They had been brought up in a loving home and comfortable in the fact that they were loved unconditionally. Anger and rage had consumed him at first and then the incredible sadness. His first instinct had been to wipe it all away.
He was trying hard not to hate the woman for putting her through this.
"I will come with you."
"No..."
"That wasn't a question." He moved up to her calves and smoothed out the tension there. "I told you I will be there for you. It includes visits to your mother."
She studied him over the cup and felt love flowing through her. He was determined. She had rebuffed him enough, insulted him,bruised his ego and his pride and still he kept coming back. The man was pigheaded enough not to take no for an answer.
She had originally thought it was just sex, but oh wrong she was! The sex was fantastic of course, the love scenes she managed to conjure up on the pages pale in comparison to what happens between them. But it was the caring and patient way he was with her.
After seeing what her daddy went through, she had sworn never to give her heart to a man. She also had the secret fear of treating one the way her mother had treated her father.
"I told you I was a bad bet." She was close to tears and felt vulnerable, something she swore would never happen to her either.
"You're pissing me off." His deep voice was mild, but she knew him enough to realize that when his Irish lilt was more pronounced she should watch out.
"Well, I did." Suddenly, she did not feel like being reasonable. "My mother..." She sneered the word. "She is going to spoil it. I know exactly what she's going to say. What she always says." She was putting the cup down, when his voice snapped out. "Bloody drink it. All of it!"
She blinked at the mask of fury that came over his handsome face.
"How dare you..."
"I dare because I love you. Damn it." He put her feet carefully on top of the sheets. Even in anger, he was always careful not to hurt her, and the gesture twisted her inside. She wasn't used to his brand of caring and it made her feel like the worst kind of bitch.
Rising, he started to pace. Staring at him, she could not help but think he reminded her of a magnificent jungle animal about to erupt. "Are you projecting, Kiara?" He rounded on her, eyes hot. "Do you want our babies? Is that what this is about then? Is it inconvenient for you to be pregnant? Am I the only one happy that we are going to be sharing something tangible?"
Putting the cup down, even though she wanted to hurl it, she sat up, her own eyes flashing. "I'm the one going through the damn symptoms. I'm the one who feels like the worst kind of shit. So, don't you stand there and throw those questions at me. I'm entitled to feel like crap and won't apologize for it."
The silence that followed her outburst was heavy and strained. Then without a word, he turned on his heels and left the room.
Chapter 2
He had just taken the first two steps into the bedroom when he was running the rest of the way. The wide arched doorway of the bathroom allowed him to see that she was curled up on the floor in the fetal position.
Dropping down behind her, he scooped her into his arms and pressed his face against her neck, his face ashen.
"Baby. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Turning, she buried her face in his throat and breathed him in.
"I felt sick and just made it in time."
She sounded so tired that he wanted to weep and curse at his insensitivity. He had marched out of the suite, wearing his anger like a bloody banner, refusing to see her side.
Placing her on the counter, he filled the glass with tap water and held it to her mouth.
"Rinse," he said softly.
"Again," he waited until she spat, before giving her another sip.
Putting the glass away, he gathered her up against him and took her back to bed.
"What can I get you?"
She reached for his hand when he started to move away.
