Passion Becomes You

At least he saved her the ultimate humiliation of watching her while she was wretchedly sick, caught off balance by the urgency with which she had thrust him out of her way so that she could run to the bathroom. By the time he had joined her there, she was already hanging weakly over the bowl, and after a moment’s stillness he turned and walked away.

She was sitting limply on the edge of the bath when he returned. He said nothing, but there was a grimness about him as he reached behin

d her for the bath sponge then ran it under the wash-basin tap before squatting down to apply it to her hot, clammy face and neck.

‘You’ve lost weight,’ he observed. ‘How the hell does a woman in your condition lose weight?’

She shook her head, unable to utter anything at the moment while she fought this never-ending battle with herself. It didn’t help that he was so close, the warmth of his body and the familiar subtle scent of his aftershave making her head whirl all over again.

‘Why did you do it, Jemma?’ he gruffed out suddenly. ‘What did I ever do to make you mistrust me so?’

‘I didn’t mistrust you,’ she sighed. ‘I just—mistrusted our relationship.’

He lifted her chin with his hand, his black eyes boring into her weary ones. ‘Yet I offered you more than I have ever offered any woman. Did this count for nothing?’

‘How arrogant,’ she scoffed. ‘You offered to make me your kept woman and went out of your way to make your opinions on marriage clear! Just as you were very clear about your opinions on women who set out to trap men by getting pregnant!’ Impatiently she knocked his hand away, then picked up a towel to dry her face. ‘You didn’t leave me much choice, did you?’ she muttered finally.

He didn’t answer, but his expression revealed enough for her to know she had managed to make him think.

‘Tell me why you look so pale and thin,’ he demanded on a complete turn-about of subject.

Jemma grimaced to herself. What cannot be defended, must be ignored! she noted drily. ‘I’ve been ill, I told you,’ she said, ‘with the flu.’ She lifted an unsteady hand to her hollowed cheek. ‘It—dragged on a bit, but I’m beginning to recover now.’

He ran his eyes over her. ‘And the child?’ he asked. ‘Has he suffered through this—flu?’

She found her first smile for that, a rueful one that Leon could not begin to understand. ‘No,’ she said. ‘He hasn’t suffered.’

Something passed over his face, a look gone before she had a chance to interpret it, but it had a disturbingly relieved quality about it. He threw down the sponge and straightened, then seemed uncertain as to what he should do next.

‘Are you all right now?’ He ended up referring to her for advice. ‘Should you lie down for a while or something...?’

‘I’m fine now,’ she assured him flatly. ‘Thank you.’

He frowned. ‘Then why are you still sitting there,’ he wanted to know, ‘as if you have decided to take root?’

Jemma glanced impatiently at him. ‘Because my legs are not quite ready to support me yet, that’s why!’

‘Then why didn’t you say?’ Instantly he was gathering her up in his arms and walking out of the bathroom. ‘Where?’ he enquired, stopping in the hallway.

‘The kitchen,’ she said, feeling the bitterness of helplessness bite at her nerves. ‘I need a cool drink.’

He nodded, moving smoothly through the kitchen door to deposit her carefully on a chair. ‘Stay there, I’ll get it.’ He went to the fridge, bending to peer inside then coming out with the jug of orange. ‘Will this do?’ He looked at her questioningly.

She nodded and he busied himself then, finding a glass. He put it down in front of her then poured out the orange.

‘It looks disgustingly weak to me,’ he said, eyeing the mixture dubiously.

‘It’s how I like it.’ She didn’t add it was the only way she could take it.

‘Do you mind if I refrain from joining you and make myself a coffee instead?’ he requested.

‘Help yourself,’ she invited, adding drily, ‘So long as you don’t place it under my nose, that is.’

‘Your stomach is that sensitive?’ He had moved over to the kettle and was checking the level of water inside.

‘Only when I laugh,’ she joked, feeling at least some of the tension ease out of her overwrought muscles.

He turned and grinned at her. ‘That bad, eh?’