“Well, ideally, don’t go into labor.” Tristan chuckled, lowering his foot. As Gabrielle took a step backwards heading for the couch, he caught her arm to help her sit down on the couch.
“Christ, I can’t believe I still have two months left!” She had already gained about twenty pounds and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen her toes. Her breasts barely fit into E cups and had started leaking profusely – which was both embarrassing and inconvenient.
Though Tristan had tried more than once to assure her that it was only part of the magic of pregnancy, Gabby had promptly told him that he could talk the moment he grew a womb and mammary glands.
However, despite her harping, the young woman really couldn’t be happier. After all, there were absolutely no restrictions on when she could see her companion, and things were almost as they had been before she’d left New York.
She was painting almost daily – she’d already finished three pieces and was working on a fourth. The first one was hung proudly in the front room of Tristan’s house, and Phillip often commended her on its striking patterns. It seemed that the more her stomach swelled, the more creative she became. Sometimes she spent full seven hour stints in her studio in Sebastian's home – until she was exhausted and starving and the man had to drag her downstairs to feed her.
When she thought of the man – the earl who had spirited her away from everything she had ever known – she found herself enveloped with a myriad of feelings – many of them unfamiliar.
In the two months since Sebastian had dismissed his mother, much had changed. It was though a cloud had been lifted from the house – and from the man himself in particular. Gabby still had no idea what exactly had transpired between them the day she’d left, but it must have been something spectacular. The woman had made a massive scene as she left – though she had only caught the tail end of it, having been in the midst of being spectacularly ravished by Sebastian during the worst part of her tantrum.
The man had begun creeping up on her at all hours of the day and night, without warning. He would catch her in the hall bedroom, in her studio, or even in the kitchen, inching up her dresses and drugging her with kisses until she let him have his way with her – more than once within earshot of his staff. He was absolutely shameless – and Gabby found that she loved it.
There had been a two week period when she’d realized, with no small amount of horror that she was developing stretch marks and that her breasts would probably never regain their former perkiness. She was swelling like a balloon and her face had become round as a ripe peach. She’d been utterly mortified and suddenly struck with the notion that Sebastian would never want to touch her again.
He’d quickly banished the notion from her mind and Gabby had watched in the massive bedroom mirror as the man had set his talented mouth to work for hours, until she couldn’t move a muscle and her mind was numb with pleasure.
He was a different person without his mother around to pressure him – and it wasn’t just that; the man seemed to have broken from her completely when it came to matters concerning the child. There were no more boarding school pamphlets or horse showings. In fact, Sebastian had recently taken her to one of Britain’s most renowned toymakers to commission some things for the baby. He’d made a ridiculously long list, his eyes alight as he’d done so – and his good mood had been infections. So much so that they’d had to stop off on the way home in a discreet location to calm themselves somewhat.
All the drab decorations that the Duchess had bought for the nursery had been taken down – and indeed, the location of the room had been changed entirely. Sebastian had suggested that a guest room filled with light and hosting breathtaking views be newly appropriated, and Gabby couldn’t have agreed more. The new suite had been rapidly filled with plush furniture, its large closet filled with infant clothes. The room was painted in hues of green and yellow – gender neutral, Gabrielle insisted , though the closer she grew to her due date the more she felt the baby was bound to be a boy.
It was boisterous inside her, kicking far before she was ready to wake up and keeping her up late into the night. However, nothing gave Gabby more pleasure than to lay on her back in bed, rubbing over her belly and feeling the life inside her. There was no feeling like it in the entire world.
She remembered the expression on Sebastian’s face the first time he’d felt the baby kick. His eyes had lit with a wild pleasure as he’d looked from her belly to her face and back again. He’d laid his head against her stomach reverently, stroking it gently as the child within her squirmed against his cheek.
And Gabrielle had known, quite suddenly, that leaving him in two months was going to be easier said than done. Things had…changed between she and Sebastian. Every time she lay in his arms after they’d been together – the heart-achingly soft kisses he placed on her stomach when he thought she was asleep….the way he insisted on rubbing her feet after she’d painted all day or stroked her belly when it felt particularly heavy…it wasn’t just for show anymore.
She had very real feelings for him. Despite the promise she’d made to herself – despite the fact that she knew that she had no place in his world – she had fallen desperately in love with the man.
“Did you just go into labor for real?” She jolted as Tristan’s inquiry broke her from her thoughts. She looked up to see the man extending a cup of tea with cream and sugar to her. If there was one British custom that the man had taken wholeheartedly to, it was tea time. He had, she didn’t dare say out light, gained at least five pounds from tea cakes alone – though she had to admit that it still looked good on him. “That expression…you look like you’re in pain.”
“Oh, fuck off.” She rebuffed him playfully, merely shaking her head. “You’re such a comedian.”
“Headlined all the clubs back home.” He sank down on the couch next to her as she took her tea. “But seriously, darling, what’s the matter?”
Gabrielle groaned before downing half of her tea in one gulp. “That’s just it: nothing’s the matter. Everything’s perfect.”
Her lower lip jutting out in a pout, she set her teacup on the coffee table.
Tristan arched a brow, sipping from his own cup. “Everything’s perfect, but you’re throwing a tantrum? I’m a bit lost.”
“Tristan, none of this makes sense. I’m a nobody from Harlem – a bottom of the rung artist. Yet here I am, living the high life in London, about to have the Earl of Raithwithe’s baby, and I can’t think of any need I have that hasn’t been provided for.”
“And there’s something wrong with that?”
“Yes…no. I don’t know!”
Eying her curiously, the man set his tea aside before crossing his legs primly. “Alright, when’s the last time Sebastian tickled your fancy?”
Gabby’s checks flushed crimson. “
What
? What the hell does that have to do with anything?”
“You’re pissy when you’re horny. It’s a pregnancy thing. So, come on, dish. When?”
Gabby swallowed thickly as she remembered. It had been barely an hour before she’d left for Tristan’s house – in the shower. Sebastian had bent her over the marble seat and taken her from behind until her knees had turned to jelly.
Her face must have said it all. “So, recently then. That rules that out.” Tristan peered closely at her red face before his eyes widened. “Wait a minute…you haven’t…oh,
no
, Gabby.”
“’Oh no’, what?” She demanded, her voice cracking over the statement. But Tristan was merely shaking his head, his expression utterly solemn.
“I suppose it was inevitable.”
“
What
’s inevitable?”
“He’s charming, rich, amazing in the sack and now that his mother’s gone…” Tristan sighed, reaching out to cover her hand with his own. “You’re in love with him.”
Gabby gaped at him for a moment before she began to splutter, gasping for words “I-I mean- you-Tristan! No! That’s not it at all!”
“That is
exactly
it. I can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner. It’s written all over your face. Isn’t it dear?” Phillip had chosen that moment to meander through the living room in his boxers and robe and glanced up at the two of them, Tristan’s inquiry having drawn his attention.
“What’s written all over her face?” He sounded like he’d just woken up from a rather nice nap.
“That she’s head over heels for Sebastian,” Tristan repeated helpfully.
“Oh.” Phillip peered at Gabby in much the way his husband had before nodding curtly.
Gabby was flabbergasted. How on earth could they possibly know? She was on the verge of denying it once more, only to find that, embarrassingly, her eyes were beginning to blur with tears.
“Oh, darling.” Tristan was immediately alarmed, pulling her into his embrace. “We’re sorry. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m in love with him.” Gabby hiccupped, cursing her damn hormones. “What the hell am I going to do, Tristan?”
“There, there, sweetie. It’ll be alright.” Tristan pulled a few tissues from a box helpfully extended by Phillip as he rubbed her back gently. “We’ll figure things out. We always do. The man does appear to have genuine feelings for you and the baby. Who’s to say he doesn’t feel the same way?”
“But I’m a nobody,” Gabby sniffled. “An accident. Once the baby’s delivered, I’m done. He’ll never want to see me again.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure.”
Both Gabrielle and Tristan looked up in surprise at the usually quiet Phillip’s sudden statement. Bending down, the older man touched Gabby’s cheek gently, his smile warm and reassuring. “These eyes see a lot, Gabby.” Tapping the thick lenses he wore, Phillip straightened them on his nose. “I’ve been watching the earl since we arrived. And I’d be willing to bet money that he isn’t just going to let you leave.”
Gabby’s eyes widened.
Could Phillip really be on to something? Was it at all possible that Sebastian wanted something more from her than an heir to bolster his family name and maintain his reputation?
Gabrielle realized, very abruptly, that those things were what the
Duchess
had wanted; and while things might have been that way when she’d first arrived, everything was different now.
Sebastian was different.
Maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t as much of a nobody as she’d thought.
**
Sebastian was sprawled over the bed, gazing up at the black and white image held loosely in his hand.
Heir to the Hunter title.
His child.
At eight and a half months, eyes, nose and mouth were clearly visible in the womb, as well as tiny fingers and toes. It was a marvel, the earl told himself time and time again, what humans could create.
He’d watched Gabrielle’s body grow and change for the past few months with a rising sense of humility. Yes, he had assisted in the short act that had produced the biological catalyst for their son or daughter, but she had carried the child for over eight months, enduring mood swings, odd cravings and a body, she constantly attested to him, that she barely recognized any more.
He, of course, had no problems recognizing it
If anything, Gabrielle’s rounded form now ignited his lust even more than when he’d first met her. Knowing that his child was growing inside her – that they would soon be graced with a baby he hoped would carry her features…it was enough to take his breath away. He had never imagined he might so anticipate being a father, but with the day almost here, he found himself waking every morning with a thrill of excitement.
Though Doctor Bletchley insisted that Gabby would carry to term, Sebastian longed to meet the new addition to their family.
For a moment, his eyes darkened.
Their family.
The entire time Gabby had been in England, they’d been putting on a show for the press and high society – a show that was becoming less and less feigned every day. When Sebastian put his arms around Gabrielle, it was because he wanted to – not because he was expected to. When he held her hand at some positively boring social event, it was because he knew she shared his sentiment. And when he rubbed gently over her stomach, feeling the life within her gently undulate, it was because the gesture elated him.
Their time together was rapidly drawing to a close and Sebastian felt more family to Gabrielle and his unborn child than he ever had with his mother and father. To be completely honest, he hadn’t even begun to concoct what story he would use for their split. He told himself it would be better to wait until the baby was a few months old…perhaps a year. He was sure Gabrielle wouldn’t mind.
But, deep down, Sebastian knew, it wasn’t a matter of waiting until the time was right.
He didn’t want her to leave. Ever.
He had come to a point where he couldn’t imagine a life without the vivacious artist at his side.
They might not be truly married, but what were papers and a religious ordaining when, in his mind, Gabrielle was already his wife. She belonged by his side.
The question was: how on earth was he going to convince her of it? The woman was fiercely independent. She treasured her freedom. How could he possibly ask her to go on putting on a façade at social events and dealing with the media’s antics? It wouldn’t be fair. He had promised to release her after the birth of the baby. To suggest anything otherwise would mean breaking his word.