Page 29 of Conail

She inclined her head, eyes still on his face. He could be very attractive if he smiled, she thought absently. But the bitterness and cynicism was stamped so deep, it made him look older than his thirty-five years. With a mental shrug, she decided it was not her problem.

"Here." She handed him the cup and pressed a hand against her stomach.

"What is it?" He asked sharply.

"Nothing." A frown touched her brow. "It's--" He sprang up in alarm when she shoved off the bed. She moved gracefully, in spite of her height and weight, the thought flashed through his mind as he hurried after her. By the time he got to her, she had her head in the bowl and was retching horribly. He did not think she had anything left in her stomach, after what he had walked in on earlier.

Without thinking, he hunkered down behind her and had never felt so helpless in his life. She felt his body pressing against hers lightly. The humiliation came swift and brutal. He had seen her at her worst now, twice.

"Go away." She croaked.

"It's--" As soon as he reached for her, she burst into tears, almost staggering him.

Clamping his teeth into his bottom lip, he sat on the floor and scooped her up against him.

"God! God! God!" She cried, her face buried on his chest. "I hate this so damn much." She sobbed, fingers curling into the thick cashmere of his sweater.

Something inside him shifted-- something he had no intention of examining right now. Wrapping his arms around her, he rubbed her back soothingly, expression grim. He waited until she had finished crying before he said anything.

"We should call the doctor."

"No."

"Why the hell not?" he demanded. "You just puked out the lining of your stomach."

"It gets better after the first three times." She leaned against him wearily, wondering at how solid his chest was and how good he smelled. "Just help me get to bed -- there's something I need to drink to ease my stomach."

He held her for another few minutes before easing her away. Rising lithely, he took her hand and helped her up.

"Easy." He murmured when she swayed against him. "Just hold onto me."

She did, and he led her to the sink to rinse. They made the journey to the bedroom slowly, his arm wrapped around her waist. She was wearing baggy sweats and an old sweater, and it did not matter to her. He was just the man she was carrying the fetus for anyway, nothing more. The fact that he was here and she was leaning on him made no difference whatsoever.

Pulling the sheets aside, he waited until she had crawled in to pull them over her.

"Where's the liquid?"

She gestured to the mini fridge in the corner of the room.

"It's something to settle my stomach." She told him as he took it out and uncapped the bottle.

He handed it to her and waited until she had emptied the bottle.

"Were you off somewhere?" She asked curiously, taking in the expensive cashmere and navy dress pants.

"Something like that."

"I'm fine. You may go."

His mouth tightened at her arrogant tone.

"I'll go when I please."

"I don't want to keep you from anything."

"My decision." Settling back in the chair, he crossed his legs at the ankles. "Try and get some sleep."

Turning on her side, she clasped her hands under her cheek and gazed at him curiously.

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