"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 Wakefleld! 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.

"She said you didn't want the child—that you didn't want to marry her."

"But I never told her—" He stopped when he remembered that he had told her just that. He'd said he hadn't brought her to his camp to bear bis children, and he'd told her in the beginning that he had no intention of marrying her.

"Just because the child looks like me doesn't prove he is mine. Christina could have conceived after she went back to her brother."

"Use your brain, Philip, and calculate the time. You took her when she first arrived in Cairo—in September, did you not?"

"Yes."

"Well, you kept her four months, she left you at the end of January, and she gave birth eight months later, at the end of September. So she had to conceive with you. And besides, Christina as much as told me the child was yours. Her exact words were, 'I gave birth to the son that Philip doesn't want,' and I might add that she intends to keep him and raise him herself."

"I have a son!" Philip exclaimed, slamming his fist down on the arm of the chair, his laughter ringing through the room. "I've got a son, Paul—a son! You say he looks like me?"

"He has your eyes and hair—he's a handsome boy. You couldn't ask for better."

"A son. And she wasn't even going to tell me. I will need one of your horses, PauL I'll be leaving first thing in the morning."

"You're going to Halstead?"

"Of course! I want my son. Christina will have to marry me now."

"If you didn't know of the child, why did you come back to England?" Paul asked while he refilled their glasses. "Did you come back for Christina?"

"I still want her, but I didn't come back to find her. I came back because there was nothing left for me in Egypt. Yasir is dead."

"I'm sorry, Philip. I never really knew Yasir or thought of him as my father. But I know you loved him. You must have taken it badly."

"I did, but Christina helped me through it."

"I wish I knew what happened between Christina and you," said Paul.

"Perhaps someday I will tell you, little brother, but not now. I'm not really sure what happened, myself."

* * *

Philip left at dawn the following morning, and had a chance to think things out while riding through the countryside.

Why hadn't Christina come back and told him when she learned she was carrying his child? Had she been too proud? And what of John? She must not have told her brother, or John would have called him out when they met in Cairo.

Well, John would soon know the truth. Philip wondered how he would take the news, for they had become good friends during their journey back to England. He also wondered how Christina would react when he showed up unexpectedly. She obviously hadn't wanted him to learn of his son. Or had she? Had she gone to Victory so that he would find out?

She was going to keep and raise the child. If she hated him, why keep his son to constantly remind her of him? Perhaps she actually cared for him!

If only he had told her he loved her. If only he hadn't waited to hear her say it first. Well, he would tell her this time, just as soon as he saw her.

Chapter Thirty

CHRISTINA had spent the entire morning trying to avoid Estelle. She couldn't bear the happiness in the girl's eyes, knowing that she loved Philip. Now it was late afternoon, and Kareen and Estelle had gone to Halstead to do some shopping while John went over the estate books in his study.

The house was quiet. Christina reclined in the drawing room trying to read a book so she could stop thinking about Estelle and Philip. But she kept imagining them together, kissing and holding each other. Damn him!

"Christina, I have to talk to you." It was Tommy Hun-tington.

She stood up and walked over to the fireplace, her red-velvet skirt swaying gently.

"I didn't expect to see you until tonight, Tommy. What's so important that you're here early?" Christina asked. She turned her back to him and busied herself rearranging the figurines on the mantel.

"I talked with John this morning. He agrees we should marry. You can't deny me any longer, Christina. I love you. Will you please marry me?"

Christina sighed heavily. Her answer was going to make everyone happy, everyone but herself. Even Johnsy had been arguing that marriages were made for convenience, not for love, and that it was enough that Master Tommy loved her.

"All right, Tommy, I will marry you. But I can't guarantee to ever—"

She was going to say "love you," but the sound of a deep voice stopped her. She turned deathly pale.

"I have been informed that I have a son, madam. Is this true?"

Tommy grasped Christina's arms violently, but she was too shocked to feel anything. Tommy released her and swung around to face the intruder, leaving her holding the mantel for support. Her legs felt like jelly beneath her.

"Who are you, sir," Tommy demanded, "and what is the meaning of asking my fiancee if you have a son?"

"I am Philip Caxton. Miss Wakefield may be your intended wife, but this matter does not concern you. I am addressing Christina. And I am waiting for an answer."

"How dare you!" Tommy raged. "Christina, do you know this man?"

Christina's mind was hi a whirl of confusion. She turned slowly to face Philip, and melted at the sight of him. He hadn't changed—he was still the man she loved. She wanted to run to him. She wanted to throw her arms about his neck and never let go. But the ugly hate in his eyes and the harsh coldness in his voice stopped her.

"Do I have a son, madam?"

Christina stiffened with fear at the menace in his voice.

But then her anger grew. How could he ask about her child so coldly?

"No, Mr. Caxton," she said "I have a son—you do not!"

"Then let me rephrase my question, Miss Wakefield. Did I sire your son?"

Christina knew there was no way out. Paul must have told him when she gave birth. Philip had calculated for himself and knew she must have conceived by him. Besides, he would need only to look at Philip Junior to know him for his son.

Christina sank into the nearest chair, averting her gaze from the two men awaiting her answer.

"Christina, is this true? Is this man the father of your child?" Tommy choked. "It's true, Tommy," Christina whispered. "How dare you come here, Mr. Caxton?" Tommy demanded.

"I'm here for my son, and I suggest you not interfere!" "For your son!" Christina screamed, springing from her chair. "But you never wanted him. Why do you want him now?"

"I'm afraid you misinterpreted what I told you long ago, Christina. I told you that I hadn't brought you to my camp to bear my children. I never told you I wouldn't want a child if you happened to conceive," Philip replied calmly.

"But I—"

Christina was cut off when John came to the door. "What is all this yelling about?" he asked sternly. Then he saw Philip standing just inside the door, and he smiled warmly. "Philip—I didn't expect to see you again so soon. But I'm glad you decided to accept my invitation to visit us. Estelle will be delighted to see you."

"Good Lord! Has everyone here gone crazy?" Tommy blurted out. "Don't you know who this man is, John? He's the father of Christina's child!"

John's smile faded. "Is this true, Christina?" he said.

"Yes," she whispered tensely.

John slammed his fist into the wall. "Damn it, Christina! I became friends with this man! You told me your child's father was an Arab!"

"But Philip is half-Arab, and I told you he had another name!" Christina yelled back at him.

"And youl" John stormed, turning to Philip again. "You come with me."

"John!" Christina screamed. "You gave me your word!"

"I well remember the promise you extracted from me, Crissy. I am just going to talk with Philip privately in my study," John said more calmly, and they left the room.

John poured two brandies and handed one to Philip. Then he sank into his black-leather desk chair.

"Why did you come here? Good God, Philip! I have every right to call you out for ruining my sister!"

"I hope it will not come to that," Philip replied. "I learned about my son from my brother, and I came here to marry Christina and take her and the boy to my home in Benfleet But I overheard her accepting that belligerent puppy's proposal, so marriage is now out of the question. But I still want my son."

"Christina will never give up her child!"

"Then I must ask that you let me stay here to try to persuade her otherwise. You can understand how I feel. The boy is my heir, and I am a rich man. He would have more to gain if I raised him."