Page 14 of The Maid's Pregnancy Bombshell

‘What’s all this?’ she asked in the midst of the chaos of food being served and Ares sinking fluidly down into his chair emanating that calm, controlled assurance that was uniquely his.

‘I bought you some stuff,’ he imparted with an eloquent shift of one lean brown hand. ‘You won’t be up and about for a few days yet, so I asked your sister what you enjoyed.’

‘And what did you get me?’

Ares arose again to tip out a bag of books, bright cover designs catching her eyes, and she almost shrieked in dismay, her fingers clenching round one at the sight of a half-naked male with wings and a sword. Heat burned up from the centre of her and flushed her entire skin surface.

‘Angel romance,’ Ares said unnecessarily, trying not to smile, trying not to linger on the recollection of what she had said to him while still feverish. ‘A niche concept but, according to your sister, your favourite—’

‘I like fantasy books,’ Alana acknowledged flatly, averting her gaze from the colourful risqué covers as she crammed them all back into the bag with clumsy hands. If a woman could die from embarrassment, she would have died there and then right in front of him.

‘There’s a tablet there as well and it’s loaded with digital copies. I forgot to ask your sister your reading preference.’

‘This is so kind of you. Thank you,’ Alana voiced her gratitude between gritted teeth.

Ares lifted another bag. ‘And you like to knit...’

Knit?Alana hadn’t knitted anything since her school art exam had demanded she produce a handcrafted item. She looked into the bag at beautiful shades of wool and needles and several patterns and her tummy flipped. My goodness, he must think she was a really exciting young woman with her angel romance and her stupid knitting! Couldn’t Skye have lied and invented more exciting, glamorous pastimes for her benefit?

‘There’s other things there.’ Ares indicated the bags and sat down at the table where the first course of his meal awaited him. ‘I thought if you were feeling up to the challenge, I would take you out of this room for a while.’

‘I would love that.’ Alana smiled warmly, lifting her knife and fork.

‘We’ll have our coffee downstairs,’ Ares decreed as he leant back in his chair. ‘Have you a robe?’

Alana pushed away the lap tray and slid out of bed to head for the dressing room.

‘There’s a new one here,’ Ares divulged, rising to indicate the big shallow box still lying at the foot of the bed.

Alana returned to the bed and bent down to open the box. ‘Why would you buy me something like that?’ she asked uncomfortably.

‘I didn’t know what you owned in that line.’

Alana went pink, recalling that she had modelled neither the nightwear nor the lingerie for him, merely choosing sufficient to meet her needs behind closed doors. She shook out a slippery silky robe in a soft shade of green.

Ares was welded to her every move, his attention roaming from the full firm mounds of her breasts swelling above the vest neckline to the pert curve of her bottom before scanning the surprising length of her slender legs. The swelling at his groin was immediate and intense and his expressive mouth tightened. It annoyed him that he could still be so susceptible, and it struck him as a downright unforgivable response while she was still recovering from illness.

Alana tied the sash on the robe and walked to the door.

‘Slippers?’

‘I don’t have any. Didn’t think of them.’

Ares opened the door and then bent down to lift her up into his arms.

‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘It’s a lengthy walk and you’re not that fit yet,’ Ares told her levelly.

‘I’m fine.’

‘Your sister admitted that even if you were on the brink of death you would still insist that you arefine. I’m not listening,’ Ares declared, walking down a wide staircase with her firmly clasped in his arms.

‘You’re too bossy and pushy for me,’ Alana protested, striving to hold her own and act as casually as he did and as though the intimacy of his hold were not a trial to her.

But then possibly he was less sensitive and self-conscious than she was. But she couldfeelthe heat of his broad chest all along one side of her body, smell the faint tang of his cologne and was almost within touching distance of his outrageously perfect mouth. As he strode through an echoing hall, she breathed in deep, ashamed of the prickling sting of her nipples and the surge of heat between her thighs.

‘This is the orangery,’ Ares informed her as he laid her down on an upholstered chaise longue in a large room walled with lush indoor plants and a line of windows overlooking a lit winter terrace. ‘My housekeeper is bringing coffee for me and hot chocolate for you.’

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