“Oh, ye’ve done it now,” Fern said with a roll of her eyes. “Ye’ve insulted his strength and manhood. He’ll pout for a week and a day if ye dinna take it back. Quite the sullen pet, he can be when he thinks ye dinna admire him.”
“I dinna pout,” he growled through clenched teeth, then scooped his large sister into his arms and stood. “I shall carry ye to yer rooms.”
Evie doubted he could manage it but waved him on. “Whatever it takes. Just mind your step, and don’t drop her.”
Fern laughed, then bared her teeth and grabbed her stomach again. “Heaven help me, no one said there would be so much pain. Mark my words, from this day forward, Gilbert is barred from my chambers! He might as well find himself a mistress.”
By the time they reached the first landing of the narrow stone staircase that had started at the back of the kitchen, Evie noticed Quinn’s pallor and labored breathing. Sweat poured down the sides of his face. Carrying a heavily pregnant woman up these devilish stairs would wind a hearty man in the best of times. Quinn needed to realize he had not yet fully healed from his concussion.
“Set her down here,” she ordered in her sternest take-charge voice. “Now!”
He didn’t lower Fern to the steps but relented and leaned back against the wall, struggling to catch his breath. “I can—”
“You cannot. You are not fully recovered. Now set her down and get help while she and I get better acquainted.” Evie gave Fern an encouraging smile that the woman took to heart.
“Listen to her, brother,” she said. “Please run and tell my maids to prepare my bed.” She closed her eyes and tensed, then forced them open and fixed him with a pleading frown. “And fetch Gilbert so I can curse him for doing this to me.”
“I am not a messenger boy,” he weakly argued while blinking at the sweat running into his eyes
“Please, Quinn,” Fern said softly. “Ye dinna seem well, and I do worry after ye. I lied when I said I dinna.”
Evie decided to chime in with a language he might understand. “Are you so eager to make me a widow before you even make me your wife?”
He stared at her, his chest still heaving. Those dark eyes of his grabbed hold of her soul as if daring her to toy with him. She would pay if she dared such. And pay dearly. She heard the vow as if he had spoken it aloud.
“Get a sturdy blanket and two of your most trusted men. We’ll get her the rest of the way by all of us carrying her. It will be easier for her.”
He eased Fern down to the steps, then strode up them, taking them two at a time now that he no longer carried the heavy burden of his beloved sister.
Evie patted Fern’s damp brow with a diner napkin she found in her jacket pocket. “How much farther to your rooms?”
“Next floor,” Fern whispered, curling against Evie, and clutching her hand. “Please help me. I canna bear this pain any longer.”
“I’m going to help you all I can. I promise.” Evie prayed it would be a birth with no complications. As hard and fast as the pains were coming, Fern still hadn’t mentioned the need to push or acted as if she even felt the urge. She hoped it was a matter of Fern not knowing how painful childbearing could be and that the woman had a low pain threshold. If not, she worried about a difficult birth ahead with none of the twenty-first-century technology that protected mother and child. “Breathe with me, Fern. It will help.” If she distracted the poor girl, that would help, too. “Tell me about this man I have promised to marry.”
“My dear twin acts the ruthless, hard-hearted braggart but dinna be fooled.” Her advice trailed off into a whining groan as she clutched at her middle. “If ye let him,” she panted, “he will grow to love ye more than life itself. All the way to the grave. Maybe even beyond.” She lifted her head, her deep brown eyes riddled with shadows. “His first wife hurt him. Not by dying when she birthed her bairn, but by swearing to anyone who would listen that she loved another. But he wouldna admit it. Nor act as though anything she said mattered.” Fern managed a rueful nod. “But if ye ask me, I think he was relieved when the Almighty took her and her lover’s child.”
The thunder of hurried footsteps grew closer. Quinn and his men had returned.
“I need you to scooch over onto the blanket and lie as still as you can. We’ll have you to your bed in no time.” Evie motioned for them to spread the cloth beside Fern. It took some maneuvering, but they got her set, lifted her by the corners of the heavy blanket, and made it to her chambers much easier than if Quinn had attempted to forge onward.
Her maids had already stripped the bed and covered it and her pillows with old linen. As soon as the men settled Fern onto her bed, her maids surrounded her, preparing her to be as comfortable as possible in what could be an extended battle.
Evie stepped away, pulling Quinn into the adjoining sitting room. “I need my bag. Can you have someone fetch it?” As he turned to do as she bade, she yanked him back and pressed a hand to his pale cheek. “You don’t appear well at all. Never mind about fetching the bag. You must lie down.”
“I will be damned if I lie down and leave my sister to face this alone.” He shot a hateful glance at the door leading out into the hallway. “I couldna find that feckin’ husband of hers. Dugan is searching for him now.”
Evie took hold of his fists and tugged him toward a long bench covered in cushions and pillows. “Please sit and rest. You know Fern would wish it. I’ll send a maid for my bag. Then I’ll make sure your sister knows you’re cheering her on right here in the next room. I promise.”
He raked his dark hair out of his face, wincing as he brushed against his wound. “Ye swear ye will call me to her side if aught goes awry? Ye willna let her pass without my seeing her one last time?”
She prayed it wouldn’t come to that but understood his fears. Childbirth could be perilous in any century but especially brutal here in the past. “I swear it. I would never deny you the right to say goodbye.”
With a stiff nod, he relented. Perched on the bench, he sagged forward and held his head in his hands. Evie’s heart went out to him. The torment of his fears joined forces with the physical pain of his injury, doing its best to beat him into submission.
“Now, I’m going to see what I can do about getting your new niece or nephew into this world,” she said in as cheerful a tone as possible.
As soon as she crossed the threshold into the bedchamber, the commanding, bullheaded persona that had earned her hatred from her peers and adoration from her patients surfaced. “More pillows behind her,” she ordered, noting Fern’s labored breathing. She pointed to a maid at the end of the bed. “You. Go to my room and fetch my bag. STAT.”
