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Hayley sighed as she gave the bed another quick straighten. ‘Are you sure about the doctor? I can ring a twenty-four-hour clinic if you like.’
He opened both of his eyes this time to send her a hardened glare. ‘You seem to be having a bit of a problem right now understanding the word no.’
She gave him an arch look in return. ‘Yes, well, I’ve heard it said that married couples often end up very similar, perhaps it’s a trait that’s brushed off on me from you already.’
He closed his eyes again on a sigh of defeat. ‘Give me a break, sweetheart. Don’t kick me when I’m already down.’
Hayley felt totally disarmed by his uncharacteristic vulnerability, all her nurturing tendencies coming to the fore. She came back to his side and stroked his burning forehead again, her touch gentle and soothing. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said in a soft whisper.
He touched the back of her hand briefly with one of his. ‘Be a good little girl and let me ride this out alone. I’m not used to having anyone fussing over me.’
‘You don’t have to be alone,’ she said, but if he heard her he gave no indication of it. She watched his chest rising and falling, his breathing pattern evening out until finally she felt his body relax as he drifted off to sleep.
Hayley checked on him three times before she went to bed herself, but each time he seemed to be sleeping soundly. She had transferred her things to the room closest to his and, after spending a short time unpacking, she looked longingly at the bed. She had been up early and, with the added stress of pretending she was pretending to be in love, she felt as if every bit of energy had drained out of her completely.
She was furious with herself for being so weak. How could she have fallen in love with him knowing him as she did? He was the last person who could give her what she wanted in life. He had already ruined one woman’s life, abandoning his own son to pursue a playboy lifestyle free of commitments.
She got into bed and closed her eyes, willing herself to sleep so she didn’t have to think about the way his mouth had felt on hers …
She woke some hours later to the sound of Jasper being wretchedly sick in the en suite. She hesitated, torn between wanting to go to him, but realising he wanted to be left alone to maintain some level of dignity.
She couldn’t remember a time in the past when he’d been so ill. Even the common colds that had knocked her flat occasionally during her childhood and adolescent years had seemed to pass him by with little or no effect. She wondered if he’d taught himself self sufficiency from an early age due to the loss of his mother. He reminded her of a wolf licking his wounds in private, unwilling to show his physical vulnerability in case someone took advantage of it.
Deciding it was better to check than lie awake worrying about him, she put a wrap on over her nightgown and pressed her ear to the door of his room. ‘Jasper? Are you OK?’
It was disturbingly quiet.
She turned the handle and entered the bedroom, her eyes immediately taking in the twisted sheets, which looked damp with sweat.
The en suite door was slightly ajar and when she pushed it open she found Jasper slumped between the basin and the toilet, his face ashen.
‘Oh, you poor thing,’ she said, rushing to him. ‘Have you hurt yourself?’
‘I’m all right …’ he groaned, and tried to lift his head but gave up and let it drop to the tiles once more.
‘That’s it,’ she said. ‘I’m calling a doctor.’
‘While you’re at it you might as well call the undertaker as well,’ he said dryly as he closed his eyes against the light.
She rinsed out a face cloth and gently bathed his face and, leaving him propped up with towels and some pillows from the bed, went to the phone.
The medical clinic promised someone would be there within half an hour and she went back to him in time to see him struggling to stand upright.
She felt her bottom lip begin to quiver and tears pushed past her eyelids even though she blinked and squeezed several times to stop them.
Jasper dragged his blurry gaze to the source of the moisture that was dripping on his arm. ‘Please tell me those aren’t tears of joy at the thought of me meeting my demise,’ he said with a touch of irony.
She gulped back a sob. ‘I can’t bear to see you like this. I can’t bear to see anyone like this.’
‘I must look a whole lot worse than I feel, which is really saying something because I feel like a headstone with my name on it is hammering me over the head.’
‘The doctor is on his way or her way—I don’t know which; the receptionist didn’t say.’ She sniffed and wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.
Jasper felt a small smile tug at his mouth in spite of how he felt. ‘You’re starting to really scare me with all this wifely concern, baby girl. A guy could get used to it.’
Her big blue-green eyes met his, her small chin wobbling as she tried to return his smile. ‘We could go on one of those reality TV shows, you know—honeymoons from hell or something,’ she said. ‘I think we’d win.’
‘You could be right.’
