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When Julieta had announced her pregnancy, the look on Faith’s face had been one of utter desolation before her naturally generous nature had reasserted itself and she’d masked that response.
With a fluent oath, he flattened his foot to the floor, wishing that he had chosen to use the helicopter for this particular evening out in the capital.
He didn’t like the fact that she was lying still and quiet next to him. He didn’t even know if she was really asleep or just pretending. And either activity was completely unlike her. Before their wedding she’d possessed boundless energy and she’d wanted to talk about everything.
To his surprise he was fast discovering that her sudden silence disturbed him more than her emotional insights and probing questions.
At least when she’d done that he’d known how to respond.
Now he felt out of his depth and that was an entirely new feeling for him.
He was also worried that she was so pale and tired. Had she been pale before Julieta had made her announcement? His mind scanned the past. She’d been tired since her head injury and he frowned suddenly as he recalled the number of times he’d seen her curl up on the bed and fall asleep.
What if there was something wrong with her? What if she was ill?
He felt a sudden flash of foreboding.
Increasing his speed, he arrived at the estancia in record time but when he pulled into the courtyard, Faith still didn’t wake. With a soft curse, Raul sprang from the car and threw his keys to a waiting member of staff. ‘Call the doctor. I want him at the Beach House in the next ten minutes.’
‘It’s two in the morning—’
‘I know what time it is.’ Unaccustomed to having his orders questioned, Raul threw the man a warning glare. ‘Just call him.’ Then he strode round to the passenger side and scooped Faith into his arms.
Her head flopped against his shoulder and she stirred for a moment but didn’t really wake up.
Trying not to think about how slender and impossibly fragile she was, Raul strode along the path into the Beach House and laid her on the bed.
Staring down at her, he hesitated for a moment and then bent down and gently pulled off her shoes. Deciding that the dress didn’t look too comfortable either, he slid it down her body with the ease of experience and then wished he hadn’t because she wasn’t wearing a bra and her pale, rose-tipped breasts seemed to be crying out for his attention.
Teeth gritted, Raul grabbed the cover and pulled it over her semi-naked form, the unfamiliar degree of self-sacrifice leaving his body aching with raw sexual frustration. If this was how it felt to commit an unselfish act, he brooded, then he certainly wouldn’t be making a habit of it.
As he tucked her in, Faith stirred and opened her eyes. ‘Did I sleep all the way home? Sorry,’ she murmured. ‘Not very exciting for you.’
‘I’m fine,’ Raul lied smoothly, relieved to see that her cheeks had a little more colour. Perhaps she wasn’t ill. She probably was just tired, he assured himself. After all, he wasn’t allowing her much sleep at night, was he? And they were indulging in an unusual degree of physical activity.
And her mind was obviously working along the same lines because she gave him a slow, sleepy smile. ‘Aren’t you coming to bed?’
For a moment he was sorely tempted and then he remembered that the doctor would be arriving soon. To reduce the temptation to slide under the cover and bring some colour to her cheeks by alternative means, Raul retreated to the chair in the farthest corner of the bedroom. ‘I’m not coming to bed yet.’
That statement was so out of character that it should have roused at least a question from Faith, but she simply looked at him. ‘All right. Well, don’t get too tired.’
Raul looked at her in exasperation.
Was that all she was going to say? What had happened to the probing and the questions? What had happened to the talking?
Feeling as though the whole situation was sliding out of his control, Raul decided to just give her the answer she hadn’t asked for. ‘I’m waiting for the doctor to come.’
‘The doctor? Are you ill?’ Her eyes widened and she sat up suddenly, her expression anxious.
‘Not me,’ he ground out, hastily averting his eyes from her breasts. ‘You. I’ve called the doctor for you.’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re always tired.’
‘I’m fine,’ she began and he interrupted her with an impatient glance.
‘You are not fine. You had a head injury and I want to know that these bouts of tiredness are a normal part of the recovery process.’
