The sheet over her belly bumped. Just a little twitch that he almost missed. Perplexed, he leaned over and drew away the sheet. Her soaked shirt had ridden up, exposing the smooth expanse of her stomach.
He remembered touching her, running his hands over her lush body, though it had certainly changed since they’d last made love.
He put his hand to the side of her belly, only to feel the tiny little bump against his palm. In awe he stared. It was the baby.
“Guess the little critter is okay,” Garrett mumbled.
Sam couldn’t form a response. He was too befuddled. Was this his child he was feeling against his fingers?
“You should get her out of those wet clothes,” Donovan offered. “You and Garrett both need to get into dry clothes. I’ll go warm up some soup and find out if we have antibiotics in our stash of medications. She’ll need that and something stronger than ibuprofen for pain. Not to mention I’m not sure what she can take being pregnant.”
Sam stirred and shook himself from his trance. Then he scowled. No one but him was going to see her naked. He focused his frown on Garrett until Garrett finally got the message and walked toward the door, muttering under his breath the entire way.
“Get the soup and find what medications you can,” Sam said to Donovan. “After I get her out of these clothes and into something warm, I’ll assess her injuries. When she wakes up and can tell us what the hell is going on and why she doesn’t want us to take her to the hospital, we’ll figure out what to do next.”
Donovan nodded and headed out of the room after Garrett.
Sam turned his attention back to the woman lying in his bed. His woman. His child?
He shook his head in denial She wasn’t his.
He fingered a strand of wet hair, pulling it carefully away from her neck.
“Where have you been, Sophie?” he asked softly. “What secrets are you hiding and who the hell wants you dead?”
Sudden rage rolled through his body. Whoever wanted her dead had also tried to kill his child. His child.
So many questions buzzed around his head he was about to go crazy. If he didn’t take care of her, she wouldn’t survive to give him any answers. She still shivered, even in her unconscious state. He needed to get her out of her wet clothes and he needed to get her warm.
He shucked out of his clothing and wasted no time getting something dry on. Then he returned to Sophie.
Carefully, he peeled the soaked layers from her body, paying special care to her injuries. A variety of bruises dotted her body, and his jaw tightened as he studied the dark fingerprints at her neck.
Her ni**les puckered and stood erect as chill bumps chased down her body. Her body was slim and curvy except for the mound of her belly. Sam stared unabashedly at her nude form, mesmerized by the changes her pregnancy had wrought.
She seemed too small and too thin. She’d been a little bit of a thing to begin with, but shouldn’t pregnancy fill a woman out? Make her more curvy? He’d certainly heard his mom complain about gaining a cup size with each of her pregnancies and how her hips had expanded exponentially. Other than her ni**les being darker, the only change in Sophie was the bump riding low on her belly.
“Is it mine, Sophie?” he whispered. “Why did you leave?”
He carefully slipped one of his flannel shirts around her and buttoned it up over the bandages Donovan had secured to her wound. He worried over the blood that had seeped through the gauze. Any blood loss couldn’t be good for a pregnant woman, no matter how slight the wound was. And then there was the fact she’d obviously been in the lake for a while. Her skin was still cold to the touch and her lips had a bluish tinge that he didn’t like at all.
So many questions. The smart thing would be to call Sean and get Sophie to the hospital. She was hurt and she was pregnant. But every time he looked toward the phone, he remembered the fear in her eyes and the conviction of her words.
She certainly wasn’t lying about a threat. Whether it was to her, him or both of them, he couldn’t afford to take chances with her life—and her child’s.
He crawled onto the bed, piling more covers over her cold body. He lay on his side and pulled her carefully against him, giving her the benefit of his body heat. Then he pulled the covers tight around them, sealing in the warmth.
Gradually she stopped shivering and seemed to settle. Her lips parted against his chest, and a breathy sigh escaped. She tried to nestle closer but whimpered when her shoulder bumped against his body.
“Careful, honey,” he whispered and pulled her hand down to wedge between their bodies so he could render her immobile.
“C-cold,” she murmured restlessly against his skin.
“I know. You’ll get warm. Just lie still so you don’t hurt yourself.”
“S-sam? Is that really you or am I still dreaming?”
He wasn’t quite sure what to make of her confusion. Shock and cold—not to mention a bullet wound—could make a person pretty damned “off.” Suspicion crept into his mind even as he wanted to discount it all as some bizarre coincidence.
Only an idiot ignored the obvious. Coincidence, my ass.
“It’s me, Sophie. I’m here. You’ve been hurt. I need to get you to a hospital. You need to make sure your baby is okay.”
It took everything he had not to interrogate her then and there. Only the knowledge of how very fragile she was restrained him.
She shook her head against him, then moaned low in her throat.
“Don’t move. It’ll only hurt worse,” he cautioned.