Page 16 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

The room was large and stretched from floor to lofty ceiling with books of all genres. Curiosity had her walking to the children's section and was surprised to see copies of the books she had illustrated.

"Well." She murmured, plucking a copy from the shelf and staring at it.

Putting it back into the slot, she wandered the cozy room.

Selecting a paperback novel, she went to curl up on the sofa and prepared to spend the time reading.

Before she realized it, she had finished the soup and was praying that it would settle.

Dragging the soft woolen blanket, over her feet, she settled back to enjoy the novel.

Conail was furious and had contemplated several times on the way here to just ignore his mother's request. No dammit, it had been more of a demand than anything else.

And she had tried to make him feel guilty.

He had specifically told her he wanted nothing to do with the matter. And she had told him she understood.

Now he was being roped in to what? Babysit the woman carrying his baby? For what purpose?

And why the hell had she sent away her staff? He knew it was a tradition that his own dad had started when he was growing up, but why the hell hadn't she made an exception. He had not agreed to her having the woman staying with her in the first place and she had gone ahead and did it anyway.

Gritting his teeth, he drove into the driveway and killed the engine. He would check on her and be on his way, he decided. Then his mother could not accuse him of not doing his bloody part.

Pushing the door open, he stepped out into the cold and dragged his jacket closer to ward off the chill. Great, the snow which was supposed to have been flurries had now turned into fat flakes that were sticking to everything.

Tamping down the fury, he hurried up the steps and engaged the code to open the door. The place was silent, and he prayed the woman was fast asleep. He was striding towards the staircase when he heard what sounded like someone choking. And it was coming from the powder room next to the library.

Slowing his steps, he changed direction and made his way towards the sound. The door was open and the sight that met his eyes had him rooted to the floor. She was on the floor, her head inside the bowl and retching as if her stomach lining was being ejected.

Swearing viciously, he strode into the room and just stood there for a few seconds and waited for the nausea to pass.

He doubted she had heard his approach with the amount of noise she had been making.

His frown deepened when he realized that she was not getting up.

Instead, she crawled until her back was against the wall.

She had her eyes closed for a minute and when she opened them and saw him standing there, she blinked as if she was wondering if he was an apparition.

"What--" Lifting a hand to rub her mouth, she stared at him in shock. "What are you doing here?"

"Mother asked me to check on you." Hunkering down, he gazed at her. "And I suspect we should call the doctor."

"No." She shook her head. "Give me a hand, will you?"

He hesitated briefly before taking her hand and helping her up. He held on while she flushed.

"Now you can go."

"Not going to happen. What the hell are you doing downstairs?" He walked behind her as she went to the sink to rinse out her mouth.

"Why? Is it off limits?" The sickness was easing and the humiliation of being caught by him in such a position was taking precedence.

"Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

She spared him a glance, before making her way slowly out of the room.

"I wanted a change of scenery and decided to make myself some soup with roast chicken. That did not go well at all."

Clamping his hand on her arm, he stopped her as she was about to go into the library.

"What are you doing?"

"Helping you back to bed."

"I'm not an invalid and I--" She swayed against him as the dizziness swamped her. For a minute, she rested her head against his chest and fought it. Her fingers curled into his sweater as she took several deep breaths.

Conail felt a wave of something that had him holding her close, his hands rubbing her back soothingly.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked quietly, and she nodded.

"Let's get you back upstairs."

This time, she didn't argue but allowed him to lead her up the stairs and into the bedroom. She crawled into bed gratefully, her stomach empty.

Once she was settled, he went to the kitchen to prepare the tea.

The kettle whistled softly as he meticulously selected the tea leaves, hoping to brew something that would soothe her.

He had never fully appreciated what his mother had told him about her condition until he had walked in on her knelt in front of the bowl, puking her guts out.

Returning to her room, he found her half-asleep, her breathing steady. He placed the steaming cup on the nightstand and gently touched her shoulder. She stirred, opening her eyes slowly.

"Here," he said, holding out the cup. She sat up carefully and took it from him, her fingers brushing against his.

"Thank you," she murmured, taking a sip. The warmth of the tea seemed to bring a bit of color back to her cheeks.

He pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down, watching her.

"Do you need anything else?"

She shook her head, setting the cup aside after a few more sips.

"Just some rest, I think."

He nodded, leaning back in the chair but making no move to leave.

"I'll stay here, just in case."

She eyed him over the rim of the cup, studying him curiously.

"Do I have something on my face?" He sounded a bit annoyed as she continued to stare.

"No." She shook her head. "Just wondering what kind of threats or bribes from your mother that had you coming here."

He shifted slightly, and she was surprised to see the faint flush coloring his face. He had an interesting face, she thought. Lean and narrow, with a slightly crooked nose. His hair was sable brown with hints of gold, his eyes an inscrutable gray with hints of green.

"Are you done?" he asked tightly, not liking the fact that she was staring at him so intently.

"Just about," She responded mildly. "I heard somewhere that you did not want to get involved."

His eyes flared.

"The fact that I stopped by to see if you're okay is a one-time thing."

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.

"What?"

"Nothing. I know the last place you want to be is here and since I have abandoned my dignity and pride, I can safely say that you handled yourself well."

"Why thank you." He grated. "Now go to sleep."

He was shocked when she simply closed her eyes and with a smile that showed her dimples, she had gone under in less than five minutes.