Chapter Twenty-Nine

Ethan Winthrop stared out the window of the limousine. He felt as though he were a child again—a twenty-eight year old child. It was strange, really. His mother had to buckle his seatbelt and even adjust his jacket, which had become bunched up when he entered the limo and leaned back against the sumptuous cushions.

He was used to being taken care of by the women in his life. So why did this feel so odd? Maybe it was because this was a different version of being taken care of. Or perhaps it was knowing that his mother was taking him back to the Crane Mansion, a place from which, technically, he'd been barred.

"Mother, I really don't think going back to the mansion is a good idea," Ethan said quietly, voicing his concerns.

Ivy Winthrop Crane looked at her son with exasperation. "Where else can I keep an eye on you? Besides, it's your home."

Ethan shook his head. "Not anymore. Theresa made that quite clear. She wants me gone. I already would be if not for the accident."

Ivy's blue eyes narrowed. "You mean the murder attempt."

"Mother!" he chastised.

Ivy reached out and rested her hand on her son's shoulder. "Don't 'mother' me. Ethan, you don't have to protect Nicholas. I know what he tried to do to you."

"No, you don't. You weren't there. What happened to me is my own fault."

"The broken nose? The cuts? Those are your fault, too?" Ivy inquired sarcastically.

Ethan thought back to the revelation his half-brother made, how he had tried to force himself on Theresa when he was drunk.

Quietly, he stated, "I deserved everything I got, and then some."

"What has gotten into you?" Ivy asked. "For that matter, what's gotten into everyone else? I haven't seen Gwen in days. I know the two of you supposedly called off your marriage, but I thought for sure she would at least have called me or checked up on you."

"There is no 'supposedly' about it. It's over between Gwen and me," Ethan stated crisply.

"Don't give up on her, son. You have to fight for true love. Believe me. That was the biggest mistake I ever made; I didn't fight hard enough."

Ethan thought back to his conversation with Pilar. "I will be fighting, Mother. I will be."

"I'm so glad to hear it. First love—it's so special, so incomparable. You can't let Gwen go."

"It's not Gwen I want."

Ivy rolled her eyes. "I thought you were over this. Wasn't it bad enough that Theresa sold both of us out to the tabloids? You lost everything. But that's not all she is responsible for. I know she was somehow involved in what happened with you and Fox. Ethan, you could have died! That woman is poison! Everything she touches gets destroyed."

"Funny. And here I thought your nickname was Poison Ivy."

"Ethan!"

"Look, I'm sorry, Mother. This is just something you're going to have to accept. Gwen and I are not going to be together."

Ivy sighed.

"I know you've said you want me at the mansion so you can take better care of me, but I'm not sure I should be there with things as they are."

"Look, I'm more than happy to evict Nicholas if it will make you more comfortable, but the fact of the matter is you are not in a position to take care of yourself. You need me."

Ethan held up his still-bandaged hands. "And I suppose you're going to be the one to wipe my nose, wrap my hands, or help me change clothes?"

Ivy hesitated, "Well, maybe not me personally, but you know I'll make sure someone does it for you."

"Just like I thought."

"What?"

"You never were one for patching up the scraped knees and cut elbows. It was always Pilar who looked out for me when I was a child."

"Not you, too!"

"What do you mean by that?" Ethan queried.

"Just that I've already had to deal with one child who had less than flattering things to say about my mothering skills today. I just didn't think I would hear such talk from you, too."

Ethan backtracked. "Mother, I didn't mean to criticize you. I only meant to point out that I could stay anywhere."

"I know you would never purposely hurt me, darling. You are the one person in this world who has been a constant source of joy. I hope you also know that I would never do anything to purposely hurt you."

"Of course I do."

Ivy closed her eyes for a moment, thinking of the information she possessed. At last, she could finally rid Theresa from her precious son's life. Would Ethan be able to forgive her methods, though?

R-r-r-i-i-i-n-g!

"Is that your cell phone or mine?" Ethan asked.

Ivy's brows furrowed. "I think it's mine."

"Good," Ethan said quietly. He was relieved the call was for his mother. After all, the simplest, most mundane tasks were much more difficult to complete with his injured hands. Besides, maybe whoever was on the phone would distract her for a few minutes so he could regain his bearings.

Ivy retrieved the phone from her purse. Looking at the display, she said quietly, "It's Alistair."

Ethan's brows furrowed. Why would his former grandfather be calling his mother? Since her divorce from Julian, Alistair barely tolerated her. Rarely did he initiate contact.

"Hello, Alistair."

The deep voice of Alistair Crane boomed through the phone's speaker. "Hello, Ivy. Now that you're on your way home with Ethan, I want you and your son to make plans to be in the dining room at 8:00 P.M. sharp."

"Wait a second. How did you know…?" Ivy began but then remembered to whom she was speaking. Her former father-in-law had the uncanny ability to trace the whereabouts of virtually anyone at any time. "Oh, never mind. May I ask why?"

"What is it people normally do in the dining room, Ivy?"

Ivy bit her lip. "Well, normal people sup in a dining room, but nothing that happens in the mansion these days seems normal."

"Still bitter, I see."

"Always," Ivy replied sweetly.

"Don't be late," Alistair replied tersely before ending the conversation.

Ivy sighed as she looked to her son.

"What did Alistair want?" Ethan asked.

"Oh, he requests the honor of our presence for dinner tonight."

"Why?"

Ivy crossed her arms. "Knowing him as I do, he undoubtedly has something up his sleeve."

But then again, so do I.

Ivy pushed aside the initial trepidation she felt from Alistair's call. This could definitely work to her advantage.

She would make it work.


"I think I've died and gone to heaven," Theresa sighed.

"Oh, you've got too much hell to raise to be at that point yet," Fox replied as he worked Theresa's hair into a lather with shampoo. He worked the mixture through her thick tresses, massaging her scalp and sending tingles of delight through her body.

Theresa giggled as she watched some of the froth fall to the shower floor and wash down the drain. "I think you may have used too much."

Fox trailed a finger down the small of her back. "I'm a firm believer in excesses. Besides, it lets me keep you naked longer."

Theresa turned to face her lover. "You've already had me naked for a couple of hours now. What with the time we spent at the pool and the time we've been in this shower." She reached out and stroked the cleft of his chin. "And you know, the funny thing is that I never did get that swim I talked about taking."

Fox grinned. "Well, plenty of little swimmers got hold of you."

Her cheeks felt flushed. "Fox!"

He positioned her under the showerhead so that the water rinsed away her shampoo. "I can't believe you still get embarrassed after all the times we've slept together and considering all the ways we've done it."

"I know. It's silly."

"No, it's not silly if that's how you really feel. It just surprises me. That's all."

"Sometimes I still feel so much like a child," Theresa admitted.

"Well, you aren't. I can attest to that. There is a freshness about you, though, that I've never seen in another person. You still see so much wonder in the world around you."

"That's only because you show me wonder," Theresa replied as she shut off the water. "You make me see so many possibilities."

Fox kissed her gently on the lips. "You do the same for me."

He pushed open the shower door, stepped out onto the mat, and retrieved a fluffy towel for her from the towel rack. He passed it to her in the shower, and she wrapped it around her wet hair.

Holding his hand out to her, she took it and stepped from the shower onto the mat. From the hook on the back of the bathroom door, she grabbed her oversized bathrobe and slipped it on.

Fox, in turn, fastened a towel around his waist.

Theresa walked from the bathroom into the adjacent bedroom. Fox followed.

She sat on the edge of the tall bed, her feet dangling off the side. "I sometimes wish we could stay in here forever."

"We've spent many happy nights in here," Fox replied. "But what awaits us out there is even better. Resa, I want to be with you in broad daylight. I want to be able to show you off. I want to take you to places you've never seen."

"This room feels so much safer, you know? I want all those things, too, Fox. I truly do. It's just that real life is so complicated. And I can't help but feel like there are all these forces working against us."

Fox frowned at hearing her tone. "But you've told me that you're working on a way to get it uncomplicated."

Theresa nodded. "I had Woody draw up annulment papers. I'm not going to ask Julian for anything; it will be like our sham of a marriage never took place."

"How long before you approach him with the papers?"

"Tonight. I'm going to ask him to sign them tonight. I'm sure he'll be thrilled. Although there is a good chance that I'll be leaving this place…"

"Oh no, you don't!" Fox said vehemently as he sat next to her. "There is no way I'm letting you out that door. Once you get the annulment papers signed, then we can be out in the open about our relationship." He rested his hand on her abdomen. "I want to shout from the rooftops that the woman I love is having my child."

Theresa placed her hand over his. "I want that, too. I want that more than anything. I'm not ashamed of loving you, Fox."

With haste Fox's mouth descended upon hers, taking absolute possession. His impulsive kisses were needful and powerful; he took her breath away with his urgency.

She lay back on the bed, bringing him with her.

His hand moved to the cord which drew her bathrobe together. He tugged at it, pulling it open and revealing her still-moist skin.

"Oh Fox," she murmured as he trailed kisses from her mouth, across her cheek, and to the sensitive crook of her neck. "I want you. I need you."

"Dios mio! Not again!" The door to the bedroom slammed shut.

The duo had been so caught up in one another, they had not heard the door open. However, they certainly heard it close.

"Mama!" Theresa gasped as she looked toward the door and saw her mother standing with a clenched jaw.

"Mi hija, cover yourself!" Pilar scolded.

Theresa pulled the robe together in acquiescence.

Pilar glared at Fox. "What are you doing here? I told you to stay away from my daughter."

"No offense, Pilar, but you have five children of your own. I think you know what I'm doing here. Secondly, you may have told me to stay away from Theresa, but I think I made it pretty clear that I wasn't going to."

"Mama, you should have knocked," Theresa said quietly.

"A mother should not have to knock on her daughter's door. But what if I had been someone else? This dangerous game the two of you are playing is going to get someone hurt, and I will not let that someone be you, Theresita."

Theresa stood, anger coursing through her. "But I already am hurt, Mama. You are hurting me. I'm sorry you don't approve, but I don't need your approval. I love Fox. He is my everything. We are together, and we are going to raise our child together."

Fox watched Pilar's reaction. He saw nothing of what he expected. She expressed no surprise; instead, she looked saddened.

"You knew?" Fox asked.

"I suspected," Pilar replied. "It is as I feared."

Theresa gasped. "It is as you 'feared?' How can you say that about your own grandchild?"

Pilar stepped forward to take her daughter's hands in her own, but Theresa pulled away. "Oh, mi hija, do not mistake my reaction. I welcome an innocent grandchild, but these circumstances are wrong. Fox is your step-son. Not only that, he has proven over and over again that he does not know how to provide stability in a relationship."

"Um…hello. I'm standing right here," Fox piped in. "Look, I know nothing I say will change your mind about me, Pilar, but there is that old cliché that actions speak louder than words."

"Yes, and your actions in the past have spoken volumes."

"Oh, yes, the past. Well, unlike you, I don't live in the past."

Pilar flinched from the young man's sharp barb.

Fox continued, "I love your daughter. Obviously, it's going to take you awhile to accept that. Frankly, I don't care whether you accept that for my sake, but I do care about how this affects your daughter. So next week, next month, next year, fifty years from now, when you see that I still love your daughter and am faithful to her, maybe you'll change your mind about my capacity to provide stability in a relationship."

"Mama, I know the words you speak are out of love and a desire to protect me, but don't you see that I don't need to be protected from Fox?"

"Perhaps you should be protected from yourself."

"Enough! Do you hear yourself? You're starting to sound like Ivy. You're justifying hurting your child by saying you're trying to protect me. I don't need you for that, Mama. I just want your love and support with no strings attached."

"Mi hija, you always have my love, but this relationship…I cannot support it."

"Then there's nothing else for us to say."

"Theresa," Pilar pleaded.

"No!" Theresa lifted her hands. "I'm not doing this anymore. I am happier than I have ever been."

"You were happy with Ethan once."

Pilar felt desperate. Her daughter was slipping away. Surely, if Theresa knew that the possibility of reconciliation with Ethan existed, she would rethink her brashness.

Fox turned away, shaking his head.

Theresa spoke, her words measured. "Ethan and I should never have been together. I tried to mold myself into what he wanted, it was wrong, and I ended up paying the price."

"He still loves you."

"Of all the hypocrisy! You condemn me for loving Fox because he is Julian's son, but you would push me toward a married man?"

"Ethan and Gwen are no more," Pilar informed Theresa. "He is free."

"Well, I'm not. And even if I were free, Ethan hurt me in unmentionable ways. There are issues between us that can never be resolved. If I never see him again, it will be too soon."

"Then 'too soon' will be here sooner than you think. Alistair has called for a family dinner at 8:00 P.M. tonight. Apparently, he has requested Ethan's presence, as well. That was what I came here to tell you this evening."

Fox harrumphed. "A family dinner? Since when does Grandfather encourage family bonding time?"

"Why would Alistair invite Ethan? When he found out Ethan wasn't truly a Crane, Alistair kicked Ethan out of the family and never looked back," Theresa said.

Pilar wrung her hands. "I only know what I've been told. I would suggest that the two of you stop fraternizing long enough to make yourselves presentable. If anyone were to get wind of what's been going on, I shudder to think of the consequences."

"They'll know shortly. Theresa's soon-to-be growing tummy will be a sure-fire sign," Fox commented.

Pilar's dark eyes narrowed. "And I'm terrified for her." With that, she exited the room.

Fox looked to Theresa. "Well, that went well."


From the service cart in the corner of the dining room, Julian Crane poured himself another brandy. It had been his habit, as of late, to have a couple before dinner. And after dinner. Sometimes before work. And after work. Indeed, the amber colored liquid seemed to make life somehow more bearable.

His pride still smarted from his wife's bartering earlier. It was ironic to him. When he first met her five years ago as a wide-eyed teenager, she had seemed so innocent and unassuming.

Looks were definitely deceiving. Theresa was a barracuda, threatening to bite at any instant. And what a chunk she'd taken out earlier. 75,000 to be exact.

Why did he always seem to attract harpies? Hell, forget attracting harpies. He didn't just attract them. He married them. First, there was the ice princess Ivy. Then there was red-hot-burns-everything-she-touches Theresa.

It had started out promisingly enough. Julian remembered all the drinks and laughs they shared in Bermuda. The next morning, they weren't laughing anymore, though. His bachelor days were gone all too quickly. Not that he didn't live his life like a bachelor anyway, but having an unwilling wife made matters much more tedious.

"Oh the fun I could have had," Julian commiserated as he lifted his glass to eye level.

"Still talking to yourself, Julian? Nasty, nasty habit."

Julian rolled his eyes at the sound of his ex-wife's droning speech. "When did you get here, my pet? Did they finally let you out of your corral?"

Ivy smiled, her perfectly straight teeth practically gleaming. "Oh, Julian, you are so witty. I assume you're ready for second grade now."

"At least second graders get a snack time. You, my poison parasite, never were very tasty."

"Only because I was tainted by your stench, my ex-ball-and-chain."

"It's business as usual around here, I see," Ethan said as he ambled into the dining room.

Julian smiled. "Ethan, congratulations on not only surviving your hospital stay but also surviving the ride home with your treacherous mother."

Ethan frowned. He had been exposed to Julian and his mother's arguing for as long as he could remember. Still, it had never been comfortable for him to listen to his mother being verbally attacked. "Julian, that's enough."

Ivy held her hand up to silence her son. "It's fine, Ethan. Nothing can spoil my mood tonight. Not even you, Julian."

"What a shame," Julian replied wryly before taking a gulp of his alcohol.

Fox walked into the dining room clapping his hands. "Well, well. Grandfather brings the family out. Minus one, of course, seeing as how Ethan isn't really a Crane after all. I can always count on dear Mother and Father to put on a show far more entertaining than anything I could watch on television."

"You would find this entertaining," Ethan sniffed.

"Oh, come on. Lighten up. Ivy and Jules here have been sparring for years. Mother has sharpened her claws on him. No need to get sensitive on her behalf."

"Perhaps if you had been around more, you would appreciate how inappropriate Julian's attacks on Mother are."

"Right. And stick around to see you worshipped, Prince Ethan? Like hell. No, see, the fun began when you were dethroned."

"Nicholas!" Ivy's tone was harsh.

"Would it hurt you to try to show a little respect for our mother?" Ethan asked.

Fox scratched his chin. "What? The way she's shown respect for me and our sisters? Yeah. Yeah, it would."

"Gentlemen, there's not a fireplace in this room. Perhaps if the two of you moved your quarrel into the living room…" Julian suggested.

"There will be no fighting tonight," Ivy insisted. "At least, no physical fighting," she amended. "Though it is very tempting to try to strangle you, Julian."

"Please. The best you could do in that wheelchair is run over my toes."

Ivy's perfectly plucked eyebrows raised. Julian, realizing he had given his ex-wife an idea, positioned himself behind the service cart, providing a barrier between them.

"Home sweet home," Theresa said from the doorway of the dining room. "I can just feel the love in this room."

Theresa surveyed the dining room inhabitants. Julian, as usual, had a drink in his hand and a look of boredom on his face. Ivy, so perfectly coiffed, sat rigidly in her wheelchair, her seething expression indicating her annoyance that her rival was invited. Fox looked wonderfully handsome in the suit he wore, his white shirt a contrast to his tanned skin. And then there was 

Ethan. He still looked like hell with the yellowish bruises on his face and his bandaged hands. What was he doing there anyway? Why did Alistair insist he attend the family get-together?

Ethan, seeing Theresa's gaze on him, offered an explanation. "I know you didn't want to see me, but Alistair insisted I come. He's a difficult man to deny."

Theresa cleared her throat. "Yes, he doesn't know the meaning of the word no—a quality that he shares with someone else I know."

Ethan felt his face grow hot at Theresa's obvious jab.

"Theresa, this dinner is for family only. You're not welcome here," Ivy protested.

"Actually, Ms. Winthrop, I am family. I have more of a right to be here than you do. See, legally, I am Mrs. Julian Crane. You are just an interloper."

"Says the bitch queen of interloping. Wasn't it you who trespassed on the estate so you could stalk my son?"

"And wasn't it you who used her son's paternity as an excuse to stalk your happily married ex-lover?"

"Ladies…" Ethan began to referee.

Fox rolled his eyes. "Oh, let them have their spat, Ethan. It's fun to watch."

Ethan shook his head. "This place is insane."

"Then feel free to leave anytime," Theresa retorted.

"No one's going anywhere," said Alistair appearing behind Theresa in the doorway. "After all, I have plans for each of you tonight."

Julian walked around the serving cart. "Father, what is all of this about? A family dinner? It's almost sounds sentimental."

The tall man lit up a cigar. Theresa moved away from the smoke and stood next to Fox.

"I assure you, I've not turned into a sentimental fool, Julian. Of course, you would have a difficult time recognizing that as you are a fool yourself."

"I am getting very tired of your demeaning comments."

"Oh, and is the alcohol making you brave, Julian?"

Theresa actually felt sorry for her faux husband. No wonder he behaved as he did. What kind of example did he have to look up to growing up except a man who belittled him at every turn?

She looked at Fox and could see from his expression that he, too, felt sorry for his father. It was one thing to watch the playful insults that ping-ponged between his parents, but quite another thing for a parent to treat his child with such blatant disregard. Fox knew all too well how that stung.

"Now that we've all insulted one another, it's starting to feel a lot like Christmas—except that Christmas was months ago," Fox said flippantly, "and I don't see any presents."

"I see you've still not learned to hold your tongue, Fox," Alistair said turning his attention to his grandson.

"What's the point? I mean, you only live once, right? Well, that is unless you're Auntie Sheridan or my step-mommy."

"I think once was more than enough in Theresa's case," Ivy chimed in. "Really, Alistair, did you have to bring her back?"

"If only to vex you, it was worth it, Ivy," Alistair chuckled.

"Technically," interjected Theresa, "I wasn't dead. I know that was a terrible disappointment for you, Ivy. I heard you gloat over my coffin thinking you were finally rid of me. The beauty of it is that you'll never be rid of me."

Ivy smirked, thinking of the knowledge she possessed. "We'll see about that."

"So, um, are we supposed to be spectators or participants?" Fox asked.

Alistair extended his hand pointing to the dinner table. "Right now, we're going to be diners. I've taken care of some very tedious matters today and have acquired an appetite."

Both Theresa and Ivy moved toward the dining room table, but stopped abruptly when each realized the other was moving toward the same area. "Please, Ivy. You go on. Age before beauty."

Ivy's eyes narrowed. "I assume you've called for some antacids, Alistair? Sharing a table with this gold digger is apt to give us all indigestion."

"It could always be worse, Ivy," Alistair replied as he took the large, overstuffed dining chair at the head of the table. "Just think if Rebecca were here, too." His gaze went to his son, "But she didn't get there soon enough to bleed you dry, did she, Julian? How lucky for you that you stumbled into a marriage with Theresa."

"Lucky is not a word that comes to mind," Julian replied.

"The feeling is mutual," Theresa added taking a seat to the right of Alistair and opposite Ivy. Her nemesis glared at her, and Theresa merely smiled back.

"Fox, come take a seat next to your step-mother," Alistair instructed. "The two of you have grown close, have you not?"

Did Alistair know? Fox wondered. Regardless of whether Alistair knew at that point about his relationship with Theresa, his grandfather would know soon enough.

Ethan followed suit and sat next to his mother. Julian sat opposite his father.

"So, what's for dinner, Father?" Julian asked.

Alistair leaned back in his chair and smiled. It was not a pleasant sight. "Isn't it obvious? Lambs, Julian. Lambs to the slaughter."

"No offense, Grandfather, but you really creep me out sometimes," Fox said nonchalantly as he leaned back in his chair.

"I would watch my tone if I were you, Fox," Alistair warned.

"Or what? You herd us in here like 'lambs to the slaughter,' and we're just supposed to passively take whatever you throw our way? I don't think so."

"You speak forcefully for one who has so much to lose."

Ivy licked her lips. "Fox isn't the only one with much to lose." She looked to Theresa.

Alistair coolly surveyed his former daughter-in-law. "Shut up, Ivy. When I want your input, I'll ask for it."

"But I-" Ivy faltered, the wind in her sails deflated. Her normally perfectly erect shoulders slumped.

"You all make me sick. Cowering with your secrets, cowering with your fear. But I know everything that's been going on. Everything."

"Fine. So you know everything. Then why the theatrics?" Theresa asked.

"I suppose you think me crazy, Theresa."

"I wasn't going to say that."

"Eccentric, perhaps? After all, men with as much money and power as I have are eccentric, not crazy. But then again, maybe I am just plain crazy by being exposed to everyone's idiocy. I've 

watched each of you run your lives like rats in a maze. Taking turn after turn only to go to a dead end. Each of you has schemed…"

"Alistair," Ethan began, "I don't think this is appropriate."

Alistair lifted an eyebrow. "Appropriate?" he scoffed. "Oh, that's right. Ethan, you always were above such notions, weren't you? So upright. So honest."

"I've tried to be," Ethan said earnestly.

Alistair took a drag of his cigar. "I was here that night a little over a week ago. I saw just how upright and honest you were as you forced Theresa onto that couch. You were up right on top of her and honest about your intentions to take what you wanted."

Ivy's jaw dropped. She looked from Alistair to her son. It couldn't be true. Could it?

She saw the blood drain from Ethan's face, as well as the look of shame on his features.

"That night, I wasn't myself. I'd been delivered terrible news, and I had been drinking…"

It was! Fox had been right. No, somehow this had to be Theresa's fault. Somehow, that bitch must have been teasing him, tempting him, only to turn him away when things grew more intense. There simply was no way her gentle hearted son could ever try to force himself on a woman.

"Excuses," Alistair muttered.

Theresa shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Anger filled her voice. "I didn't see you coming to my aid," she snapped at her father-in-law. "Were you just going to let him rape me?"

"You had matters under control, and if you didn't, then you deserved whatever came your way."

Fox pushed his chair back. "How can you justify that, Grandfather?" he demanded.

"I don't have to justify myself to any of you. What I find fascinating is that just as Ethan isn't what he seems, neither are you Fox." Alistair then turned his attention to Theresa. "And neither are you, my dear."

"Finally!" Ivy interjected. "That's what I've been saying all along. In fact…"

"Do I need to get one of the servants to fetch duct tape for your overused mouth, Ivy?" Alistair asked. "How did you stand it all those years, Julian?"

"I learned to tune her out," Julian replied.

"Well, here's something that I trust you won't tune out, Julian."

Julian stifled a yawn. The brandy was wearing on him. "And what's that, Father?"

"Congratulations are in order. You're going to be a father. Again."

Julian looked at him in confusion. Did Alistair know something he didn't know? Well, obviously he did. That man had a way of knowing the impossible. But Julian thought he had been careful when he encountered Marisol…no wait, her name was Margarite… and Suzette and Mary Elizabeth and….

Julian swallowed hard. His mouth was suddenly very dry. "And who is the lucky mama to be?"

Ivy shuddered. How like Julian to have been with so many women, he wasn't certain which of his bimbos was pregnant.

Alistair looked to his daughter-in-law. "Your wife, of course. Theresa is pregnant."

An audible gasp was heard around the room.

Ivy smiled, confident that Ethan would finally see Theresa for the slut she was. Yet her smile faded quickly. Dammit. Actually having a child with Julian would make their marriage legitimate. Dammit!

Ethan hung his head low. Why Alistair assumed the child was Julian's was ludicrous, but he would not be the one to correct that assumption. Theresa was having a baby with his half-brother. It hurt. God, how it hurt.

Fox didn't know how to react. What was his grandfather doing? Hadn't Alistair just subtly admitted he knew the truth of what was going on with him and Theresa? Why the ruse?

Fox looked to Theresa whose steely gaze seemed to bore a hole through his grandfather. He had seen the look before; she was angry. Very angry.

"Theresa!" Julian gasped as he bolted to his feet and pointed a finger at his young wife. "But you and I….we haven't…." He struggled to find words to express himself. "You, you whore!"

Fox lifted his hand. "That's enough, Father."

"I will not raise another woman's bastard!" Julian burst out. Ethan flinched.

"No one has asked you to, Julian," Theresa replied calmly. She looked at the faces around her. "Obviously, this is not the way I wanted news of my pregnancy to come out, but now that it has, I think this would be an appropriate time to ask one last favor of you, husband dear."

"I will give you nothing! I will see you out on the street in the gutter where you belong!"

"You'll give me nothing? Not even an annulment, Julian?" Theresa asked.

Julian perked up. "An annulment?"

"Like hell!" Alistair boomed. "There will be no annulments, no divorces, and no fodder for the tabloids. That means no leaks, Ivy."

Ivy looked at the older man with feigned wide-eyed innocence.

"As far as the world is concerned, the child Theresa carries is yours, Julian. This child will bear the Crane name, with all the power and all the advantages that entails."

Ivy clenched her fists. "You would give Theresa's bastard the world—a child who isn't a Crane—when you denied my son who was groomed to be the heir?"

Fox looked to Theresa and gently took her hand in his. "Save your righteous indignation on behalf of my half-brother. You see, this child is a Crane, Mommy Dearest. Or maybe I should call you Grandma."