Free The Sabbides Secret Baby by Jacqueline Baird

seven-thirty.’ She listed every excuse she could think of. ‘And I am sure Mr Sabbides is a very busy man. Maybe some other time.’
    ‘Not so busy. But I take your point about the seat, Phoebe.’ His tone mocked her. ‘I have an idea.’ Glancing at his watch, he smiled down at Ben. ‘While you and your mum go home for tea I have a few calls to make. But I’ll be back by six, with a car seat, and we can go for a spin then—how does that sound?’
    Horrendous , Phoebe thought bitterly. But, seeing the beaming smile on her son’s face as he asked her if that was okay, she hadn’t the heart to disappoint him again.
    ‘If Mr Sabbides is sure, that is fine with me,’ she lied.
    ‘I’m sure.’
    He gave her a cold, hard glance, and she had the sinking sensation he was not just talking about a car ride. But with a bit of luck, she thought, clutching at straws, even Jed might not find it so easy to procure a car seat in the rural depths of Dorset at four thirty on a Friday evening. Weymouth on the coast was the nearest town with shops that sold such things, and he might give up, or get lost…
    The last would be her preference.
    ‘I will be back, Phoebe. You can count on it.’
    His voice was deep and menacing, and it made her want to grab her son and run. But instead she met his dark eyes with her own icy blue, her lips twisting in a bitter smile as a memory of another time and place replayed in her mind. ‘So you say.’
    Jed had said the exact same words to her when he had left to go to Greece for his father’s birthday and he had lied then. Remembering the past gave her the determination to stand up to him. He had not wanted a child five years ago, and he sure as hell was not getting hers now…
    ‘Believe it,’ he declared, and ruffling Ben’s hair with his hand added, ‘See you at six, Ben.’ He strode back to his car and drove off.
    Jed Sabbides clasped the wheel white-knuckled and manoeuvred the car at a reckless speed through the narrow country lanes towards Weymouth, his head spinning. He hadn’t been expecting to meet them. He had merely stopped at Martinstead post office to ask directions to Peartree Cottage, and had just slid back behind the wheel of his car when he’d caught sight of Phoebe walking down the drive of the house opposite.
    She was wearing a red wool jacket, a short black skirt,black leggings and black ankle boots. With her pale hair knotted on top of her head and her face free of make-up she’d looked stunning and as sexy as hell. Then his attention had focused on the child holding her hand, and even though he had been half expecting it he had frozen in shock. The child at her side looked very like photos of himself at that age…
    Ben was his. He would bet his life on it. But it made no sense…
    A week ago, looking at the picture of mother and son, he had felt his suspicion aroused. The first thing he had done when he’d got to London was contact Marcus and arrange to have dinner with him the following night. Over a leisurely meal, after reminiscing about their student days, the past in general, Jed had quizzed him about the miscarriage without mentioning that Phoebe had had another baby. He didn’t want to look like a paranoid idiot! Marcus had confirmed there could be no doubt Phoebe that lost her baby. He had consulted with Dr Norman at the time and read the medical notes. The sex of the child had been indistinct. Then, having drunk more than he should, Marcus had admonished Jed for leaving such a delightful young woman and had recalled that she had not kept her appointment at his clinic—not surprising, under the circumstances.
    Jed had made no comment; there was no reason for Marcus to know it had been the other way round. His ego had taken enough of a battering where Phoebe was concerned. He’d seen his old friend safely home—and the next morning he had tried to double-check with Dr Norman—who unfortunately had died some time ago.
    Was it possible the doctors had