Kitabı oku: «Penny Jordan Tribute Collection», sayfa 43

‘Oh, Grace and I got on well enough together. She’d lost a fiancé during the war herself and so we both knew the score. Kinda makes you think, though. When I look around me now, see all of you together… If I’d married Peggy perhaps my grandchildren would be here now. There’s nothing like having a family of your own, Brad.’

‘I have a family,’ Brad pointed out brusquely to him. And besides, she… my English girl… doesn’t want me, he wanted to say, but the habit of keeping his own problems to himself, which had begun with his parents’ death, was too deeply ingrained now to be overcome.

‘A man belongs where his heart is, Brad; that’s his true home,’ his uncle told him quietly.

His uncle was right, Brad acknowledged later as the first of the early-evening shadows started to fall and the family gathered around the fire, the little ones snuggling up to their parents, the older ones—the soon-to-be teenagers—hanging together in their own small, private group, too old now to want to mimic those they saw as the babies of the family by staying with their parents and still too young to be allowed to separate themselves from the family group.

Abe picked up his guitar; he was a good musician, with a tuneful voice. When Mary-Beth had first met him he had been the lead singer in a local group; Brad smiled to himself, remembering how he had come the stern, heavy older brother, warning her about getting involved with a boy who played in a band.

Abe started to sing an old folk tune familiar to all of them; the other adults joined in, their voices gradually swelled by those of the youngsters, the unlikely mingling of all their voices producing a surprisingly harmonious sound—rather like the mingling of the family itself, Brad reflected. But for him a vitally important note was missing—a vitally needed sweetness, a vitally important person.

Quietly he turned away from the fire.

On the other side of the lake his boat still waited for those all-important repairs, but his dream of sailing her had lost its savour. His life felt empty… he felt empty, he recognised.

His uncle had been right. His heart wasn’t here any longer; it was thousands of miles away across the Atlantic with a woman whose soft cries of love still returned at night, every night, to haunt and torment him.

Claire… Claire…

CHAPTER TEN

SHE was obviously the first to arrive for their lunch rendezvous, Claire recognised as the head waiter escorted her through the almost empty restaurant and into the conservatory, seating her at a central table with a wonderful view of the hotel gardens with such a flourish that she felt it was a shame that there was no one else there to witness it.

Giving him a warm smile as a reward for his professionalism and a compensation for his lack of a worthy audience for it, she refused his offer of an aperitif.

If she hadn’t spoken to the other two earlier in the week to confirm their arrangement she would have been tempted to think that they weren’t coming.

Her heart had gone out to Poppy when she had telephoned her and heard her subdued voice.

‘The most peculiar thing has happened,’ Sally had told her importantly the day prior to her telephone call. ‘Chris has forbidden me, on pain of total withdrawal of my chocolate-bar allowance, to talk about it, but…’

‘But…?’ Claire had pressed, but Sally had shaken her head regretfully.

‘I can’t tell you, but if it is true I just can’t believe… Although Chris says he always thought that…’

‘Poppy’s fallen in love with someone else?’ Claire had suggested helpfully.

‘Well… no… no…’ Sally had shaken her head firmly. ‘I promised Chris I wouldn’t say anything. It’s all a bit delicate, you see… a bit… well, a bit difficult… and, to be honest, I’m still not sure I believe…’ She had given Claire an apologetic look. ‘I want to tell you but…’

‘It’s all right,’ Claire had comforted her. ‘Poppy is in a very vulnerable position at the moment,’ she had added gently, inwardly reflecting on how much she would hate it if she thought that people were gossiping, speculating about her relationship with Brad, especially since the semi-public knowledge of their jokingly made vow of celibacy seemed to have added a certain piquancy to any gossip about their love lives. ‘Obviously Chris wants to protect her from any additional hurt; that’s only natural.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Sally had agreed, giving her a grateful hug. ‘You will let me know if there are any signs of cracks appearing in the walls of female single solidarity, though, won’t you?’ she had added more light-heartedly.

‘Certainly not,’ Claire had told her roundly. ‘It’s one for all and all for one and you’re the last person I would tell,’ she had added teasingly.

‘Mmm… well, I haven’t heard anything from Star,’ Sally had continued, ‘in simply ages. I know she’s been away a lot. Did you know, by the way, that Uncle Tim has consulted her about a new PR image for the company? Aunt Irene told me.’

Claire had made a noncommittal response, only too well aware of the fact that she had been avoiding Irene and all too well aware of how easily her sharp-eyed and even sharper-tongued sister-in-law could destroy the fragile barrier of self-protection that she was trying to erect around herself.

It was no use deluding herself, she admitted wearily now; there was no real protection, no real escape from the heartache of loving Brad. She might be able to banish him from her thoughts during the day but she had no control over her subconscious at night, and she had lost count of the number of times she had woken up, her face wet with tears, aching with loneliness and longing for him…

‘Good, I’m not the last, then.’

Claire smiled as Star came hurrying towards her.

‘Poppy not here yet?’

Claire shook her head as she smiled at the younger woman. ‘She will be coming, though,’ she told her. ‘I spoke to her the other day.’

‘Mmm… she may be coming, but if the gossip I’ve heard is true she won’t—’ Star broke off as Poppy herself came into the conservatory.

If the gossip was that Poppy had fallen in love with someone new, then her appearance certainly didn’t bear it out, Claire reflected compassionately as she smiled at the new arrival. If anything, Poppy looked thinner and more unhappy than she had done the last time Claire had seen her.

As she patted the empty chair next to her own in a motherly fashion she studied her discreetly.

Poppy had definitely lost weight and she was very much on edge, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she sat down and lowering her voice as she greeted them, even though they were the only people in the conservatory.

‘Well, I don’t know about you two,’ Star announced, reaching for the menu that the head waiter had left on the table, ‘but I am hungry and fully intend to celebrate our first three marriage-free months. At least mine have been—marriage- and indeed man-free,’ she added archly, looking questioningly from Claire to Poppy. ‘Have you two…?’

‘I don’t have any plans to marry,’ Claire told her hastily, mentally crossing her fingers as she acknowledged her inability to claim the true spirit of their pact.

‘Nor do I,’ Poppy echoed, but her face was slightly flushed and Claire could have sworn that she saw the sheen of tears in her eyes before she blinked them away.

Poor girl; was it her love for Chris that was the cause of them or was there someone else? If so…

As she made a pretence of studying the menu Claire sent up a small, heartfelt prayer that whatever unhappiness was presently clouding Poppy’s life would soon be lifted and that she would enjoy the happiness and fulfilment that a girl of her age should have.

And as she made her private wish it struck Claire how much she had changed… how much knowing Brad had caused her to change. Three months ago her prayer would not have been as heartfelt simply because she would not have known what the three of them were missing… what true emotional and sexual fulfilment was.

Now that she had known fulfilment, if only fleetingly and briefly, she hated to think of the two younger women seated at the table going through their lives without knowing it.

Women, her sex, she was convinced, no matter how strong or successful they might appear in public—in the eyes of the world—had a need to focus their lives at an emotional, personal level that was so deep-seated, so intrinsically a part of their nature that it could never be totally ignored.

That, she suspected, was her sex’s greatest weakness… and its great strength?

‘To us—to single, unfettered emotional freedom and to celibacy,’ Star toasted when they had all been served with their main course and the waiter had left.

Dutifully Claire raised her glass to join in the toast, but as the glass touched her lips she discovered that they were trembling slightly, her mind filled by an achingly clear image of Brad.

If she closed her eyes now she knew that she would almost be able to taste his mouth… his kiss… him on her lips in place of the suddenly too bitter sharpness of the wine. Now it was her turn to blink away unwanted, betraying, emotional tears.

Brad! If she could wipe away her memories, expunge the knowledge of how it felt to love him, of how it had felt to be physically loved by him—if she could forget for ever the sound of his voice as he’d gently coaxed her to confide in him… would she do so?

Claire was jolted back to reality as Poppy suddenly jumped up from the table, pushing back her chair, her face a sickly shade of grey-white, perspiration beading her upper lip.

‘I’d better go and see if she’s all right,’ Claire told Star, getting up. ‘You don’t think she’s suffering from some kind of eating disorder, do you?’ she asked anxiously, conscious of how very thin the younger girl looked and the way she had been toying with her food without really eating anything.

‘I don’t know,’ Star told her, ‘but if the gossip I’ve heard is true it’s…’ She paused as the head waiter came hurrying to the table to announce that there was a telephone call for her.

‘I’d better take it,’ she told Claire. ‘Will you excuse me?’

Nodding, Claire hurried across the conservatory. To her relief, when she walked into the cloakroom Poppy was standing in front of the mirror brushing her hair, a little more colour in her face than there had been when she had rushed away from the table.

‘I’m sorry about that,’ she apologised wanly to Claire.

‘It must have been something I’ve eaten. But… er… not here…’ she added hastily as Claire looked concerned. ‘I—’

‘Of course; you’ve been away on business, haven’t you?’ Claire remembered. ‘Your mother mentioned it when I rang to check if you were going to be able to make it for lunch. A conference, wasn’t it? In Italy?’

To Claire’s astonishment a dark tide of colour had swept over Poppy’s previously too pale skin, leaving it a bright scarlet.

Why on earth should her mentioning her business trip to Italy have provoked such a self-conscious response? Claire wondered as they both made their way back to their table, but she was too kind to draw attention to Poppy’s embarrassment or to make any comment about it when Star joined them.

‘So, same place, same time… same rules in three months’ time?’ Star said when Claire had settled the bill. ‘Unless, of course, either of you have been withholding anything…?’

‘Three months,’ Claire confirmed, quickly getting out her diary and flicking through the pages. ‘That’s fine by me…’ Did her voice sound as hollow to the other two as it did to her? she wondered.

Outside the restaurant, Star announced that she had an afternoon appointment with Tim. ‘That was him on the phone just now. He wanted to tell me that head office are considering the outline PR plan I put forward, but it seems that I might have to fly over to America to discuss things in more detail. Not that I mind, just so long as they’re paying the bills.

‘You’ve met this Brad who heads the business, haven’t you?’ she asked Claire. ‘What’s he like?’

‘He’s… he’s very… very pleasant,’ Claire managed to stammer, and ignored the way Star’s eyebrows lifted interrogatively as she waited for her to expand on her admittedly unenlightening comment.

‘I… I didn’t… I hardly knew him, really,’ she told her bleakly, telling herself that it was, after all, the truth; the man she had thought she had known could not really have existed, otherwise he would not have walked out of her life in the way he had. The man she’d thought Brad was had been created by her own imagination, her own need, she told herself bitterly. She had created him and, in doing so, had also created her own heartache and misery.

‘Mmm… well, it seems that he’s now taken over the running of the company and that he intends to realign the working of the British side of things so that it runs efficiently and generates more sales; hence the new PR programme.’

Claire gave her a painful smile. It seemed that Star knew more about what was going on in Brad’s life than she did, but why should that surprise her? She had purposely not mentioned Brad to Tim or Irene, not given in to the temptation to ask any questions about him and what he might be doing, but it hurt almost unbearably nonetheless to hear someone else discussing his plans… his life… his future… A future that did not, could not include her.

As Star drove off Claire turned to Poppy and was just about to ask her if she felt well enough to drive or if she would prefer a lift when a Jaguar suddenly came to an abrupt halt in front of them.

Claire heard the swift indrawn hiss of Poppy’s breath as the driver got out. She almost seemed to shrink back as he strode towards her, grimly taking hold of her arm and pushing her unceremoniously in the direction of his car.

Claire watched them thoughtfully. She didn’t envy Poppy her ride home with him, she decided ruefully as he slammed the door on the young woman and then walked round to the driver’s side of the car.

Claire had virtually driven all the way home when, on a sudden impulse, she turned the car round and, parking at the side of the road, climbed out and walked towards the entrance to the small park where she had first seen Brad.

There weren’t many children in the park today. Claire paused to watch a duck with her now half-grown babies paddling purposefully across the small pond towards her. A slight smile touched her lips as she shook her head and told her, ‘Sorry, Mama Duck, but I don’t have any bread.’

‘I do,’ a warmly rough male voice said in her ear, transfixing her with disbelieving shock. ‘Or, at least, I have an airline sandwich.’

Claire couldn’t move, couldn’t speak… couldn’t so much as look over her shoulder just in case the unthinkable had finally happened and she had begun to suffer daytime delusions that Brad was with her as well as night-time longings for him.

‘Claire… speak to me… say something, please, even if it’s only “Get the hell out of here”…’

All at once Claire felt her self-control snap. She started to tremble—physically violent shudders that made her whole body shake—tears blinding her as she struggled to focus on Brad’s face, seeing only his blurred outline through the humiliating self-betrayal of her uncheckable tears.

‘Claire, Claire, please don’t,’ she heard Brad groan. ‘I never meant to give you such a shock. I came here on impulse to try and find the courage to call you and… Claire…’

Claire tensed as he suddenly reached for her, wrapping her fiercely in his arms, holding her so tightly that she could feel the heavy thud of his heartbeat.

The familiar, ached-for scent of him enveloped her, dizzying and deluding her senses into the belief that he wanted her, and, of course, her body reacted immediately and passionately to that belief—so much so that she was scarlet-faced with embarrassment as she felt him check slightly when he saw and, she suspected, felt the betraying thrust of her nipples against the soft silkiness of her shirt.

It was a thoroughly modest and proper shirt, buttoned well past her cleavage, with a neat, small V-neck and made of a sensible mixture of man-made fibre and natural silk—not the kind of blouse that could ever be described as either deliberately alluring or provocative—and yet suddenly, humiliatingly, she was uncomfortably aware of the way her breasts were pushing openly against it and the way…

‘Oh, God, Claire, have you had any idea what you’re doing to me?’ she heard Brad protesting thickly, but he didn’t remove his gaze from her body, and having lifted his hand to shield her body from the stare of a passer-by he didn’t immediately let it drop to his side again, and Claire knew with suffocating certainty that one deep breath, one small movement was all it would take to have the warmth of his palm pressed against her and…

‘Claire.’

She wasn’t going to move, wouldn’t have moved at all if the shock of the anguish in Brad’s voice hadn’t jolted her… unbalanced her.

And, of course, it was only natural that Brad should reach out to save her. And just as natural that his gaze should fix avidly and hungrily on her mouth as it half opened in a small, startled gasp when his palm moved with quick, half-rough and totally male intensity over the fabric-covered curve of her breast, again and again, as though he couldn’t believe that he was actually touching her, as though his skin, his hand, his body was greedily hungry for the physical feel of her.

This couldn’t possibly be happening to her, Claire decided weakly as his other arm curved round her, binding her to him, and his mouth finally covered hers.

She could not possibly be standing here, in her local park, in full view of anyone who happened to be passing, being kissed by Brad with such passionate intensity that if he hadn’t been holding her up she doubted that she would have had the strength left in her body to stay upright.

And, since it couldn’t possibly be happening, there was nothing to stop her throwing herself heartily into her small, private fantasy, was there? No reason why she shouldn’t abandon all the restraints she had once thought such an intrinsic part of her personality and respond to Brad as she had once responded to him in the privacy of his bedroom—as she responded to him every night when she dreamed that she lay naked in his arms, his body hard with longing against hers… just the way it felt now…

It took the amateurish wolf-whistle of a passing schoolboy to bring them both back to reality. Scarlet-faced, Claire looked uncertainly into Brad’s eyes as he reluctantly released her.

‘Did you walk here?’ he asked gruffly. He was still holding onto her hand and still looking at her as though… as though…

Silently Claire shook her head, not trusting her voice.

‘We’d better take our time driving back to your place,’ Brad told her. ‘Because once we are there it’s going to be one hell of a long time before we do any sensible talking… a hell of a long time before I can do anything other than make love with you. God, Claire, do you know how much I ache for you right now? If that damned bush over there was just a little bigger…’

Claire couldn’t, even though she knew she was playing with fire, just couldn’t help glancing wistfully towards the bush in question, an unremarkable rhododendron which would certainly not afford two full-grown adults enough privacy to make love.

‘Claire,’ Brad growled teasingly.

‘I’ve missed you so much…’ Claire’s voice wobbled slightly. She swallowed hard and then admitted, ‘I’ve wanted you so much…’

‘Not half as much as I’ve wanted you,’ Brad told her fiercely. ‘If you had, you’d have returned my phone call instead of letting me think—’

‘Returned your phone call?’ Claire stared at him.

‘Yes, I left a message with Tim when I couldn’t get hold of you, asking you to call me.’

‘I never got it,’ Claire told him blankly. ‘Tim just said that you’d rung. He was under an awful lot of pressure,’ she defended her brother-in-law when she saw Brad’s face. ‘I expect it just slipped his mind. After all, he didn’t know… he probably just thought you wanted to ask me to forward your things on or something.’

‘Or something,’ Brad agreed ruefully. ‘When you didn’t ring, I thought you were trying to tell me that you’d had second thoughts… that you didn’t, after all, feel as I felt… that you didn’t… There’s only so much a man can do without feeling that he’s pressuring a woman… harassing her. I told myself that if that was what you wanted then I owed it to you to keep out of your life, keep away from you…’

‘But you are here,’ Claire pointed out, holding her breath. Was he going to tell her that seeing her was accidental, that he was simply here on business…?

It wouldn’t alter anything, of course—wouldn’t change the fact that he obviously still wanted her. He had apparently never stopped wanting her, but her sore, tender heart yearned to know that she was the cause, the reason for him being here… even if she was being unrealistic and even a tiny little bit unfair…

‘Mmm…’ Brad agreed, his mouth quirking into a wry smile as he admitted, ‘OK, maybe I’m not such a good modern new man as I like to think… Maybe I did think it was worth giving it one more shot, or maybe I missed you, wanted you such a hell of a lot that I just couldn’t help myself,’ he told her sombrely.

‘Three days ago my uncle Joe told me that a man’s real home, his real family… his real life lies where his heart is… with the woman his heart is with—and I knew that he was right. I came over on the first flight I could book. I’ve been sitting in this park for close on an hour, trying to work out what I was going to say to you and what I was going to do if you rejected me.’

‘And if I didn’t… if I don’t reject you?’ Claire asked him, hardly daring to breath. ‘You are my life now, Brad,’ she continued. ‘I loved John—he was strong when I needed a father-figure—but I realise now that there are different forms of love and what I feel for you—as a man, as a lover—is difficult for me to express here, in public. My car is parked close by,’ she added breathlessly. ‘We could be home in five minutes, and—’

‘Oh, no,’ Brad told her, catching hold of her free arm and holding onto her. ‘Oh, no, ma’am, that’s not the way it’s going to be… Not this time; no way… This time there’s no way you’re going to get me into bed, not unless you promise me first that you’re going to make an honest man of me.

‘Have you any idea what it was like for me,’ he demanded mock-indignantly, ‘having to be there with my family, knowing that sexually you’d used me and then walked away from me, rejected me? How do you think I’d have felt if they’d known that? If you’d got me pregnant?’ he added outrageously, his face perfectly straight whilst Claire’s mouth fell open in feminine indignation at his taking over of what was surely her role.

‘Not that I would have minded sharing the making of our child with you,’ Brad added huskily. ‘I’ve always wanted kids of my own… Having them around kinda gets to be a habit, you know, and I kinda miss all the little ones…’

‘You told me you were going to mend your boat and sail it round the world—on your own,’ Claire reminded him severely, entering into the game, her heart suddenly so light… her whole body so light that she felt almost as though she could actually physically float through the air instead of walking.

‘Ah, yes. Well, I was, but that was before…’

‘Before what?’ Claire demanded.

‘Before you seduced me, beguiled me, stole my heart and my desire for independence, made me want to spend my every waking minute and all of my sleeping ones with you,’ Brad told her throatily. ‘Oh, yes, most definitely all my sleeping ones…’

‘I thought you didn’t want to go to bed with me,’ Claire said provocatively as he leaned forward and started to nibble the side of her neck. Sensations so delicious that she felt positively sure that she had lost her ability to reason filled her all the way down her body, right down to her toes, which she curled up inside her shoes as a soft tremor of exquisite pleasure shivered tantalisingly through her—a warning… a reminder of that so much more intense pleasure Brad had…

‘I didn’t say I didn’t want to,’ Brad mumbled, still nibbling at her skin. ‘I just said I wasn’t going to, not unless you had promised to marry me first.’

‘Marry you…?’ Claire looked at him in bemused shock. ‘You want to marry me? But…’

‘No buts,’ Brad told her firmly. ‘I’m not having these five children we’re going to have growing up thinking you didn’t love me enough to commit yourself to me. Besides, it would give them a bad example. I’m a firm believer in marriage. Just ask my family—’

‘Five children!’ Claire repeated, weakly protesting. ‘Brad, I’m thirty-four years old.’

‘So what? These days a modern woman can put off starting a family until she’s forty if she chooses to do so. Of course, maybe I am being a little restrictive in just saying five,’ he mused. ‘There are twins in my family and it’s a known fact that women in their thirties are more prone to producing twins, so who’s to say…? I do like round numbers, though, don’t you? So we’d have to go for six…’

‘Six,’ Claire murmured faintly, round-eyed with disbelief.

‘Six,’ Brad promised, apparently misreading her expression. ‘But only if you promise right here and now that you are going to marry me… Wait a minute,’ he told her, reaching for the case he had placed on the floor beside the bench which he had obviously been sitting on when she had walked towards the ducks.

He opened it and produced a small pocket recorder, switched it on and held it towards her.

‘Now promise me you’re going to marry me,’ he instructed her. ‘I want some verbal evidence to make sure you don’t go back on your word… And besides,’ he added in a very different and far more serious and emotional voice, ‘I just want to hear you say it, Claire. God, you can’t know how often, how much I’ve ached to hear you say you want me over these past damned weeks.’

‘Oh, yes, I can,’ Claire corrected him softly. ‘Because I’ve wanted you in just the same way and just as much… I thought when you didn’t get in touch that you were trying to tell me that you didn’t want any… that it was just… that I was just… Brad,’ she protested huskily as he took her back in his arms, her protest silenced by the fierce, possessive and totally male hunger of his kiss.

‘I know why you’re doing this,’ she told him breathlessly when he had eventually let her go, deciding on a little light-hearted teasing of her own. ‘You just want to make me want you so much that I’ll agree to anything just to get you into bed…’

‘Mmm… has it worked?’ Brad asked her softly, giving her a wholly male and very dangerous look that made her whole body shake with excited desire.

‘Er… yes… I think so,’ she admitted.

‘You’re going to marry me,’ Brad stressed.

‘I’m going to marry you,’ Claire agreed.

Several hours later, still shamelessly snuggled up next to him in bed, her body deliciously, sensuously satiated by the intensity of their lovemaking, Claire marvelled that she could ever have believed that he didn’t love her.

‘And you’re sure that you won’t mind making your home in the States?’

‘My home is with you,’ Claire told him huskily, meaning it. ‘Of course I’ll miss Sally and my friends, but Sally has Chris now and, after all, she’s only going to be a plane journey away… And Felicity will come with us, of course.’

‘Of course,’ Brad agreed, leaning over to stroke the kitten who had come upstairs to see what they were doing.

‘Mmm… I wonder if the company can afford to charter its own jet?’ Brad mused, adding with a teasing smile, ‘After all, with all these kids we’re going to have, it’s common sense—’

‘Brad,’ Claire protested, ‘we don’t even know if I can conceive yet.’

‘Wanna bet?’ Brad challenged her, drawing her even closer to his body as he leaned across her to whisper in her ear. ‘I reckon that he or she… or even they,’ he added with a wicked smile as his hand caressed the warm curve of her stomach, ‘is tucked up safe and sound in here right now.’

Claire laughed and accused him teasingly of wanting to ensure that she married him, but she had a sneaking feeling that he was probably right. When they had made love earlier there had been a distinct sensation within her body—a secret female sense of somehow being so totally and primitively open to him and the intense thrust of his body within hers that she had actually felt as though her womb itself was extra responsive to him. A ridiculous and nonsensical feeling, she knew, but still…

‘I’d like us to be married here,’ he told her softly. ‘If we wait until I take you home the family will take over and then—’

‘You’re not worried that they won’t approve of me, are you?’ Claire queried, suddenly a little apprehensive.

‘No way,’ Brad laughed. ‘They’ll approve of you all right. No, I just want to have you to myself for a little while before they swoop down on us. The way I feel about you, the way I want to be with you, is still all very new and precious to me,’ he told her huskily, linking his fingers with hers and then lifting her hand to his mouth, tenderly kissing each digit before lowering his mouth to her lips.

‘And to me as well,’ Claire whispered back against his kiss.

They were married very quietly in a small, private church ceremony just short of a month later. Just in time to prevent too much gossip about the arrival of their eight-month baby, Claire told Brad ruefully.

Her pregnancy had been confirmed the previous morning and Brad hadn’t stopped saying, ‘I told you so.’

‘It might not have been then,’ Claire had protested, but, of course, she knew that it had, and didn’t really begrudge Brad his small victory—or at least only first thing in the morning when she felt horrendously queasy.