The British Billionaire's Baby

by Cristina Grenier

  Gabrielle moaned, long and low, her body shuddering powerfully as his orgasm triggered her own. Her clenching femininity milked him of the last vestiges of his climax until he sagged against her, taking deep, calming breaths.

  After a long, peaceful moment, Sebastian turned slightly on the bed, maneuvering himself so that he could lie Gabby on her back against the pillows. When he slid from her, a soft sound of satisfaction ensued as her eyes closed. If she had been painting all day, he could only imagine how exhausted she must truly be. The baby would be taking most of her strength now, preparing for the day it would eventually make its way into the world beyond.

  Sebastian smoothed sweat-dampened hairs from Gabby’s brow, tucking the sheets around her as she drifted into slumber. Almost immediately, she turned onto her side – the most comfortable position for her with the baby in the last stages of development. Gazing down at her, he felt a warmth suffuse him as he imagined what it would be like to give her a second child, and a third. The entire manor would be full of little artist doppelgangers with dirty mouths.

  The thought made him smile.

  “Gabby.”

  “Mmm?” His low summons only garnered the faintest of murmurs from the only slightly conscious woman.

  “Have you ever thought of having more children?”

  The young woman shrugged ever so slightly before her face went lax and he knew he had lost her to sleep. Sliding beneath the blanket next to her, Sebastian pressed his bare body flush against hers, his hand splayed protectively over the child she carried. “Gabby.” This time, only her soft, even breathing answered him. Sebastian laid a soft kiss against her neck. “I love you, darling Gabrielle. And I am never letting you go.”

  Several days later, Sebastian stared at the letter that had arrived from Raithwithe, his expression wary.

  He hadn’t taken a single one of his mother’s calls since he had sent her away, and so, of course, she had resorted to letter writing. He’d been tempted to throw the envelope into the rubbish bin the moment he’d laid eyes on it, but in the end, he had given into his curiosity and opened the bloody thing.

  Now, he stared down at a message he had read twice, frowning.

  Dearest Sebastian,

  I know that you will hardly be inclined to take my letters, but if this message does happen to reach you, I wish it to convey my sincerest apologies.

  In the past few months, I have had a wealth of time in which to think on my actions. I now see that the way I treated both your wife and my grandchild was deplorable. While I thought I acted only with the best of intentions, I realize now that your child can only be your own. If you do not wish my help in planning the child’s rearing, I will respect your decision humbly and refrain from any further interference.

  In these months without you, I have come to realize how much you truly mean to me. While I know your upbringing must have seemed cold and contrived in your youth, I acted as I did only to ensure the best and brightest future for you. However, if clinging to those principles means losing you as my son, I can no longer cleave to them. Please forgive an only woman set in her ways. While I know Gabrielle’s time must be drawing near, I cordially invite you to the manor in Raithwithe, where I intend to throw a party in honor of my future grandchild. I hope we can begin to mend the bond between us and right any wrongs I have done.

  Ever Your Loving Mother,

  Duchess Amelia Hunter of Raithwithe

  Marquess of Evansford

  He didn’t know what to think.

  While he and his mother had had rows before, there had never been one this significant and he had never made such a drastic move as to cut her from his life – even for a little while. While he knew the woman could be conniving and manipulative, perhaps it was possible that their time apart had sobered her somewhat.

  He didn’t expect that she had become a poster mother overnight, but perhaps now he could speak rationally to her about the future he wanted for his child; as well impress upon her that Gabrielle, in no uncertain terms, was to be paid the respect due to a countess and as the mother of his son or daughter.

  He mused over the dilemma all afternoon before finally deciding that it couldn’t hurt to go. Raithswithe was only three hours outside of London by train, and if things didn’t go well, he could be back to Gabrielle within twenty four hours.

  Of course, explaining himself to the woman he loved was no easy task.

  “Do you really think she’s changed?” Gabrielle eyed him skeptically over the breakfast table, popping a strawberry drenched with cream into her mouth. “I don’t mean to offend you, Sebastian, but the woman is a stone cold bitch. Even if she hasn’t seen you in a few months, what are the odds that’s she’s really so eager to make nice all of a sudden?”

  “I very highly doubt she’s made a complete transformation.” He tried not to be distracted when Gabrielle’s tongue darted out to lick the cream from the corner of her mouth. “But she might very well have made some kind of breakthrough, small as it may be.”

  “That’s not going to make me like her.” Gabby professed, scowling. “It would take a hell of a lot more than that to get me in the same room as the woman.”

  Sighing, Sebastian reached across the table to take her hand in his own, his gaze pleading with her to understand. “It’s only for two or three days, darling. And if things don’t go as planned I’ll scurry right back, I swear it. I know the two of you have never seen eye to eye,” perhaps the understatement of the century, he knew, “But she is my mother. If she’s going to try to be pleasant, I owe it to the baby, at least, to try and mend things. You have to admit…” He smiled playfully, “It would be quite something for our child to be the playmate of the crown prince, if they wished.”

  For a moment, Gabrielle gazed at him with indecisive eyes before she sighed, rising slowly from her chair to round the table to his side. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he pulled her close, resting his head on her bosom. “Two days. And you’ll come straight back.”

  Relief flooded Sebastian. “Straight back. Well in time to watch you curse Dr. Bletchley seven ways to Sunday in the throes of your labor pains.”

  Gabrielle scowled down at him, trying to hide her smile. “You’re not funny.”

  “I’m hilarious. You said so yourself in New York.”

  She flicked his nose in a stinging gesture. “Well, I take it back.”

  He would miss her. It was a mere two days, but he would long for her from the moment he left London until he returned.

  His trip back to Raithwithe went off without a hitch. As Sebastian took in the rolling hills and quaint villages of his hometown, he wouldn’t help but smile fondly. While his childhood might have been somewhat cold, he had fond memories of sneaking out to dirty his clothes and explored the glens behind the family manor.

  If it weren’t for the impending birth of the baby, he would have returned here for the summer. He supposed that as soon as Gabrielle was strong enough to travel, he could bring her and the baby to holiday here for a few weeks. She would almost certainly enjoy the change of scenery from London’s drab, busy streets.

  He carried his single suitcase up the immense drive as he took in the imposing shape of the manor. His own residence in the small town was much more quaint and understated. He never liked to spend much time in the place he’d grown up. More than a week or two and he was itching to escape.

  But if coming here meant coming to a possible accord with his mother, he was willing to endure the memories.

  The butler let him in with the most gracious of curtsies and he made his way into the extensive parlor to wait for his mother’s arrival. For the first hour, his mood was relatively light. Then one hour passed into two, and he started to wonder why on earth it was taking her so long to make herself presentable. By the third hour, his patience was running thin. If her keeping him waiting was any indication of exactly his mother had changed, then things didn’t bode well for her.

  Around six in the evening,
he waved off his eight cup of tea and took up his valise. Coming here, he realized now, had been a mistake. The sooner he returned to London, the better. However, when he returned to the foyer, he paused to see the doorway blocked by a towering hulk of a man clad in all black. The giant was at least twice the size of Amir and gazed at him steadily as he approached.

  When Sebastian attempted to reach past him to open the door, his way was blocked. “Excuse me, sir,” The words were clipped with annoyance. “But I am leaving. Stand aside.” His second attempt at grasping the door handle resulted in his wrist taken in a severe, almost painful grasp.

  “You are to remain here.” The behemoth who held him recited dully. “Until further notice.”

  “Pardon?” Sebastian’s tone was incredulous. Immediately, he yanked his arm from the man’s grip and slugged him across the jaw with due force. The beast hardly blinked, blood trickling from his mouth.

  “Your grace, I would advise you to return to the parlor.” He growled, his voice seething with imminent threat.

  “Oh, sod off!” Sebastian turned on his heel, moving through the house towards the back veranda. Who on earth did the brute think he was? To his shock, however, he found two more men of equal size and strength blocking the French doors. For a moment, Sebastian simply stared, at an utter loss for words.

  He could, he contemplated, try to fight his way past them, but even with all his experience, the brawl would still be two against one – both of them with at least thirty kilos a piece over his own weight. When he turned to make for the stairs, he found the man from the foyer standing just behind him, dabbing at the corner of his mouth with a tissue as he extended a mobile phone with the other.

  Sebastian looked from the gigantic man to the phone and then back again, warily. “It’s for you, sir.” The beast droned. “The Duchess.”

  Immediately, Sebastian snatched the phone from him. “Mother, what is the meaning of this? There are three mindless, uncouth piles of flesh in the manor and the refuse to let me leave.”

  The voice that answered him was soft – laden with something so akin to sorrow that it gave him pause. “I’m dreadfully sorry that it had to be this way, Sebastian, but I need you away from London for a while.”

  The earl’s blue eyes widened in shock and outrage. “What do you mean ‘a while’!?” Gabrielle’s to give birth in a week!”

  “And it’s better that you’re not there to see her go through these difficult times. When you were born, you know, your father wasn’t allowed in the room. He was out smoking cigars with his polo club.”

  Sebastian exploded. “Call off these beasts this instant, woman, or so help me God, I will-”

  “Please understand, Sebastian, I’m only doing this for you. For you and the baby.”

  The line went suddenly dead, leaving him staring at the phone in incredulity. This had all been a ploy – a trick to get him away from Gabrielle. Dropping his suitcase, he immediately leapt for the door, only to be tackled before he’d managed a handful of steps. As he thudded painfully to the floor, Sebastian cursed his mother as fear for Gabrielle and his unborn child choked off his breath and clouded his vision.

  CHAPTER 9 - Awakening

  Four days. Four days and nothing from him.

  Gabby paced back and forth over the bedroom floor, her brow knitted together in worry. As if to echo her sentiment, the child within her writhed in discomfort, making her wince.

  Why wouldn’t he answer her calls? He’d promised her two days at the very most! She might go into labor at any minute and he was hundreds of miles away!

  Gabby checked her phone for the umpteenth time that hour. Still no missed calls or messages. What, she wondered frantically, could possibly be keeping him? She sank onto the bed, her muscles taut with nervousness.

  She had only been still for perhaps a minute when the bell rang.

  Leaping to her feet, Gabrielle made her way carefully down the stairs, rushing for the front entryway to yank the door open before the butler was halfway down the hallway. Her face was a mask of elated relief. “Sebastia-”

  His name died on her lips.

  It was not the Earl of Raithswithe that stood on the front step, but his mother – and Amelia Hunter’s smile was just as predatory as Gabrielle remembered. The young woman stumbled back in shock as the woman advanced, before she recovered, her features contorted in anger.

  “You. What have you done with Sebastian?”

  “Oh come now, Gabrielle, is that any way to greet your mother-in-law?” The minnow inside Gabby quailed with trepidation. Swallowing her nervousness, she ignored Amelia’s affronted tone.

  “Where is he?”

  The Duchess emitted a long suffering sigh, breezing through the foyer uninvited. “I’m afraid Sebastian won’t be returning here for a while.”

  “What?” Gabby’s voice was a horrified whisper.

  “You see, we’ve had a heart to heart.” Amelia went on as if she hadn’t even heard the young woman, poise and pride oozing from her Burberry-wrapped figure. “And he’s finally realized that nothing good can come of the deception you two have been living.”

  Gabrielle’s heart plunged into her stomach, the breath stolen from her. She knew. Dear fucking Christ, the bitch knew. “I admit, it was very clever of him to think he could pass you off as moneyed, but in the end, something was always…off about you.” Amelia’s eyes suddenly narrowed hatefully. “You reek of poverty. You’re so common it turns my stomach, and if you think, for one moment, that Sebastian ever had any true feelings for you, you should be committed to the nearest institution.”

  Her words were like knives, piercing Gabrielle deeply as her eyes widened in almost physical pain “My son wants nothing more to do with you. He’s realized the error of his ways and he’s sent me here to strike a deal with you concerning the child.”

  She was lying. She had to be. Sebastian wouldn’t leave her – wouldn’t walk out without explaining himself. Not after all they had shared. “I don’t believe you.” She could barely force out the words. Taking a deep breath, Gabrielle straightened, stiffening her spine. “You’re lying.”

  “Am I?” The Duchess fixed her with a vicious smile before withdrawing a stack of several large photos from her fashionable Chanel bolero. She tossed them on the ground at Gabrielle’s feet and a harsh gasp escaped her. “Rubbish.” Amelia spat, with a distinct lack of aplomb. “Right where it belongs.”

  Her paintings.

  Every single one of the works that had been on display at her exhibition the previous year. The canvases was crumpled and soiled, the pieces stuffed into a dumpster, broken into pieces so they all ran together among the grime.

  Sebastian had been her anonymous buyer? He’d purchased every one of her paintings…and then trashed them?

  Gabrielle’s heart was ripped from her chest. She couldn’t breathe – couldn’t speak.

  “I think the message has been conveyed quite clearly.” Amelia’s expression was ridiculously pleased as she withdrew yet another sheaf of papers from her jacket. “Now, on to the matter of the child.” Gabby’s gaze jerked to the hateful woman. There couldn’t be more.

  She didn’t know if she could stand it. “This document,” The duchess proclaimed, “calls for a paternity test.” Gabby choked, her heart twisting in her chest as she clutched her stomach protectively. “If the child is, indeed, proven to be Sebastian’s heir, than you will hand it over to the Hunter estate immediately after delivery. It will be cared for and groomed in a way befitting its rank and remain with its father until further notice. You will be allowed to return to your miserably little city with a minimum amount of disgrace to resume to your childish dabblings. You will not contact my son until the child is at least five years of age, and then, we will discuss possible visitation rights.”

  She was out of her mind. There was no way Gabrielle was signing. She tried to catch her breath as the enormity of the situation rolled over her in nauseating waves. Sebastian wanted a paternity tes
t. He doubted the legitimacy of his child. He doubted her. And her paintings…Christ, her paintings.

  “Fuck you.” Gabrielle’s voice trembled as she spoke, pain rampant in the gaze with which she fixed the Duchess. “You will not have my child.”

  “If you do not sign,” Amelia continued delicately, her expression still almost gleeful, “Then I will expose you to the public as a fraud. You will be stripped of any and all benefits that might have been awarded to you as a countess, including medical care for you and the child. Which means,” She enunciated, batting graying lashes, “that you will be relegated to a sub-par healthcare system in which you no health insurance. There will be no recourse for you should something untoward occur during your birthing, and even if the little beast is born healthy, you will struggle to provide for it for the rest of your common life.”

  Gabrielle’s knees gave way beneath her. Clutching at a nearby chair for purchase, she sank to the floor, her breath coming in short gasps. Her baby. Her precious baby. Amelia couldn’t possibly be this monstrous. For Sebastian to set this woman on her…it was a fate worse than death.

  She gazed up at the woman, her gray eyes pleading as they filled with helpless tears. “It’s your grandchild, Amelia. Your grandchild.”

  The duchess extended the papers to her, her expression cold. “Not until you sign these papers, it isn’t.”

  Gabrielle sobbed. She was utterly trapped. Could she really risk not being able to afford any complications she might encounter during labor? Could she chance her baby’s health – its very life? A low moan of dismay escaping her, she snatched the paper from Amelia, her hands trembling to badly she could barely sign her name. No sooner had she finished, than the woman snatched the paper from her triumphantly.

  Gabby glared at her, tears streaking down her cheeks. “You’re a fucking monster.” She took a shuddering breath as her eyes closed, Sebastian’s face looming large before her. “And he’s just like you.”