Johanna Lindsey - Captive Bride

PHILIP stood in the open doorway watching Christina sleep. He had watched her many times before, but then he could have made love to her, as he wanted to now. She was so beautiful, her golden hair spread across the pillow, a sweet, innocent look on her face. If only she cared for him, he would be the happiest man alive.

He wondered why Christina hadn't come down to dinner the night before. He had been prepared to show her he could be as indifferent as she, and had planned to devote his attention to Estelle. He'd been disappointed by Christina's absence. Estelle was a lovely girl, but she couldn't compare to Christina—no one could compare to Christina. Why did she have to be such a deceitful bitch?

Philip Junior started crying, and Philip moved behind the door so he could observe Christina unseen when she came into the nursery. She walked into the room, and he was surprised to see her wearing the black robe she had made in Egypt. Why hadn't she burned it? Apparently it carried no memories for her, as it did for him.

She went directly to the cradle, her long golden curls streaming down her back, and Philip Junior stopped crying as soon as he saw her.

"Good morning, my love, You let mommy sleep late this morning, didn't you? You're the joy of my life, Philip. What would I do without you?"

Philip was wanned by her love for the child. But it puzzled him why she'd named the boy after him.

Christina turned suddenly, sensing Philip's presence in the room, but said nothing when she saw him standing beside the door. She turned back to Philip Junior, lifted him from the cradle, and sat down in a blue-cushioned rocker in the corner of the room. She slowly unbuttoned her nightdress.

Philip became irritated by her silence. He would rather she shout at him than ignore him.

"It didn't take you long to lose your modesty again," he remarked cruelly.

"You made your point yesterday, Philip. I have nothing to show you that you haven't already seen," Christina said calmly, giving him a half-smile that didn't reach her remarkably blue eyes.

He laughed. He wouldn't be able to make her lose her temper this morning. He watched his son suck greedly on Christina's breast, and felt deeply moved by the sight. This was his child and the woman he still wanted. He refused to accept defeat. He would find a way to have them both.

"He has a strong appetite. You don't need a wet nurse?" Philip asked.

"I have sufficient milk to satisfy his needs. Philip Junior is well cared for," she said tensely.

Philip sighed heavily. It seemed he didn't have to search to find a biting remark to make her angry—a simple question did the trick.

"I didn't mean to insinuate that you're not a good mother. Indeed, motherhood seems to suit you, Christina. You've done exceedingly well with my son," Philip said softly, lifting a stray lock of her hair that had fallen behind the chair, and rubbing it delicately between his fingers.

"Thank you," she. whispered.

"Where did you have him baptized?" Philip asked conversationally. He didn't want to leave, and thought he should say something or he would make her nervous just standing behind her.

"He hasn't been baptized yet," Christina said.

"Good Lord, Christina! He should have been baptized one month after birth. What have you been waiting for?" he stormed, coming around the chair to face her.

"Damn it—stop yelling at me! I just didn't think about it, that's all. I'm not used to having children," she replied just as angrily, her eyes turning a dark, sapphire blue.

With long strides, Philip reached the nursery door, but turned to face her again, his body stiff with rage.

"He will be baptized today—this morning! Prepare yourself and my son, and be ready to leave in an hour."

"This is my home, Philip, not your camp in the mountains. You can't tell me what to do here."

"Be ready, or I will take him myself." Then he turned and left the room.

Christina knew he meant every word. She calmed herself down and finished feeding Philip Junior, then she put him down in his bassinet and called one of the upstairs maids to help her get ready. She couldn't trust Philip to take her son out alone—he might not come back.

She threw her robe onto the bed, and noticed that it was her black Arab one. She had unconsciously picked it up when Philip Junior started crying. Christina wondered if Philip had noticed. But no—he probably didn't even remember it, or he would have made some sly remark.

Christina pinned her hair up into a mass of curls, then hurriedly chose a plain cotton lilac dress with long sleeves and a high-collared neck that would be appropriate for the occasion. With time to spare, she slowly dressed Philip Junior, and an hour later descended the stairs.

Philip was waiting alone and took his son from her arms.

"Where is John?" she asked nervously.

"He left early this morning to go into Halstead on business. He said he'd try to be back before noon," Philip replied, and started for the door.

"But—we're not going by ourselves—are we?"

"Oh, come now, Christina," he laughed. "I will not kidnap you again if that's what's bothering you. Although the thought did cross my mind."

Oh! How could he lie so easily, she thought angrily. "The next time you plan an abduction, Philip, your victim will probably be Estelle!" Christina snapped.

"Why—Christina, you actually sound jealous," he teased.

"I am not jealous!" she said curtly. "I'm thankful that your attentions have gone elsewhere."

It didn't take them long to arrive at the small church near Wakefield. Christina waited in the open carriage while Philip Went into the church to find out if the priest was available. He came back soon and helped her down from the carriage.

"Is everything arranged?" she asked as he took Philip Junior from her again.

"Yes. It will only take a minute," he replied, and escorted her into the small, gloomy church.

A short, ruddy man waited for them at the end of the. aisle, and Philip handed the boy to him. Philip Junior didn't cry when the water was dribbled on his forehead, but Christina gasped when she heard the clear words echoing in the dark room.

"I baptize thee—Philip Caxton, Junior."

Philip took his son back and grasped Christina's arm to lead her from the church. She said nothing until they were in the carriage and the driver had started back to Wakefield Manor.

"You had no right to do that, Philip!" she snapped, glowering at him.

"I had every right—I am his father," Philip grinned.

"You are not his legal father—no vows were spoken between us. Damn it! His name is Philip Junior Wakefield, as it appears on his birth record."

"That can be changed very easily, Christina."

"You'd have to find the original document first. He is my son, and he will carry my name, not yours!"

"And when you marry, do you intend giving him your husband's name?"

"I haven't really thought about it, but if Tommy wants to adopt him, then yes, he will carry his name."

"I will not have that young fop raising my son," Philip scowled at her.

"You will have nothing to say in the matter, Philip. Besides, Tommy will make a good father." But she didn't really believe her own words.

"We shall see," Philip murmured, and they said no more as the carriage pulled up in front of Wakefield Manor.

John met them at the door, bis face a mask of anger. "Where the hell have you been! I've been worried sick!"

"We had Philip Junior baptized, John. There was nothing to be upset about," Christina replied. She looked quizzically at Philip, who had started laughing.

"Why didn't you tell someone where you were going? When I came home and found both of you gone, including the baby, I thought—"

"We know what you thought, John," she laughed. "But, as you can see, you were wrong. I'm sorry you were upset —it won't happen again."

Christina went upstairs to put Philip Junior down for a nap. After changing him, she closed the nursery doors so he wouldn't be disturbed, then went into her own room to remove her bonnet Through her open door, Christina heard Philip going into his room. His voice drifted clearly to her, causing her to stand motionless.

"What are you doing in here? Your sister would have a fit if she found you in a gentleman's bedroom."

"Don't look so shocked, Philip. You must be used to entertaining ladies in your bedroom," Estelle said sweetly. "I've been waiting here so I could talk to you alone. Why don't you close the door and come over here where it's much more comfortable."

"That won't be necessary—you won't be here that long. I have no intention of being asked to leave this house simply because you wish to play games, Estelle."

Christina didn't want to listen to any more, but she couldn't help herself.

"I am not playing games, Philip Caxton! I came here for an answer. Do you still love Christina? I have a right to know!"

"Love! What has love to do with it? I desired her then, just as I desire you now," Philip said, with very little emotion in his deep voice.

"Then she doesn't mean anything to you now?" Estelle asked.

"Christina is the mother of my son—that's all. Now I must ask you to leave, Estelle, before someone finds you here. The next time you wish to talk to me privately, find a more suitable place."

"Anything you say, Philip," Estelle giggled, obviously pleased with herself. "Will I see you for lunch?"