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‘I’m not about to give up on her,’ said Melanie, a trifle indignantly. ‘That’s the last thing I would do.’
‘Good.’ He smiled. ‘In that case she has a fighting chance.’
The ringing of the doorbell ended further conversation. The vet turned out to be a big, buxom woman with rosy cheeks and large hands, but she was gentleness itself with her small patient. The cat submitted to her ministrations with surprising docility and when she had finished examining her, the vet shook her head. ‘I’d be surprised if she’s more than a year or so old. She’s little more than a kitten herself. That’s not good for a number of reasons. She might find it difficult giving birth and in her state she hasn’t got any physical strength to fall back on. Being so malnourished I don’t know if she would be able to produce a good quality of milk for the kittens, should she or them survive the birth. But—’ she looked at them both ‘—she’s a dear little cat, isn’t she?’
‘What can you do to help in the short term?’ Forde asked quietly. ‘We want to give her every chance.’
‘The main thing she needs is rest and food and food and rest. Have you got a litter tray so she doesn’t need to go outside? It’s important to keep her warm.’
Forde shook his head. ‘But I can get one.’
‘Not at this time of night. Follow me back to the surgery and I’ll give you one of ours, along with a food made specially for p
regnant females and feeding mothers. I’ll give her a vitamin injection now and once she’s a little stronger she’ll need various vaccinations for cat flu and other diseases. I don’t want to tax her system by doing that now, and as long as you keep her confined to the house for the time being she won’t come into contact with other felines who might be carrying diseases. I think she’s due very soon, although it’s difficult to tell in a case like this. If she does begin and you’re worried for any reason, call me. I’ll give you my mobile number.’
She smiled. ‘Having done that we can almost guarantee she’ll start as I sit down for my Christmas lunch.’
‘That’s very good of you,’ said Melanie.
‘This is an exceptional case,’ the young woman said quietly. ‘I hate to think what she’s been through in the last weeks. Now, let her eat and drink little and often in the next twenty-four hours and try to get as much down her as she wants. But I have to warn you—’ again she glanced at them both ‘—the odds are stacked against her giving birth to live kittens. I can give you vitamin drops to put in her food but I’m afraid it might well be too little too late.’
Melanie nodded. ‘Nevertheless, we want to try.’
‘Good. Fuss her, talk to her and give her plenty of TLC. You won’t read that in any veterinary journal but in my opinion it works wonders with animals that have been ill treated. They understand far more than we give them credit for.’
The vet gave them a few more instructions and then she and Forde left, leaving Melanie with Tabitha, as she had decided to call the pretty little animal. She found she was on tenterhooks all the time Forde was gone. Forde had carried the basket into the sitting room for her before he departed, setting it on the thick rug in front of the fire, and after a little more food Tabitha had gone soundly asleep. Melanie tried to watch TV but her whole attention was fixed on the sleeping feline.
The vet had run through the signs to look for when the cat started labour and what to expect, and Melanie found herself praying the whole time nothing would happen before Forde got back. He’d know what to do; he always did.
The relief she felt when she heard him call to her when he let himself in with the key she’d given him was overwhelming. She flew out into the hall, her words tumbling over themselves as she said, ‘Did you get everything? Should we try and give her some of the special food right now? Where should we put the litter tray? Do you think she’ll let us know when she needs to use it?’ She stopped to draw breath.
Forde regarded her with amused eyes. ‘Yes, yes, litter tray by the basket and maybe.’
He looked big and dark and impossibly attractive in her tiny hall, and sexy. Incredibly sexy. Before she knew what she was saying, she blurted, ‘Will you stay here tonight, in case something happens?’
He smiled a sweet smile. ‘I didn’t intend to leave you by yourself, Nell. Now, we’ll get our patient organised with some more food and then we’ll eat ourselves, OK? Ham and eggs, something quick and easy. Have you got a spare duvet I can use tonight and perhaps a pillow for the sofa?’
‘You’ll never sleep on my sofas.’ His long frame was double their length. ‘I can stay down here with her.’
‘You need your sleep.’ He glanced at the swell of her stomach under the soft Angora sweater-dress she was wearing. ‘And I’ll be fine. Now, let’s see how she likes this food compared to the chicken.’
The food smelt quite disgusting when they opened the tin, the odour of fish overpowering, but Tabitha finished a saucerful without seemingly pausing for breath.
‘Cat caviar,’ commented Forde drily. ‘It should be too, considering the price. Remind me to come out of property developing and into cat food.’
Melanie smiled. It was scarily good having him here. And not just because of Tabitha.
They ate their own meal at the dining-room table. Melanie was glad she’d cleared it of paperwork a few days before and put a festive centrepiece of holly with bright red berries in pride of place. That, along with her small, fragrant Christmas tree decorated with baubles and tinsel in the sitting room and the cards dotted about, gave the impression she’d made some effort. In truth, she’d never felt less like celebrating Christmas. Or it had been that way until she had heard Forde’s voice.
Melanie had insisted on having Tabitha’s basket where they could see her while they ate, and after they’d finished the meal she carried their decaf coffee and the chocolate cup cakes Forde had bought through to the sitting room, while Forde brought Tabitha. The little cat looked out serenely from the basket as Forde set it in front of the fire again, apparently quite happy with all the coming and going.
The cup cakes were heavenly. Melanie ate three, one after another, and then looked at Forde aghast. ‘I’m going to be as big as a house before this baby’s born. Now the sickness has gone all I think about is food. I no sooner eat breakfast than I’m thinking about lunch and then dinner, and Christmas doesn’t help with all the extra temptations of cake and plum pudding and chocolate.’
‘Nell, you could never look anything but gorgeous to me.’ He lifted her small chin, licking a smear of chocolate icing from the corner of her mouth before kissing her as though no one else in the world existed. Her lips, as soft and warm as mulled wine, moved against his and she kissed him back, her hands sliding up to his shoulders and tangling in his hair.
He caught the moan that fluttered in her throat with his breath, his kiss deepening still more and his tongue beginning an insistent probing that brought every nerve in her body to singing life. Before she knew what he was doing he had moved and lifted her so she was sitting on his lap. Now his mouth moved from her lips to trail a burning path to her throat and down into the V of her cleavage.
Melanie gasped and he lifted her head to look into her flushed face. ‘I want you,’ he murmured softly, ‘all the time. At my desk when I’m working, in the car, at home when I’m eating a meal or taking a shower. There’s not a minute of a day when I’m not thinking about you. You’re in my blood, do you know that? For life. A sweet addiction that’s impossible to fight.’
