She didn’t stir. Lashes lay low against her cheeks and her skin was so pale, the dark circles under her eyes looked like bruises. Fear choked him and he pulled her up into his arms without thinking twice. Tapping her cheek, he spoke her name. This time, there was a low groan in her throat.
Vaguely, he was aware of the crowd gathering around them and he looked up and caught Tony’s eyes as the other man knelt beside him. “Where’s the medic?” Silently, he wondered where the fuck Dash was, but he kept that question locked in his head.
Film crews worked with a set medic on-site, but they’d finished up for the day and the medic hired for this job had hit the road the moment he was given the word.
“Gone,” somebody said. “He just caught a ride out of here a few minutes ago.”
Sebastien swore, and then jabbed a finger at Tony. The baby. Was it the baby? Where the hell was Dash? “Call an ambulance.”
“That won’t be necessary, Antonio.” The calm voice stopped Tony in his tracks and Sebastien looked up, his lips peeling back from his teeth.
Sojo stood there and everybody fell back.
Sebastien stared her down. “She passed out. She’s—” He managed to keep that last bit behind his teeth, but just barely. Hardly anybody knew about the pregnancy and even fewer knew that Marin’s pregnancy was why production had been stepped up. “She passed out.”
The words had no sooner left his lips then he felt Marin stirring in his arms.
He looked down just as her lashes lifted and the impact of that connection hit him straight in the heart. The ugly words they’d thrown at each other—no, the ugly words he had thrown at her—they lingered between them like an unseen wall.
He wanted to reach down, stroke his hand down her cheek. Pull her up against him.
If he’d kept his mouth shut, kept his cool . . . maybe . . .
But he’d lost his temper, pushed her. Been an asshole.
As her eyes focused on his, he brushed his thumb across her cheek. “You okay there?” He hadn’t needed to touch her, he supposed. Except he had. It was necessary in a way. Necessary to him. Only him.
Marin blinked a couple of times, clearly confused. Then her eyes widened as awareness washed over her. “Here,” he said, slipping an arm under her. “Let me help you sit up.”
“I’m . . .” She scowled, tensing up as she realized they had an audience. “I’m fine, Sebastien. Let me go.”
Let you go . . . He wanted to laugh. Did she think he hadn’t been trying?
But he kept his face expressionless. “You passed out. You need to go to the hospital.” He tried to impress on her the importance of it. “I can take you or I can find Dash. The general doesn’t want an ambulance called.”
Sojo didn’t say a word.
“No.” Marin pushed at his chest again, her mouth folding into mutinous lines.
He wondered if she could feel how fast his heart was racing.
“Let me go, Sebastien. I’m fine. I’m just . . . I’m tired. I didn’t eat much today and I haven’t been drinking enough water, either. I’m fine.” Her brilliant blue eyes glared up at him and once more, she shoved against his chest.
“That not eating thing is pretty common,” he responded, setting his jaw. “But the passing out? Not so much. If you don’t want me to take you, I’ll get Dash.”
“Why . . .” She stopped and blew out a breath between her teeth. “I’m fine, Sebastien.”
Slowly, he let her go. She certainly seemed fine, color once more returning to her cheeks. She was also looking at him. Straight at him, instead of away or through him. Unless they were working, she didn’t do a lot of that anymore.
Nodding, he let her go and stood up, offering her a steadying hand, which, to his shock, she accepted.
A few murmurs moved through the crowd, but he was too busy staring at her to care about what anybody else was doing or staying.
Once she was upright—and steady—she tried to tug her hand free, but he held on. “If you don’t want to go to the hospital, fine. But if Dash isn’t around, let me drive you back to the hotel. We can tag Dash on the way, call the set medic, have him come take a look at you. Once Dash gets there, I’ll leave you alone.”
Chapter Thirteen
If he said Dash’s name one more time . . .
Dash was gone—he had a date.
She didn’t want to point that out to him, though. Sebastien still had it in his head that Dash was the baby’s father.
Marin hadn’t been able to disabuse him of the notion. When she tried to talk to him, he went out of his way to either invite others into the conversation or he just suddenly had somewhere else to be.
He wasn’t staying at the hotel, so she couldn’t even ambush him there.
With every passing day, it was getting harder to figure out how to do anything about the craziness that now stretched between them. Staring at him, painfully aware of others staring at them, she closed one hand into a fist.