Consequences

Part 66

Doug wondered whether he'd be able to persuade Isabelle to pack a case, or in reality to let him pack a case for her. She'd need some clothes and her toiletry bag, that shouldn't take too long to get. But she'd be better off coming with him. Someone needed to look after her.

"Go away." Isabelle told him.

"Forget it. I can hardly leave you here like this." He made a quick decision and announced peremptorily, "You are coming home with me."

She snorted at that comment. Just because she had a cold did not mean she was going to put her life in his hands!

"You're making life difficult."

"Good." She muttered loudly.

Doug grinned to himself and then beamed at her. "You know, I kind of like you stroppy." Isabelle glared. His smile widened. "It makes you more approachable."

Doug looked around to see where the phone was. Ah, no wonder the calls weren't being taken. He'd spotted the phone off the hook. He left her on the couch and headed for the phone.

"I'm calling a doctor." He put the phone back into the cradle, "Yours or mine. Your choice." But while he waited for her to answer, the phone rang. Automatically given he was nearest he reached for it.

"Sojour-D'Sa residence." Doug stated bluntly. After a pause and a hint of a wince he said, "Yes I am." Pause. "Yes." Frown. "No comment." He replaced the phone in the cradle to disconnect the call, then lifted it again before saying, "The local rag." He looked guilty.

Isabelle grimaced. "Great. Just perfect." She muttered beneath her breath and tried to remember that she was in no fit state to take on the press or this irritating man! "That's added more fuel to the fire." She swung her feet to the ground, paused, took a breath and got unsteadily to her feet. "Go away." Isabelle mumbled. Doug watched as she made her way slowly, weaving from side to side as she headed for the study door.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked her.

"To bed." Isabelle opened the door and leaned on it. She was past caring what happened now. She just wanted to sleep. That was something she could handle. "Close the door on your way out."

Doug reached Isabelle before she could step out, and swung her into his arms. "Don't argue. Just tell me which room." He had serious doubts that left to her own devices whether she'd have made it to her bedroom. The way she was weaving on her feet suggested she was close to falling down again.

"I'm not taking you to my bedroom."

"I don't have sex with women who are incapacitated." Doug started up the stairs. "Which room?" He kept walking. She said nothing. "I can check each one." He said as he tried to guess which room she might occupy.

"Third on the left." She muttered ungraciously. He smiled. He really liked her grouchy.

The room was in disarray. Isabelle groaned in embarrassment. She'd forgotten she had been changing the sheets when he'd arrived. It had taken almost all her energy to strip the bed. That was when she'd heard the door bell. So she hadn't remade the bed nor removed the old bedding from where it lay. The sheets were discarded on the floor alongside her pajamas. She'd only managed to get the flat sheet on, the duvet was still bare, no pillowcases were on. Not exactly a good housekeeping strategy.

He raised a brow at the state of the room. Not what he would have expected. She was always immaculately turned out, though today did appear to be an exception to the rule. But still, he hadn't expected her bedroom to be a shambles!

"I was changing the sheets." Isabelle sniffled and felt compelled to exonerate the clutter.

"Why?" Seemed like an odd thing to do given how she was struggling just to stay on her feet. Why go to all the trouble of changing bed linen when you could barely stay upright?

Isabelle had spent last night swinging between a high temperature and sweating profusely and the next instant trembling and freezing. The sheets were tangled and damp when she awoke late in the day. She felt clammy and uncomfortable which is why she had made an effort to change her sheets for fresh sheets.

"I felt like it." She knew that she must have tossed and turned for most of the night as fever and sweat had her shifting uncomfortably. So it was hardly surprising when she had woken this morning to find the sheets damp and cool. She seemed to vacillate between shivering with cold and boiling with a temperature.

Doug narrowed his eyes at her somewhat stroppy comment. Then he gently placed her on the bed. He spotted the fresh duvet cover and retrieving it he dressed the duvet and then placed it around her. She looked so lost, huddled in that fresh duvet like a mummy. Doug kept his eyes on her as he pulled the pillowslips onto the pillows. With the pillows recovered her got Isabelle to lean forward to allow him to place them behind her. She did it without challenging him, which he took as a sign that she was too weak to argue.

"I am getting the doctor." Doug announced. If she was sweating to the extend the sheets needed to be changed, meant she was far from just suffering from a cold.

"I..."

"It's not up for discussion!" Doug placed the back of his hand against her brow, she felt hot to the touch. "Don't waste your breath. What's the number?"

She shrugged. How was she supposed to remember that? She could barely remember where she was as it was. Her head was spinning. Her eyes were smarting. Her nose was running. Her breathing was erratic.

Doug narrowed his eyes. If she thought he couldn't handle a stroppy woman she was about to find out just how wrong she was. He kept his eyes on her.

Isabelle was tempted to roll her eyes at him, but instead she settled for a murmured, "There is an address book by the phone in the kitchen."