A Convenient Proposal(49)
“Well…”
“Are you still so in love with her that you can’t bear to see her happy?”
He opened his mouth…and then closed it again because the automatic answer he’d started to give surprised him so much.
When was the last time he’d thought about Zelda as…well, as the woman he wanted to be with for the rest of his life? For six months, he’d been laboring under a sense of rejection and loss, but was he missing her—or simply the habit of being half of a pair?
Because these days, when he saw a woman in his mind’s eye, when he thought about who to talk to, spend time with…make love with all day and night…the face was Arden’s. The body in his dreams, the voice in his head, the laugh he wanted to hear when he encountered something funny—they all belonged to Arden Burke.
His foot had eased off the gas as he pondered, and the car had slowed almost to a stop. He braked and shifted into Park, then turned to face her. “Arden—”
But now she sat with her head against the back of the seat and her eyes closed.
“Honestly, Griff, I’m really not feeling well. I’d like to go home—” She stopped short, then continued after a pause. “That is, to the cottage. To bed. If you don’t mind.”
“No problem.” He made the turns that would take them back toward the farm. “Are you just tired, or really sick?”
“Both, I think.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.” He stayed close to the speed limit as he drove, torn between avoiding trouble and making Arden comfortable as soon as possible.
“Why don’t I make you some tea,” he offered as they stepped into the cottage, “while you get into bed?”
She shook her head. “Igor needs a walk first.”
Griff suppressed a wince. “I’ll take him out.”
For the first time since leaving the party, their eyes met and held. “Neither of you will like that.”
“We’ll manage.” He gave her a gentle shove down the hallway. “Get into your gown, crawl between the sheets. I’ll multitask in the kitchen.”
Her shoulders lifted on a sigh, but she did as he directed. With a cup of water heating in the microwave, Griff took the dog’s leash and opened the door to the sunroom.
Igor had been lying with his nose on his front paws, but when he saw Griff, he came immediately to an alert stance. Even without a voice, this canine could growl.
“Want to go outside?” Griff showed him the leash. “I’m here to do the honors.”
Igor’s hackles rose as he approached.
“Oh, come on, son. Your mom doesn’t feel good. Let me take care of both of you without a hassle. Tonight, anyway. Tomorrow, you can resume the hostilities. I, by the way, am a totally neutral party where you’re concerned.”
Igor glanced toward the sunroom door and then toward the kitchen. Griff could almost see the dog considering his options.
Then the hairs standing up along Igor’s back smoothed and his ears relaxed. If a dog could look resigned, this one was.
“So I clipped the leash to his collar,” Griff reported to Arden a short time later, “staying as far away from his chops as I could manage. We took the prescribed constitutional and now we’re in for the night. You have a cup of tea. What else can I do for you?”
Propped against the head of the bed, she looked nearly as pale as his mother’s white cotton sheets. “I can’t think of anything. You should go find yourself something to eat.”
“I won’t starve.” Unsure of what she was thinking, still marveling at the discovery he’d made only a few minutes ago, he went down on one knee beside the bed.
“Maybe I should stick around, in case you need help during the night.” He set his fingertips lightly on the back of her hand, thought it felt cold, a little damp. Her cheek, when he rested his knuckles there, was just as cool. “You don’t seem to have a fever.”
“I don’t.” She set the tea mug on the bedside table. “My stomach is upset, that’s all. I’m sure I’ll be fine tomorrow. Have dinner. See a film. Go back to the party and talk to your friends—you can blame your sudden exit on me.”
“I don’t think so. Remember, you’re my camouflage.”
She gave a slight smile. “That’s right. We agreed.”
The idea came from out of nowhere, but hit him hard.