Page 83 of The Duke's Virgin

I hadn’t slept more than a few hours, and after waking for the third time just after four, I’d given up trying and just plugged in my earbuds and turned on the music app on my phone.

None of my regular favorites appealed. Even the moody, melodic strains of artists like Adam Hurst didn’t do it.

Stumbling on the twangy tunes of Dolly Parton as she sangI’ll Always Love You, I felt the ache in my chest expand, and all the tears I’d been holding back broke free. It had been a quiet stream at first, as Dolly’s sweet, gentle voice trailed away and another song by an artist I didn’t recognize came on.I Fall to Pieces.

By the timethatone ended, I pretty much did just that—fell to pieces.

The songs came on one right after the other, and the stream of tears turned into a river that soon soaked the pillowcase beneath my head.

Crying’sexhausting, though. The sunrise found me dry-eyed and tired, fighting a headache as I scrolled through search results on my phone trying to find a simple fricking answer to a simple fricking question.

What can you take for a headache when you’re pregnant?

Acetaminophen looked to be safe, but then I made thebigmistake of clicking on one of those stupid ads on the sidebar of a website.

Those damn ads were why I’d avoided looking at websites before going to see the doctor. I should have known better, but what did I do?

I clicked.

STOP! The big, bold red letters practically shouted at me, and by the time I got done reading what Iknewhad to be nothing more than scare tactics, I was so sick with nerves, I ended up puking up the water I’d drank, hoping to ease the headache into tolerable levels.

Andthatjust made the nausea worse.

In desperation, I wet a washcloth with cool water and turned off all the lights, hiding in the bed.

After a little while, the headache receded, and I was able to fall into a fitful sleep.

* * *

The knock,soft as it was, jerked me out of that fitful sleep as surely as if somebody had rung a gong over my head.

I bolted upright, immediately regretting the action as I cradled my aching skull.

Swearing, I bent forward and tried to think beyond the pounding.

The knock came again.

I opened my mouth to snarl like a demented, rabid animal and just barely managed to control it. Clearing my throat, I gingerly called out, “Come in.”

The bare sliver of light that penetrated the gloom of my bedroom was too much.

“Miss Stacia?”

I recognized Blanche’s voice and muffled a groan. “Hey, Blanche.”

“May I come in?” she asked.

“As long as you don’t turn on the light.”

“Of course not.”

I heard her soft footfalls over the carpet, and even though I knew it was coming, I winced as she sat down next to me, making the big, soft bed shift oh so slightly under her weight. My belly dipped, and my head protested. Thankfully, nothing threatened to come up, even though a fine film of sweat broke out over the back of my neck.

“Morning sickness?” she asked softly.

I almost lied and saidyes. But I was too tired and too…hurt. “I don’t think you could call it that.”

“What would you call it, then?”

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