A Material Gift (D'Arth Series Book 2)

by Camille Oster

  Clearing the appointments he had, he drove up to Lichtenstein. Actually spending some time on the open road suited him at the moment, allowing him to dwell on the happenings a few days earlier when Shanna had returned, expecting to be forgiven and welcomed with open arms. That was never going to happen. Once he lost respect for someone, it didn’t come back. He saw the shallowness in Shanna now, but couldn’t quite forgive himself for not seeing it before.

  Shifting gears around a corner, the engine roared satisfactorily. Now he just had to deal with his mother—he always ended up dealing with his mother. Surprisingly, Sam had turned out to be the least complicated woman in his life, if you overlooked the situation.

  The wind picked up when he pulled into the driveway of the castle his mother lived in, the one he would inherit one day. He hated it, but it was his duty to care for the old pile of rocks. He didn’t have the reverence for tradition that some hung onto so tightly. His parents held onto the traditions and trappings of their class and history; whereas he would be happy to jettison it as readily as Shanna did her child. Not hers, not anymore.

  The gravel crunched under his feet as he walked up to the main door, where his mother’s butler, Swensen, greeted him.

  “Mr Luc,” Swensen said. “Your mother told me you were coming.”

  “Is she here?”

  “She is upstairs in her bedroom. On the computer, I believe. Care to wait in the reception room?’

  “No, I will go see her.”

  He walked up the staircase, beside ancient paintings of his ancestors. “Mother,” he said when reaching her door. “Can I come in?”

  “Sebastian, my darling. There you are.”

  “I am,” he said and found his mother looking up from a laptop, her mother-of-pearl reading glasses resting on her nose and her shoulder length brown hair sprayed into place.

  “Most of the time, I can’t make heads or tails of this thing, but it is very useful. Would you like some tea, darling? You look well.”

  “I am fine. I don’t need any tea just at the moment.” He sat down at the table to the side of his mother.

  “How is the girl? She must be getting close to term soon.”

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “I am so very excited. I am having the nursery aired so the little one can come and stay. No-one has been in there since you were little.” His mother clearly was excited about the baby. She was actually more accepting of the child than he’d expected, considering the child didn’t come from a suitable woman, in his mother’s eyes. “Now, you are clear of that awful woman,” she stated.

  Sebastian ground his teeth together in annoyance. “Yes, we are finished.”

  “Good. She was never good enough for you.”

  Although he really wanted to, he couldn’t argue. “Why have you summoned me, mother?”

  “We need to talk about that girl.”

  “What girl?”

  “Don’t be difficult, Sebastian. She will be coming to term soon and we need to ensure she isn’t a problem.”

  Sebastian dreaded to think what was going through his mother’s head—she was an accomplished schemer. He wouldn’t let her go too far—he owed Sam that. But obviously, his mother’s lawyers were informing her of the case’s development.

  “You must ensure she hands over the child and withdraws. We will not tolerate any problems from her. She has been paid for her services, and it is time for her to do as she agreed.”

  He watched the determined look on his mother’s face, wondering what she had up her sleeve. “And if she doesn’t?”

  “I think you should seduce her.” Sebastian sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You seduce her and the girl will do whatever you tell her to. Then we send her away—put her on a plane back to where she came from—with cash if necessary.”

  “I am not going to seduce her,” he said, rubbing his temples with his fingers. Sometimes he wondered what planet his mother was from. But there was also something very uncomfortable about the thought, bringing back memories of the night they’d almost been there. He’d stopped it because he didn’t want things to get complicated between them, for her to get hurt and angry, and he’d obviously wanted a peaceful co-existence more than he’d wanted to assuage his raging desire for her. Frowning, he realised he’d actually foreseen her staying around. An uncomfortable thought entered into his head. He couldn’t really imagine himself dealing with this child without her. He’d almost started thinking of this pregnancy as a complication from a brief fling and that Sam was the mother of his baby. In his mind, she was the mother—much more so than Shanna anyway.

  “Don’t be recreant, Sebastian. I taught you do to what is necessary.”

  “And what is necessary is for me to deal with my own situation, mother. I don’t want your advice or interference. I will deal with Sam as I see fit.”

  “You do this wrong and you will have to deal with the consequences for years,” his mother said firmly. “Be reasonable, Sebastian.”

  “Reasonable is not seducing girls to get them to do what you want.”

  His mother dismissed his sentiment with a wave of her hand. “It may prove to be the simplest way of dealing with this. Have you heard from your father’s family?” As far as he remembered, his parents never spoke, but before his death his mother would always ask if he’d spoken to his father every time they’d met. He’d wondered about his mother’s interest in her ex-husband at times. They had parted quite early in their relationship and he had no memories of them being together. In fact, it was a rare occasion he had actually seen them in the same space, let alone talking to each other. They were the example of a relationship he didn’t want.

  “No, I haven’t heard from them.” He probably should give his father’s family a call; the obligatory annual checking in.

  His mother seemed disappointed. “Awful man,” she said with a sniff. He wondered if his father had been awful because he hadn’t let himself be manipulated by her. “Now, you will come here for Christmas.”

  “Yes, mother,” he agreed. He travelled between Lichtenstein and England every year to celebrate Christmas with both his mother and his father’s family. It wasn’t something he particularly enjoyed, but accepted as a duty. “But you’re not inviting anyone you think I should marry. I will not come if you do.”

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “You have a child now. You need a mother for the child.”

  “And it will never be someone you choose,” he said firmly and his mother’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. “And it probably won’t be someone you will approve of.”

  “We will see, darling,” she said and returned her attention to her computer. Sebastian clenched his fist in annoyance. “You’ll stay for lunch.”

  He checked his watch. Lunch was served in half an hour. “Yes, but then I must go. I have a meeting this evening.”

  *

  Sebastian was in a heavy mood on the drive back. His mother was meddling and she wasn’t likely to stop. She would try her very best to parade horsey women in front of him. Probably girls dressed just like his mother—pearls, opaque stockings and sensible heels. He groaned in dismay. Thoughts of Sam chased away the less appealing images of the girls his mother liked. Her was getting larger by the day, and his attraction to her which wasn’t relenting. He existed with a semi hard-on every time he was at home.

  The idea of seducing her had one very attractive pro—he could give into his ever-present craving for her. Not that he would; he still saw her as the mother of his child—which was an interesting revelation. He hadn’t actually realised it until this morning.

  He still had no idea how to deal with her, but they seemed to get on fine when he didn’t mess with it. He liked things being cordial between them; it was nice—he actually looked forward to coming home in the evenings, not quite knowing what he would find—a meal, or a sprite in his pool. He smiled at the thought. It seemed to add a layer to his life th
at hadn’t been there before—a secret layer. Things had been different with Shanna, where they were a representation of a power couple to the rest of the world. With Sam, there was no rest of the world, and it was liberating in a way.

  Chapter 23

  Sam sat and stared out the window. It was a beautiful day, but she just couldn’t get her mood to match. Christmas was just about here and she was stuck here. Marco had confirmed that he was going around to Aunt Susan’s for Christmas, and even Damon and Jane would be there. She was the only one who wouldn’t and she felt all the lonelier for it.

  She didn’t want to be here anymore, feeling that Monte Carlo was an awful place to spend Christmas. Being stuck in someone else’s house didn’t help either.

  At least she hadn’t seen hide nor hair of Shanna, which was a relief. Shanna was back in New York if the gossip rags could be believed. Sam supposed that was the good thing about famous people: you always knew where they were.

  Reaching for the remote as she sat on the couch seeking distraction from the morbid mood that had come over her, she accidentally knocked a glass, which toppled as if in slow motion then crashed to the floor, smashing with a loud noise.

  It was the last straw and Sam broke into tears, her vision blurring as she went to retrieve a dustpan. Scooping up the remains of the glass, she felt the urge for a good cry. She had been a bit teary of late, but today, she was just feeling morose.

  Placing the dustpan on the table, she decided to retreat to her bedroom, thinking if she let it all out, this awful mood would pass.

  “What’s the matter?” she heard from the door behind her. She’d been too distracted to hear him come home. He wasn’t normally home this time of the day.

  “Nothing,” she said, staring at the wall, facing away from him.

  “You’re crying.”

  “Sometimes people do that.”

  He came in and sat down on the bed. “Anything I can do?”

  “Nope,” she said, but a fresh set of tears overcame her. She tried to calm down. “I’m just very hormonal at the moment and it’s almost Christmas. I’m feeling a bit homesick, but I can’t leave, because you’re suing me. I’m stuck in this house.”

  He was quiet for a moment. “They wouldn’t let you fly this far along anyway.” Which was beside the point and not really what she wanted to hear. “But I could take you out for dinner if you’d like.”

  “I honestly don’t think I’m up to it. I’m tired all the time and my hair looks awful. Once I’m in the shower and have washed my hair, I’m too tired to condition it. My hips hurt, my back hurts, everything hurts. Being pregnant sucks.” She felt like a petulant child cataloguing all her complaints, but it was all true. “I’ve been looking at cots online.” She finally turned around, shifting the weight of her belly uncomfortably. “Or do you have one in mind?”

  An unreadable expression flashed through his face as he looked away from her. “The child will need somewhere to sleep,” he said, basically ignoring her question. “Is there anything else it needs?”

  Sam felt a stab of concern. He wasn’t really prepared for this child. The baby was just about here and she needed clothes. Maybe he had tasked Mrs Muir to make preparations, because she’d started calling lately. “Mrs Muir has been helpful in that department.”

  “She typically is helpful in most departments.” Sebastian looked uncomfortable. “You can’t go home for Christmas, even if the injunction ceased.”

  “I know that,” she said tartly, but felt a bit ungrateful.

  “I’m supposed to spend Christmas with my mother, and then my father’s family, but I might cancel this year. I wouldn’t feel right leaving you here on your own.”

  “You don’t have to do that. Honestly, I won’t really be in the mood to celebrate this year. You should be with your family.”

  “Perhaps we should just boycott Christmas.”

  Sam smiled weakly. It actually was a sweet offer.

  “I would invite you to my family, but it’s an arduous day and I still don’t think they would let you fly. And besides, a ready excuse not to would be appreciated.” He placed his hand on her knee, in what was meant to be a friendly gesture, but Sam felt the touch all the way up her leg. The mood seemed to turn denser. “I’ll sort the glass,” he said, indicating toward the lounge. Sam nodded, feeling the touch on her leg long after he removed his hand. The attraction she felt for him was still there, but she ignored it. Apparently, downright rejection didn’t diminish her attraction. She groaned with frustration.

  She actually felt better, as if she’d released a great deal of tension, along with a list of grievances and disappointments. She would just have to Skype her family at Christmas. It wasn’t ideal, but it was better than nothing. She wasn’t sure how she felt about Sebastian foregoing spending time with his family to be with her, but she did appreciate the sentiment.

  *

  A package of baby clothes arrived and Sam sat and stared at it. There was going to be a baby here soon. The thought elicited both joy and desolation within her. She had promised to be this child’s champion and protector, feeling the weight of her conflicting responsibilities. Sebastian didn’t seem to be trying to put distance between her and the baby, which caused her no end of confusion. They were going to have to have a frank discussion, but she also wanted to put her head in the sand and ignore the uncomfortable realities that the discussion would bring up. Sebastian wasn’t rushing into that discussion either. But the cot had been ordered and when it got here, it had to go into one of their rooms, either his or hers—or whatever nanny he appointed.

  Sam was pulled out of her thoughts by the sound of heels. Shanna must be back, Sam thought in sheer panic, and Sebastian wasn’t there. Oh crap.

  Pulling herself up, Sam walked out into the living room, ready to confront the woman. Hopefully it wouldn’t get physical, but Shanna was a stick figure, likely there was only so much she could do.

  But it wasn’t Shanna standing in the middle of the lounge, it was someone else—an older woman, with manicured hair, wearing a red Chanel suit which looked like it was designed by Coco Chanel herself. There was a haughty expression to the woman, who was clearly beautiful, even with her advanced age.

  “I take it you are Miss D’Arth?” she said in an equally manicured accent. Sam nodded, not knowing what else to say, realising that this could only be one person—Sebastian’s mother. “I will introduce myself. I am Countess St Julien.” Shrewd and steely eyes considered her and Sam wondered whether she was supposed to be intimidated.

  “Sebastian is not here.”

  “It is you I wish to speak to.”

  “Oh?”

  “I understand the baby is coming to term and I wish to discuss what will happen after.”

  Sam didn’t say anything. This was not a two-way discussion and Sam guessed she was about to be told what to do.

  “The child will be delivered,” the woman continued, “and when you are able to leave, you will be taken to a hotel to recuperate until such time as you are ready to leave. A first-class ticket has been purchased for you, leaving at your earliest convenience.”

  Sam crossed her arms and gave the woman a pointed look, realising she was supposed to be intimidated by this. “I’m afraid things are complicated.”

  The woman pulled herself even straighter, studying her. “Nothing is ever complicated when it comes down to it. If you leave Europe within a week, a sum of fifty thousand euro will be deposited into your bank account. That would set you up nicely for your future and everyone would be happy.” The woman clearly expected her to readily agree. Perhaps she thought money solved all problems.

  “Firstly, my bargain is with Sebastian and not you, but I’ve made a more important bargain with this child. I am going to do what is best for this child. I am certainly not going to leave it at risk of vultures.” Anger coursed through Sam’s veins as she made her thinly-veiled insult. The woman raised an eyebrow.

  “Don’t prove to be im
possible, girl, it is unseemly.”

  “Unless it wasn’t clear; I don’t care so much for appearances.” As if that wasn’t clear enough considering what she was wearing.

  “You have no right to dictate to us. We are not obliged to take your demands into consideration.”

  “Actually, you are. The terms of the bargain were that I relinquish the child to a couple, but that is no longer in place. I take as much responsibility for this mess as everyone else—maybe even more so.”

  “You will get on that plane, Miss D’Arth. I will make things very difficult for you if you cross me.”

  “Yes, well, that is just something I’ll have to deal with. Now if you will please leave.”

  “This isn’t your house, and if you have delusions to the contrary, you will soon be enlightened, you ridiculous girl.” The woman gave her a vicious look even Shanna would be proud of. Turning sharply, she walked toward the door with a stiff back and her head held high.

  Sam let out a massive groan when the door closed behind her. She should have guessed that Sebastian would have a mother like that—a countess no less. Sam had no idea what trouble she had just brought on herself, but her promise to this child was something she’d honour—even if she had to face down a dragon or two.

  The visit had actually got her ire up, along with her fighting spirit. She had no idea what this woman could do, but suspected she was as good as her word—probably vindictive to. She really didn’t envy Sebastian for the women in his life; although she supposed there was little he could do about his battle-axe mother.

  Chapter 24

  It was dark by the time Sebastian made it home. It had been a long day. A small crisis had emerged that needed his attention. It had passed and they had a strategy in place to deal with it, but it had made for a tense day. He’d also tried to think of what he’d get Sam as a Christmas present. He felt he needed to give her something to make up for the fact that she was separated from her family. Jewellery was his fall-back option for gifts, but he wasn’t sure Sam would appreciate it. He could get her something practical, but what girl wanted something practical for Christmas? She did like travelling; he could get her a trip somewhere. Sam was hard to buy for, whereas Shanna had been so easy—whatever was the latest, greatest, everybody wanted it, would please her, irrespective of what it was. He couldn’t settle on anything and decided to sleep on it.