“Well, Thompson won’t mind a bit of company in the garden if you want to test your green fingers.” A sardonic smile played at his lips as she shot daggers of fury from her eyes.
“I hardly think that one night will make any difference to your Mr. Thompson.”
The subtle sound of rubber-soled shoes on the slate-tiled patio announced Thompson’s return. “Here’s our meal. I’m sure you’re ready to eat.”
“I’m not hungry.” Her voice distant, stilted, Holly leaned back in her chair and folded her hands on her lap.
“You will have something.”
“I can look after myself. Thank you.”
“I don’t know where you got the misguided idea that you can look after yourself. Look at you. You’re nothing but skin and bone. Keep this up and you’ll hurt the baby.” Ah, now that generated a response. He watched as blue fire flickered in her eyes and she leaned forward, placing her hands flat on the table in front of her, challenge glowing fiercely on her face.
“Well, maybe that’s up to me.”
Connor bit back the retort that sprang to his lips and forced himself back in his chair. Damn difficult when all he wanted to do was tie her down and force feed her. So, she wanted to jeopardise his baby? If she did, it would be over his dead body.
He needed to try a different tack. He hadn’t made his reputation by being bullheaded and intractable. Silently he dished up a small portion of the steaming fluffy white rice onto a plate, then ladled the sweetly scented Thai chicken sauce onto it and set it in front of her, before serving a larger portion for himself.
“Do you remember when you last had something to eat?” He lifted her fork and scooped up a small bite, holding it in front of her lips. “Go on, try it. It’s very good.”
He watched as Holly’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, inhaling the aroma of the perfectly prepared meal. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue and swallowed. Tracking the small movement of the muscles in her neck shot a bolt of electricity through him—an unnerving reminder of another time when he’d felt the play of those muscles beneath his lips, his tongue.
Disgust swamped him, swift and fierce. He didn’t need this, or the constant reminders of what they’d shared. She didn’t want to eat. So be it. He’d have her hospitalised if necessary. He didn’t need to wait on her hand and foot. And then, miracle of miracles, she parted her lips and accepted the food he held poised in front of her. He lowered the fork back to the plate and watched as she methodically chewed, then swallowed.
She dipped her head, not meeting his eyes. “I’m sorry, you’re right. The food is lovely. I can manage for myself.”
They ate without speaking, accompanied only by the lap of gentle waves in the distance, stroking back and forth on the silver strand of sandy beach visible only a few hundred yards away, and the chirrup of crickets’ unobtrusive accompaniment in the background. Enchanting scents swirled around them, borne on the gentle summer night air: Queen of the Night, rich and heady, and the salt tang of the sea a short distance away.
The irony of the beauty of the setting and the romanticism of the night wasn’t lost on Holly, who’d surprised herself by finishing the serving Connor had dished for her.
Thompson came to clear away their dishes and replaced them with a slice each of a light and tangy passion-fruit cheesecake, topped with fresh whipped cream and drizzled with mango sauce. Holly had devoured her portion, her taste buds savouring the delicate flavours. Now replete, she sat back and barely managed to stifle a yawn. She looked around with a heavy heart and tired eyes. This would be paradise under any other circumstances.
“You’re tired. I’ll show you our room.”
She jumped at the sound of his voice and looked up to find his eyes still burning into her. Had he taken his gaze off her once this evening? Holly couldn’t be certain, but she doubted it.
“We haven’t discussed what we’re going to do about the … the …” She couldn’t bring herself to even say the word baby out loud.
“Do, Holly?” Connor spun his coffee cup in his strong capable hands, hands that had driven her to heights of pleasure she had never dreamed imaginable. Hands in which her future now lay.
Holly stifled a shudder. “Yes, we need to talk about it.”
“There’s nothing to discuss. You’re pregnant with my baby. I’ll ensure you’re accorded the best care possible, and I’ll be there when he or she is born.”
“What if something goes wrong?” She had to ask. She had heard, somewhere, one in four pregnancies miscarried. Maybe she’d be that one in four. After all, it was early days yet. She had no idea whether there was some abnormality, some genetic predisposition, that would prevent a normal healthy pregnancy. A chill prickled over her skin. She had no idea at all.