She nodded and closed the door. Five minutes later, she walked out fully dressed. He reached for her hand when she started to make her way toward the bed.
"No. We're going to my rooms."
She started to shake her head, but he simply led her out of the room. He had to stop several times as the pain doubled her over. When they finally reached his bedroom, he carefully led her up the steps and pulled the sheets aside for her to get beneath them.
"A warm washcloth," she said between her teeth as the wave of pain came again. "And some painkillers."
"Of course." He rushed to do her bidding, coming back with the piping hot cloth and placing it across her tummy before handing her some Tylenol and a glass of water.
Taking the glass from her, he waited a beat before leaving to go and make the tea.
His hands were shaking so much he could hardly turn the knob on the stove. Selecting a box of mint medley, he put one in a cup and stood there with his fists clenched. So much for his plan, he thought bitterly.
Jerking his head at the shrill whistle of the kettle, he stirred himself and turned off the knob. Pouring water over the pouch, he added a spoon of honey and placed the cup of tea on a small tray.
She was propped up on the pillows, her head tilted back.
Placing the tray over her lap, he sat on the edge of the bed. "Want another warm towel?"
She nodded.
Without another word, he took away the one before and went to the bathroom to get another.
"Thanks," she muttered when he placed it under her sweater, square onto her stomach.
"Er-I'm sorry about the sheets. I know they're very expensive and the blood won't come out. And the mattress-"
"Screw that!" he exploded, making her jump. "Do you think I give a crap about some sheets and the mattress? They can easily be replaced. I'm worried about you. I-" He closed his eyes briefly and lifted his hand to rub the back of his neck. "I'm sorry." Taking a deep breath, he tried again. "I know several doctors, top ones in their fields. Dr. John Wynter is a friend of the family, and he's a noted gynae. I'll give him a call in the morning and ask him to stop by."
Her eyes widened as she recognized the name. The man was a doctor to several major actresses. "You can't expect him to make house calls. I'll make an appointment-"
"He owes my family several favors," he told her with a grim smile. "He'll be here. Drink the tea. How do you feel?" he asked after she had taken a sip.
"A little better. The pills are starting to take effect, and the warm cloth and tea are doing wonders."
He nodded, searching her face for signs of pain.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, belatedly remembering that he had told her he would be gone a week.
"I live here."
"No." She shook her head. "You said a week."
"Oh." He dragged a hand through his tousled hair. "I finished up early and decided to come home. I should have called-"
"No. It's fine."
"Let me finish, please. What is it?" He stiffened in alarm when she quickly put the cup down and removed the tray.
"I'm going to be sick." She shoved off the bed and raced to the bathroom, with him following.
Hunkering down behind her, he rubbed her back soothingly, his face grim, hands trembling as he listened to her retch.
"Better?" he asked gently when she sat back against him weakly.
"Yes. Hopefully, that's the last surge. Thanks for holding my hair."
"No problem." He soothed her moist brow and dropped a light kiss on her forehead. "More tea?"