Free If I Trust You (If You Come Back To Me #4) by Beth Kery Page B

that doesn’t take away from the fact that there’s a much bigger, wider picture here, Deidre.”
    Tears coursed down her cheek. The edges of her vision were darkening. “I wish Lincoln had never changed that damn will,” she mumbled through leaden lips.
    His arms encircled her and he brought her hard against him. When he squeezed her tight, more unwanted tears spilled out of her eyes. He opened his hand at the base of her spine, and she had the disorienting thought he knew she had a tattoo there, although that wasn’t possible—was it? Her vision swam before her eyes. His caress struck her as focused...cherishing...possessive. He spoke next to her ear, the sensation of his warm breath on her skin and the sound of his roughened voice increasing her uncontrollable trembling.
    “What’s done is done. We’ll deal with the consequences. I just want you to know that I’m not your enemy. Please believe that. If you’re truly Linc’s biological daughter, if Lincoln wanted you to have partial control of his company and if he was of sound mind when he made that decision, then I will make sure that legacy is passed on to you. I would fight anyone tooth and nail who challenged your claim if all those things are true, including John Kellerman. So there’s no reason to feel threatened by me telling Kellerman about the genetic testing or that you’ve expressed interest in the Vivicor acquisition.” He leaned back and stared down into her face. She blinked the tears out of her eyes so she could see him better, but he remained blurry. Deidre had the vague impression that he looked alarmed, but she couldn’t understand why.
    “Deidre? Deidre —”
    Her knees gave way. He uttered a curse as she collapsed and he caught her in his arms.
    * * *
    Nick watched her face anxiously as he carried Deidre down the hallway. Her eyelids fluttered, but she remained conscious. He’d nearly had a heart attack when he felt her legs give and she’d slumped in his arms. She was sick—weak—and he’d been barking at her like a rabid dog. He realized how upset she was at what she’d perceived to be a betrayal on his part. Nick had been wound up, as well. He’d been so caught up in trying to get her to understand his point of view that he’d remained utterly insensitive to the fact that she was about to faint.
    He lowered her to the edge of the bed. She placed one hand on his shoulder and straightened into a sitting position.
    “Lie down. I’m going to call a doctor.”
    “No,” she said, sounding fatigued but firm. “It’s just low blood sugar. I haven’t been eating much over the past few days. And I’m a little tired.” Something about the defiant, if weary, tilt of her chin instinctively told him she wasn’t used to being the one receiving care. Deidre was usually the caregiver. She was the fighter. This couldn’t be easy for her. He understood her need for independence, but she’d better get used to some help, in the short term, anyway.
    “I’ll be right back.”
    He returned a moment later with a large glass of milk and a box of granola bars. “I called your sister at the Family Center. I figured she should know you weren’t feeling well. She says she’s coming by, but I told her you’d be resting. Eat a couple of these to get some fuel into you,” he directed, unwrapping a bar for her.
    She seemed too tired to argue. Her petite frame slumped at the edge of the bed. She ate the food he gave her mechanically, swallowing it down with several gulps of milk. She shook her head weakly when he handed her the last of the second granola bar.
    “Why don’t you lie down? Do you want some tea?”
    She shook her head and managed a weak smile. “You’re a regular Florence Nightingale.” Some color was returning to her cheeks.
    In fact, too much color.
    “Are you all right?” he asked, noticing the light sheen of sweat on her forehead.
    She nodded. “I’m hot,” she whispered. “It’s one of the symptoms of low blood