Invincible (19 page)

“That's one way to put it,” she said. “My investigator turned up an interesting piece of information. Very soon after Kristin lost at Wimbledon, she sought out an ob-gyn. I thought she might have some female problem, that she might be sick. I thought it might give you some comfort to know that Kristin had turned you away because she didn't want you to worry about her being ill.

“It turned out she was pregnant. I couldn't be sure the baby was yours. My investigator took measures to confirm the fact with DNA. Felicity
is
your daughter.”

“You've known all these years that I had a daughter, and you never said a word?”

“It wasn't my secret to tell.”

Max wanted to get away, but there was no escaping the truth. He crossed to the mullioned windows draped with red velvet and looked out at the green hills that stretched as far as the eye could see. But his gaze was turned inward. Too many emotions were rioting through him. Anger was first and foremost. Somewhere, trying to get out, was awe.
I have a daughter.
And joy.
I have a daughter!

A spunky daughter, he thought. A grin teased at the corners of his lips as he recalled Flick's response to his uncivil behavior. The grin was never born, killed by more anger.

He stalked back to his mother and confronted her. “What is Flick doing here, Mother? I've spent the past week in Kristin's company.”
That was an understatement!
“And she never said a word about having a daughter. Much less that her daughter was staying with you.”

He saw the panic flicker in his mother's eyes before she said, “I thought it was time you settled your differences with Kristin—and met your daughter. I simply arranged it so Kristin would play that exhibition match with you at Wimbledon.”

“You what?” Max said.

“I wanted to help.”

“Why didn't you just tell me I had a daughter?” he demanded.

“What would you have done?”

“What do you mean?”

“I have a better question,” she said. “What do you plan to do now that you know about Felicity?”

“Do? About what?”

She made an exasperated sound. “Are you going to be a father to your daughter? Are you going to spend time with her?”

“Doing what?”

She made a frustrated sound in her throat.

“I have no idea what a father does,” he said, exasperated now himself. “Except send his children away to school,” he said bitterly. “What is it you expect me to do?”

“I'm sure Felicity could come up with a few ideas,” his mother said. “She's a very bright child.”

“She doesn't like me,” Max said irritably.

“What do you expect? You talked down to her and insulted her mother.”

Someone knocked at the door. Max had his mouth
open to say “Go away!” when the duchess called, “Come.”

The door opened and Emily stepped inside. Felicity was right behind her. Emily urged Felicity forward. The girl took several more steps into the room, then looked back at Emily, who nodded.

Felicity faced Max and said, “I'm sorry I stuck out my tongue at you.”

“And?” Emily coaxed.

Felicity made a face, then said, “I'm sorry I said I don't like you. But you were so malicious, what did you expect?”

Max was surprised by the apology. And offended by the word his child—apparently she
was
his child—had chosen to describe his behavior. “Malicious?”

“Yes,” Felicity confirmed with the quick nod of a chin that was the spitting image of her mother's. Her blue eyes—eyes the same color as his—were liquid with tears. “That means you hurt me on purpose,” the girl said. “It means you tried to be mean. And you were!”

Max felt his neck heating. It had been a long time since anyone had made him feel ashamed. “I owe you an apology,” he said. “I never knew I had a daughter. I was a little…surprised. I took it out on you.”

“I could see your disapprobation,” she said seriously.

He was startled into laughter by her use of a word he'd only heard in stuffy conference rooms. But knowing she thought he
disapproved
of her was no laughing matter. He could see he'd hurt her feelings again. “I'm
not laughing at you, Flick,” he said, using the nickname she apparently preferred. “I'm simply delighted by your vocabulary.”

She looked up at him earnestly, sighed and said, “It's the bane of my mother's existence.”

He laughed again. “Your mom never was much of a student. She probably has to look everything up in the dictionary.”

Flick smiled shyly and said, “I don't mean to confuse her, I just think it's fun using the new words I'm learning.”

Max was over his shock enough to take a closer look at his daughter. Flick was tall for a nine-year-old, which she was if she'd been conceived the day before the Girls' Singles Championship match at Wimbledon ten years ago. She had his eyes and nose and his black hair. She had her mother's chin and cheekbones. And she was smart as a whip. Which she'd probably gotten from her grandmother.

“Your grandmother said you might have some ideas about things we could do together while you're here in England,” he said.

Flick brightened. “Do you have any horses?”

Max shook his head. “No.” She looked so crestfallen he said, “But we could go riding in Hyde Park. They have horses for rent there.”

“Could I?” she said in an awed voice.

Max was delighted that his daughter wanted to ride. He'd been riding horseback since before he could walk and had spent a lot of hours on fast, sleek horses playing
polo. Riding horseback was something he loved that he could share with his newly found daughter. He smiled and said, “I don't see why we couldn't go riding.”

“I'll tell you why not,” a sharp voice said behind him.

Max turned and found Kristin standing in the doorway like an avenging fury. Her anger wasn't addressed at him. It was aimed at his mother.

“How could you!” she said to the duchess. “You promised!”

The duchess laid a protective hand across her breast and said, “I'm so sorry, my dear. Max showed up without warning. There was nothing I could do.”

Apparently, that was enough to excuse the duchess, because Kristin turned her wrath on Max. “You don't go near Flick without my permission!”

“Flick is my daughter,” he replied in a quiet voice. “As I have belatedly found out. I have the right—”

“You have
no
rights,” Kristin said, crossing to stand nose to nose with him, her voice low and furious. “She's
mine!
”

Max would never have questioned Kristin's right to make the decisions about Flick's life if she hadn't thrown down the gauntlet. But she was wrong about one thing. “Flick isn't just yours. She's
ours,
” he corrected. “I'm her father, as my mother has been at pains to point out. A fact I've barely had time to process. I believe I'm entitled—”

“Stay out of her life!” she hissed. “Stay away. Stay far away.”

“Mom!” Flick cried. “Why are you so mad?”

Kristin turned away as though he no longer existed and enfolded her daughter in her arms. “I'm sorry, Flick. I wasn't expecting to find your father here.”

“Dad says he's going to take me horseback riding,” Flick said.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. That isn't going to be possible.”

“Why not?” both Flick and Max asked at the same time.

She left Flick and crossed to snarl at him under her breath, “Because I say so!”

Max felt a ball of anger growing inside him. Along with the fact he had a daughter, he was belatedly realizing that he'd been robbed of the chance of knowing Flick the first nine years of her life. Robbed. “How about we let the courts decide how much time I get to spend with my daughter.”

He watched her face blanch at the threat.

“You wouldn't do that.”

“Watch me.”

She glared at him, but she said, “Fine. You win.”

He raised a brow. She'd conceded without much of a fight. Without any fight at all. Which meant she already knew he'd get some sort of custody if he took her to court. Maybe
full
custody? Was that what she feared? That he wanted to take Flick away from her?

The thought hadn't occurred to him. It might have at some point, he conceded. But he'd spent enough time separated from his own parents to know that that was no
life for a kid. “I just want to take my daughter riding in Hyde Park,” he said. “You're welcome to come along.”

Why had he said that? Kristin probably wouldn't come. But if she did, it was going to be an uncomfortable hour for both of them. He glanced at Flick, whose anxious glance shot from one parent to the other and back again. Damned uncomfortable, and not just for the two of them. For the
three
of them.

“Flick has never been on a horse,” Kristin said.

“They have gentle mounts,” he said. “And I'll be with her.” He corrected himself, “We'll be with her.”

“I don't know how to ride, either,” she said.

“As I said, they have gentle mounts. I can teach you both. We'll walk the horses. You'll be safe as houses.”

“Please, Mom?” Felicity said. “I've always wanted to go horseback riding, but you never let me.”

So she'd appealed to a brand-new father. Smart girl, Max thought. He could see Kristin wavering and said, “I'd like to spend some time with Flick. We might as well do something she's always wanted to do.”

“All right,” Kristin said. “But we'll have to wait until after the exhibition match to—”

Max shook his head. “The match is too far off. Tomorrow's Saturday. We can go in the afternoon. After practice.”

“How is Flick going to get to London?” Kristin said.

“You can take her back to London with you tonight.

She can stay in your hotel room and come watch us prac
tice tomorrow morning. I can drive both of you back here tomorrow after we go riding.”

“In your Porsche?” she said skeptically.

“I've got a Range Rover,” he said. “It's got plenty of room.”

“Then I can go?” Flick asked her mother, bouncing on her toes, she was so excited.

“Yes, you can go,” Kristin said.

Flick lurched the few steps to grab her mother around the waist and hug her.

Max barely had time to envy Kristin before Flick whirled and slammed her frail body against his. She grabbed him around the waist and hugged him tight. Before he could react, she'd pulled free and was running for the door.

“I've got to tell Smythe,” she yelled over her shoulder. “He said you might take me horseback riding, Dad, if only I would ask.”

Dad.
Max marveled at the word and everything it involved. He had a child. Who'd been without a father for nine years. He only knew one thing for sure. He wanted to be a part of her life.

He turned to Kristin and said, “We need to talk.” When he saw his mother opening her mouth to speak, he added, “Alone.”

K
ristin followed Max across the hall to the Blue Room like a condemned woman heading to the gallows. No fire burned in the blackened stone fireplace, and the high-ceilinged room—decorated in shades of blue, of course—was chilly. She wrapped her arms around herself, to quiet her trembling body, but she still felt cold inside and out.

This was her worst nightmare come to life. Max seemed determined to insinuate himself into Flick's life. She was going to be left to deal with the aftermath of tears and loneliness when he was gone. Maybe there was a way to convince him to keep his distance after their horseback ride tomorrow. Or perhaps not to take the ride at all.

Max walked to the tall windows, shoving aside the royal-blue damask curtains that concealed the view, to look outside. Kristin saw the morning sun was gone, replaced by gray skies and threatening rain clouds. She remained near the door, keeping a low Victorian sofa between them. Max must have driven here. She'd taken
the train, which had gotten her here too late to stop him from meeting Flick.

When Max turned to her, he had his hands behind his back in a pose she'd seen used by his father, the billionaire financier. It was a pose that spoke of power and privilege. It was a pose meant to intimidate a lesser mortal.

You're invincible, Kristin.
The words immediately played in her head, the way they had a lifetime ago when she'd found herself facing an opponent she feared. She squared her shoulders, loosened her grip on the back of the sofa and slid her weight to the balls of her feet, an instinctive fight-or-flight response to danger.

Max met her gaze and said through tight jaws, “I'm resisting the urge to choke the life out of you.”

She wasn't sure how to reply to a statement like that. She thought it was hyperbole, but she wasn't entirely sure.
Hyperbole
was one of Flick's first big words. Kristin had looked it up but never used it. Until now. It meant
an extravagant exaggeration.
If that was the case, there was no need to respond—or to run. So she held her tongue.

His eyes never left hers. She saw murder in them.

Her heart began to race, speeding adrenaline into her veins. He was angrier than she'd thought. Dangerously angry. She understood why he'd linked his powerful hands behind his back. She remained poised to flee.

“A week past, I found out how little you trusted me ten years ago,” he said. “Today I found out how fully you betrayed my trust in you.”

Kristin felt her cheeks heating with shame. It was an awful condemnation of what she'd done—keeping him from his daughter. And an accurate one.

“How could you not tell me I had a daughter? How could you keep her existence a secret from me all these years?”

The agonized accusations stung. What she'd done had seemed perfectly logical at the time. In hindsight, and fully aware now of the false brush with which she'd tarred Max's character, she could understand why he judged her actions so harshly.

But she didn't think she'd been wrong. “Would you have wanted to be a father at eighteen?” she demanded. “I can tell you, Max, it wasn't easy being a mother at sixteen. You don't go to parties. You don't travel the world. You have someone making demands on your time every single moment of every day and all through the night. You have to think of someone else first and foremost and of yourself a long way after that.”

She crossed around the sofa, stepping into the space he'd claimed as his own. “Be honest, Max. Would you have been ready for that kind of responsibility at eighteen?”

“We'll never know now, will we?” he raged.

“Think back, Max. Where did you go after Wimbledon? What did you do?”

She watched his forehead furrow. And waited for him to remember.

“Bloody hell. That's not fair, K.”

“What did you do, Max?” she persisted.

“After a year on the pro tour, I tried sailing around Cape Horn alone in a too-small craft, to prove it could be done,” he said quietly.

“Your sailboat sank in a storm, Max. You were missing for eighteen hours after you radioed to say your mast had snapped and your boat was going down. Before you left, you told the press you weren't taking a life preserver, because you'd rather drown than get eaten by sharks if you ran into trouble. You were given up for lost, presumed dead.”

The story of Max's sail around Cape Horn, on the extreme southern tip of Chile, famous for its monstrous waves, terrifying winds and frigid temperatures, hadn't made the national news. But her father was a sailor when he could find time for it, and he'd heard scuttlebutt at his yacht club about Max's adventure—and its apparently tragic ending.

She remembered how she'd mourned a love that had died before it was really born. How she'd grieved for a man who'd betrayed her. “Then I heard about you on the BBC news channel, that you were alive and well. They said you laughed away the danger. As though it had all been a lark.”

“I had an inflatable raft on board,” he said sullenly. “I was wearing protective clothing against the cold. I was fine.”

“You could have floated around in that ocean until you died of thirst. Or been thrown out of that flimsy raft by a monster wave and eaten by sharks or drowned. You were only rescued by the grace of God,” she said.
“You've always been a risk-taker, Max. Look at what you're doing with your life now. You're a
spy,
for heaven's sake.”

“It's a job, Princess, nothing more or less.”

“It's a
risky
job, Max. I don't want Flick to start loving you if you aren't going to be there for her because you're dead.”

“What about you?” he countered. “You're an FBI agent. You've shot at the bad guys, and they've shot back. Doesn't that make you as much of a risk-taker—maybe even more of one—as I am?”

Kristin realized she hadn't thought through her argument before she'd started it. “Maybe that's true,” she conceded. “But most FBI agents never draw their weapons during an entire career.”

“Most spies don't get caught and killed, either.”

“All right, Max, I wasn't going to go there, but let's get to it. The real reason I don't want you involved in Flick's life is because I don't think you'll stick around for the long haul. Having a child is a novelty to you right now, but I wasn't kidding when I said it's a 24/7, 365 days a year job. And it doesn't end when she finishes high school or graduates college.”

“I know that,” he said. “I had parents.”

“Forgive me for saying so, but not good ones.”

“Your father wasn't a paragon, either,” Max retorted. “And your mother abandoned you.”

She met his gaze and saw remorse in his eyes for pointing it out, though he didn't apologize. She'd more than once complained to Max about her father's heartless
behavior and his ruthless teaching tactics. “Harry has been a wonderful grandfather. A better grandfather than he was a father,” Kristin said. “He's been a steady rock in Flick's life, someone besides me she could always count on.”

“And I'm what, sand under her feet?” Max asked.

She could hear the resentment in his voice. She was less willing to believe the hurt she heard, as well. She continued inexorably, “I don't want Flick to end up pining for a father who's never there.”

“I can't very well be there all the time if we live on different continents,” he snapped.

“My point exactly.”

“What is it you expect me to do?”

“Stay out of her life. Make some excuse not to take her horseback riding tomorrow.”

“No.”

“Just no?”

“You may think it doesn't mean anything to me to know I have a daughter who's lived without a father since birth. You're wrong. I never asked to have a child. Given a choice, I'm not sure I would ever have had any children.”

“Then why—”

“Shut up, K, and let me explain. I never wanted to be a parent because I know firsthand how much a child can miss a parent who isn't there. I never wanted to do that to a child of mine. Thanks to you, I've committed that sin in spades. That ends now. I'm not going to spend another day separated from my daughter.”

“Max, you can't—”

“Marry me, Princess.”

Kristin might have laughed, except she couldn't get enough air into her lungs to make any sound at all. He looked as shocked by what he'd said as she felt hearing his abrupt proposal.

“It's not a bad solution to the problem,” Max said when she remained silent. “We were friends once. We can be again. That's more than most couples can say.”

We were lovers, too, Max,
she thought.
Does that mean love is off the table?

“What about your girlfriend?”

He avoided the question. “Are you saying yes?”

It occurred to her that she had the proposal his mother had been hoping for. But now that she had it, she wasn't sure she wanted it.

“What if I say no?” she said.

“I wouldn't do that if I were you.”

She heard the threat in his voice and saw it in his ice-blue eyes. “I'm not really being given a choice, am I, Max?”

“No, K. You're not.”

“I'd want a prenup.”

Max snorted. “There's nothing you have that I want, Princess.”

“What I'd want is financial security for Flick if you walk away.”

“I'm not going anywhere,” Max said with finality.

Kristin wasn't so sure.

“I'll have my lawyer put together a prenup for you to
look at on Monday. We can be married as soon as your lawyer approves it.”

Kristin felt a frisson of fear race down her spine. Why was Max in such a hurry? “What's the rush?”

“My home is here in England. I want us married so you and Flick can stay here from now on.”

“No, Max. My job is in the States.” If she still had a job. There had been no word from SIRT.

“There's no need for you to work once we're married.”

“What if I want to work?”

“You're being ridiculous, K. You just got through telling me your job is dangerous. In fact, you may not even have a job to go back to when you get home. What's the big deal?”

“I don't like being manipulated, Max. That's the big deal. And I don't want to be dependent on you.” Which meant, she supposed, that she didn't think a marriage between them was going to have much chance of succeeding.

She added another argument against marrying Max and staying in England. “Flick won't want to be separated from her grandfather. And Harry needs me right now.”

“That problem has been taken care of. I've already made arrangements for Harry to be transported here. He should be arriving early tomorrow morning.”

She was stunned at how quickly he'd acted to get her father to London. Flick would be over the moon. She wondered what he'd said to Harry to get him to agree
to come. Most likely, he hadn't asked. He hadn't persuaded. He'd simply issued orders and expected them to be obeyed. Like he was doing now.

“From what you've said, it's doubtful Harry's going to be going back to work as a tennis coach anytime soon,” Max said. “I'll be glad to make arrangements for him to live somewhere close to us.”

It was unfortunate Max was so rich. Money could solve so many problems.

“What if Harry won't agree to stay?” she argued.

“From what you've said, he won't want to be separated from Flick. If Flick is living here, Harry will stay.”

He was probably right. Damn it.

“Then it's all settled,” he said.

“I haven't said yes.”

“But you will.”

The smugness of his smile caused her to blurt, “My answer is no.”

The smile disappeared. “You don't have any choice about this, K.”

“You're wrong, Max.”

“All right, spill it. What's your real objection to my suggestion?”

Kristin's heart ached. It had since Max had first proposed this arranged, loveless marriage. She had nothing to lose by telling him how she felt. “I want to care for the man I marry, Max. I want to love him, and I want him to love me and my daughter. You know nothing about the woman I am now. You know nothing about our daughter. You've proposed marriage as an easy solution to a
difficult problem. Marriage isn't easy, Max. No more than parenting is easy. You're just not a good risk.”

She turned and headed for the door. When she got there she turned and said, “I refuse your generous proposal, Max. I'd rather figure out some other way for Flick to see her father, if you insist on becoming a part of her life.

“I'd hoped to spare her the pain of having a father who might abandon her if something—or someone—more exciting came along. Since that isn't possible, I'm not going to compound the problem by marrying you.”

As she closed the door quietly behind her, Kristin wondered if she'd done the right thing. She'd loved Max once upon a time. That love had been reborn during the past week. Now she knew he'd had feelings for her then, which she believed had been growing over the past week.

But she hadn't trusted him then, not after what she'd seen the next morning. And after hearing about Veronica, she still didn't trust him.

Oh, he'd said all the right things about wanting to be a good father. She just couldn't be sure he meant them. And agreeing to a marriage of convenience was asking for heartache. She would rather not reach for a nebulous happy ending at all, than endure the pain of a fairy-tale ending that never came true.