When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine 2)

“I think I remember reading something about him. The Gentleman Rapist—or something idiotic like that. Isn’t that what the English newspapers called him?” Ian asked.

Lucien nodded. “He was a wealthy man, with supposed noble blood, as well as being a brilliant scientist and inventor. He was also one of the sickest fucks ever born. He wanted nothing to do with his children. He just got some twisted, narcissistic satisfaction out of knowing he proliferated so greatly, planted his seed far and wide. It was all a twisted game to him, the selfish bastard,” Lucien added bitterly under his breath.

“Lucien, this all seems so far-fetched,” Francesca said suddenly. “How can you possibly know that this man is yours or Ian’s father?”

“In my case, I know because he agreed to a blood test. Trevor Gaines definitely is—or was—my biological father.”

Elise made a shaky sound at his barren tone. She hated seeing his pain exposed, and she had no one to blame but herself for what she so unexpectedly witnessed.

“Was?” Ian asked sharply. “Don’t tell me he’s dead.”

“He just died several weeks ago, of a sudden heart attack while in prison.”

“He’d better be thankful from hell that he died naturally,” Ian muttered viciously, his sudden blaze of anger sending a chill through Elise. Francesca’s eyes widened in anxiety as she studied her lover’s profile.

“I’ve had similar thoughts ever since I discovered what he was,” Lucien said, and Elise heard the edge of bitter fury in his tone as well. “Unfortunately, Gaines must have realized his progeny might feel that way, because he refused point-blank to see me. I assume it would have been the same for you. As I’ve learned, a prison can keep people out just as effectively as it keeps people trapped inside.” He paused, holding Ian’s stare. “I’ve wanted to tell you. For a long time now. But how does one go about revealing something like this? It’s not as if it’s happy news. I wasn’t sure how you would take it. I’m still not sure, but after tonight . . .” He paused, glancing at Elise. Her heart plummeted in her chest. “It seemed impossible to keep the truth from you anymore.”

“But again,” Francesca said desperately, “why are you convinced in Ian’s case? Are you only going by Trevor Gaines’s word that Ian was one of his biological children? Surely his word isn’t to be trusted.”

“He knew a great deal of intimate information about Helen Noble. He met up with her first in England. She’d apparently had her first psychotic break there.” Lucien said the last quietly, his gaze still locked with Ian’s. “She had run away from home, and Gaines took her under his wing in Essex. He could be quite charming when he chose, as many sociopaths can be, and your mother was at the beginning stages of schizophrenia, and very vulnerable. He brought Helen back to the north of France, near where he lived, installing her in a small house about fifty miles from his estate—the house where you spent the early years of your life, Ian. He claimed Helen and he were lovers, but if they were, he abandoned her after she became pregnant, despite her increasing illness and disorientation.”

“We never knew how she ended up in France,” Ian said dully. “My grandparents searched far and wide in England and all over Europe. The village where we lived was so remote, though. He must have understood who she was . . . her status. Gaines probably knew it was unlikely anyone would ever find my mother there.”

“My mother was Helen’s maid. Apparently, Helen had hired her during a moment of lucidity, while she was still in England. It was several months after she’d fled Belford Hall,” Lucien explained, referring to Ian’s grandparents’ estate in East Sussex. “He had a penchant for impregnating women that were related somehow. For instance, one of the women he raped that he was finally successfully prosecuted for was one of three sisters. He’d seduced two of them, unbeknownst to each other. He attempted to seduce the third, but when he failed, he resorted to rape. He couldn’t have anything—including a woman’s right to refuse him—stand in the way of his sick goal of having all three sisters pregnant with his child at once. He also had a proclivity for videotaping both his seductions and his rapes. It’s that which finally landed him a guilty verdict without a doubt.”

In the awful silence that followed, Elise noticed Ian’s gaze flash to Francesca. His features were impassive, but Elise thought she saw pure horror in his glance. Francesca shook her head, looking utterly helpless.

“No,” Francesca said with quiet forcefulness, her meaning lost on Elise, but her desperation clear. Ian turned to back to Lucien.

“What else?” Ian prodded doggedly.

“He pulled something similar with our mothers. Not the videotaped rape,” Lucien said quickly when Ian’s look grew wild. “I mean his desire to impregnate women who were associated with one another. Apparently, Gaines was having relations with both of our mothers at once, whether by force or seduction, I don’t know. We’re only six weeks apart in age, I believe.”

Ian just stared.

“But still,” Francesca interrupted. “That’s hardly proof. What makes you so sure Ian is definitely this criminal’s biological son?”

Lucien seemed to hesitate.

“Lucien?” Ian asked.

“You’d find out now anyway,” Lucien muttered. He turned and walked over to the oval table, retrieving the laptop. He returned, sitting next to Elise on the couch. She watched as his long fingers moved fleetly over the keyboard. A black and white photograph appeared. She stared in numb disbelief.