“In her stead, aye, I do.”
“’Twill be as I promised her. Now, take her and see to her. And see to Dunnedin until I return.”
Torn between arguing with Struan and the seriousness of Anice’s condition, Robert delayed but a moment before walking quickly through the hall. The growing wetness seeping through the gown underneath her terrified him. Either she bled or her birth water had broken—neither a good sign. He’d seen this before in Dunbarton and the outcome was never good. At least Ada was here. The old one had much experience in delivering babes and her presence would be of benefit to Anice.
“Firtha, fetch Ada to milady’s chambers,” he barked out as he passed the woman.
In a few minutes, he entered the room and placed Anice on the bed. She’d made no move since that god-awful screamin the hall and whether that scream was due to the pain or to the news of Sandy’s return, he did not know. He knew only that the sound of it nearly shattered his heart as she cried out her fear. What could his brother have done to engender such terror in his wife? As he positioned a pillow beneath her head, he realized that no one ever spoke whatever had happened between the two of them. That was very unusual, since secrets never seemed to stay that way within the closeness of the clan. They did it to protect her, he understood that now.
The sounds of swishing garments and the low voices behind him informed him that Firtha and Ada had arrived. They were followed by several other women and he suddenly felt very out of place. He would turn over her care to those who knew what to do.
“Ada, she is wet underneath. I felt it as I carried her up here.” His words were almost whispered but the impact of them was not.
“Dear God in heaven,” Firtha cried out as she ran to her mistress’s bed. The other women in the room crossed themselves and mumbled prayers under their breath.
“Go, now, Robert, we will see to her.” Ada patted his arm as she walked past him. “The lass is in God’s hands now.”
“And, Firtha?” He waited for the woman’s attention before continuing. At her glance, he said, “Tell Anice when she awakes that Struan honors his word to her. Ada? Call on me if there is anything I can do.”
The words did not encompass the feelings within him at that moment. His stomach clenched in fear and anger for her situation. Many, many women died giving birth, and sometimes the bairn died as well. ’Twas the most dangerous thing a woman could do in life. His own mother had died giving birth to him. Would she die now? His throat burned and his eyes stung at the thought. Clearing his throat, he turned at Ada’s nod and left the room, leaving Anice in their care.
Making his way back to the lower floor, he looked for anyone who might have heard the whole exchange and might know where Struan and the other men went. No one was there. The room was empty as when he had passed it on his way to the workroom earlier. Even though no announcement wasmade, Robert knew that word of Anice’s condition was even now passing from one to another throughout the clan. In a short time, all in Dunnedin would be praying for her and for the safe delivery of the bairn she carried.
He entered the workroom and grabbed a woolen cloak from a peg on the wall. Wrapping himself in its length and pulling the hood up, he left the keep to check on the guards. Struan had left Dunnedin in his care and he would make certain that all was well before he retired for the night.
Jagged streaks of lightning criss-crossed the sky, lighting the bailey with an unnatural green-gray glow. Robert leaned down and fought the wind with his every step. The weather seemed to reflect the chaos of the clan this night. In spite of his plaid, he was soaked through when he reached the guard tower on the wall and he was dripping when his inspections were complete. Seeking his own chambers, he pulled off his wet clothes and put on dry ones, wanting to be ready if needed.
Kneeling on the floor next to his bed, he offered his own prayers up to the Almighty for Anice and her bairn. Once done, he lay on his bed and awaited news from either the women or from Struan. It would be a long night for the MacKendimen clan.
Bolting upright,his senses immediately alert for signs of danger, Robert leapt from the bed. Realizing that dawn’s light did not pour through his small window, he knew it was not day yet. The sound that waked him did not repeat itself, but he knew in an instant it had been Anice... screaming. He pulled open his door and walked down the hallway to her chambers. Robert tapped lightly on the door and it was Rachelle, Brodie’s wife, who answered his knock.
“Rachelle, how does she fare?” His height over her allowed him to peek inside the room. Dimly lit, it was hard to see much from his position.
“She is no’ well, Robert I fear for her and the bairn,” Rachelle replied in a low whisper.
“May I see her?” Robert wasn’t certain what he could do,but he wanted to see her condition for himself. Rachelle looked behind her and waited for permission from the others within. Once it was granted, she quietly tugged the door open and let him pass.
Robert held his breath, not really knowing what to expect. He had been present at only one birth and that was when a MacKillop woman had suddenly given birth on her way to the mill. He happened along and witnessed it—amazed at how quickly it all occurred. The woman was up in a short time, carrying her new one back to her cottage. The woman had given birth to five others in the same manner, with relative ease and apparently little or no pain. But Robert knew that was not often the case. Keeping his steps soundless, he approached the side of the bed.
Anice lay in a fitful sleep, her brow covered with sweat. They had removed the gown she wore before and now she was dressed in only a nightrail, its pale color only made richer by her ghostly complexion. Without thought, he reached out and touched her cheek. Her eyes opened and garbled words poured from her mouth. He bent over to listen more closely when he noticed that her gaze was feverish and glassy. Nothing she said made any sense.
“Is the bairn coming?” he asked, not looking away from Anice.
“Aye, Robert. ’Twas the birth waters ye felt on her dress,” Ada answered.
“But the babe is too early. Will she...?” He could not say the words.
“’Tis too soon for the bairn but we canna stop it. Moira’s brew worked for a short time, but the pains have returned and much stronger than afore.” Ada’s explanation sent cold shivers of fear down his back.
“Does she ken what is happening to her?” Anice looked senseless to him. Could a woman deliver a babe like that?
“She is between sleep and wakefulness, Robert. She comes to, struggles with the pain, and then falls back to this.” Ada held out her hand, pointing to Anice. “’Tis almost like she is trying to keep the babe inside.”
Firtha leaned around him and wiped Anice’s forehead andcheeks. More mumbled words flowed from her. Firtha straightened the bedclothes and pushed Anice’s hair back from her face. Even he could see this would end badly.
“What can be done? Is there nothing or no one that can help her?”
Before anyone could answer, Anice clutched at her belly and began to writhe on the bed. Her face was contorted in pain, her jaws and mouth clamped shut in a horrible grimace. After a minute of struggle, she let loose a loud keening cry that made his stomach turn. There must be something he could do for her. Standing there, a witness to her anguish, he felt the sweat run down his own back. He was a man. He was a warrior. He could bear this kind of pain and face it, survive it. She could not.
