Page 34 of Conail

"Seriously. Just a twinge." She burped and nodded, not in the least bit embarrassed. "That's a good sign."

"It is?" He was still watching her closely as if expecting her to hurl all over the expensive sheets.

"Yes, now go to bed."

"I'll wait until you're finished and take the tray."

"Here. Done." She picked up the cup and nudged the tray towards him. Taking it up, he put it on the side table and stood there a minute. "I'm fine."

"All right." He waited a few minutes before turning away. "I'll be in the next room."

She nodded and sipped, watching as he strode from the room. One brow lifted when she noted that he left the adjoining doors open. He was just guarding his investment, she thought. Nothing more. Because that's what she was. An investment. A carrier for his baby. Her frown came back as she recalled the conversation she had walked in on. He was talking about abortion. Was it that easy for him? She wondered. She had heard the concern in his voice. The man must have been scared silly.

Tamping down on the laughter, she shook her head. Men could conquer all sorts of problems, rule kingdoms, slay lions and scale walls, but when it comes to illness, they turn into little boys or unreasonable human beings. But he was here, and she had to admit—at least to herself that it felt great to have him hovering.

"Don't get used to it girl," she reprimanded herself. "Remember your role." Finishing the tea, she waited a few minutes to see if it had digested before sliding down and turning off the lamp.

Inside the room, Conail had taken off only his jacket and shoes. He was tempted to peek in on her, but did not want to appear tobe hovering. He still wanted to entertain the idea of an abortion. It was not something he wanted to think about, but it did not sit well with him that she was going through all this for him. Well, not precisely, but it seemed that way.

Wandering to the doorway, he stood there watching her settle. Finally convinced that she was good, he retreated and set about undressing.

*****

At first, he thought he was dreaming. The cries seemed to come from afar off and into some convoluted dream he was having. Then he heard it again and sprang up and out of the bed. He reached her room in a few seconds. As his eyes got accustomed to the darkness, he saw that she was thrashing, the sheets tangled around her thighs.

Springing forward, he hit the lamp switch and saw the agonized look on her face. "What the hell's the matter?"

"Cramps." She managed to gasp, her hands kneading her right calf. "It happened before, but this time—" She fell back when he simply took over and started rubbing. "God!"

"I'm sorry." He muttered. "It's very tight here." He soothed the knotted muscles as gently as he could and soon the pain eased. Burrowing in the pillows, she closed her eyes in complete exhaustion.

"How's that?"

"Much better." She whispered.

He continued to massage the area slowly, causing her to purr. "Oh, that feels so good."

It took him another few seconds to realize that he was touching her flesh and her sensible cotton nightgown had hiked up to her thighs.

"That should do it." He made his voice sound deliberately brisk.

"Move over." He ordered, making the snap decision suddenly.

"What?"

"I'm staying."

"No, you're not."

He merely pushed her in the middle of the bed and slid in between the sheets. "It saves me time and effort to be racing from one room to the next." Bunching the pillows under his head, he turned to look at her. "The bed is quite big—enough to sleep six people comfortably."

"This is—"

"Practical. Go to sleep."

"Stop ordering me around."

"Then do as you're told." He suggested arrogantly.

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