‘What are you trying to say?’ Christien was not focusing on what to him was an irrelevance. ‘You are saying that you have our son…that there is a little boy here in this house? I don’t believe you—’
‘The day you visited me in London, he was at nursery school, and I left him in England with Alison when I made my first trip here.’ Tabby rose to her feet as she appreciated that she might as well have been talking to a brick wall for all the listening that Christien seemed
able to do.
‘Right now, he is upstairs?’ Christien questioned fiercely.
Tabby halted at the foot of the staircase and whispered, ‘How…how do you feel about that?’
‘That I can’t believe that this is real because, if I start believing it, I might get so angry I lose my head with you.’ Dark golden eyes glittering, Christien stared at her with deadly seriousness. ‘I can’t believe it’s real because you slept with me last week without saying a word—’
A deep dark blush flamed over her face. ‘I didn’t mean to—’
He dealt her a derisive glance. ‘I want to see him—’
‘He’s asleep…OK.’ Intimidated by the anger flaring in his expectant gaze, she went upstairs and crossed the landing to push the door of Jake’s room wider open.
Behind her, Christien stilled like a guy turned to stone. A night-light illuminated the bed. Jake seemed to be having a restive night for his little face was flushed, his black curls tousled, the sheet in a tangle round his waist. With strong, determined hands, Christien set Tabby out of his path and entered the room. Her heart leapt into her mouth as she wondered what he planned to do. For long, endless moments, he stared down at Jake and then at the long row of toy cars parked with military exactitude along the skirting board. He released a long, low, shuddering breath and then very slowly began to back out again.
The silence on the landing was so intense that it screamed.
Tabby hurried back downstairs.
Christien drew level with her again and looked at her, searing dark eyes hard with condemnation. ‘You’re the equivalent of a kidnapper who never asked for a ransom.’
Tabby blanched.
‘Once again you lied to me, but this time the consequences were much worse,’ he continued with harsh clarity. ‘This time, an innocent child has suffered—’
‘Jake has not suffered—’
‘Of course, he has! He has had no father!’ Christien slung back without hesitation. ‘Don’t try to tell me that that hasn’t made a difference to my child’s life. Don’t try to make some sexist point arguing that a mother figure is more important—’
Caught unprepared by the cutting force of his attack, Tabby was pale as milk. ‘I wasn’t going to—’
‘Zut alors…just as well!’ Christien snarled. ‘Not unless you want to hear how outraged I am at the knowledge that a stupid schoolgirl has been attempting to raise my son!’
‘Don’t you call me stupid.’ Tabby’s temper flared. ‘I might not be a real brainbox like you, but there’s nothing wrong with my brain—’
‘Isn’t there?’ Christien incised at the speed of a rapier. ‘You’ve already told me that, until your aunt offered you a bed, you were sleeping on a floor while you were pregnant. Had you contacted me, you would have been living in luxury. So not contacting me was an act of inexcusable stupidity!’
‘Listening to you right now, not contacting you strikes me as having been a very clever decision. Being a filthy rich, smug four-letter-word doesn’t make you any more acceptable!’ Tabby shot back at him.
‘Except in the parent stakes. Strive to focus on the main issue, chérie. Four years ago, it was your responsibility to protect our unborn child by taking no risks with your own health. Since when was sleeping on floors recommended for pregnant women?’
Compressing her lips, Tabby turned her head away.
‘But in the present, our primary concern must simply be Jake…not how I feel about your lies or how you feel about me. This is about Jake and his rights.’ Christien lifted a forceful brown hand to stress his point. ‘And his most basic right was his father’s care, which you chose to deny him.’
Tabby knotted her trembling hands tightly together. Her palms were damp, her eyes felt scratchy and her throat was so tight it was hurting. No matter how hard she attempted to make herself she could not hold Christien’s outraged dark golden gaze. It was as if he had got her by the throat and stolen every excuse she might have employed before she even got the chance to think any up. Jake and his rights. No, she had to admit that her son’s right to know his father had only occurred to her in more recent times when she had had to face the fact that Jake would soon be reaching an age when he would be asking awkward questions.
‘The way you felt about me, I didn’t think you’d want to know about him.’ Tabby knew she sounded accusing, but she could not help it for she did not think it was fair for him to refuse to acknowledge that his treatment of her had naturally influenced her expectations and her opinion of him.
‘That decision was not yours to make—’
‘OK…I went to the accident enquiry determined to tell you that you were the father of my son but you couldn’t even give me five minutes of your time—’
As Tabby made that reminder the angular lines of Christien’s fabulous bone structure hardened into prominence below his olive skin, but he stood his ground. ‘That is not the point—’