Page 70 of Hayes

"I don't know. I want to say it's not, but it is a lot."

Using a finger, he trailed it down her cheek, his touch light. "I don't mind it one bit."

"I am not saying I do."

"Then what exactly are you saying?"

"It's a lot."

"Hmm." They were still intimately joined to each other, and he had no intention of being otherwise. Being inside his wife was simply magical.

His wife. The two words had a potent effect on him, so much so that he felt like whispering it over and over again.

"Hayes?"

"Darling?" Shaking his head, he returned her gaze, smiling at the puzzled look on her face.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking we should have some cake." He grinned at her narrow-eyed look. "And that I should feed it to you."

*****

They had one bad moment on the third day of their honeymoon. She had insisted on them going for a walk, even though the snow the night before had made the weather very icy and the path leading into the woods slightly treacherous.

They had walked for a mile when he noticed that she had started shivering even though he had made certain she was properly dressed and insisted that they return.

It was later that night; she woke him up when she brushed against him, and he felt the heat radiating from her skin and realized that she was running temperature. A very high one. And they were in the middle of nowhere.

"I shouldn't have listened to you," he said tensely. Rolling out of bed, he rushed to the bathroom to fill the bath with tepid water. Before he could rush back to get her, she was already leaning against the door jamb, her thin silk nightie already soaked.

"Are you ever going to listen to me?" Turning off the tap, he came to take her by the hand. Stripping off the nightgown, he guided her into the tub and used a sponge to run it over her skin.

"That feels good." she told him, rolling her eyes at the anger on his face. "I suppose I should apologize for insisting on us going for that walk."

"You think?"

"You cannot stay angry with me; this is our honeymoon."

"Which is spoiled by me having to worry about you." Sighing softly, he ran the sponge over her forehead and at the back of her neck. "Come on, let's get you out."

*****

Hayes lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck in an unconsciously weary gesture. He had taken a break because he could not stand to be in the room any longer. Besides, the doctor told him that he should go and walk for a few minutes.

"Your anxiety, although cloaked, is transmitted to your wife, because she can pick up the slightest nuance of your emotions." They had firmly guided him from the room. It had been ten hours since she had woken him up with contractions.

They had been mild, but he had not wanted to take any chances. He had called the doctor and his mother and had rushed her to the hospital. That had been ten hours ago, and he was scared spitless.

She had been watched diligently by him and his mother and had been monitored by her doctor, and the duration of the pregnancy had lulled them into thinking that everything was all right. Now he was not certain.

They were having a son. The news had filled them both with acute joy and they had settled on the name—Mark Johnathon, much to his mother's delight.

The nursery was decorated in a swirl of blue-green and Hayes' crib had been unearthed from the storage and cleaned up along with several of the priceless antique furnishings that had been his as a baby.

"Darling, I brought you a cup of coffee." Hillary hurried into the private waiting room, a look of anxiety on her face. "You really should eat something." she admonished as she pressed the steaming cup of coffee into his hands.

"I am not hungry," he told her abruptly. "And I really should get back in there."

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