What did Chris really think of her? Skye wondered fleetingly. He was always polite, carefully courteous, solicitous to an endearing degree. But what was he really thinking all the time? Did he resent her? Or was his offer to help sincere? His devilishly dark good looks suddenly reminded her she was only six years his senior. Did he, like his mother, believe his father was merely infatuated with her? Did he, too, think she could never hold Kyle’s interest?
And at the moment just what did she have to lose?
“Okay, Chris. We’ll go for a ride.”
He spoke only casually as they drove, pointing out certain landmarks, talking idly about precautions now taken in building against earthquakes. He turned the radio to soft music, and they wound around the hills and zigzags of the city, Skye found herself relaxing with him.
He parked beside a quiet jetty looking out over the bay. “Come on,” he told her. “I’ll show you one of my favorite spots.”
It was a beautiful place. Gulls cried high overhead and the breeze from the bay felt fresh and good. Chris stared out to the water. He was quite a figure with his tall, straight posture, the wind whipping his dark hair back, leaving a strong profile to be clearly seen. He turned back to Skye, standing a few feet behind him, and chuckled slightly.
“I wish you would relax,” he said with a wry grin. “I didn’t ask you out here to toss you into the bay.”
Skye flushed and joined him, seating herself on a rock. “I didn’t think you wanted to push me into the bay, Chris.”
“But you don’t really know what to think, right?” he asked.
“Right,” Skye admitted. She sighed, then decided to deal honestly with him. “Chris, you must resent me. Your parents are waging war because of me, and you’ve been an only child for twenty years. The sole heir of quite an empire—one you’ve obviously worked for as well as your father and uncle ha—”
“Skye!” he interrupted her, a trace of amusement in his eyes along with real surprise. “Why should I resent you? You’re not the reason my parents are waging war—they’ve been doing that for twenty years. And I surely don’t resent a sibling! I honestly think it’s wonderful. Believe me”—he chuckled—“I’m not greedy. My father is worth several fortunes. He could have a dozen children and leave each one an empire. Besides, I love my father. I’ve never thought much about inheriting things. If he didn’t have two cents to rub together, he would have already given me far more than I could ask.”
He was sincere, Skye realized, with a pang. No wonder Kyle so adored his son… “Thank you, Chris,” she said quietly, “for telling me this.”
He shrugged, obviously wishing not to become emotional. “I should have spoken with you long ago. I just really didn’t know what to say, and that’s not really what I brought you out here to tell you anyway.”
“Oh?” Skye murmured.
He glanced at her, pausing and studying her as if wondering how to begin. He shrugged again. “I told you, Skye, I don’t really mean to butt in. It's just that I can’t help but see things. I know you’re miserable and uncomfortable, and I know that my father is having a hell of a bad time. I also know that he loves you—really loves you, although, granted, he behaves like a bear half the time. A polar bear.” He grinned.
Skye had to return his grin. “I’m sorry, Chris, that this is so evident. You shouldn’t have to be involved, to suffer. I know it must be hard on you seeing your father and mother—”
Chris waved a hand in protest, silencing her. “I’ll start with this, Skye—I love my mother, she is my mother. But I don’t know why she is doing this to my father. I’m twenty, Skye. Plenty old enough to understand things were over between them years ago. Old enough to see and accept the faults in those I love. Dad has given Mom everything for years—for my sake, which was okay as long as Dad wasn’t hurt. I know you can’t understand why he claims to love you and does nothing against her.” He paused for a long moment, biting his lip with a frowning uncertainty. “I know he doesn’t tell you anything. Don’t ask how—I just know. Because I know who my dad is protecting—me.”
Skye shook her head. “I don’t understand, Chris. I—”
“Kyle Jagger isn’t really my father.”
Skye stared at him, stunned and confused. Kyle had told her he had married Lisa because she was pregnant. He adored Chris, how could his son not be his…
“It’s true,” Chris said dryly, “but here is where we start getting our wires crossed. I know that it’s true, and my father knows that it’s true. My mother obviously knows. But they don’t know that I know. My father has always tried to protect me, and I haven’t known how to tell him it isn’t necessary.”
“Chris,” Skye murmured, “how do you know? I mean—”
“For one, Skye, I can count. My mother was pregnant when my father married her. Which of course doesn’t prove anything, but, Skye, look at me! I’m as dark as a Spaniard. And kids pick up things. Believe me—I know.”
“Chris,” Skye said awkwardly, “I’m sorry…”
“It’s nothing to be sorry about,” he said nonchalantly. “A biological factor doesn’t change a lifetime. My father was the one who cared for me, even when I was very young. He was always there. The only reason I'm telling you this, Skye, is because I think I’m your holdup. My father has probably threatened to take my mother to court because of me. I imagine my mother doesn't believe him. And Dad is left in a fix.”
Skye closed her eyes miserably. She thought of all the times she had pressured Kyle, she thought of the terrible bargain she had just forced from him, and she thought of how very, very tired he had appeared. All this time, if she hadn’t been afraid to offer love, she could have trusted him. She could have been beside him, with him, instead of being another front that he had to battle. Kyle had always been there for her—on the island, in Sydney. She knew now that he had always loved her, and that she had offered him little in return except a bitter choice: his son or her.
“Oh, Chris…” Skye murmured. And then she couldn’t help herself. She started to cry.
“Oh, Lord, Skye,” Chris muttered with typical male helplessness. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I was hoping to make things better.” He sat beside Skye on the rock and awkwardly slipped an arm around her shoulders, trying to comfort her.
“You did make things better,” Skye finally murmured. “It’s just… you made me realize a few things about myself.” She wiped her eyes, and smiled at him through glazed amber eyes that were remarkably beautiful. “Again, Chris, thank you,” she said very softly.
“Hey,” he replied lightly, “all I did was let you in on something you should know.”
They stood together and Skye looked out over the bay. “This really is a beautiful place.”
“Yes, but I think I'd better get you home.”
“No, Chris,” Skye said suddenly. “I’d like to get you home, then borrow your car.”
Chris raised an eyebrow.
“I'm going to go see your mother, Chris. Don’t worry, I’m not going to say anything about our conversation—that’s all between you and your parents. I just want to tell her how I feel—and hope that I can avoid problems for all of us in the future.”
Chris looked quite uncertain for several moments. Finally he sighed. “Okay, Skye, I guess you know what you’re doing.”
As Skye dropped Chris off at Montfort and took down his mother’s address, she sensed his unhappiness. She called him back to the car before he could mount the steps to the door. “Chris,” she told him softly. "I know you love your mother. I know I’m asking you to go out on a limb for your father and me. I promise, I’ll remember that she is your mother and that you do love her.”
Chris nodded with a grimace. Skye pulled out of the drive and Chris stood on the steps, making up his own mind as he watched her go.
From the bedroom window Kyle, too, was watching Skye drive away—in his son’s car. He stared upon the scene with a curious frown etched into his features. What the hell was
going on? And why the hell had he done something so foolish as to fall asleep? Damn, maybe he was getting old. He had been tired and worried, he had found contentment with Skye, even amidst turmoil. But they had needed to talk. He had meant to tell her… something. Anything. Something to alleviate the harshness and brutality of his words and actions.
Where the hell was she going? Had Chris agreed to help get her out? He knew that even his son wondered why he was so brusque with the dignified beauty he had brought to his home.
No, Skye wasn’t leaving. She had agreed to stay. He had forced her into a bargain, forced her into his bed.
And he had sworn to play his last card.
Kyle turned briskly from the window. He left the bedroom and strode down the stairs and into the drawing room—and straight to the wet bar for a large Scotch. The fire was burning. He sat before it, gulped his drink, and set the glass on the coffee table. He raked the fingers of both hands through his hair. Face it, old man, he told himself, you've handled everything like hell. And what do you do now? How can you turn one son into a bastard, but how can you let another be born one? And what about Skye? How can you live without her now?
“Dad?”
Kyle jerked back to a straight position. “Chris, where did Skye go?”
“I’d rather not tell you, Dad,” Chris said apologetically. “I think Skye is going to want to tell you herself.”
“Oh?”
“Yeah…” Chris walked into the room, straight to the bar. “I think I need a drink.”
Kyle glanced quizzically at his son. It wasn’t like Chris to hedge. He wanted to demand an answer from Chris about Skye, but he also knew his son. Chris would never divulge a confidence.
“What’s up?”
“I want to talk to you.”
Kyle watched Chris as he poured himself a drink. He walked to the mantel with a straight Scotch, and despite the dilemma that weighed down upon him like a thousand bricks, Kyle felt a dry smile come to his lips. Chris might not be his blood, but he was his son. He stood as he did, thought as he did, made decisions like a man…
“We haven’t talked about this much, Dad. But I want to say a few things. I think you know I like Skye. She’s more than beautiful —she's kind and sweet and very strong in a way I don’t think either of us could ever really understand. I admit, I kind of watched her at first. I was afraid she might be a fortune hunter—she is young. I don’t care about your fortune, but I do care about your happiness.”
“Chris,” Kyle interrupted with a bit of a growl. “I’m glad you like Skye. And thank you for worrying about me, but don’t. I’m not in the middle of doddering senility—not yet. And I believe I’ve known a few more women in my lifetime than you.”
Chris laughed. “Sorry, Dad, I didn’t mean to imply—never mind. I’m trying to get at a point and I’m not doing it very well. I’m going to start over and”—he raised a hand—“don’t jump down my throat until I finish.” He took a sip of his Scotch. “Like I said, Dad, I got to really like Skye. To be blunt. I’ve spent far more time with her than you have—outside of the bedroom.”
“Christian!” Kyle bellowed, rising.
“Dad, I asked you not to interrupt. I’m being blunt.”
“Well, don’t be so damned blunt.”
“I’ll try. Anyway, I didn’t like the way you were treating her. She came tearing down the stairs today to get out of the house—and away from you. So I decided to take her out, for your benefit. I… wanted to tell her why you were being such a monster.”
“Oh?” Amazed, Kyle stared at his son. “Chris, in the future my affairs are none of your concern. I don’t appreciate your interference, even if you were attempting to vindicate a monster.”
Chris appeared undaunted by his father’s lecture. “I interfered because this isn't entirely your affair. I have this strange feeling I know exactly what the problem is with the divorce. You can get out of your marriage to Mom, but you won’t because you might hurt someone—me. I want to tell you to do whatever it is you have to do. I know you aren’t my father.”
Kyle’s knees buckled beneath him. It was good thing he was in front of the sofa because he found himself sitting. He pressed his forehead into the palms of his hands. “Chris,” he groaned, “oh, Lord, I never wanted you to know…”
“Dad, please.” Chris’s voice was raspy but level. “Dad, I’ve known for ages. I never said anything to you before, because there was never any reason. But now I think you need to know that I know. I want you to marry Skye. I want you to be happy. And”— his tone tightened—“if that means publicly disclaiming me, I want you to do it.”
Kyle stood and walked to his son, placing his hands on his shoulders. “Chris, I never wanted you to know that you weren’t my son because you are my son—no natural child could have ever meant more to me. I love you, I’ve loved watching you grow. I was proud of the boy you were and I’m proud of the man you’ve become.”
Chris had meant for the confrontation with his father to go easily, nonchalantly. But he saw tears in his father’s eyes—in the eyes of the man who had raised him, the man he had seen as a pillar of pride, strength, and dignity all his years.
And he couldn’t hold back his own tears. He was crying as if he were a child, and he had come to his father with his first, terrifying nightmare.
The two men embraced; it would be a draw to decide who held the other with more fervor. “Ah, hell,” Chris finally stuttered in a groan, pulling away from Kyle. “I’m supposed to be a damned adult…”
Kyle laughed and unashamedly wiped the moistness from his face with the back of his hand. “So am I,” he said dryly, and then his features again became tense. “I meant what I said—you are my son, Chris.”
“I know that, Dad, that’s another reason I’ve never tried to discuss this before.”
Kyle pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He placed a hand on the mantel and stared into the fire. “I can’t tell you anything about your natural father, Chris, I don’t even think your mother could—”
“I don’t care, Dad.” Kyle looked at him and he smiled. “Honestly. I suppose I should be curious about learning all that, but honestly, I don’t care. Dad, all my life you’ve been with me, you’ve put me first.” He paused. “That's why I want what is right for you now. Do you what you have to do. You can’t hurt me.”
“Chris,” Kyle said uneasily, “we’re talking about your mother.”
“Yeah,” Chris said unhappily, “I know. And I want you to explain to me everything that’s happened. About this divorce business.”
Kyle sighed deeply and looked at his son. Chris was an adult. More of a man than many he knew…
“Okay, son, I’ll tell you what’s going on. In the best legal terms I can. But remember, I haven’t made any decisions yet, and I don't want you trying to influence me. There are things I really don’t want to have to do…”
Chris sat down with a smile. “Who me? I wouldn’t think of trying to interfere.”
Lisa recovered from her first shock at seeing Skye, smiled imperially, and invited her in.
Lisa had moved into a lush apartment. Too lush, Skye thought. The room appeared frilly and cluttered.
“If you’ve come to plead your case,” Lisa said, still smiling, “I’m afraid you’re wasting your time. Kyle is still my husband. That makes you”—she raised an elegant brow—“at best, in the nicest terms, his mistress. You will understand that it took me by surprise to see you… quite far along in the, uh, family way.”
Skye was surprised that she could return Lisa’s stare with amusement rather than rancor.
“The child is Kyle’s? I mean, are you sure?”
“The baby is Kyle’s, Lisa. I’m quite sure.” She might have reminded Lisa that she was the one who had apparently deceived him with another man’s child. But that child was Chris, and even if it weren’t, Skye wasn’t feeling hostility.
“Well, if this is a plea to my better nature for the sake of the child,�
�� Lisa said bluntly, “forget it.”
“Lisa, I would hardly be here to plead with you.”
“Good. If you’ve made the foolish mistake of becoming pregnant by a married man, I’m afraid that’s your problem. Really, in this day and age, there was no reason…”
Skye dropped her smile. “Lisa, I didn’t come here for an apology, to plead, or to beg. Or to exchange moral barbs. I came because I want you to know that I don’t care what you do. You can drag this divorce out for as many years as you wish, and it won’t matter a hair. I love Kyle. I’ll live with him on any terms for the rest of my life. You think he’ll tire of me. I don't. I believe he loves me. And I couldn’t care less about his age, Lisa, or mine. It’s something that's never even come up between us. I don’t care if my child is illegitimate. He or she will have both parents’ names on his or her birth certificate, and I’ll never be ashamed of anything I one day have to tell my child. I don’t know why you're fighting this, Lisa, but I don’t care anymore.” Skye wound down as she realized Lisa had lost her imperious, assured stare. Instead, she was beginning to look ghastly. “Why are you trying to hold up the divorce, Lisa?” Skye asked.
Lisa hesitated a moment. “Because I love him too.”
Skye rose. “I'm sorry, Lisa. Very sorry. But I didn't create your problems. Your marriage was over long before I met Kyle. And I love him more than my own life. I don’t intend to leave him.” Skye turned to leave. Lisa called her back.
“Skye—wait.” Lisa clenched her eyes shut tightly for a moment as Skye returned. She opened her eyes and studied Skye. “I assume Kyle has told you something about Chris?”
Skye returned her stare, pausing. “I know,” she said softly, finding compassion, “that Chris is not Kyle’s son.”
Lisa gripped her wrist, suddenly desperate. “He wants to go for an annulment, Skye. Please don’t let him. Think of what it would do to Chris! He might say he didn’t care, but it would be public knowledge… it would be horrible…”
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