The Earl's Secret (11 page)

“Both destroyed by Henry VIII in 1544 when he invaded Scotland. Mary, Queen of Scots, was just a young child then.”

How hauntingly sad they looked…but proud and beautiful still. Jennifer gazed across the purring car at Christopher. He was a man of deep sensibilities and a belief in honor. Two reasons for his wanting to restore Castle Donan and offer her to the people. Two more reasons for admiring him, she thought blissfully.

St. James rose up out of the flat land to the right of the highway. Plantings of heather and evergreen shrubs softened the stone facades of the buildings. Christopher parked in a space in front of the administrative office.

“I have to pick up some paperwork. The budget and bids for new buildings. Stroll around the campus if you like. I'll catch up with you in a few minutes.”

Jennifer walked away from the Jaguar, inhaling the sweet country air. The campus was a cluster of stone buildings—a large one for the administration, three more for classrooms. The remaining structures were cottages, also of stone, and were named for local villages or historical sites—Drumlanrig's Tower, Common Riding, Abbotsford, Dryburgh. Cozy dormitories for the girls, she suspected.

Beyond the last cottage was a gravel walkway and beyond that an athletic field. She could see a group
of about twenty young girls, scrambling after a ball, swinging sticks at it, usually but not always missing one another. At last their instructor whistled them all to order, and they formed a tidy double line to march back to the school.

Christopher came up behind Jennifer and stood with his arms around her. “Remembering your girlhood days?”

“They look as if they're having such fun.”

“St. James is a good school. I'm glad Lisa is here.”

She looked up at his wistful tone. A deep sadness etched fine lines around his expressive eyes and mouth. When she turned back again, the column of chattering girls was drawing closer. Jennifer looked down the ranks and hit on a pair of Parrish-blue eyes. As riveting as the blue eyes of the man standing beside her. She pulled in a sharp breath.

“That's Lisa, right?” she whispered.

Christopher stood silently. She looked up and he was staring intently at the little girl. “We'd better leave,” he said, and turned toward the car.

“Wait. Please, Chris. I'd love to meet her.”

“That's impossible,” he snapped.

“Why?” He was dragging her along after him. “Chris, you said you're a friend of the family. She knows you and—”

“No!” he growled.

Her mouth felt suddenly dry. A spot on her temple throbbed uncomfortably. Why didn't he want her to meet his daughter?

But she didn't have time to dwell on the question, because a high-pitched squeal split the morning air. “Uncle Chris! Uncle Chris!”

The earl came to a sudden stop. An adorable pony-tailed child caught up with them. She threw herself at Christopher, hugging him warmly.

“You came to see me! How very, very nice…and who is your friend?” she asked, sounding far too mature for her years. She turned to Jennifer. “I'm Lisa Ellington. Are you Uncle Chris's new lady friend?”

Jennifer blinked at the little girl's candidness. Apparently, it wasn't the first time Lisa had seen Christopher accompanied by a woman.

“This is Jennifer,” he said quickly. “She's visiting from the United States.”

Jennifer winced.
Visiting.
Is that all it was?

“Hello, Miss Jennifer,” Lisa said brightly. Her instructor had kept the line marching toward the buildings, and now called out to Lisa, but the child ignored her. “You're very pretty. Are you staying at the castle?”

“Yes.” Jennifer smiled. “I am. It's beautiful, don't you think?”

Lisa wrinkled her nose. “The rooms smell bad.”

Jennifer laughed, enchanted. “That's because they're very old. We're working on fixing them up. They won't smell bad when we're done.”

“Good.” Lisa turned to Christopher. “Look at my new shoes. Aren't they beautiful? For athletic shoes, that is.”

Christopher looked a little less uncomfortable, as if he was beginning to feel everything would be all right. “Very sporty. Where did you get them?”

“My father bought them for me in Paris. We went together, you know. Mama, Papa and I. It was a jolly holiday. We went shopping every day.” She looked
up at him sheepishly. “I wanted to bring you back a present, the way you do for me sometimes. But Mama said it wasn't ap-ap-appropriate.”

Jennifer watched sadly as Christopher's smile stiffened. She felt terrible for him. How awful to hear another man called the father of
his
child.

“Don't worry about it,” he said slowly. “You'd better run along before your group leaves you behind.”

The little girl glanced worriedly over her shoulder. She started running after the girls at the end of the line. “Come to the house for a visit, Uncle Chris! Please, please do…”

“I will,” he said with all the cheerfulness of a log.

Jennifer squeezed his arm. “I'm so sorry. I hadn't realized how difficult it must be for you.”

He shrugged. “She didn't mean anything by it.”

“Of course not. She just doesn't know. Why not tell her the truth?”

He shook his head. “That's up to her mother. We agreed. When Lisa is old enough.”

A skeptical chill swept across Jennifer's mind. “She seems old and bright enough to understand now. You're miserable, and the two of you should have more time together. Before long she'll be a teenager, then a young woman. You'll have missed being the father to her that—”

“I know!” he shouted, glaring at her.

She released his arm and took a step back. The anger in his eyes was new to her and terrifying. “I'm sorry…I didn't mean—”

“Don't you think I feel the passing of every day?” he growled. “Don't you think I
want
to have Lisa with me?”

Jennifer's eyes filled with tears. She was trembling, but not out of fear. Compassion was the only emotion she felt. She faced up to his rage. “Of course, but you have to keep on fighting—don't you see? There must be something that—”

“There's nothing I can do, damn it! It's gone on too long…this stupid lie.” He glared off into the distance. “Lisa trusts me. I'm her friend, her Uncle Chris. Telling her the truth would be admitting I've lied to her all these years.”

Jennifer shook her head, wanting to offer him comfort, but unable to find words.

“Who knows,” he groaned, “she might not even believe me.”

“What about her mother? Wouldn't she back you up, if Lisa asked about you?”

“I'm not sure,” he said thrusting shaking fingers through his short, dark hair. His face was still flushed with anger, and his voice sounded drained of its usual energy. “I don't think Sandra wants her friends to know Lisa isn't her husband's child. At one time she might have believed it would be all right. But now—” He sighed.

“Please, Chris—for Lisa's sake if not your own—”

“I don't want to talk about it,” he said shortly. “It's none of your business, anyway.” Abruptly he spun away and strode toward the parking lot.

Jennifer felt as if she'd been slapped across the face.

So this was where Christopher drew the line. His daughter, father, brothers and his brother's wife and children were all family. They might not see each other for months, or even years at a time. But
they
were family.
His American girlfriend was temporary…outside of that special circle. And he meant to keep her that way.

J
ennifer spent all of the next day in the garden on the west side of the castle. While she revived ancient rosebushes and dug holes to plant newly purchased varieties, Christopher labored silently on the crumbled stone wall down the hill toward the loch. Mr. Clark had told her that the wall probably had lain in ruins since the last siege of Castle Donan, but Christopher was determined that it should be rebuilt.

Although he was bare-chested and the autumn air was chilly, sweat trickled down the deep crease in the center of his back and over the muscled ridges of his chest and stomach. They spoke only a few words to each other all morning. Jennifer could feel a chasm widening between them.

By late afternoon she was so tired she could barely stand. Every pore of her body felt plugged with Borders' soil, and her heart was heavy. She had tried, off
and on throughout the day, to connect with Christopher, but he had removed himself to a world of his own torment.

At dinner that night the silence continued. Jennifer sighed audibly, put down her fork and looked across the table at Christopher. “You should speak to her mother.”

He cut into the lamb roast on his plate, took a bite and chewed. His jaw tightened and mechanically ground at the meat, and he didn't look up at her.

“Chris, you can't go on like this. By all rights, Lisa should be with you for half of every year.” Jennifer's voice trembled with emotion. “You've done nothing to deserve this treatment.”

The anger he'd held on to only by threads during the day, shot to the surface. “You're right!” he barked. “But I told you, nothing's to be done.”

She ignored the cold fire in his eyes and plunged on. “There
is
something. Lisa is a bright young girl, and she obviously feels very close to you already. I don't believe she would hold it against you for not telling her you are her father. She just needs help understanding the reasons the truth has been kept from her until now.”

“That's not what her mother thinks.”

Jennifer shook her head. “The woman clearly has her own agenda. She's not concerned with her daughter's welfare, or yours. Maybe she just doesn't want to rock her social boat. Does her husband know?”

“Of course he knows!” Why was she badgering him? Why wouldn't she leave him to deal with his loss in his own way? “I wouldn't have agreed to silence if it meant tricking the man into thinking he was Lisa's father.”

“Then something else is going on that we don't know about. The point is, you can't let her keep Lisa to herself this way. It's destroying you.”

“I believe it's up to me to decide what I can or cannot tolerate,” he growled.

She glared at him, her eyes afire. “That's macho baloney. Men think they can suffer through anything.”

“I have so far,” he stated. So what if she was right about his being entitled to Lisa. What was the point?

“Please, Chris, talk to the woman. I'll go with you, if you like. Maybe seeing that you have someone permanent in your life will make a difference.”

“I doubt it.” But then he paused before finally admitting, “I suppose we might try.”

 

The Ellingtons' town house in London was an immense four-story affair in a chic part of the city. Despite her assurances to Christopher that she wanted to go with him, Jennifer fidgeted in the car all the way to the city and felt sick with nerves. She sensed how much depended upon this meeting with the Ellingtons. But Christopher's handsome face remained empty of emotion for the entire drive.

The Ellingtons' door was answered by a butler, who ushered them into an intimate sitting room where a fire blazed behind an ornate screen. The furnishings were light and feminine, the decor ornate with gold filigree and gilded frames around oil portraits of pompous-looking men and women, some in powdered white wigs.

The distinguished ancestors,
Jennifer thought, trying not to smile at the thought of some of the rogues
she and her mother could have displayed in their own living rooms.

Before Jennifer could say anything to Christopher about the paintings, the door opened and in stepped a handsome woman dressed in a turquoise silk suit. Jennifer could immediately see why men would be drawn to her. Although not really pretty, she exuded a sophisticated sensuality, which was undiminished by the present look of displeasure on her face.

“Please, sit down, both of you. How have you been, Christopher?” she asked stiffly.

“Well. And you, Sandra?”

She nodded, perched on a brocade chair and looked pointedly at Jennifer.

“This is Jennifer Murphy,” Christopher said. “She's helping me with restorations at Donan.”

Again, not a word that would indicate she was anything more to him than an employee. Jennifer tried to ignore the tiny cold prick at her heart, but it was impossible.

“I see,” Sandra said. “Then you have a massive job ahead of you, my dear. The last time I was at Donan, little more than half the castle was in livable condition.”

Christopher didn't give Jennifer a chance to respond. “It's coming along,” he said coolly. “Will Sir Isaac be able to join us?”

“He's very sorry not to be here,” she said quickly. “But we can talk, the three of us. You said this meeting had something to do with my daughter?”

“With Lisa…
our daughter,
” he stated emphatically. “She will be seven years old next month.”

“I am aware of her age.” Sandra shot an annoyed look at Jennifer as if upset that she knew their secret.

Jennifer spoke up. “It would seem that Lisa's old enough to learn who her father is.”

The woman's face hardened, losing all of its attractiveness.

“What a foolish thing to say. Of course a young child can't understand that the man she's always known as her father, isn't. And what do you think that would do to the way she's treated at school? Everyone will know she is a
bastard.
”

The muscles in Christopher's face contorted. “People aren't that closed-minded these days. Many children are born out of wedlock or have stepparents.”

“
Not
in
my
family,” she said distinctly. “I refuse to embarrass my husband by causing a scandal at this late date.”

Christopher glared at her. “You promised, Sandra. Now you're saying that it doesn't matter how old she is!”

“It's in the child's best interest.”

Jennifer stared at the woman's impassive expression. It was clear she believed that she held all the cards and could do anything she wished. She didn't care that Christopher was in pain or her daughter would miss out on a wonderful relationship with her real father.

“This is totally unfair!” Jennifer blurted out.

Christopher gave her a look meant to silence her.

“Fair or not, it's the way it will be,” Sandra stated. “And if you, Lord Smythe, dare to tell my daughter that anyone other than Sir Isaac is her father, I will deny it. You won't be welcome in this house, and Lisa will be instructed never to speak to you again.”

Christopher bolted to his feet, outrage flaming in his features. “You wouldn't!”

“I most certainly would.” Sandra looked pleased with herself. “Perhaps at one time it didn't seem so terrible to admit I'd had affairs before I married Sir Isaac. But he's running for the House of Commons, you know, and that will mean more than the usual emphasis on propriety. We won't be the object of gossip.”

Jennifer started to object again, but when she looked at Christopher, she could see that he had already accepted defeat. When Christopher moved toward the door to leave, Jennifer followed behind him, sharing his agony.

The butler was waiting outside the sitting room. He escorted them to the front door. As they passed through it, a gray-haired, stately looking gentleman came up the stone steps.

“Smythe,” the man said shortly, nodding at Christopher.

“Good morning, sir,” Christopher returned with equal reserve.

They were in the car before Jennifer asked, “Who was that going in as we left?”

“Sir Isaac, Sandra's husband.”

“I thought he was tied up for the day.”

Christopher shrugged. What did it matter? “Perhaps he chose not to be part of the discussion. He must have thought we had already left.”

“I'm sorry it didn't turn out better,” Jennifer whispered.

Christopher laid a hand on her knee as he pulled into traffic, glad that she had been with him on this most disappointing of days. Her presence made him feel less empty inside.

“I didn't expect it to be that bad,” he murmured. “Sandra has never been this unreasonable.”

Jennifer nodded, tenderly touched his hand, then cushioned it between her own. “She definitely has you in a pinch. Do you think she'd really make good on her threat?”

“In a heartbeat.”

She sighed. “I don't know anything about the British legal system, but in the United States if she denied you visiting rights with Lisa, you could take her to court. Even if you just threatened to do something like that, wouldn't she give in? She certainly wouldn't want a lot of publicity in the middle of Sir Isaac's bid for a seat in Parliament.”

He appreciated her support. But things weren't as clear-cut as Jennifer saw them. “I'm not sure I'd dare call Sandra's bluff. What if she decided to fight me? The British press would smell a scandal. Lisa would be caught in the middle. I can't put her through that.”

“No,” Jennifer said sadly, “of course not.”

But as they drove north again, Christopher thought that confronting Sandra might not have been the worst thing. At least he'd acted. At Jennifer's urging, he had
done
something instead of brooding helplessly. He felt better for it, at least for the time being.

 

That night as they lay together in bed, Christopher kissed Jennifer good-night on the tip of her nose, their signal that they wouldn't make love that night but that all was well between them. However, Jennifer took things into her own increasingly capable hands.

Lifting the sheet, she slid down beneath the covers.

“What's this all about?” he asked with a surprised laugh.

She pressed her lips to his bare stomach and smoothed her hands upward over his muscled chest. “It's been a nasty day. You need to relax, m'lord,” she purred playfully.

“What makes you think I'm not— Good grief! What are you doing, Jenny?”

She trailed kisses down the patch of male fur below his navel, lower still, then pressed her cheek over him. He hardened beneath the soft pad of her cheek.

Christopher groaned. “Getting a little adventurous, aren't you?”

“I'm experimenting. Are you game?”

“Be my guest.” He chuckled, delighted with her spirit.

She closed one hand around him, touched him tentatively with the tip of her tongue, stroked him and closed her lips around him. Christopher moaned with each subtle motion of her mouth and loving fingers before he clutched her fiercely to him. A low primal moan of male satisfaction escaped his lips.

 

Five days of black skies, unrelenting rain and no opportunity to work out-of-doors inevitably darkened Christopher's mood again.

Jennifer kept herself busy. She surveyed the furnishings of the bedroom where she was refinishing the crown molding—a jumble of lovely eighteenth-century antiques, flea-market junk, two marble-topped tables that might be as old as the castle itself and a moth-eaten fifties recliner. With the help of two stable hands she carted away the furniture that was of no value, then rearranged the room with the period pieces alone.

Christopher poked his head inside and looked
around. “They told me you were throwing out perfectly good stuff.”

“Perfectly good for a rummage sale,” she declared. “Displaying cheap modern furniture alongside such gorgeous old things is a crime. It's fine to mix centuries and styles, as long as each piece lives up to Donan's traditions.”

“The room still needs a bed,” Christopher commented thoughtfully.

“When the weather clears, I'll visit a couple of nearby estate sales,” she said. “In the meantime, we can go through the other rooms and choose what to keep or give away.”

Jennifer worked energetically, enjoying the challenge of identifying rare treasures from Donan's forgotten rooms with the help of catalogs ordered from the museum in Edinburgh.

Christopher strove to show enthusiasm for her efforts, but she often found him wandering the castle halls, doing battle with a dour mood. When he tried to help her, his mind drifted and he accomplished little. She feared that all of her cheerfulness and hard work were doing him little good.

One day his old spirit unexpectedly reappeared. He announced that the weather was predicted to clear in the afternoon, and they would drive to a friend's estate where there was to be a polo match. He assured her that this group was friendly and would welcome her.

The grooms loaded their boss's four favorite horses into a trailer, since frequent changes of mounts were required in a hard-ridden game of polo. The trailer was hitched to a truck and driven by the head groom, Jamie. Jennifer rode with Christopher in the Jaguar.

He talked nonstop all the way. Jennifer was thrilled to see the change, but wary, too, for the sudden shift in moods was unsettling.

“I'll ride Prince's Pride first,” he told Jamie when they arrived at the host estate. “It may be a few hours before we begin, but you might as well get him ready.”

A crowd of cars, horse vans, riders and observers rapidly gathered around the edges of the broad field that stretched below an elegant country house. Under a pavilion warmed by a toasty fire, an elaborate spread of food awaited hungry guests. Christopher introduced Jennifer to everyone. Many people had heard that Castle Donan was in the throes of a major restoration and everyone was eager for details.