Rigid with dissatisfaction at that response, Nik backed away as Betsy levered herself upright and then, without a jot of warning, her eyes rolled up in her head and she just dropped where she stood without a sound. Betsy had fainted. There was something seriously wrong with her. Nik, usually ice cool in a crisis, experienced an intense wave of panic as he scooped her up and strode out to the hall again, where their housekeeper, Edna, was supervising the removal team.
‘Oh, dear, has Mrs Christakis fainted again?’ Edna prompted in a mild tone of acceptance as she moved towards him.
‘Again? You mean this has happened before?’ Nik pressed in consternation.
‘Some women are prone to it in early pregnancy,’ the older woman told him calmly. ‘We all watch out for her as best we can.’
Nik pictured Betsy fainting as she crossed a road and falling beneath the wheels of a car. He saw her tumbling downstairs and breaking her neck. Even when he envisaged her falling and simply bruising herself he felt sick, and determined that it wasn’t going to happen any more. Having a baby could kill her, he reflected in horror. He couldn’t have her fainting all over the place; it was too dangerous, too risky. He needed proper medical advice and somewhere to keep her safe.
Betsy drifted back to consciousness to find that she was lying across Nik’s lap in the back of a limousine. ‘Where on earth are we going?’ she whispered, her fingers fluttering up to brush her clammy brow. ‘I did it again, didn’t I? Sometimes if I stand up too fast I pass out. Sorry if I gave you a fright. I’m just so tired—’
‘I’m taking you to see a doctor—’
‘That’s not necessary—’
‘When you’re ill I decide what’s necessary.’
‘But I’m not ill. I’m only pregnant,’ Betsy countered gently, recognising his concern and his stress level. Nik did not like the unexpected. In the same way she knew that every piece of furniture he had taken with him would be returned to pretty much the same position it had occupied eight months earlier. He had a thing about familiar order and structure, which had once thoroughly irritated her because she liked to move stuff around and try it in different places. But then everyone had their little quirks and preferences, she conceded ruefully.
‘I think you need to rest,’ Nik spelt out.
Her nose was almost buried in his shirtfront and the musky, sexy scent of his skin was so familiar it made her eyes prickle with tears. Her fingers clenched round the front edge of his jacket and she lowered her lids. She loved him but that didn’t mean she could live with him again or raise their child with him. It would mean a return to being a business widow because he would always be travelling, unavailable when she needed and wanted him. It would be lonely and thankless because he wouldn’t appreciate how much she missed him. Their child would hardly see him, would even struggle to recognise him when he was away for weeks on end. Was a part-time father better than none at all?
Odd electronic beeps and loud voices roused her again.
‘Betsy, tell them that you know where you’re going,’ Nik instructed, turning up her face to horrendously bright lights so that she shut her eyes fast again.
‘’Course I do,’ she mumbled, willing to say anything if it meant being left in peace again.
‘My wife can’t help being unwell,’ he breathed, anger in his voice now fracturing his Greek accent as he tightened his arms round her.
Her head was pounding and the familiar weariness settled back over her like a blanketing fog because it had been so many long weeks since she had enjoyed a decent night’s sleep. She blocked the anxious thoughts battering to be heard inside her heavy head; she would think through all the complexities of her marriage and Nik with a clearer head some other day...