Kathryn, The Kitten by Lavinia Kent

Author:Lavinia Kent
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2011-07-01T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seven

Kathryn couldn’t ever remember feeling so warm and toasty—although her mouth felt quite dry. For the briefest of moments she lay back in bed and enjoyed, only gradually becoming aware of the warm body cuddled against her own. Turning toward the warmth she shifted and instantly a thousand needles sliced into her brain—and then her belly.

She rolled from the bed frantically, reaching for the bowl on the washstand. She clutched the basin, the china cold beneath her fingers and prayed for mercy as the remains of last night’s dinner left her. It felt like she was dying—and if she wasn’t, she wanted to.

She knelt on the bare boards of the floor as wave after wave of nausea swept through her, emptying her until there was nothing left. She hadn’t felt this miserable since the first months of her pregnancy.

The thought left her cold. Her head had not ached like this then, but the nausea had been the same, the same desperate surge from bed in the morning, leaving behind her husband’s warm body—

Robert was in her bed. She didn’t remember much of the end of last night, but Robert was in her bed.

Her head jerked up, pain shooting in all directions and she met his dark gaze, his eyes tracing her features to the mess of slop in the bowl. His glance dropped away and she could see the strain and pain in his features.

She swallowed, fighting back the bile that threatened to rise again in her throat.

He, too, was remembering those mornings, early in their marriage, when she’d tumbled from bed to the basin. He too was remembering the cause—and the outcome.

There should be something to say. Maybe if her mind had not been so blurred by pain and fatigue, she could have found words, but all that she had were feelings, bleak, miserable feelings.

Ignoring the pain she pushed to her feet, going to call for the maid to take the bowl away. All would be better when it was gone.

There was a tap at the door, the maid entered without comment—and left.

All was not better.

The air was a trifle clearer, but that was all.

Slowly she turned to face her husband, her mind still searching for the words that must be there. “I am sorry. This was not what I had intended. I only—”

“Then perhaps you should not drink more than you can handle.” His voice was sharp, his features cold, before he turned his body away from her.

Kathryn was glad she was still in, or at least mostly in, her dress from the night before. She would have felt horribly exposed with him glaring at her like that if she’d had only thin linen about her.

She wrapped her arms about her breasts, hugging the slipping neckline closer. “I said I was sorry.”

“I am sorry, too.” That sounded a bit kinder.

“I didn’t know the brandy would be so strong.”

“Couldn’t you taste the burn? Don’t you know anything?” Perhaps not kinder, after all.

Did he mean to be so cruel? She wrapped her arms tighter.

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