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Rachel rubbed at her back. Now that she'd eaten, she felt slightly nauseous. And she needed to go to
the bathroom something fierce. "The usual. My back feels like it's got a knifestuck init,and I need the
bathroom. Now."
"I'll help you."Cullen screwed up the sandwich wrapping, shoved it back in the day pack, then came
around to her side and opened the door.
"What do you think you're doing?"she asked weakly, knowing very well what he intended.
"Taking you to the bathroom."
"I can hold on."
His brows lifted. "For how many hours?"
She closed her eyes and held out her arms. He lifted her out of the truck, cradling her against the angled,
driving rain as he walked as if she weighed nothing.
"This is as sheltered as you're going to get," he said into her ear. Cullen set her on her feet, his big body
shielding her from the worst of the weather. His hands slipped up beneath the oilskin, firm and gentle as
he began pulling her leggings down.
"I don't need any help," she protested, grabbing at her leggings as a cool, moist draught blew up her legs.
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She knew the sensation of exposure was ridiculous; she was draped in enough oilskin to make a tent, and
they were standing in the middle of nowhere, with wind and rain howling around them. There was no one
for miles, and no reason to blush. Biting back a disgusted groan, she gave in to Cullen's gentle pressure
and squatted. Her back protested the movement, and the sudden stab of pain made her sag against his
chest.
"That'sit,"Cullen murmured into her ear. "Lean on me."
His thighs were on either side of hers; he was all around her like a muscular supporting framework.
Rachel gave in. Not that she had much choice. Her face burned as she voided a ridiculously small amount
of liquid. When she was finished, Cullen helped her back to the truck. Once they were inside, he stripped
them both of their oilskins, rolling one up so that the dry lining was on the outside a crude, but usable
bolster that he positioned in the small of her back.
"See if you can sleep for an hour. By then the wind will have dropped even more and the going will be
easier."
Rachel tensed on another tightening pain.
"Damn," Cullenmuttered, grabbing a cloth from beneath his seat and mopping up a trickle of moisture.
"The rain must have soaked through the oilskin."
Rachel bit her lip. "Cullen,"she said softly. "That's not rain. I think my water just broke."
His gaze locked on hers, pupils expanding with shock, but he said quite calmly, "How long have you
been having contractions?"
"I didn't think I was! I've been having the usual back pain, and some twinges that I put down to muscle
strain."
"Muscle strain?"he repeated with a dangerous quietness.
"The wind was pinning the garage doors closed. I had to get in the garage."
Cullen stared out at the grey, relentless hell of the storm. At the sheer, brutal force of the weather
spinning off from the Pacific hurricane belt. Weather that killed, scything down on land just as wild. Even
thoughthe storm was diminishing in intensity and would blow itself out overnight, they were still cut off,
isolated from any form of help. And Rachel needed to be in hospital. Now.
Adrenaline surged white-hot through his veins, tearing a low, rough sound from his throat. Sweat leaped
from his pores. Suddenly he couldn't block the emotion that beat at him from all directions. Sweet hell.
He'd never felt such fear.
Rachel's mother had died giving birth. Rachel and the baby could die because of him.
He was the one who had allowed this impossible situation to develop. He'd gotten her pregnant, risked
her health with the burden of bearing his child, brought her to live on his wild property with its dangerous
propensity to flash flood.
Ever since he'd returned toRiverbend , events had careered out of control. In the SAS, if there was an
enemy to overcome, his options were as clinically precise as black on white. InRiverbend , the rules were
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