Page 33 of Conail

"Hopefully." Taking the tray, he walked out of the room. She waited until she knew he was heading up the staircase, before she started to dance a jig. Their plan was working! He did not know it yet, but her son was on the way to getting involved. Which was a wonderful start. She could not wait to tell Maeve.

"I'm surprised you're still here." She commented as he came into the room.

"Why?"

"With all that angry shouting and talk about terminating the pregnancy, I figured you'd be gone."

He placed the tray over her lap and looked at her. She did not appear to be on the verge of death. "You heard that, did you?"

"I could not but hear it, you were raising the roof."

He stepped back and shoved his hands into his pockets. "It's too much."

"Have I said anything like that to you?"

He rocked back on his heels and watched as she spooned up the delicious smelling soup.

"No. But you should think about—"

"Shut the hell up." She said mildly causing him to blink. No one had ever dared talked to him like that before.

"I beg your pardon?"

"I'm certain you've not gone deaf in just a few seconds. It's my body and even if I did not think that abortion should be somewhat of a last resort when everything else fails, I happen to finish what I start. I am pregnant, not terminal. And what I'm going through will pass, eventually. So, what if I feel like shooting myself? So, the hell what?" She continued to spoon up soup and eyed him.

"It's not worth it." He muttered.

"Let me worry about that. My family needed the money, and I had the way to help them achieve it. At the end of it all, you'll hopefully have a healthy baby, and my family will have saved the farm. Everyone will be happy."

"And you?"

"What about me?"

"Will you be happy?"

She shrugged. "We'll see. Now leave me alone to finish my soup."

"I want to make sure you're okay."

Her tapered brows lifted, and her smile came, startling him. "You mean you want to make certain I won't be puking my guts out again."

The reminder had him feeling helpless.

"It's not something to joke about." His voice was hoarse with feeling.

"No, it's not." She agreed. "This is very good. Now, go and leave me to enjoy it." She let her gaze wander over his attire. "I'm sure you have somewhere to be."

"I'm staying." She reluctantly intrigued him. The women he was used to, would never speak to him in this offhanded manner.

"Staying where?"

"Here. In the next bedroom."

"I don't need a babysitter."

His lips curved slightly. "I think you do. I'll be—" He started forward when she pressed a hand against her stomach.

"It's nothing." She shook her head when he continued to stare at her narrowly.

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