Page 30 of Bryson

"I must be a madman," he muttered harshly as he swung his legs off the bed.

Scrambling up against the pillows, she gripped the sheets to cover herself with. Her body was still vibrating.

"We can..."

"No!" Swinging towards the recessed cabinet near the massive fireplace, he jabbed at the button. As soon as it glided out, he snatched a bottle of blended whiskey. Pulling out the cork, he drank straight from the bottle.

"You almost had a miscarriage." He turned towards her, eyes flashing. "I'm not some animal that cannot control himself when faced with... Just no, okay? I'm sorry, I'm going to sleep in the other room."

"You can't..."

"If you need anything, just call. I'm sorry, I can't stay in here with you." Taking the bottle with him, he left through the adjoining room, slamming the door shut behind him.

Flopping back on the pillows, Julianne closed her eyes and blew out a breath. She had initiated it. She had known exactly what she was about and had initiated the foreplay. She had wanted to feel him inside her. Her flesh quivered in acute awareness. She could still feel his mouth on her skin, the tingle of her nipples where he had feasted. Shoving the sheets off her, she reached for her nightgown and slid it over her head. And felt the loneliness encompassing her.

It was pathetic that she was learning that she was having a very difficult time sleeping without him.

He stood by the side of the bed staring down at her. She was mushed up on the pillows, one hand clutching the pillowcase. The sheets had slid down around her hips and she had one shapely thigh drawn up to her waist. Her hair was streaming over the white cotton. He could see her by the aid of the light from the full moon, the same light he had used to navigate around the room stealthily as he got dressed.

He had barely gotten three hours' sleep and the pounding in his head warned him that the three-quarter bottle of scotch he had imbibed was a very bad idea. But he had needed something to get him through the night. He was accustomed to sleeping next to her. It was funny how that had fallen back into place. After she left, he had bunked with his men in the barns or out in the open, because he had not wanted to face the big empty bed where they had shared so many wonderful nights.

Now she was back and it was as if she had never left. She had fitted right in. He could not sleep without her. It was disturbing how much he depended on her. How much he needed her. It scared him to his very bones.

She had admitted finally that it had been hell for her to be without him, but she still would not commit.

But he was still anxiously dreading that she would decide that it was time for her to leave. To his shame, that had been his greatest fear when she was miscarrying. That she would lose the baby and decide that there was nothing keeping her here after all. He wanted her with him. He wanted to convince her that they should get married, make things permanent, but he was afraid of scaring her off.

Leaning forward, he gently drew the sheets far enough to cover her shoulders. Touching her cheek gently, he relished the feel of her satiny skin before turning on his heels and leaving the room.

Barbara decided that it was time to face the woman living in her home. She had issued instructions to the staff to ensure that she was fed and taken care of, because that was what her son wanted.

But she had been avoiding going into her son's suite because she did not want to face her.

"I will take the tray up," she told the maid briskly. Ignoring the woman's surprised look, she took the laden tray from her and made her way up the stairs. She had been up since before dawn, dressed and ready to tackle the day's activities. There was a tour bus due in the morning, and the movie crew had requested that filming be done in the east side of the ranch. Bryson had left itall in her hands and she had instructed her assistant to deal with the matter, warning her to make sure that they stuck to their designated areas.

Then she had a luncheon meeting with some of the ladies of the committee in charge of homeless children. Her day was full. So was her son's. She had seen the utter weariness on his face when he downed three cups of coffee before heading out.

She entered the suite without knocking, taking the time to look around the neat and tidy sitting room, before pushing the bedroom door open.

Instead of seeing the woman in bed, Barbara was surprised to see her dressed in what looked like a yoga outfit and lying flat on a mat.

"Oh, please put the tray on the table, I'll get to it in a minute. Thanks."

She had her arms lifted, palms clasped together.

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Julianne's eyes flew open and she scrambled to her feet hastily at the sound of the familiar voice.

"Mrs. McNab!" Reaching for a towel at the edge of the loveseat, she dabbed at the moisture on her face. "You're here..." Her eyes flew to the tray. "You brought me breakfast. Why did you... I did not expect you."

Barbara felt a perverse kind of pleasure at how flustered the younger woman was. Taking a seat on an elegant tan and gold cushioned chair, she crossed her legs at the ankles. "Evidently. I decided to come and have a talk with you."

"About what?" Julianne was not prepared for the woman and honestly, if, while she was here, she never encountered her, it would have been a bonus.

"You're the woman carrying my son's child."

"And that never seemed to make an impression on you before."