's side while he introduced them.

'Should I bow or should I curtsy?' she had asked him moments earlier.

'Either will do.'

In the end she managed an odd mixture of the two, but she was more than slightly awestruck by the sight of the black-eyed prince and his exquisite, blonde-haired princess.

'So you are Lisi.' Rose smiled. 'And this must be Tim.'

On cue, Tim jumped excitedly to his feet, not seeming at all phased by his high-born child-minders. He gave a little bow just as Philip had taught him to, and Khalim and Rose both laughed in delight.

'Sweet,' murmured Rose, and a dreamy look came over her face.

'He has your profile, Philip,' said Khalim suddenly, and subjected Lisi to a blinding smile. 'And his mother's magnificent colouring.'

'He has many of his mother's qualities—and not too many of mine, hopefully,' responded Philip.

Lisi found Rose's eyes on her. 'Khalim?'

He turned to his wife immediately. 'Dearest?'

'Bring me some sweet mint tea, would you, my love? And take Philip with you, and Tim. Show them how domesticated you have become!'

The prince gave a rueful smile, looking a little like a tiger who had just been offered a saucer of milk. 'You see how she orders me around, Philip? That much at least has not changed!'