Many thanks for your patience. The Muse left me for awhile but she seems to be co operating for a few days. I'm going to get as much written as I possibly can and stock up in case she abandons me again.
In the meantime, I wish everyone a happy and healthy New Year!

It was a week later that Sam awoke and started to the loo as a wave of nausea swept through her. Hearing her retching in the bathroom, Christopher went to investigate. Witnessing his wife over the porcelain throne heaving but producing little shocked him. Sam was almost always a picture of health. Wide eyed, he stumbled to take hold of a bath cloth to mop her face. He sat on the edge of the tub as he took hold of her hair and pulled it away from danger. And then wetting the cloth in the sink, he began to wipe her face. "Oh love..."

"I... I'll be fine, I think. Just need to let this pass. It hit me as I crossed the hall. But it is getting better now. "

Still wide eyed, Christopher's mind began to spin. There were many reasons why Sam could be ill but one thought gripped him, making his own head begin to spin. "Erm Sam... mmm, when did you... well, what I mean to ask is... your last cycle, it was... when?" His voice rose slightly as he finished his halting question.

Sam settled back, lifting her head up instead of hunkering over the bowl. Her expression was just as shocked as Christopher's had been just a moment before. "Cycle? Oh... yes, gosh... it was just last... no, no... must've been three... ooh, well..." Looking up at him mortified, she gulped. "Before you were hurt, emmmm, about a week... no, about two weeks before, I think. You don't really think I could be... that... but the doctor said I shouldn't... that we should wait."

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Christopher's own expression reflected some of Sam's chagrin. "Sam, I'm sorry. I knew... wull, just should have been more careful."

"More careful? You mean not... Oh no, Christopher Foyle, I won't have you blaming yourself for ... for doing something we both wanted. And we don't even know that is the reason for this morning. "

"Yes, of course," he agreed. "But if it happens again, you'll be off to the doctor."

"Yes, under the circumstances I should do that. "

Christopher watched his wife carefully the rest of the day, chewing his cheek, his lips pulling into a frown as he contemplated the situation. Inwardly, he was accusing himself of being careless with her health. He'd heard the doctor's words, knew they were acting foolishly, and yet he continued in the madness. And that's exactly what it was in his mind, madness, because he'd simply not been able to keep his hands off of her; not when she gave him a certain look. Wull, that will need to be rectified, he thought as he watched over her. However, he admitted to himself, that might be impossible for him.

It was a mystery to Foyle that at his age he was able to keep up with his young wife. He was generally fit enough despite his recent injuries, he thought. His ability to respond to her on demand had been a pleasant surprise for him, however. And now she would possibly suffer the consequences to his inability to control himself. He was angry with himself.

But her morning illness seemed to fade away and by afternoon, her usual appetite had returned. Aware of his somber mood, Sam suggested they take a walk later in the day and by mid afternoon, they found themselves strolling along High Street, peering into shop windows and enjoying a sunny day.

But by evening, Christopher was morose again and Sam had just about had enough of it. "Golly Christopher, one might think you regret our marriage. I know the thought of starting over with nappies and middle of the night awakenings is daunting, I mean... starting over for you, isn't it? You thought you were finished with all that with Andrew grown and long out of the house. And now... well, I think you regret marrying me. I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Christopher was taken aback. Obviously he'd let his dark thoughts go too far and Sam was feeling the effects of his self rebuke. "Nnoo, not at all. No, Sam. It's just..." he features twisted as he structured what he wanted to say. "It's just that I worry. If you are... pregnant, wull it could be dangerous for you. Can't... " he blinked to push back the emotions that threatened to spill over. "Now I've got you, can't imagine..."

Oh Christopher," she said worriedly as she moved to his side. "I didn't think... about that anyway. Just thought you didn't want to start over."

"Wull, am a bit old for it, don't you think? But I know you want children and I'm prepared for it, I believe. Just wanted you to be fully healed before it happened. Doctor was very clear about that. Blame myself for this," he said somberly.

"Oh no, Christopher Foyle; you are not to blame, well... not entirely anyway. As I recall, I had a part in it all too. You make me feel as if I don't matter when you do that... take the blame entirely on yourself."

He tilted his head slightly as he grimaced. "You matter, Sam. And it is precisely because you do matter so much to me that I am upset with myself. I should have been more cautious. We were told the risks and I've done nothing to protect you. "

"How would you do that, Christopher? Johnnies? You know how unreliable they are. And the only other solution would be unthinkable and most unlikely."

Lifting his head to look into her eyes, Christopher let one of his upside down smiles creep over his mouth but the smile didn't quite reach his eyes. "Unlikely? Damn near impossible, love."

Sam smiled then, feeling that his mood was changing. "We don't even know that I am... pregnant, that is. Perhaps we shouldn't let it worry us just yet."

"Mmmmm, p'haps not," he said as he gathered her to him for a tight hug. "Just want you safe, Sam."

Feeling warm and very safe in his embrace, Sam murmured. "I am safe, here with you."

Christopher chuckled softly. "Couldn't be less true, my darling."

She looked at him with sparkling eyes and once again Christopher Foyle wondered how he had come to be so fortunate.

That night as they prepared for bed, one of his eyebrows rose into his disappearing hairline when his wife appeared in their bedroom in one of her more transparent nighties, obviously with more on her mind than sleep. "Sam, I thought you understood."

"What? That we should be more careful? Seems that ship has already sailed, Christopher. Thought we might just enjoy the voyage."

Christopher had never considered himself one who read women well, but he was getting her message loud and clear. And as he stood there gaping at the vision before him, he couldn't think of an argument against her reasoning.

"Knew the first moment you came into my office all those years ago, knew you'd be trouble," he muttered as a smile quirked at the corners of his mouth. Sam laughed as she flung herself toward him. "And you love it."

Wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly, his face sinking into the hollow between her jaw and her shoulder and drinking in the scent of her, Christopher mentally agreed. He did love her trouble, this bit of trouble anyway. But as their night continued a little longer, he couldn't help the feeling that dark clouds were again on their horizon.