Captive Bride

by Johanna Lindsey

  “Philip Caxton, isn’t it? Imagine running into you. What brings you to Cairo?”

  Philip looked up from his drink to see John Wakefield standing before him.

  “I had some business to take care of,” Philip replied. He wondered if John knew that his business was with John’s sister. “But it’s finished now, and I will be returning to England at the end of the month. Won’t you join me for lunch?” Philip asked out of courtesy.

  “Well, I’m expecting someone for lunch, but I’ll have a drink with you while I wait.”

  “Is it your sister who’s meeting you here?” Philip asked, hoping the answer would be no. He had no wish to see her again—ever.

  “Christina went back to England about five months ago. She couldn’t stand Egypt. Can’t say I care for it, either. The only good thing about my stay here was meeting my wife. We were married only last month, and we’ll be sailing for home soon, probably on the same ship as you.”

  “I guess congratulations are in order. At least your trip here wasn’t a total loss—as mine was,” Philip said bitterly. He would be glad to be gone from Egypt and the recent memories it held for him.

  John Wakefield stood up and waved toward the entrance, and Philip saw two lovely women coming toward the table. John kissed the older of the two on the cheek and introduced Philip to his wife and her sister.

  “Mr. Caxton is an acquaintance from London. It seems that we will be traveling back to England together,” John informed the ladies.

  “I can’t tell you how glad I am to meet you, Mr. Caxton!” Estelle Hendricks gushed. “I just know the journey is going to be much more pleasant with you along. You’re not married, are you, Mr. Caxton?”

  “Estelle!” Kareen exclaimed. “That is none of your business!” Then she turned to Philip, a slight smile on her rosy lips. “I must apologize for my sister, Mr. Caxton. She’s too outspoken for her own good.”

  Philip was amused by the young girl’s boldness. “That’s quite all right, Mrs. Wakefield. It’s refreshing to hear someone speak her mind.”

  That night as Philip lay on the small hotel bed, he cursed his luck for running into John Wakefield. The meeting had brought Christina back to his mind vividly. He had hoped to forget her, but it was impossible. Every night, her image haunted him: her beautiful slender body lying beneath his; her hair when the light would touch it; her soft blue-green eyes and alluring smile. Just the thought of her had the power to arouse him. He still wanted her, even though he would never have her again.

  At first, Philip had been determined to stay in Egypt. He couldn’t go back to England and chance running into Christina. But everywhere he looked, he saw her. In the tent, at the pond, in the desert—everywhere. He just couldn’t get her out of his mind as long as he stayed in Egypt.

  Philip had been ready to return to England four months ago. But then Amine’s brother, Amair, had come to visit the camp, and had told Philip the truth about Christina’s abduction. Rashid had planned the whole thing. He had wanted Philip dead so that he could become sheik himself.

  Rashid had never returned to camp after taking Christina back to her brother. If he had, Philip would have killed him. Philip had searched four months for Rashid, but he’d disappeared.

  The day before his ship sailed, with nothing better to do, Philip went down to the marketplace to stroll by the many open stands and small shops. The streets were crowded with bartering Arabs and Egyptians. Everywhere Philip looked were camels packed heavily with trade goods.

  The fragrant odor of perfumes filled the air and reminded Philip of the first time he had walked through this marketplace, some fourteen years ago. He had been only twenty years old, and Egypt had been a strange and terrifying land. He had come to find his father, but had no idea how to go about it. He had known only his father’s name and that he was the sheik of a desert tribe.

  Philip had spent weeks walking through the dusty streets and asking people if they knew of Yasir Alhamar. Finally he had realized that he was getting nowhere. His father was a desert man, so Philip had hired a guide to take him into the desert. With two camels laden with supplies, they had set off into the scorching sand.

  In the grueling months that followed, Philip had become acquainted with the hardships of living in the desert. The burning sun had beaten down on him during the day; the freezing cold had forced him to curl up next to his camel for warmth at night.

  They had ridden for days without seeing another human being. When they had come upon Bedouins, either they hadn’t known Yasir or they had had no idea where he could be found.

  And then, when Philip was ready to give up the search, he had ridden into his father’s camp. He would never forget that day and the look on his father’s face when he had said who he was.

  Philip had been happy in Egypt, but couldn’t stand it anymore. He could not forget Christina as long as he stayed. Since there seemed to be no hope of finding Rashid, he had finally decided to leave.

  He would go back to England, inform Paul of their father’s death, then sell his estate. He might go to America. He wanted to go somewhere far away from Christina Wakefield.

  CHRISTINA STAYED AT Victory for a month after her lying-in, and became well acquainted with little Philip Junior. She’d named him properly, for he was the image of his father—the same green eyes, the same black hair, the same strong features. He was a beautiful baby—healthy, and with an appetite that wouldn’t stop. He was her joy, and her life.

  But she had stayed there long enough, and it was time that she went home. Johnsy would be eager to see Philip Junior, and Christina hoped she could now cope with Tommy.

  She turned to look at her baby, who was lying in the middle of Philip’s big bed and watching her quietly. She smiled at him, put the rest of her things into the last chest, and closed it securely. She had heard the coach pull up to the front of the house a few minutes ago, so she went to the door and asked one of the maids to have the driver come for her baggage.

  After the maid left, Christina put on her bonnet and cape and looked longingly about the room. It would be the last time she would ever see anything that belonged to Philip. She suddenly felt sad at leaving his home. She walked around the room, softly running her hand over the furniture, knowing that he had once touched it.

  “And who might you be, madam?”

  Christina turned quickly at the sound of the strange voice, and gasped when she saw Paul Caxton standing in the doorway.

  “What on earth are you doing here?” he asked. But then he saw the green-eyed baby in the middle of the bed. “I’ll be damned! He said he’d do it. He said he’d have you, but I thought you’d never marry him!” Paul laughed aloud, turning to look at Christina again, who was still too surprised to find words. “Where is that brother of mine? Congratulations are in order.”

  “Your brother is not here, Mr. Caxton, and I did not marry him. Now if you will excuse me, I was just leaving,” she replied coldly, and crossed to the bed to pick up her baby.

  “But you have his child. You mean that scoundrel wouldn’t marry you?”

  “Your brother kidnapped me and held me captive for four months. He didn’t want to marry me. I gave birth to the son Philip doesn’t want, but I want him and I will raise him myself. Now if you will excuse me, I’m leaving.” She walked past him and down the stairs.

  Paul stood watching her, wondering what the hell was going on. He couldn’t believe Philip didn’t want his own son. And why hadn’t he married Christina Wakefield? Had his brother gone daft?

  It was obvious he wouldn’t get any answers from Christina. He would have to write to Philip.

  Christina had been back at Wakefield Manor for a week when she received a letter from John. He told her that Kareen had agreed to marry him and that he would soon bring his new wife home.

  Christina was overjoyed. She had grown to love Kareen and was truly happy that she would be her sister-in-law. She thought they might be home in time for Christmas. What a joyful holi
day it would be!

  Johnsy and Christina busied themselves redecorating her parents’ old room for John and his new bride. Christina threw herself into the work, for she needed the exercise to firm her sagging middle. She had been disappointed when she didn’t regain her figure immediately and had had to resort to wearing corsets. But she exercised constantly and hoped that she would have her shape back by the time John returned.

  The time went by quickly. Christina began riding every day, which benefited both her and Johnsy. It gave Johnsy a chance to play with Philip Junior, and it let Christina get away from Tommy. He hadn’t changed since her trip to Victory. She treated him coldly, but he persisted.

  Christina sensed that Tommy hated her child, although he tried to hide it. Every time she left Tommy to tend Philip Junior, he became annoyed. He insisted Johnsy could care for the baby. And it infuriated Tommy that Philip Junior began to cry every time he came near him. Christina kept them apart as much as possible.

  And then, two days after Christmas, John brought Kareen home. They arrived early in the morning, and Christina was still sleeping when Johnsy rushed into her room. She had only enough time to slip into her robe before John and Kareen walked in. Christina ran to them and hugged and kissed them both.

  “I’m so happy for you, and so glad that you’re finally home!” Christina exclaimed, tears of joy welling in her soft blue eyes.

  “I’ll never leave Wakefield again,” John laughed, hugging Christina close to him. “I can assure you of that. But where’s that nephew of mine?”

  “Right in ’ere, Master John,” Johnsy answered proudly, opening the door between the two rooms.

  Philip Junior was wide awake, a foot in each hand, when they all gathered around the bassinet.

  “Oh, he’s beautiful, Christina, absolutely adorable!” Kareen exclaimed. “Can I hold him—would you mind?”

  “Of course you may—Philip Junior loves to be cuddled,” Christina answered.

  “Philip Junior?” John lifted an eyebrow. “I had thought you would name him after our father, or his own father.”

  “The name just struck my fancy. I couldn’t see calling an Englishman Abu.”

  “Nor could I,” John laughed. He grasped Philip Junior’s little hand as he lay in Kareen’s arms. “He’s as strong as an ox. But where did he get those unusual eyes, Crissy? We have no green eyes in our family, and I’ve never seen an Arab with eyes like that.”

  “You ask such ludicrous questions, John. How would I know?”

  He started to say more, but stopped when he caught Kareen’s disapproving look.

  “It’s time for this little one to be fed. You get yourself out of ’ere, Master John,” Johnsy chuckled.

  John actually blushed at the thought of his sister’s putting the baby to her breast. “Come downstairs when you’re through, Crissy. Estelle is with us, and we can all have breakfast together.”

  Christina was glad to hear that Estelle had come with them. Estelle was a beautiful girl, and perhaps Tommy would be attracted to her.

  Awhile later, Christina put Philip Junior down for a nap and joined the others in the dining room.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Estelle,” Christina said, embracing the other girl. “I hope you intend to stay with us. We have more than enough room in this big house.”

  “For a while, but then I must visit my parents.”

  “Did you enjoy your journey?” Christina asked.

  “Oh—it was the most wonderful time of my life!” Estelle said exuberantly.

  “I’m afraid Estelle has fallen hopelessly in love with one of the passengers we sailed with—a friend of John’s,” Kareen said.

  “He’s the handsomest man I have ever laid eyes on, and I know he feels the same way about me,” Estelle replied happily.

  “You take too much for granted, Estelle,” said Kareen. “Just because he paid you some attention doesn’t mean he loves you.”

  “He does, too!” Estelle cried. “And we’ll meet again, even if I have to go to London. I intend to marry Philip Caxton!”

  They all jumped at the crash of dishes in the kitchen, and Christina knew that Johnsy had been listening to the conversation. Philip had come back, and he was in London! A wave of jealousy swept over Christina when she thought of Estelle with him on board ship.

  Why had he come back? And why had he left Nura? Perhaps he had tired of her, too, and now Estelle was his new plaything. Was there no end to the women he would captivate?

  “Crissy, you remember Philip Caxton, don’t you?” John asked, unaware of the emotions she was fighting to control.

  “You’ve met him, Christina?” said Estelle. “Then you must know how I—”

  Johnsy came into the room, pale as a ghost, and said, “I’m sorry about the dishes—they slipped. Miss Crissy, could you ’elp me to my room? I don’t feel too well.”

  “Of course, Johnsy,” Christina answered gratefully, going to her and pretending to help her out of the room.

  When they were out of hearing distance, Johnsy said, “Oh, baby, I’m sorry. You must be miserable. That scoundrel’s back in England, and what are you goin’ to do?”

  “I’m not going to do anything, Johnsy. He won’t come here, and I’m not going anywhere that I might run into him. And I am not miserable—I’m angry! That man is despicable. He has to destroy every pretty woman he meets!”

  “It sounds to me like you’re jealous, love,” Johnsy remarked.

  “I am not jealous,” she scoffed. “I’m mad. I didn’t blame him for what he did to me, but I should have. He has probably broken Nura’s heart, and he’ll do the same to Estelle. Estelle doesn’t even know he’s married!”

  “Nor do you, Miss Crissy. You don’t know for sure that ’e married that other girl. ’E may ’ave kept her as ’is mistress, as ’e did you.”

  “He wouldn’t dare! Her family wouldn’t have allowed it.”

  “Well, you still don’t know for sure.”

  Tommy came for dinner that night, but he didn’t pay any attention to Estelle, nor she to him. After dinner, Christina found a moment alone with John and asked him to help in dealing with Tommy. She explained that Tommy had bothered her ever since her return and she didn’t know what to do.

  “Can’t you talk to him, John? Tell him to stop asking me to marry him?”

  “But I don’t see why you won’t marry him, Crissy. He loves you. He would make you a very good husband. And he would be a father to your child. You can’t go on living with memories, and I’m sure, in time, you could learn to love Tommy.”

  Christina was surprised for a moment. But then she realized her brother might be right. There was no longer any reason why she shouldn’t marry Tommy.

  PHILIP POUNDED HEAVILY on the single door. It was opened by a dour-looking manservant. “Mr. Caxton, sir, ’tis good to see you again. Mr. Paul will be delighted.”

  “Where is that brother of mine?” Philip asked, handing over his greatcoat.

  “In his study, Mr. Caxton. Shall I announce your arrival?”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Philip replied, and walked down the short hallway until he came to the open door of Paul’s study. “I can come another time if you are busy, little brother,” Philip said mischievously.

  Paul looked up from his papers and rose quickly, a bright grin on his handsome features.

  “Damn, but it’s good to see you again, Philip! When did you get back?” Paul came over and embraced his brother warmly.

  “I only just arrived,” Philip answered. He sat down in a large leather chair by the window.

  “I wrote you a letter not too long ago, but apparently you sailed before it had a chance to reach you. Well, no matter—now that you’re here. This calls for a drink,” Paul said, walking to the small cabinet where he kept a decanter of brandy and a supply of glasses. “And congratulations are in order.”

  “I hardly think my coming home merits congratulations,” Philip remarked dryly.


  “I agree. Your coming home merely calls for a drink, but you deserve congratulations because I’ve seen your son, and he’s a fine, healthy fellow. Looks just like you,” Paul said cheerfully, handing Philip a drink.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Paul? I have no son!”

  “But I—I thought you knew! Isn’t that why you came back to England—to find your child?” Paul asked.

  “You’re talking in riddles, Paul. I’ve already told you I don’t have a son!” Philip returned. He was getting irritated.

  “Then you’re not going to claim him? You’re just going to deny that he exists—pretend it never happened?”

  “There is no son to claim—how many times must I say it! Now you had better come up with a good explanation, little brother. You are trying my patience sorely!” Philip stormed.

  Paul burst out laughing and sank into a chair across from Philip. “I’ll be damned. She didn’t tell you, did she? You really don’t know.”

  “No, she didn’t tell me, and who the hell is she?”

  “Christina Wakefield! Whom else have you lived with this past year?”

  Shocked, Philip sank back into his chair.

  “She bore a son three months ago at Victory. I naturally assumed you knew about it, since she went to your home to have the baby. I happened to go there and ran into her just as she was leaving to go back to her home. She seemed angry that I had learned about the baby. And she told me what you had done—how you kidnapped her and held her captive four months. How the hell could you do such a thing, Philip?”

  “It was the only way I could have her. But why didn’t she come back and tell me?” Philip said, more to himself than to Paul.