Katherine screamed. And screamed and screamed.
Juliet held her hand and stroked her hair, talking to her. “It will pass. Be brave, Katherine. Be brave.”
Katherine hardly heard her. She had known there would be pain, but she had never dreamed it could be like this. Long and constant, like the brutal stabbing and twisting of a knife blade inside her womb. Oh, God. Liam. How she needed him.
Finally the pain began to dull, and Katherine wept. She knew that within too short a time it would return, worse than before. She did not think she could endure much more.
She had been trying to deliver the child since dawn. The labor pains had started after suppertime, and had begun in earnest around the midnight hour. By sunrise Katherine had already been exhausted. Now it was close to noon. Sunlight streamed into her bedchamber. How much longer could she last?
“Katherine!” Juliet cried excitedly. “The midwife sees the babe’s head! You must push now, dearheart, push as hard as you can!”
But Katherine was sobbing again, racked with yet another brutal pain.
“Push, lady, push,” Ginny cried. “The babe cannot stay in such a condition!”
Fear filled Katherine as she comprehended the midwife’s words. She had no strength left with which to push, yet the babe was no longer safely in her womb, but caught in her birth channel instead. What if she failed to push him out? Surely he would die!
She panted, knowing she must summon her strength now, strength she did not have, in order to expel the babe. Liam’s babe must live. She forced herself to bear down, clawing at Juliet’s hand.
“That’s good, Katherine, that’s good, I can see his entire head!” Juliet cried.
Katherine gave up, collapsing back against the pillows,sobbing. She had no strength left, nothing. “Liam,” she cried. “Oh, God, I need Liam!”
Juliet paled.
Katherine wondered if this was the first time she had called his name aloud, and then she ceased to care. It should be Liam with her now, holding her hand, encouraging her through the worst trial of her life, not Juliet—and Hawke should not be the man standing outside her bedroom door.
“Push, lady, push now, and let the poor mite be born,” Ginny cried, her plump breasts swinging.
Liam’s image swam before her, concerned, demanding. Katherine knew she must succeed in giving him his child. This was the most important act of her entire life. Groaning, raised up on her elbows, she panted and pushed. And for one single instant it was his face she saw so close to her own, and his hand she felt upon her brow, not Juliet’s. She could do it—for him! She could, she would! The midwife cried out triumphantly, and in that same moment, Katherine knew she had managed to expel the babe.
The pain was gone. Katherine was flooded with relief. And as suddenly as her agony had ended, her weakness turned to strength. Katherine stared at the midwife, who was working between her legs. “Is it all right?” Katherine gasped, straining to see. She saw a mop of brown curls, and the babe’s body, which was covered with a whitish afterbirth and blood.
“’Tis just fine,” Ginny smiled, cutting the cord between mother and child.
“Is…is it a boy…or a girl?” Katherine gasped, on her elbows, desperate to see her newborn baby.
Ginny lifted the child for Katherine to see. “A boy, my lady, you have delivered a fine son to your lord.”
Tears streamed down Katherine’s face as she beheld her child, Liam’s son. The babe’s face was round, his nose somewhat flattened from the birthing, his arms and legs seeming surprisingly long; his tiny fingers were curling, and his blue, blue eyes were wide open—he was staring directly at her. He was the most beautiful sight Katherinehad ever seen. Instant, all-consuming love washed over Katherine, and she held out her arms.
“’Tis a big boy, too,” the midwife said. “Here, let me clean ’im up a bit fer you.”
“Oh, Katherine,” Juliet cried, her eyes swimming with tears. She gripped Katherine’s hands. “You have a son. A lovely, healthy son.”
Katherine sagged against the pillows, but never took her gaze from her son. Ginny was now wrapping the child in clean linens and a lightweight blanket. She held out her arms again. “Bring me my son,” she commanded softly, smiling, her eyes shining.
Ginny turned, the child in her arms, grinning back.
John Hawke stepped between them. “No.”
Katherine froze, turning her head toward the stern sound of Hawke’s voice. “My son,” she whispered, confused and uncertain. “I want to hold my son.”
Hawke’s jaw was rigid. “No,” he repeated. “Ginny, take the child downstairs, now.”
“I want my son,” Katherine cried, raising herself up with difficulty. “I want to hold my son. Why do you deny me?”
Juliet stared at Hawke, pale and wide-eyed.
