Baby on Board: Secret Baby, Surprise Parents / Her Baby Wish / Keeping Her Baby's Secret

‘I know,’ he said. Then, more gently, ‘I know.’

‘I suppose I could take her with me.’ Was that his point? That she was about to become a single mother with a business to run and she needed to think about how she was going to manage that. Answering herself, she said, ‘I’d have to install some basic essentials if it’s going to be a permanent thing.’

‘Like what?’

‘You want a list?’ she asked, smiling despite everything. ‘How long have you got?’

‘I’m in no hurry.’

‘Do you have the slightest idea how much stuff a baby on the move needs?’ It was a rhetorical question and she wasn’t expecting an answer. ‘Actually, I suppose I could ask Toby to partition off the far end of the workshop so that I could turn it into a little nursery.’ Then, irritated at how easily he’d manipulated her into thinking about the future when she didn’t want to think about anything, she said, ‘Okay, that’s my life sorted. Now tell me about yours. About Nepal. China. What are you doing there?’

He began to talk about a major engineering project which should have bored her witless, but just being the centre of his attention, being able to listen to him without pretence was such a rare treat that she didn’t actually care what he was saying.

And when he turned the conversation to the jewellery-making workshops she ran, showing a keen interest in what she did, her stories about some of the odder characters who came to them made him laugh.

He told her about places he’d visited, both fabulous and foul. The wonders of the world, natural and man-made. The remote, the exotic, the emptiness of a tropical beach lit only by the stars.

She told him about her recent trip to Brighton for a jewellery convention.

Finally, long after they’d finished eating, Josh stood up. ‘It’s late, you’re tired,’ he said, clearing the dishes.

She didn’t bother to fight with him over it—he was right, she was finding it hard to stay awake—but instead rinsed plates and cutlery, stacking them in the dishwasher as he cleared the table. She wiped mats as he put away the butter, the wine. Their hands momentarily entangled as they both reached for the cruet and she found herself looking up at him.

‘I’ll take the pepper. You take the salt,’ he said after a moment.

‘No,’ she said, pulling back. ‘It’s all yours, Josh. You’re right. I’m done and by the time I’ve had a bath, Posie will be awake again, demanding food.’

‘Are you okay up there by yourself now that Elspeth’s gone home?’ he asked. ‘I could just as easily sleep in one of the spare rooms.’

‘I’ll be fine.’

He lifted a hand, laid his palm against her cheek. ‘Sure?’ he asked.

She swallowed. ‘Really. Besides, if Posie is restless she’ll keep you awake.’

‘I have to fall asleep first. I’m going to look through some of Michael’s things before I go down to the flat.’

‘Right, but don’t forget you’re supposed to be working on UK time.’

He smiled. ‘I won’t.’ Then, before she could move, he leaned close and kissed her cheek. ‘Good night, Grace.’

‘Um… good night,’ she said, backing away until she reached the door, then turning and running up the stairs before she said or did something stupid.

She took a steadying breath before she glanced in at Posie and then, in the safety of the bathroom, she leaned back against the door, her hand to her cheek, still feeling the soft prickle of his close-cropped beard as it brushed against her skin.

Remembering the shock of his kiss as he’d woken her—when she was anything but Sleeping Beauty—knowing how easy it would have been for her to have asked him to stay with her. How easy it would have been to turn into his arms for the comfort they both craved.

Wondering what would it be like to lie beside Josh Kingsley on a white beach in the starlight with only the sound of the ocean shirring through the sand, the chirruping of tree frogs, the scent of frangipani on the wind.

He’d made it sound so magical. Doubtless it had been. And she wondered who had shared that tropical night with him?

He hadn’t said and, unable to bear the thought of him with another woman, she hadn’t asked.

He’d only once brought someone home. They’d been expecting him, but not the tall, tanned Australian girl he’d married without telling a soul. A girl who was, in every way, her opposite. Outgoing, lively, ready to follow him to the ends of the earth. Or so she’d said. It had lasted a little over a year. Since then he’d never brought anyone home, never even talked about anyone in his life, at least while she was around and although he was, by any standards, a rich and eligible bachelor, he didn’t seem to live the kind of lifestyle that brought him into contact with gossip magazines. But just because he didn’t date the kind of glamorous women who were pursued by the paparazzi meant absolutely nothing.

Only that he preferred to keep his private life just that.

Private.

She ran a bath, added a few drops of lavender oil. But even up to her neck in soothing warm water she discovered that once having thought about it, it was impossible to get the image of Josh, of her, their naked bodies entwined, limbs glistening in the surf, out of her head.

Horrified that she could be thinking about such things at a time like this, she sank beneath the water in an attempt to cleanse the thoughts from her mind. Or maybe just to blot out everything. Only to erupt in a panic when she thought she heard Posie crying.

Her ears full of water, she couldn’t hear anything, but when she threw a bathrobe around her and checked, she found the baby lying peacefully asleep.

She rubbed her hair dry, then eased herself into bed in the room next to the nursery. Closed her eyes and slept.

Josh replaced the telephone receiver in Michael’s study, then opened the door, pausing at the foot of the stairs, listening. Everything was quiet. Grace couldn’t have heard the phone—his Chinese partner hunting him down with impatient need to set up a meeting—or she’d surely have come down. Unless she’d fallen asleep in the bath?

The dark hollows beneath her eyes told their own story and, knowing he wouldn’t rest until he’d reassured himself, he kicked off his shoes and, as quietly as he could, went upstairs. The bathroom door was unlocked. He opened it a few inches and said, ‘Grace?’ When there was no response, he glanced inside and saw, with relief, that it was empty. Then, as he turned away, he saw the nursery door was slightly ajar and, unable to help himself, he pushed it open, took a step inside.

He stood for a moment by the cot, looking down at the sleeping infant. Listening to her soft breathing, assailed by a torment of confused emotions as he considered every possible future. For Posie. For Grace.

Grace laughed as, her bottle empty, Posie turned to nuzzle at her breast, searching for more.

‘Greedy baby,’ she chided softly.

It was just getting light and, miraculously, they had both slept through.

She looked up as the squeak of the door warned her that she was no longer alone.

As Josh padded silently across the kitchen floor on bare feet, unaware that he had company, her first thought was that he didn’t look so hot.

Then, as he reached the kettle, switched it on and stood by the window, staring out of the window at a pink and grey dawn while he waited for it to boil, she thought again.

He might have the hollow-eyed look of a man who’d spent the night staring at the ceiling but, in washed thin jogging pants and nothing else, he looked very hot indeed.

‘Tea for me,’ she said, before that train of thought joined last night’s beach fantasy and got completely out of hand. Then, as he spun around, ‘If you’re offering.’

‘Grace… I didn’t see you there. Why are you sitting in the dark?’

‘I’ve been feeding Posie,’ she said. ‘There’s more chance that she’ll go back to sleep if I leave the light off.’ Then, ‘Is the kettle playing up again?’

He looked at the kettle, which was clearly working, then at her.

‘The one in your flat,’ she said. ‘Phoebe was going to buy a new one before…’ Before the christening. But Josh had been ‘too busy’ to fly home, so she hadn’t bothered.

‘What? No,’ he said. Then, ‘I don’t know. It was claustrophobic in the basement. Since I moved last year I’ve got used to seeing the sky when I wake up.’

‘You have to go to sleep before you wake up,’ she pointed out.

He shrugged. ‘I managed an hour or two. I don’t need a lot of sleep.’

‘I remember,’ she said.

‘Do you?’

It was just as well the half-light was pink because she blushed crimson. That wasn’t what she’d meant….

‘I remember Michael saying that you’d moved to some fabulous new penthouse with views to the end of the world.’ They’d gone out there to visit, just after he’d moved in and BP. Before pregnancy. ‘He said you wanted a closer look at all those horizons still waiting to be conquered.’

‘Is that what you think?’

‘I haven’t the first idea what you want, Josh.’ She shifted the baby to a more comfortable position, then said, ‘So? What’s it like?’

He regarded her for a full ten seconds before he turned away, dropped a couple of tea bags into two mugs and poured on boiling water. Then, his back to her, he said, ‘It’s like standing on the high board at the swimming pool without a handrail. You’d hate it.’

That hurt, cut deep, mostly because he was right, but, refusing to let it show, she said, ‘I don’t have a problem with views. I just don’t have your unstoppable urge to find out what lies beyond them.’

‘Still clinging to the safety net of home, Grace?’ he said, lifting his head to challenge her.

‘Still searching for something to cling to, Josh?’ she came back at him.

He was the one who looked away and she realised that she’d touched an unexpected nerve.

‘Will you stay and keep an eye on Posie while I go and take a shower?’ she asked, easing herself to her feet, laying the sleepy babe in her crib, then fetching the milk jug from the fridge. ‘Milk?’ she asked, after fishing out the tea bags.

He didn’t answer and, when she looked up, she realised that he was staring down at the overlarge dressing gown she was wearing, or rather at the way it was gaping open where she’d held Posie against her breast as she’d fed her from the bottle, as Phoebe had, giving the same skin to skin closeness as breastfeeding.

‘This is Phoebe’s,’ she said, self-consciously pulling it around her, tightening the belt. ‘It’s a bit big, but I’ve been wearing it so that Posie has the comfort of her scent.’

‘Until yours and hers become indistinguishable?’

‘No! It was just while she was away.’ Except, of course, her sister wasn’t ever coming back. ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’

‘No,’ he said, with a heavy finality that suggested she hadn’t thought very much about anything. ‘Although I suspect that, unless her table manners improve, all she’s going to get is the smell of stale milk or dribble.’

She frowned.

‘There’s a damp patch,’ he said, then, when she looked down. ‘No, on the other side…’

‘Oh, nappy rash! I’m leaking.’

‘Leaking?’

She opened a cupboard, grabbed a sealed pack of sterilised bottles. ‘Make yourself comfortable. I may be a while,’ she said, heading for the door.

‘Wait!’ He caught her arm. ‘You’re feeding Posie with your own milk?’

He sounded shocked. Instantly on the defensive, she said, ‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’

‘You have to ask?’

Confused by his reaction, she said, ‘Apparently.’

He shook his head. ‘You’re expressing your own milk, putting it in a bottle and then sitting down and feeding Posie with it. Do I really have to explain what is wrong with that picture?’

‘There’s not a thing wrong with it. Breast milk is the very best start for a baby. Everyone knows that.’

‘In an ideal world,’ he replied, ‘but I suspect that precious few surrogate mothers stick around to play wet nurse.’

‘I’m not!’

‘As near as damn it, you are.’

She stared at him, shaken by the fierceness of his reaction. ‘You know this isn’t a normal surrogacy, Josh.’

‘Really?’

How could anyone invest such an ordinary word with such a mixture of irony, disdain, plain old disbelief? Grace didn’t bother to respond, defend herself, since clearly he was a long way from finished.

‘In what way isn’t it normal?’ he asked. ‘You’re not married, so there was nothing to stop Michael’s name being put on the birth certificate. I assume that happened?’

‘Of course.’

‘And presumably you went through all the legal hoops with the court-appointed social worker? Signed all the paperwork so that the Parental Order could be issued, along with a new birth certificate in which Phoebe and Michael were named as Posie’s parents?’

‘Of course. We were really lucky. It can take up to a year to get everything settled, but there was space in the court calendar and, since the social worker was happy, the paperwork was completed in double quick time.’

‘So you are aware that you’ve surrendered any legal rights you had as Posie’s birth mother?’

Grace clutched the plastic container of feeding bottles against her breast, a shield against words that meant nothing and yet still had the power to hurt her.

‘You’ve done your homework,’ she said, more than a little unnerved at his thoroughness in checking out the legal formalities. Trying to figure out what, exactly, he was getting at.

‘I did, as a matter of fact,’ he replied, ‘although, since Michael explained everything in his regular progress bulletins, it was more for my own peace of mind than necessity.’

That was Michael, she thought. He would never have given up trying to make Josh see how perfect it all was. Trying to break down whatever his problem had been with this arrangement.

Poor Michael….

‘So why are you asking me all this?’ she demanded, making an effort to concentrate, trying not to think about what had happened, but how totally happy Michael had been. ‘Since you already seem to have chapter and verse.’

‘I just wanted to be sure that you fully understand the situation.’

‘Of course I understand. And I didn’t “surrender” Posie. She was always Phoebe’s baby.’

‘Truly?’

He slipped his hand inside the gown and laid his hand over the thin silk of her nightgown, fingers spread wide across her waist to encompass her abdomen in a shockingly intimate gesture. Her womb quickened to his touch, her breast responding as if to a lover’s touch.

‘Even while she was lying here? When you could feel her moving? When it was just the two of you in the night? You didn’t have a single doubt?’

It was as if he were reading her mind. Had been there with her in the darkness, the restless baby in her womb keeping her awake, thinking about how different it could have been. How, all those years before, she’d longed for the protection he’d used to have failed, knowing that a baby was the one thing that would have brought him back to her.

She’d hated herself for wishing it, knowing how wrong it was to want a baby only to bind him to her. If he’d loved her, he would not have left. Or, if he had, would not have been able to stay away.

Knowing that carrying his brother’s child for her sister was the nearest she was ever going to get to having Josh’s child growing within her womb. But that was for her to know. No one else.

She knew she should move, step back, stop this, but the warmth, strength of his hand against her body held her to him like a magnet.

‘Well?’ he demanded, pressing her for an answer.

‘No,’ she mouthed, no sound escaping. Then again, ‘No!’ No doubts. Not one. ‘It isn’t unknown for a woman to carry a baby for her sister,’ she told him. ‘It was once quite normal for a woman to give a childless sister one or even two of her own babies to raise.’

‘This isn’t the nineteenth century.’

‘No. And I’ve no doubt some of the neighbours believe I actually had sex with Michael in order to conceive but, since you’ve done your homework, you couldn’t possibly think that. Could you?’

‘Of course not—’

‘Only, for your information, he was at a conference in Copenhagen when all the planets were in alignment but since the clinic already had his contribution in their freezer that wasn’t a problem.’

‘I know how it’s done, Grace.’

‘You have been thorough.’

‘I didn’t need to look that up on the Internet,’ he said, his face grim now.

‘No? Well, know this. Since I was here, living under the same roof, it made perfect sense to give Posie the very best start possible.’

‘Did it? And whose idea was that? The whole breast is best thing.’

‘Does it matter?’ He didn’t answer, just waited for her to tell him what he already believed he knew. And, infuriatingly, she couldn’t deny it. ‘Phoebe would never have asked.’

‘No, I didn’t think it was her idea. So how long had you planned to stretch it out, Grace? Six, nine months? Or were you planning to be one of those earth-mother types—?’

‘That’s enough!’ she said, finally managing to step away from his hand. ‘This wasn’t about me. You told me that Michael was incoherent with joy. Well, I want you to imagine how Phoebe felt. After years of tests, hoping, waiting, longing for a baby of her own. The fertility treatment. All those failed IVF cycles. How do you think she felt when the midwife put Posie in her arms?’

‘No one would deny that you did a generous, beautiful thing, Grace.’

‘You thought I was wrong then and you still do.’

‘No… Not you.’

‘Michael, then?’ Now she was confused. Who exactly did he blame for what had happened? ‘Phoebe?’

‘They were desperate. Beyond reason…’ He shook his head. ‘It no longer matters. All I’m saying is that it might have been better if you’d gone away for a while. Afterwards. Cut the cord, not just physically, but emotionally.’

He was so obviously concerned for her that she couldn’t be angry with him.

‘Or were you already planning to do this all over again a year from now so that Posie could have a brother or sister?’

She took a step back. He followed her.

‘Are you really so terrified of getting out there and making a life for yourself that you were ready to settle for having a second-hand family? One without the risk of making a commitment to a relationship? Leaving the comfort of the nest?’

On the other hand…

‘So what if I did,’ she retaliated defiantly. ‘What possible business is it of yours?’

‘It’s my business because, unless either of them left specific guardianship instructions,’ he said, ‘as Michael and Phoebe’s executor, I’ll be the one playing Solomon with Posie’s future.’

She felt the blood drain from her face. ‘What are you saying?’ And then she knew. ‘No. You can’t take her from me. You wouldn’t. She’s mine….’

The words were out before she could stop them.

‘I thought we’d just established that she’s anything but yours. That you have no rights.’

‘No…’ It wasn’t like that. Okay, so maybe he was right. Maybe she’d never given Posie up in the way that a true surrogate would have done. But she was her aunt. Her godmother.

Obviously she was going to be close. Be there for her if ever she needed her. And she needed her now. Then, more fiercely, ‘No!’ she said again, this time with a touch of desperation. ‘You don’t want her! You couldn’t even be bothered to come home for the christening!’

He bit down hard, clearly fighting an angry retort. Then, very calmly, very quietly, he said, ‘Forget me, Grace. Where Posie is concerned, I’m the last person you need worry about.’

Confused, she frowned. ‘So what are you saying?’

Before he could answer, the phone began to ring.

Josh, closer, reached out and unhooked the phone from its cradle on the kitchen wall, responding with a curt, ‘Kingsley.’ He listened impassively for what seemed like forever, then said, ‘We’ll expect you when we see you.’

‘Who was it?’ she asked as he hung up, turned back to face her.

‘My mother. Michael’s mother—’

‘Is she coming to see you?’

‘—Posie’s grandmother,’ he said, his face set, his expression grim, ‘who will be here some time this morning.’

On the point of objecting to his rudeness, she thought better of it. He clearly had something on his mind.

‘Thank you. Now I’ll finish what I was saying when the phone rang.’ He looked so angry, so fierce. ‘When I was telling you that I was the last of your worries.’

‘Last? When did you ever come last in anything?’ she demanded.

Least of all where she was concerned.

‘Last,’ he repeated. ‘I come a long way down the list of next of kin. The only person who’s lower than me on this particular list is you. After my father, my mother, your mother even…’

He let the words hang, giving her time to work it out for herself. And, when she did, her heart stopped beating, her legs buckled and there was a crash as the pack she was carrying fell to the floor.

If Josh hadn’t reached out and caught her, she’d have followed it but, his arms around her, he supported her, held her close.

‘I won’t let it happen,’ he said fiercely, as she subsided weakly against his naked chest, a rock in a world that was disintegrating around her. Stroked his hand over her hair in a gesture meant to calm her. ‘Trust me, Grace. Whatever it takes. You have my promise.’

The temptation to stay in the safety of his arms almost overwhelmed her. To call him on that promise. Leave him to fight her corner. But he wasn’t always going to be around to make things right for her. If there was to be a battle, she would fight for her daughter. But she didn’t think it would be necessary.

‘It’s all right, Josh,’ she said, lifting her cheek from the steady beating of his heart, the warm silk of his skin. ‘They wouldn’t want her,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘They didn’t want us.’

‘No,’ he said, his face grim. ‘But then, neither of us had the legacy of a fine house, a couple of generous life insurance policies and whatever Michael’s partnership in his architect’s practice is worth. Even after the Chancellor has taken his cut in inheritance tax, it’s still going to provide a very nice expense account for anyone who can prove their case for bringing up Posie.’

‘What?’ Then, ‘Are you suggesting any of them would take her just for the money?’

‘There are other factors. My father has a second family. A young wife. Three little girls who would no doubt welcome a baby sister.’

‘But she’s my baby!’ The betraying words flew from her lips and in that instant she knew he’d spoken no more than the truth. She’d given her sister her baby, but she hadn’t been able to totally let go.

‘My mother would, I’m sure, give up her present precarious existence for this house, a steady income. She would, of course, employ a first-class nanny to take care of Posie. Might even offer you the job.’

Grace shook her head. ‘She’s mine,’ she repeated. ‘If it comes to a fight, any court would have to recognise that.’

He shook his head. ‘I spent a long time last night researching this on the Internet. You carried a fertilised egg for your sister but, once you’ve completed the formalities, that’s it. In law you’re no more to Posie than her aunt. Nothing changes that.’

‘No…’ That small word held a world of pain, of loss. First her sister and now this. Then, as his words filtered through, she said, ‘No. That’s not right. You don’t understand. I didn’t… It wasn’t…’

‘What?’ He was looking down at her, but now his forehead was furrowed in a frown, his grip tighter and, when she didn’t answer, he gave her a little shake. ‘It wasn’t what, Grace?’

She looked up at him. She’d promised Phoebe she’d never tell, but her sister would want her, expect her to do whatever it took to keep her baby.

‘It wasn’t Phoebe’s egg, Josh. It was mine.’

CHAPTER FOUR

‘BUT…’ Now it was Josh who looked as if he needed something to hold on to. ‘They’d been going through IVF,’ he protested. ‘There were eggs available. Michael told me…’