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‘What?’
‘Let’s call a temporary truce to all this nonsense. You say I don’t know you. So show me the real Violet Barringhall underneath all this stiff upper lip thing that I assure you has got quite tedious.’
The offer tantalised and tempted. But it felt one-sided, especially in the light of her own thoughts about him only minutes ago. ‘What do I get in return?’
‘Reciprocity.’ Before her senses could jump in wild giddiness at the offer, he added, ‘Up to a point.’
Disappointment bit deep. ‘You’re already ring-fencing your offer?’
An inscrutable veil descended over his face. ‘I’m not in the habit of offering myself up carte blanche to anyone. I’m not going to start now.’
Disappointment turned to hurt. Why was she surprised? She was just another being beneath his regard, one who just happened to be carrying his child.
But since it was clear Zak intended to claim this child in one way or another, wasn’t she better off knowing the man better? Knowledge was power, wasn’t it?
About to grudgingly accept his offer of a truce, she snatched in a breath as another scent pervaded her nostrils. Geraldine, the housekeeper, was probably preparing another delectable snack. But not one Violet’s
senses appreciated. She felt her stomach fold in on itself as nausea rose, harsh and fast.
The frantic need to make it to the bathroom, to not disgrace herself, had her ducking beneath his arm.
‘Violet?’ Zak reached for her, concern etched into his face.
She shook her head, fleeing towards one of the endless bathrooms in the villa. She barely made it before emptying the contents of her stomach into the bowl.
Over and over her insides surged as the mild morning sickness she’d experienced only once three days ago and had foolishly believed had permanently disappeared returned with a vengeance.
She’d dislodged her hat during her mad dash, and now she felt strong, gentle hands gather her hair in a loose hold, away from the trajectory of her humiliation. Squeezing her eyes shut, she willed the nausea down, grasping for a modicum of self-respect. Just as another bout hit her hard.
‘Easy, carina,’ Zak crooned in a deep, low voice, one hand sweeping down her back in a gentle caress.
Spent and breathless, she laughed. Or at least attempted to. ‘There’s nothing easy about morning sickness. It’s horrible and humiliating and...’ She stopped, closed her eyes as tears threatened to compound her misery.
‘Si, I get the picture.’
Opening her eyes, she glared at him. ‘And you standing there, looking like the spokesperson for health and vitality isn’t helping, trust me.’
‘I shall locate my sackcloth forthwith,’ he said with deep solemnity.
Against all sense of self-preservation, her lips curved in a small smile. ‘This isn’t funny.’
‘No,’ he agreed.
‘Stop trying to humour me.’
Again he nodded. ‘How can I help, Violet?’
Utterly disarmed by the offer, she stared nonplussed for several seconds before reason kicked in. All this was for his child’s benefit. Nothing more. ‘You can go away.’
‘No. I believe you were about to accept my offer of a truce before this unfortunate incident. Let’s not ruin the progress we were making.’ The words slid smoothly from his lips, one hand held out to her while the other flushed the toilet.
Perhaps she was weak. Perhaps she was tired of this chilly standoff that had achieved nothing but a stalemate and fleeting satisfaction at childish needling.
Before she could stop herself, Violet slid her hand into his. He helped her up and led her to the marble-topped sink. From the discreet little vanity, he took out a bottle of mouthwash, poured a measure in a glass and handed it to her.
‘Thank you.’
While she rinsed her mouth, and welcomed the minty taste that replaced the vileness, he ran a towel under cool water and dabbed it against her temples.
