"I think that's a great idea. I'm exhausted. What about you?"
"I have a conference call to make."
"I was thinking I would make supper."
"No," he told her firmly. "You're going to take a nap, and I'll order out when you get up."
She nodded, walking alongside him as they climbed the stairs.
"All right, I guess I'll see you when I get up."
His hand clamped on her upper arm, stopping her as she turned towards the opposite direction.
"Where're you going?"
"To my room. I thought you wanted to work..."
"In my office." He steered her towards his suite. "Your rooms are here now, Indigo. I meant what I said before."
"Oh." Pleasure burst inside her and threatened to overwhelm. "Okay."
To her disappointment, he let go of her as soon as they stepped into his bedroom. "I've stoked the fire and added more chips." He stood there looking at her for a minute as if undecided what to do next. And he was indecisive. He wanted to climb into bed with her. Now that he had tasted her, he wanted more. But he had gotten carried away downstairs, her condition and the excruciating pain she had endured all but forgotten, swept away by the intense passion.
He could not afford another repeat. And just being in the same room with her was making it very difficult for him to concentrate on the simplest task.
"Well..." Clearing his throat, he turned away reluctantly, shocked at how much he wanted to be with her. "Have a nice nap."
Have a nice nap? Christ! What was wrong with him? Suddenly he was turning into a gauche schoolboy on his first date with the cheerleader.
"Thanks."
With a nod, he walked out of the room in the direction of his office and closed the door behind him.
Walking up the steps leading to the bed was an act of pure will because her feet felt leaden and her knees were weak. Sinking down, she rubbed her hands together. Had she dreamed the last hour or so? she wondered.
In fact, since yesterday it had been like a dream come true. She had opened her eyes in the most agonizingly painful time of her life to see him rushing towards her, and he had not left her side since. He had cared for her as tenderly as a mother would care for her child.
Her own mother had not even been that caring. When Indigo first started her periods, it had come with pain, not as muchas the years progressed, but there had been awful cramps and times when she could not go to school. Her mother had dumped some painkillers in her hand and a glass of water and told her to try and get some sleep. It was her dad who had put out the effort and insisted she see a doctor when it started happening.
But last night, Brant had endured, and she was sure it had been moments of acute embarrassment for him. He had followed her into the bathroom, held her hair and wrapped his arms around her when she felt weak and spent.
He had cleaned up after her, wiped the blood off the floor and removed the sheets. And despite the fact that he knew she could have bled through his own sheets, he had insisted she sleep in his bed.
Not to mention the fact that he had made her tea, brought her warm cloths and slept with his arms around her. He had been there for her every step of the way, including calling the noted Dr. John Wynter. She still could not believe he had gotten the man to come for a home visit.
And he had insisted on the appointment being sooner rather than later. It made her wonder what kind of favor the doctor owed the family to have him hurrying to come and see her.
Sliding under the sheets, she plumped up the mound of pillows and closed her eyes. Her mind returned to the passage of time in the library. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she moaned softly as she recalled how his lips had felt on hers, how he had devoured her mouth and gorged on her nipples. They were still sore. She had stood in the shower, rubbing her fingers over them and feeling the jolts going through her at the way his mouth had transported her.
Nothing had ever felt so good and she wished fervently that she had not told him to stop. But she had to. He had been heading down forbidden territory. Sighing tremulously, she also recalled that he said he wanted a real marriage, that he wanted more than the arrangement they currently had.
She still had her doubts and fears. Brant was used to beautiful women, exceptionally beautiful women like that actress who had come into her store. But he had also shown his fury when she told him about the encounter and proceeded to do something about it. She had felt cherished and protected. He was playing the role of her protector, and it felt damn good.
This was the first step. The next was getting him to fall in love with her.
"Please, God," she whispered, casting her eyes to the intricately patterned ceiling.
But what if something was seriously wrong with her? A small voice sounded in her head. What if the reports the other doctor had given her were the truth? What if she was unable to conceive?