The Mistress's Child Read Online Free PDF Page B

day-out struggle of being a single mother, where money was tight. And Tim long gone. She drew in a deep sigh which was much too close to a sob, but she held the sob at bay.
    'I don't have to stay here and be insulted by you,' she told him quietly. 'Why don't you just go away, Philip? Go back to where you came from and leave me alone!'
    He gave a wry smile. If only it were as easy as that. He didn't try to stop her as she turned away from him and ran back over the field, the heavy mud and the heavy boots making her progress slow and cumbersome.
    But she leapt over the stile like a gazelle and he stood watching the last sight of her—her hair almost completely free of its confinement now, and it danced like crazy black snakes which gleamed in the light of the moon—while his heart pounded like a piston in his chest.

CHAPTER THREE
    Lisi ran and ran without turning back, as if he were chasing her heels—and wasn't there part of her which wished that he were?
    But once she was safely out onto the village street and she realised that Philip was not intent on pursuing her, she slowed her pace down to a fast walk. She didn't want to alarm anyone by looking as though the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels.
    Her cottage was tucked up a little incline, three streets away from the shops, and she fumbled her key into the brightly painted blue front door, closing it firmly behind her, safe at last.
    The place was small, but it was cosy and it was home and it suited the two of them just fine. Lisi had bought it once her mother's big house had been sold—a big, rambling old place which would have cost a fortune to run and maintain.
    She drew the curtains and went round the room switching on the lamps and creating a warm, homely glow. Later, once she had collected Tim, she would light the fire and they would toast crumpets and play together—her son completely oblivious of the knowledge of whom she had just seen.
    While down in the village his father would spend the evening doing God only knew what while she kept her momentous secret to herself.
    Lisi shook her head. She felt like pouring herself a large drink and then another, but she wasn't going to start doing that. Instead she put on an extra sweater and made herself

a cup of tea, then curled up on the sofa with her fingers curled around the steaming mug.
    She looked at Tim's advent calendar which hung next to the fireplace. Only seven days lay unopened. Seven days until Christmas and only one until his birthday tomorrow.
    Had fate made Philip turn up at the time of such a milestone in Tim's life? Or a cruel and bitter irony?
    She remembered the birth as difficult—partly because she had gone through it all on her own. Lisi's fingers tightened around the mug. Just thinking about the long and painful labour cut through her carefully built defences, and the memories of Philip which she had kept at bay for so long came flooding out, as if her mind had just burst its banks, like a river.
    It had started innocently enough—though afterwards she thought about whether there was ever complete innocence between a man and a woman. When and how did simple friendship become transmuted into lust?
    The first few times he saw her he completely ignored her, his cool green eyes flicking over her with a disappointing lack of interest.
    She knew exactly who he was, of course—everyone in the office did. Rich, clever, enigmatic Philip Caprice who owned a huge estate agency in North London.
    He was something of a scout, too—because people seeking discretion and a home in the country flocked to him to find them the perfect place. Rich—fabulously rich—clients who had no desire for the world and his wife to know which property they were in the process of buying. According to Jonathon, he handled house sales for film stars and moguls and just plain old-fashioned aristocracy.
    He always dealt with Jonathon. In fact, Lisi was the office junior, only six months into the job, and eager to learn.