"Games!" Estelle had cried. She had scrambled to her feet and faced him, her arms akimbo. "Do you intend to marry me or not?"
Philip had been surprised, but had seen the answer to his problem. He could end it all by saying no.
"I have no intention of marrying you, Estelle, and I'm sorry if I've led you to believe I would."
"But you said you desired me!" she had retorted angrily.
"I had a selfish reason for telling you that. Besides, it was what you wanted to hear. There's only one woman I will ever desire or want to marry."
"And she's engaged to someone else," Estelle had laughed bitterly. She had thrown herself onto her horse and galloped off toward Wakefield Manor.
At dinner that evening, Philip had been amused to find that Tommy Huntington was extremely agitated. The younger man knew that with Estelle gone Philip would have more time to devote to Christina. Philip wondered how he would react if the situation were reversed—if his fiancee's former lover were living in the same house she was, and he were helpless to do anything.
Well, he felt no pity for Huntington. Indeed, he hated the younger man. He couldn't bear to think that Hunting-ton would soon be Christina's husband. He would have the right to hold her and make love to her. Philip shook the thoughts away. He would be damned if he'd let that happen! And if Tommy Huntington had already lain with Christina, he would kill himl
Knowing that Christina slept in the next room with only a thin wall between them was driving him beyond endurance. Hearing her move about her room, listening to her sweet voice—he wouldn't be able to stand it much longer. He must win her back before her wedding day, or kidnap her again. He would rather live with her hate than without her.
Philip heard the maid finally leave Christina's room. He opened his door and saw that the dimly lit corridor was empty. John and Kareen's bedroom was at the opposite end of the house, and he hoped they were already asleep.
He walked the few feet to Christina's door and opened it quietly. She was taking her bath before the brightly lit fireplace, unaware of his presence. He stood for a long moment watching her as she raised a sponge and let the water dribble down her arm. Her back was to him, and all he could see was the soft white contour of her shoulders above the rim of the large tub. Her hair was pinned up into countless ringlets shining like liquid gold, and the firelight danced around her.
Christina's towel and robe were lying on the footstool next to the tub. Philip edged his way over to them and picked them up. Christina gasped.
"What are you doing here?" she cried, sinking lower into the tub. She glanced angrily at his amused expression, then down at the robe and towel he was holding. "Put those down, Philip. Now! And get out of here!"
"What, these?" he asked teasingly, the firelight dancing in his gold-flecked eyes. "Anything you say, madam." He tossed the articles onto her bed, far from her reach.
He walked around the tub and over to the chair in the corner of the room. She stared stupidly at her robe and towel on the bed. Then she swung her head around fiercely and glared at him. He was sitting in the chair watching her, his legs spread out before him and his hands clasped across his middle.
"Just what the hell do you think you're doing, Philip Caxton? Damn it! Are you trying to get yourself thrown out of this house? Do you need an excuse to leave now that Estelle is gone? Is that it?"
Philip chuckled without taking his deep-green eyes from her angry face.
"I don't wish to leave this house, Christina, and I wouldn't need an excuse if I did. If you will kindly refrain from raising your voice, no one will be the wiser and I won't be discovered."
Confusion overcame her. Philip was partially hidden in the shadows, but Christina could still see the smoldering look in his eyes. He wanted her, of that she was sure, and a tingling sensation coursed through her body. She wanted . him with all her heart, but she knew their love would be only for tonight. Tomorrow he would be as cold and indifferent as before, and she wouldn't be able to stand it.
"Get out of my room, Philip. You have no right to be here."
"You look exceptionally beautiful tonight, Tina," Philip murmured. "You could tempt a man to do anything you wanted—except leave you."
He laughed heartily.
She turned around in the tub. She couldn't bear to look at him, his jet-black hair tousled and his crisp white shirt open to the waist baring his bronzed chest with its curls of black hair. He was the temptation! She was hard pressed not to go to him, soaking wet, and make love to him! It was what she wanted, it was what he wanted, but she couldn't. She couldn't bear to love him and then face his hatred again in the morning.
Twenty minutes passed. Philip said nothing, nor did Christina. Her back was to him, but she knew he still watched her.
"Philip, please—this water is getting cold," she pleaded.
"I suggest that you get out of it," he replied softly.
"Then leave so I can!" Christina snapped.
"You amaze me, Tina. I've watched you bathe a hundred times and emerge naked. You weren't shy then, so why do you pretend to be now? We even made love once lying on the hard earth beside the bathing pond. It was you who came to me that day and—"
"Stop it!" she cried, slamming her fist down into the water. "There's no point in talking about the past, Philip. It's over and done with. Now leave this minute before I catch cold."
"Was your body marred in giving birth to my son?" Philip asked. "Is that why you refuse to stand before me?"
"Of course not! My figure has regained its former shape!"
"Then stand up and prove it, Tina," he murmured huskily.
Christina almost took the bait and started to stand up, but then she sank back down in the water even lower than before, cursing Philip under her breath. The soap bubbles had all dissolved, leaving her body open to view. Her only hope was that he wouldn't come near her, but leave! If he so much as touched her, she knew she would give in.
Just then they heard footsteps in the corridor, and Christina froze when a light tap sounded at her door.
"Christina, I must talk to you. Christina, are you awake?"
She turned her head to look at Philip, but he was still sprawled at ease in his chair, clearly amused at her new predicament.
"Tommy, for heaven's sake, go home! I am taking my bath now—I'll talk to you in the morningl" she said loudly-
"I'll wait until you are through," Tommy called out
"No, you won't, Tommy Huntington!" She was more afraid than angry now. "It's late at night. I will see you in the morning—not now!"
"Christina, this can't wait, damn it! I will not stand that man in the house with you any longer. He has to go!"
Philip's deep laughter rang through the room. The door swung open forcefully, slamming against the wall, and Tommy stalked into the room. Philip was still in the shadows, and Tommy had to glance about the room twice before he saw him.
Tommy, outraged, clenched his fists tightly at his sides as he looked at her, then at Philip, then back at her again. Before she could think of anything to say, Tommy let out a sickening cry and started toward Philip.
She stood up, splashing water onto the thick blue carpet.
"Stop it, Tommy!" she screamed.
Tommy halted in his tracks. His mouth fell open at the sight of her, and he completely forgot that Philip was in the room. But Philip, who had half risen to brace himself against Tommy's attack, scowled darkly at Christina.
"Sit down, woman," Philip growled angrily.
She did so immediately, splashing water over the sides of the tub again, and a hot blush spread across her face.
"What the hell are you doing in here, Caxton?" Tommy demanded.
"There is nothing for you to be upset about, Tommy," Christina said soothingly. "Philip came in here just before you did—to talk to me about his son. He didn't know that I was taking my bath when he walked in."