Free The Mistress's Child by Sharon Kendrick

he was halfway down the path, and looked down to see that her hands were shaking.
    She waited until her breath had stopped coming in short, anxious little breaths, but as she caught a glance at her reflection in the mirror she saw that her face was completely white, her eyes dark and frightened, like a trapped animal.
    I must pull myself together, she thought. She had a son and a responsibility to him. Today was his party—his big day. She had already messed up in more ways than one. She mustn't let the complex world of adult relationships ruin it for him.
    She forced a smile onto her lips and hoped that it didn't look too much like a grimace, and then she opened the door to the sitting room, where her beloved son sat with his dark head bent over his colouring, his little tongue protruding

           
    from between his teeth, just the way hers did. He's my son, too, she told herself fiercely. Not just Philip's.
    'Hello, darling,' she said softly. 'Shall Mummy come and help for a bit?'
    Tim looked up, his eyes narrowed in that clever way of his, and Lisi stared at him with a sudden, dawning recognition. His eyes might be blue like hers, but that expression was pure Philip. Why had she never seen it before? Because she had deliberately blinded herself to it as too painful?
    'Mum-mee,' said Tim, and put his crayon down firmly on top of the paper. 'Who was that man?'
    Not now, she told herself. How he must be told was going to take some working out.
    'Oh, he's just a friend, darling,' she said, injecting her voice with a determined cheerfulness. 'A friend of Mummy's.'
    But the words rang hollow in her ears.

CHAPTER FIVE
    The hours ticked by so slowly while Philip waited. He felt as though the whole landscape of his life had been altered irrevocably—as if someone had detonated a bomb and left a familiar place completely unrecognisable.
    He went through the motions of working. He faxed the States. He replied to his e-mails. He made phone-calls to his London office, and it seemed from the responses given by his staff that he must have sounded quite normal.
    But he didn't feel in the least normal. He had just discovered that he was the biological father of a child who was a complete unknown to him and he knew that he was going to have to negotiate some paternal rights.
    Whether Lisi Vaughan liked it or not.
    He deliberately turned his thoughts away from her. He wasn't going to think about her. Thinking about her just made his rage grow, and rage would not help either of them come to some kind of amicable agreement about access.
    Amicable?
    The word mocked him. How could the two of them ever come to some kind of friendly understanding after what had happened?
    He went for a long walk as dusk began to fall, looking up into the heavy grey clouds and wondering if the threatened snow would ever arrive, and at seven prompt he was knocking on her door.
    She didn't answer immediately and his mouth tightened. If the secretive little witch thought that she could just hide

           
    inside and he would just go away again, then she was in for an unpleasant surprise.
    The door opened, and he was unprepared for the impact of seeing her all dressed up for a party. Red dress. Red shoes. Long, slim legs encased in pale stockings which had a slight sheen to them. He had never seen her in red before, but scarlet had been the backdrop to her beauty when she had lain with such abandon on his bed. Scarlet woman, he thought, and felt the blood thicken in his veins.
    'You'd better come in,' said Lisi.
    'With pleasure,' he answered, grimly sarcastic.
    She opened the door wider to let him in, but took care to press herself back against the wall, as far away from him as possible. She was only hanging onto her self-possession by a thread, and if he came anywhere near her she would lose it completely. But he still came close enough for her to catch the faint drift of his aftershave—some sensual musky concoction which clamoured at