The roses were in full bloom and Scarlett inhaled deeply, breathing in the fragrant aroma. Her eyes wandered briefly toward the old iron gate, and smiling somewhat wistfully, she recalled the times she had passed through it and into Alec’s waiting arms. They were wonderful memories, and she was glad she had them.
On the other side of the tall hedge, Alec heard Scarlett’s gentle admonition to her son. He had spotted them from an upstairs window a few minutes earlier and hadn’t been able to resist venturing outside. The sight of the boy had made him curious. Would Scarlett’s son be as strong-minded and willful as she had been? Smiling at the now fond memory, he could still recall every vivid detail of the day he’d first met her. Looking down, he rubbed his thumb across the tiny scars that still marked his hand. Unable to resist the urge, he walked to the gate and lifted the latch.
Scarlett heard the grating of the old iron hinges and turned her head toward the sound. Her breath caught in her throat as Alec pushed it open and stepped through. Her surprise turned to horror a moment later, however, when she heard her son’s excited voice coming from the other side of the yard. She felt her stomach drop.
“Mama, look what I found!” Oliver called enthusiastically.
She turned to see her son barreling across the lawn toward her, his little hands wrapped around an enormous green and brown spotted bullfrog.
Quickly she moved to stand in front of him, shielding Oliver from Alec’s view. He came to a skidding halt, the bullfrog proudly on display in his upstretched, dirt-encrusted hands. “Look Mama, look!”
Despite the sudden, intense pounding of her heart, Scarlett bent down, careful to keep her features composed and regarded the giant frog with the proper level of interest and admiration. “He’s a fine frog Oli,” she assured him. “In fact, I am certain that he is the finest bullfrog I have ever seen.” Despite her calm demeanor, she was trembling inside. She had to get Oliver away from Alec.
Alec stepped to the side to get a better look at the boy, but Scarlett’s position impeded his view.
Oliver glanced up, and then peeked around his mother’s shoulder, noticing Alec. “Who’s that?”
“He’s just an acquaintance of mine, darling.” Scarlett stood up, positioning herself between them. “Now what are you going to do with that frog,” she asked, hoping to distract him, deliberately keeping her back to Alec.
“Can I keep him?” Oliver asked eagerly.
“Of course,” Scarlett nodded in response. “Why don’t you run and ask Monsieur Deville if he can find a crate for you to put him in,” she suggested, gently grasping his shoulders and turning him in the opposite direction.
Alec stood by silently, confused by Scarlett’s behavior, wondering why she hadn’t introduced him to her son.
Scarlett watched in relief as Oliver started back toward Monsieur Deville, praying that Alec hadn’t noted the striking resemblance between him and her son. Her relief was short lived however, when Oliver suddenly lost his grip on the frog. She watched in horror as it sprung from his grasp. Startled, he stopped and then immediately turned to chase after it. In dismay, Scarlett watched as both Oliver and Alec moved in the same direction. With lightening quick reflexes, Alec darted forward and snagged the frog before it could get away.
“You got him, you got him,” Oliver exclaimed excitedly, his animated features reflecting his elation.
“We can’t have such a fine frog getting away now, can we,” Alec said to Oliver, smiling as he knelt down in front of the boy. As he went to put the frog in the child’s outstretched hands, he suddenly found himself face to face with the boy. He was a handsome lad, with a mop of unruly dark curls, much like his own when it wasn’t combed into place. When Oliver glanced up, he was met with eyes the exact same color as his own, fringed by incredibly long, dark lashes just like his. He stared in shocked disbelief. His mother’s words from the other day, suddenly echoed in his head “he reminded me so much of you when you were a boy.” For a moment, time seemed to stand still. No, it couldn’t be.
“Thank you,” Oliver said, taking the frog and dashing away before Alec could speak, running to the side of the rotund chef as he gathered his things and began walking toward the house.
Recognizing Alec, Monsieur Deville bowed politely in his direction as Oliver bounded energetically at his side.
Alec stood up slowly, watching in stunned silence until the pair disappeared into the house.
Scarlett regarded Alec mutely, her heart in her throat. He turned to her, his expression bewildered. He suspects. She tried to speak, but couldn’t find her voice. They looked at each other for several long moments.
Finally, Alec spoke. His voice was low and controlled, his expression no longer bewildered, but frighteningly intense. “Is he mine?”
“Alec, I…” Her voice broke and she looked down, unable to finish her sentence. She couldn’t bring herself to lie to him.
“Is - he - mine?” He enunciated each word, his tone now harsh and unyielding, demanding the truth. As soon as Scarlett raised her eyes, he had his answer. “Son of a bitch!” he exploded angrily.
The force of his anger hit Scarlett like a physical blow and she took a step back, her eyes wide as she looked into Alec’s furious expression.
Reaching out, Alec grabbed Scarlett’s arm, dragging her towards him. “Were you ever going to tell me?” he demanded.
Once again, Scarlett couldn’t seem to find her voice. She had never seen Alec so upset before.
“Answer me!” he demanded, his fingers pressing forcefully into the soft flesh of her arm. “Were you ever going to tell me about him?”
She could only shake her head slightly, still too shaken to speak. He looked so incensed that for a moment she feared he might strike her. Instead, he let go of her arm, turning his back to her. She watched in silence as he ran his fingers through his hair. He then took several deep breaths, as if he were trying to bring his temper under control.
As Alec fought to calm his anger, the magnitude of the situation hit him full force. He had a son. The sudden knowledge rocked him to his core. Christ, that darling little boy was his son, and he hadn’t even known it. Numerous thoughts began racing through his head, one of which was that Scarlett must have known she was carrying his child when she’d wed her Scotsman. The stunning realization made him livid. She’d kept his son a secret from him then, and kept it still, long after the death of her husband. It was an unbelievable betrayal. If he hadn’t wandered into their garden, coming face to face with the child himself, he might never have known he had a son. God damn her to hell, he thought furiously.
“Alec?” she began nervously, unsure of what she would say, but needing to break the agonizing silence. He ignored her, keeping his back to her, the only sound his heavy breathing.
When Alec finally had himself somewhat under control, he turned to face Scarlett, his features icy and impassive. “I want my son.”
“Wh-what do you mean?” Scarlett stammered, shocked by Alec’s chilling declaration and uncompromising expression.
“He is my son, and I intend to claim him.” He didn’t need time to think, time to ponder the situation. He had a son and he would claim him. The boy was his.
“Alec, you…you can’t be serious,” Scarlett gasped.
“I assure you that I am quite serious. You have kept my son hidden from me for three god-dammed years Madame,” he said, his voice rising. “If you think you are going to continue to keep him from me you had best think again.”
“Alec please, can’t we just…”
He cut her off, pinning her with his frigid gaze. “At this moment, I suggest you don’t say another word,” he growled, “not one more word!”
With that, Alec turned on his heel and walked away, leaving Scarlett to stare at his back in stunned disbelief. Oh dear God, she thought desperately, what have I done?
When Colin arrived home later that afternoon, Scarlett was waiting for him in the front parlor, pacing furiously back and forth. Wh
en she spotted him standing at the threshold, she rushed to his side and grabbed his arm, nearly dragging him into the foyer and then turned in the direction of his study.
“Scarlett, what is it? What’s wrong?” he asked, clearly taken off guard.
When they reached his study, she pulled him inside, shutting the door firmly behind them.
Looking at her in bewilderment, Colin could see that she was shaking. “Scarlett what’s going on? Has something happened?”
“He knows Colin. He knows about Oliver,” she told him, her tone frantic as she clutched at the sleeve of her brother’s jacket. “Oh Colin, he was so angry.”
“Who knows about Oliver? What the devil are you talking about Scarlett?” He grasped her shoulders, holding her steady as he tried to make sense of what she was saying.
“Oliver’s father. He knows that Oliver is his,” she clarified.
“What are you saying Scarlett? You told Oliver’s father about him?”
“No, I…I didn’t tell him. He saw Oliver. He saw him and now…” she shook her head, her eyes wide and frightened.
“Who is he Scarlett?”
She stared at him helplessly. Dear God, how could she tell him that it was Alec?
“Dammit Scarlett, tell me! Who is Oliver’s father?” he demanded, shaking her slightly.
“I’m sorry Colin. I’m so sorry,” she cried, as tears began to slide slowly down her cheeks.
“There, there,” he said, trying to calm her. “It’s going to be all right.” Pulling her into his arms, he held her as she trembled. “It’s going to be all right Scarlett, I promise.”
When she finally settled, Colin led her over to the sofa, holding her hand as he sat down beside her. Brushing the tears from her cheeks, she summoned her courage.
“Who is he Scarlett?” he asked, this time more gently.
Scarlett took a deep breath and met her brother’s steady regard. She had to tell him, she no longer had a choice. “Alec. Alec Weston is Oliver’s father,” she said, her voice whisper soft. For a moment Colin looked at her as if she’d said the sky was falling.
“You can’t be serious,” he choked.
Biting her bottom lip in nervous trepidation, she could only nod in response.
After another moment of stunned silence, Colin spoke, his voice cold and hard. “I’ll kill him!”
“Colin no! It wasn’t his fault, you know that,” Scarlett asserted, tightly gripping her brother’s hand.
“For God’s sake Scarlett, are you still trying to protect him, even now?” His expression was a combination of incredulousness and fury, his tone outraged.
“I told you before that he wasn’t responsible for what happened between us.”
“Like hell,” he scoffed. “No matter what you did or did not do, it wasn’t as if he didn’t have a choice in the matter.” Colin rose angrily from the sofa, the expression on his face murderous. “Alec,” he muttered to himself. “Christ, I can’t believe this.”
“Colin, listen to me,” Scarlett said, quickly rising from her own seated position. “The fact that it was Alec isn’t what’s important right now. What is important is that he knows that he is Oliver’s father.” Reaching out, she gripped his forearm. “Colin, he said that he intends to claim Oliver as his son.”
When Colin entered the lobby of White’s later that night, his temper was near to exploding. Before leaving the house he had grudgingly given Scarlett his assurance that he wouldn’t kill the miserable bastard he had once considered a friend, however, he still had every intention of beating the hell out of the rotten son of a bitch.
“Lord Kenston, how are you this….”
“Is Worthe here?” Colin demanded, cutting off the proprietor’s polite greeting.
The man’s composure faltered momentarily, but he quickly recovered himself. “He is upstairs, My Lord, second room on the left.”
Colin strode swiftly toward the stairs, ignoring the greetings of several acquaintances as he passed. Taking the steps two at a time he quickly reached the landing, nearly bowling over a hapless servant carrying a tray laden with a bottle of whiskey and several crystal tumblers in his haste. With nary a word of apology nor a backward glance, he reached the door to one of the private card rooms at White’s and burst through the opening, the heavy wooden door crashing back against the wall in a thunderous bang.
The five men seated around the table looked up in startled surprise as Colin entered, Alec included. Unfortunately, the fact that he had been drinking steadily since his arrival at the club affected his reaction time considerably, and thus, it took him a moment too long to realize the sudden jeopardy he was in. The other four men at the table immediately rose to their feet however as Colin strode determinedly across the room, his face reflecting his unmistakable rage.
“Get out!” Colin said to the four astonished lords, his gaze riveted on Alec. “This is between him and me.”
Alec had barely gotten to his feet when Colin reached him. He had no time to defend himself as Colin’s powerful fist connected with his jaw in a sickening thud. Rocked by the crushing blow, he barely managed to keep his footing as he staggered back against the wall a few feet behind him.
The Earl of Highgrove gaped at Colin, his expression horrified. “Kenston, what the blazes has gotten…”
“I said get out,” Colin repeated without once taking his eyes from Alec, his harsh, commanding tone brooking no argument.
“Worthe?” the earl queried bravely in the face of Colin’s rage, looking to Alec for acquiescence.
“Leave us,” was Alec’s curt response. He knew exactly what this was about.
A moment later the men filed out, closing the door behind them, leaving Colin and Alec alone in the room.
On the other side of the closed door, the four men looked at each other in confusion, for it was a well-known fact that Colin and Alec were longtime chums. As the sound of thuds, crashes, cursing, breaking glass and splintering wood filled the hall, several others rushed to see what the commotion was about, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and concern. The Earl of Highgrove, a friend and longtime acquaintance of both men, positioned himself in front of the door and with the lift of his hand and a subtle shake of his head, indicated that no one should interfere.
After several tense minutes of listening to the unmistakable sounds of fighting from within, the ruckus suddenly ceased. The men hovering in the hall looked to Highgrove and to each other questioningly, undoubtedly wondering if they should do something.
Finally, Highgrove cracked open the door and peered inside. The room was in shambles, but he quickly spotted the two combatants seated on the floor on the other side of the room. Assured that both men were still alive and breathing, he quickly pulled the door closed. Turning to the assembled group, he waved them away, suggesting they give the two men some privacy to sort out their conflict. With a great deal of head-shaking and speculative murmuring, the group slowly dispersed.
Inside, Colin and Alec sat on the floor a few feet apart, their backs against the far wall. Alec’s shirt was torn and blood trickled from the corner of his rapidly swelling lip. His jaw was throbbing and he was certain his left eye and cheek would be a lovely shade of bluish-purple by morning, though he supposed it could have been worse. Knowing Colin’s anger was justified, he hadn’t put up much of a fight. Instead, his primary focus had been attempting to deflect the most potentially damaging of Colin’s blows, though in his efforts, Colin hadn’t escaped completely unscathed. Fortunately Alec thought, assessing his own injuries, aside from a possible cracked rib or two, he didn’t appear to have suffered any broken bones. Carefully, he shifted his position, groaning as a sharp pain shot up from his ribcage.
Colin turned at the sound, clearly gratified that Alec was suffering. “You’re lucky I didn’t kill you, you son of a bitch,” he panted, struggling to catch his breath. Cradling his bruised hand in his lap, Colin carefully flexed his fingers, eyeing his bruised and bloodied knuckles.
<
br /> Alec knew Colin well enough to know that he was serious, and met his gaze without flinching. “I know.” His tone denoted his remorse, as well as his internal torment. He sounded like the miserable, dejected sod that he was.
They sat in silence for a time, their labored breathing the only sound in the room.
“Did you know he was mine, before today?” Alec asked, finally breaking the quiet.
“Do you think I would have waited until now to beat the hell out of you if I had?”
Despite the gravity of the situation, as well as the pain radiating throughout his body, Alec managed a small, derisive chuckle. “No, I suppose not.” Dropping his head back against the wall, he looked up at the ceiling. “I know you will find this hard to believe, but I am sorry Colin, more sorry than you can possibly know.”
Colin snorted disgustedly in response.
“She should have told me about him, Colin.”
Colin looked at him in loathing. “Perhaps she should have,” he admitted. “Then again, perhaps you shouldn’t have fucked my sister!” he bit out harshly.
The coarse, angry words hit Alec like another punch in the face. Colin was right; there was nothing he could say, nothing that could possibly justify what he had done. Therefore, he simply said the only thing he could say, “You’re right, it never should have happened, Colin. There is no excuse for my behavior. Believe me, I know that and I regret it more than you can imagine.”
“Christ Alec…” Colin began, shaking his head.
“For what it’s worth, I have never forgiven myself,” he said, once again looking him in the eye.
“Was it only once?” Colin asked point blank.
“Colin…” He didn’t have to say the words; his guilt-ridden expression said it all.
Colin rolled his eyes upward, his jaw tightening. “She told me she seduced you,” he said with a derisive laugh. “You, a rake of the highest order, a bloody master of seduction, seduced by an innocent.” The sarcasm in his voice was unmistakable.
“I take full blame for what happened, I assure you.”
The Hellion and The Heartbreaker Page 25
