Page 18 of Conail (Members From Money Season 2, #150)

She wanted him to find happiness and her instinct was telling her that he could find it with Yasmine.

He was battling something. The first step was his concern for her.

He had seen what the pregnancy was doing, and he was moved by it.

She only had to get him to become more involved, and he would never have the heart to leave.

She was placing the soup and tea on the tray along with napkins when he walked back in.

"I thought you'd left."

"You would have heard the alarm chiming. Is it ready?"

"Yes. I can take it—"

"No. I'll do it." He picked up the tray. "And I'll be staying the night."

She hid her surprise and joy with difficulty.

"I'll get the guest room ready."

He shook his head. "I'll stay in the adjoining room. I want to keep an eye on her in case—" He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "In case of anything."

"All right."

"Well, let me get this to her. She must be starving."

"Hopefully it will stay down this time."

He went a little pale at that.

"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.

"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 to be 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.

Glaring at him, she moved to the far end and tugged the sheets over her. And turned her back for good measure.

A slow smile touched his lips, and he was tempted to haul her up against him, but that would not do. In a few minutes he heard her even breathing and realized she was asleep.

Lifting a hand to the back of his head, he stared up at the intricate carvings on the ceiling. He was just concerned—that was it. She was in his life—in a purely professional manner and he was concerned about her. With a sigh, he closed his eyes and found himself drifting off.

He had no idea what woke him up. At first he did not know where he was.

The bed did not feel like his own and there was something pressing against his chest. Sometime during the night, he had turned onto his side.

Something else was happening. He felt strange and achy.

His eyes flew open and there was enough light shining from the moon for him to see that something was actually someone.

He woke up fully as realization hit him like a thunderbolt.

He was spooning her. She was snug against his body, his arm around her waist. And her bottom comfortably fitted to his crotch.

Christ Jesus! He was also as hard as steel, hence the pain he was feeling.

It was as if the blood had drained from everywhere inside his body to settle at one place.

Embarrassment and several conflicting emotions filled him. He had to extricate himself quickly before she woke up to find out what was going on.

He started with his hand which was tucked under her neck and managed to get that out without waking her.

The rest was easy. Just a matter of sliding away and off the bed.

Easier said than done. She was so flush against him, her skin warm to the touch and soft, that he unconsciously found himself reveling in the feel of her.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled away until he was detached.

Get up! The voice inside his head cried out.

Don't make it complicated. He pushed off the bed and stood there, uncomfortably hard and aroused as hell, his heart beating like a trip hammer as he stared at her. What the hell was happening to him?