A/N: Story is back up and running. Will attempt another update before I head off on holiday. Enjoy :)
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He tucked her in before briefly touching her forehead with the back of his fingers.
"You're cooler, "he said, absently brushing her hair back from her face. "You've got some colour back."
"I feel better."
"Is there anything you need?" Just him beside her, holding her. Holding her and their baby. That would be perfect. "Anything I can bring you?"
"No, thanks." Then she yawned. "Actually, I'm a bit sleepy. That's all I need. Sleep."
"You'll be all right if I leave you while I call the doctor?"
"Don't bother Sally. I'm fine now. Honestly." Marron snuggled down against the lavender-scented pillow while his fingers gentled her temple. "Absolutely great." And she closed her eyes. She had to do that before she could bring herself to send him away. "Can you let yourself out, Trunks? Lock the door behind you?"
Trunks watched her for a moment. Her colour had returned but he still wanted to hear it from a doctor, and after a moment, when he was sure she was a sleep, he went downstairs. Dr Sally Maitland was listed on the fast-dial directory.
Her, "I'll be right there," did nothing to reassure him.
"Marron didn't want me to bother you, he said ten minutes later when he opened the door. "it's no bother. She's upstairs?"
She's drifted off to sleep? Is that a good thing?"
"The best." She went upstairs and looked in, but didn't wake her. "Is it her first bout of sickness?" she asked when she rejoined Trunks.
'I think so. She said it hadn't happened before. But it can't be... well... just..."
"Morning sickness?"
"Well, can it? I mean it's not the morning. Nowhere near."
"Yes, well, I'm afraid early pregnancy nausea can strike at any time of the day." She grimaced. "Sometimes all day. Give her some dry toast or a cracker when she wakes up, if she wants it. And if you can find a bottle of ginger ale about the place, she might find that helps the queasiness. I did suggest she get some in."
"But..."
Dr Maitland's eyebrows suggested that "but" wasn't a word she would countenance. "You weren't thinking of leaving her alone tonight?"
His thoughts – mostly revolving around his own stupidity – weren't fit for the ears of a lady doctor. "No," he said, after the pause grew uncomfortably long. "No, of course not."
"Good." She nodded, apparently satisfied. "Don't hesitate to call me again if you're worried about anything." And at that she headed for the door.
"That's it?"
"No point in disturbing her, Mr Briefs." And the lines on her harassed face arranged themselves into a smile. "I've seen all I need. Tell her I'll give her a call in the morning."
He went back upstairs. She was sleeping like a baby now. Her cheeks flushed with colour, her hair pale gold against the pillow. She looked so defenceless, so utterly desirable, and deep within him a siren call promised that if he just stopped fighting it, if he slipped into bed beside hr and held her, everything would be fine.
He turned abruptly and took the stairs two at a time. Before he succumbed.
Downstairs, dealing with the basics, clearing up the mess, it was easier to concentrate. He didn't have any choice but to stay tonight. If at any time in the future he felt the urge to come racing down to the cottage, he'd go and lie down in a darkened room until the feeling passed.
The next time he checked on her, she stirred. "How are you feelings?"
She focused on his from the depths of her pillow. Blinked. Frowned. "Trunks? You're still here? I thought you'd be long gone."
"Of course I am still here," he snapped. "Did you think I'd walk out and leave you?" he could have phrased that more carefully. What else would she think? "I came here to talk to you. And your doctor assumed I would be staying."
"You called Sally?"
"I thought you were ill. Having never been in this situation before, I wasn't aware that morning sickness doesn't necessarily mean 'morning' sickness."
"Confusing, isn't it? And you didn't get any supper, either."
"I'm not helpless. Marron. I don't need waiting on. Quite the reverse in fact. I'll get something for you. She suggested dry toast," he added.
"Yummy," she said, unenthusiastically.
"That's a thumbs-down for dry toast, is it?" She made a thumbs-down gesture. "What would you like?"
Marron eased herself up into a sitting position and knew exactly what she wanted. Trunks had arrived at her cottage, a leather-clad, macho man of the world, determined to put an end to this relationship, certain that it was simply a matter of haggling over how much it would cost him. The idiot. Now he was hovering anxiously in her bedroom doorway, trapped by his own conscience and clearly wishing he was anywhere else.
There was something utterly endearing, she thought, about a man totally out of his depth. That look of helplessness was irresistible.
Controlling an errant sigh, she resisted the urge to tell him what she wanted most in the world. She'd promised herself that she wouldn't do a thing that would give him cause to accuse her of entrapment. Not a thing. Bit keeping him at arm's length was proving to be more difficult than she had anticipated – considering she's just been very, very sick. So she concentrated on food instead. That was a surprise too.
"I'd like a sandwich."
"I can handle that."
"Plain wholemeal bread, no butter," she began. "Pile on the lettuce – not cold from the fridge, get it from the garden. You'll find some I've brought on under a cloche."
"Marron, it's the middle of the night," he protested.
"Is it?" She glanced at the window. "Don't worry, you'll find a torch by the back door."
"Oh, right. No problem, then, "he said, with on the faintest suggestion of irony.
"Then cover the lettuce thickly with mayonnaise – "
"Mayonnaise?" This time he did look concerned. "You're quite sure about that?"
"Mayonnaise," she repeated firmly, "topped with a layer of sliced dill pickle." And she smiled. "That would be perfect."
_______
Terrific. Morning sickness, closely followed by food fads. All in one evening. He should have listened to the voice of reason and stayed in London, Trunks decided as he toured the pitch black garden looking for lettuce. Except Marron would have been alone when she'd been sick.
There would have been no one to make sure she was all right. No one to call the doctor. Okay, so he'd panicked unnecessarily. But what if it had been something more serious? He wouldn't have been here.
He didn't want to be here.
But as he constructed her nightmare sandwich it occurred to him that there was finally something that he could do to help, something he could organise that would allow him to keep a safe distance between them and at the same time ease his nagging conscience.
