"I have sent word to the men that we have retired for the night,” Storm said after a few hours had passed. “T'will hold them for a while."
"Ah, good,” Islaen gasped as a pain subsided. “Would it not be wondrous to be all done ere Iain seeks his bed?” She tried to flow with it as another pain ripped through her. “I thought that the breaking of the waters was a sign that t'was soon."
Storm sighed as she bathed Islaen's sweat-beaded forehead. The girl was on her knees gripping the bedpost and Storm could well recall her own labors, bearing the children in such a position. All signs pointed to imminent arrival but nothing happened. Despite the pain so clearly etched upon Islaen's face, she made no sound save for an occasional moan and a great deal of panting. Storm could not help but admire the girl's strength and marvel at the depth of her love for Iain, both of which kept her from the very natural reaction of crying out from the pain that gripped her whole body. Even though she admired it, it was somewhat eerie. Screaming was a part of labor.
"It can be but not all women are the same. The first always comes the hardest and takes the longest."
"Could ye send for Wallace? T'would ease my mind an he would check me. He can tell by touch whether the bairn is turned wrong."
That was a thing that Storm feared but hid it, saying soothingly, “There's naught to fear. It has not been that long that we need to worry."
"I dinnae fear it, Storm, but an it is holding matters up I wish to ken that. My mither had several bairns enter the world feet first."
Without any further word and, ignoring Meg's sputterings, Storm sent for Wallace. The man arrived but moments later having been seated in the kitchens awaiting any possible request for him. A faint color touched his cheeks as he entered the exclusively female domain, but one look at Islaen erased his discomfort. Talking to her much as if she were one of his treasured stock, he ran his knowledgeable hands over her belly.
"Aye, ye kenned it richt, m'lady. The bairn's wrong way round. Needs turning."
"Turning?” squeaked Meg. “Ye cannae turn a bairn in the womb like ye do some foal."
"Why can ye not?” asked Storm, quite taken with the idea.
"She is just a wee lass, not some cursed great mare. How can ye, weel,” Meg flushed, “gie at the bairn?"
"Like ye do a foal, ye silly auld coo. If the bairn can gie out, then a hand can gie in.” He looked at Storm. “Ye hae wee hands, m'lady. Can ye do it? I will talk ye through it. Aye, the lass could bring the bairn oot as it lies but ‘tis verra dangerous. A bit o’ pain now can save a muckle lot later. I ken ye helped with a foaling last spring."
"That I did. I cannot say I will enjoy this but an I maun, I maun, as ye heathens say."
She grinned briefly as she moved to wash her hands and the three Scots grinned back at her although Islaen's turned into a gritting of teeth. Wallace stood with his broad back turned to where Storm knelt between Islaen's legs. Meg bathed Islaen's face as Storm eased her hand up the birth canal and said nothing to the instructing Wallace when he soothed Islaen with strokes and murmurs as if she were some animal. All three of them tensed when a soft but audible gasp escaped Storm.
For one brief moment, Islaen felt terrified. With a concerted effort she forced her fears away. Fear would weaken her and she needed all her strength now especially if something was not right.
"I am sorry, so very sorry. I did not mean to afright you. That gasp was not because of a fault. There is more than one babe in here and t'was a shock to find a head near the back of the babe I was trying to turn. Ye are to bear twins as I did."
"Me mither had twa pairs,” ground out Islaen. “I ken I need something to bite on ere I shorten my tongue."
"Here, sweeting,” Meg soothed as she placed a thick piece of leather between Islaen's teeth.
"When ye get the bairn's head where it should be, make sure the cord's clear o’ the wee neck,” Wallace instructed.
"Aye. ‘Tis clear of both wee necks. That all, Wallace?” When the man nodded, Storm removed her hand and went to wash.
"Weel, I will just gie back tae the kitchens,” Wallace said with a definite touch of regret.
"Ye dinnae have to, Wallace. I ken ye would like to be in on the birthing of a bairn. Ye have been such a help so ye maun stay if ye wish it.” Islaen's voice was strained and broken by pain. “We may have need of ye yet."
There was no need to further persuade him. Wallace was eager to see the birth he had spent so much time discussing with Master Iain's tiny wife. Islaen was glad for it was the only way she could think of to repay him for all he had done. She also found his methods of soothing her very effective and was not at all perturbed by the fact that she had seen him treat his precious animals just so. Islaen hoped she would yet be done before Iain sought their chambers.
Knowing it was what Islaen wanted, Tavis tried valiantly to keep Iain in the hall but failed. Iain knew he would not sleep much at all for he had not since he had discovered he was to be a father, but he could not keep away from Islaen for any length of time. Although Islaen, with her astonishingly large belly, was the source of his agitation and nightmares he could not stay away from her nor find any ease of mind if he did. He lay beside her at night, his eyes and often his hands exploring the swell of her abdomen, fascination and terror warring with each other as he felt the prodigious activity within.
It was not in him to accept the death of any young woman easily, but he had never felt so terrified of it when Catalina had faced it as he did with Islaen. Guilt concerning his need for her, a need that had brought her to this, nearly choked him. It was only recently that he had finally left her alone. The thought that he could lose her ate away at him day and night. Catalina's death had affected him mostly through guilt, the knowledge that he had used her as had others. Islaen's would touch him in every way.
Briefly he indulged in cursing her for putting him into such a state. He had neither wanted nor needed to feel so about any woman. Despite all his efforts to keep a distance between them, Islaen had pulled him ever closer, subtly pulling him deeper beneath the spell she wove so effortlessly.
As he started to their chambers, he told himself not to be so unfair. Islaen plied no tricks nor played any games. Islaen was simply Islaen. The web he found himself tangled in was one he had walked into with a full knowledge of his fate. He had seen the danger and simply lacked the strength to fight it.
"Iain,” Tavis called as he followed his brother up the stairs, Colin watching with curious concern from the hall.
"What is it?” Iain asked in a taut voice as a cold feeling seeped through him.
