follow that course, he wasn’t sure if he’d stepped into a dream or a nightmare. Either way, it was too late to walk out of it.
CHAPTER FOUR
HE WAS holding her hand.
The physical link generated a flood of warm feeling that drove away the chilling fear of the unknown and soothed the whirling chaos in her mind. She hadn’t died and moved on to where impossible things were possible. She wasn’t dreaming. Nick Hamilton’s hand pressed solid substance in a world that had shifted too fast for Meredith to retain a grip on it herself.
The initial confusion of finding herself on her bed, with him sitting beside her, quickly cleared as she remembered what had gone before. “I must have fainted,” she croaked in surprise.
Her voice startled him out of the private reverie he’d fallen into. His head jerked around to face her. His eyes had a dazed look. “Yes,” he said, his focus sharpening. “You still look pale. Would you like a drink of water?”
She started to prop herself up on her elbow. The room reeled. She fell back on the pillows, hopelessly dizzy. “Yes, please. It might help.” She closed her eyes, fighting a wave of nausea. “Sorry...”
“My fault.” His weight shifted off the bed. “Be right back.”
A combination of shock with too much wine on an empty stomach, Meredith reasoned, wishing she’d had the sense to eat properly. She didn’t want Nick Hamilton thinking she was sickly and unable to cope with difficult situations. He might think bet ter of her meeting Kimberly for even a short time.
The longing to see her daughter in the flesh rose so strongly, it overrode every other consideration. To actually see her, watch her in action, listen to her, hear how she felt about so many things... it would be worth any amount of heartache.
Fearing that the opening Nick Hamilton had offered might be withdrawn if his impression of her was negative, Meredith swung her legs off the bed and bent her head down to her knees, determined on regaining her equilibrium. By the time he returned with a glass of water, she had steadied enough to drink it.
The weight of liquid helped settle her stomach. As she put the emptied glass on the bedside table, she glanced up to thank him, only to find he wasn’t watching her. He was staring at the photographs on the wall and the grim set to his face did not reflect any pleasure in them.
Her heart sank as she realised what an overwhelming effect the display might have on someone who hadn’t seen it, who didn’t live with it. She didn’t expect others to understand her need for these all too few windows on the life of her lost child and she instinctively recoiled from having that deeply driven maternal need exposed.
“I didn’t invite you in here. I don’t invite anyone in here,” she burst out defensively.
The look he turned on her was so wary it made Meredith feel frantic. Was he in retreat from her? She made a floundering gesture at the photographs.
“I mean all this...it’s private,” she cried, desperate to win a sympathetic hearing. “You probably take Kimberly and everything about her for granted, having her around you all the time. This is the only way I have of seeing my child grow up.”
He shook his head, an appalled expression in his eyes, as though, until this moment, he hadn’t begun to comprehend the immense loss she’d borne since Kimberly’s birth.
“I gave her up because I thought it best for her. That doesn’t mean I love her any less,” Meredith asserted with vehement passion, trying to appeal to his sense of fairness.
“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly. “I had no idea...no appreciation of...” He gestured apologetically. “I beg your pardon for not being more...prepared.”
The father of her child, appearing out of nowhere to suddenly hold out the chance of a reunion—more of a reunion than he knew—how could he have any idea what it meant to her? She ached all over just looking at him, having him near, bringing back the memories of her double grief.
He backed off a step, his face creased in pained concern. “I didn’t mean to invade your privacy by bringing you in here. It was only to help. If you’d prefer to recover alone now...”
Anxiety sank its claws in. Was he seizing an opportunity to escape from a situation he was finding too fraught with emotion? Had she just ruined the one chance she might ever have of meeting her daughter? The last thing she wanted was to drive him away. So much was hanging in the balance. She sought frantically for ways to plead her cause and all she could come up with was to beg a stay of judgment.
“Please don’t go. I won’t collapse on you again.”
An aeon seemed to pass as his eyes bored into hers, searching, sifting, undecided as to what was right or wrong. His tension made hers worse. Every nerve in her body was strung tight, willing him to stay and talk until a more favourable position was reached.
“I’ll wait in the living room,” he said, clearly discomforted by the walls of photographs, the stark evidence of deprived motherhood and the overcharged atmosphere that had risen from its confrontation.
An intense wash of relief brought a hot flow of blood to Meredith’s cheeks. Hopefully it gave them a healthy-looking flush. “I’ll come with you,” she rushed out, afraid to let him out of her sight in case he had second thoughts. “It’s food I need. Once I’ve had something solid to eat I’m sure I’ll feel much better.”
She quickly pushed up from the bed, swaying slightly before finding her balance. He was beside her in an instant, ready to lend his support. Her eyes pleaded for belief as she assured him, “I’m not usually fragile.”
“Take my arm.” It was a firm command. “I’ll see you seated on your sofa. Then you can tell me what to do in your kitchen to assemble a meal for you.”
“I can manage,” she protested, intent on proving it.
“So can I,” he insisted, intent on taking control.
The need to show independent strength suddenly lost its importance. If she kept him busy with her now, she gained the time to impress him as a responsible person whom he could trust to act both sensibly and sensitively when it came to a meeting with Kimberly. It had to come to that. Had to.
She hooked her arm around his and felt his muscles harden as her hand slid over them. It made her feel skittish, uncertain if he was inwardly recoiling from her touch or reacting to it in the way he once had. Though it was madness to think of that now when so much else was at stake. Besides, the quickly sparked desires of youth hardly fitted into this picture.
Nevertheless, she couldn’t help being extremely aware of him as he matched his steps to hers in their walk to the living room. Her upper arm was tucked against the warm wall of his chest and their hips and thighs brushed, arousing little shivers of sensitivity that sharply reminded her of how intimate they had once been.
Breathing in his aftershave lotion—surely the same tangy scent he’d used then—tickled her nostrils, evoking the memory of how he’d brought all her senses incredibly alive that summer. Every smell had seemed exotic, every colour brighter, every sound magnified, every taste heightened, every touch...Meredith fiercely clamped down on that line of thought. It was stirring feelings she couldn’t afford.
It
