“No, thank you.” Matthieu dropped into the mass of pillows and shifted his hips in what appeared to be an attempt to get comfortable. “Harry advised me to rest in bed for the next hour or so, or at least until he can arrive to assess the situation for himself.”
“Harrison?” Geoffrey asked, alarmed. He abandoned his tapestries and came to stand by the foot of the bed. “Is there something wrong?”
“No.” Matthieu winced a second time, and the reality of the situation struck Ian like lighting igniting a tree. He gaped, but his expression did not deter Matthieu from concluding his thought and confirming what Ian already knew. “There is nothing to be alarmed about. I believe I have gone into labor—c’est tout.”
* * *
Geoffrey’s brownstone dwelling descended into madness.
“He’ll need water,” Geoffrey said to Ian from between gritted teeth while he passed Ian on the stairs. Geoffrey was headed up, Ian down. “There isn’t enough water.”
“I brought up a whole case of bottles,” Ian replied.
“No.” Geoffrey came to a stop on the landing and sighed heavily. “He’ll need a basin of water so we can help him keep clean and cool.”
“And towels?”
“I’ve already brought in towels.”
“Blankets?”
“Already done.”
“Is there anything else I can bring?” Ian looked at Geoffrey, whose posture was overly rigid, and whose shoulders were pinched to his neck. The mate bond they shared echoed his posture—it broadcast the same sentiment ad nauseam:tension, tension, tension.“Something for you, Geoff? A meal? A drink? When we settle down, I’d be more than willing to give you a back rub. I hate to see you so out of sorts.”
“I’m fine,” Geoffrey lied. “For now, just the basin. If Harrison and Everard need anything else, then we’ll fetch it for them once it’s requested.”
It wasn’t the answer Ian wanted, but for now, it would have to do. He set about securing a basin, then filled it in one of the upstairs bathrooms. By the time he arrived in their shared bedroom, Geoffrey was gone. Matthieu, who appeared to be much less concerned about the impending birthing than Geoffrey, looked at Ian with sad eyes. “Geoffrey is not well. I’m worried about him, and also how the eggs will react to his well-being. The twins…”
“I noticed it, too,” Ian said softly. He set the basin by the foot of the bed. Ashley wandered over and drank from it. He clicked his beak, then wobbled over to the bedside and laid his head near Matthieu’s thigh. Matthieu stroked his feathers. “Geoffrey is prone to stress,mon chaton. It wasn’t anything you did. The eggs will be fine, I promise.”
“I would hope not, since I have done nothing.” Matthieu wrinkled his nose. “If you do not know what is wrong, then I will speak to him. I do not like this.”
“I don’t, either.”
Matthieu laid a protective hand on his stomach. “Neither do the eggs.”
There was noise from the hallway, likely Geoffrey on his way back to the room. Ian glanced at the door, then leaned in to speak to Matthieu. “You rest and prepare yourself for labor, and I’ll go speak to him. I’m sure once the eggs are safely delivered, it’ll all be okay.”
Matthieu kissed Ian’s cheek and whispered a sincere, “Merci,” against his earlobe. As much as Ian wanted to stay, he knew he couldn’t. With Harry’s arrival imminent, he needed to help Geoffrey before they lost all privacy.
Ian caught Geoffrey down the hall, a stack of Turkish cotton towels pinched beneath his arm. He looked no less stressed than before.
“Did you bring the water?” Geoffrey asked.
“Yes.” Ian came to a stop in front of him, hoping he might get Geoffrey to stop, too. His attempt was unsuccessful. Geoffrey stepped to the side and would have continued toward their bedroom door if Ian hadn’t grabbed his arm and held him in place. “But now I need something from you.”
Geoffrey, whose brow was creased with irritation and whose eyes burned with more of the same, looked Ian dead on. “What?”
“I need you to calm down.” Geoffrey tried to pull away, but Ian gripped both his arms and held him in place. “Matthieuneeds you to calm down, as do the eggs. We’re both worried about you. Harry and Everard are on the way, and there’s nothing to suggest that there is anything wrong with the eggs. The twins are alive and well, and that’s already a miracle in and of itself, but things will only continue to be okay if you can hold yourself together. I know that this is stressful, but everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
“You’re right,” Geoffrey said, but his voice suggested otherwise. “It will be.”
Try as he might to convince Ian that all was fine, Ian didn’t believe him. The bond did not lie. Profound sorrow radiated through it, throbbing like a fresh wound. The intensity of it shocked Ian, and he found himself fighting back tears.
What was Geoffrey hiding from him?
Where had this sorrow come from?
