Slowly, too slowly, the pain passed.
“You should be sitting up.” His voice was deep, soothing, as he again bathed her brow.
She was too tired to answer him, began to doze.
The scrape of a chair on wood made her eyes open. Master Kenleigh stood, removed his boots. As the next pain began to take her, he slipped his arms beneath her, lifted her into a sitting position, slid into the bed behind her.
“Wh-what—” The pain cut her off, turned her words into a moan.
“Easy, Bethie. Let me help you. Rest against me.”
She would have fought him, would have pulled away. He shouldn’t be near her like this. She didn’t want him in her bed. She didn’t want him touching her. But he was insistent, and the pain was so bad.
No longer in control of anything, she sank against his chest, felt him take both of her hands in his. She bit her lip, tried not to cry out. How much longer?
His breath was warm on her temple. “Breathe deeply. Don’t fight it. This one will soon end.”
Before long, Bethie had lost all track of time. Relentlessly, the pangs came one upon the next, giving her little time to rest, shaking her apart. She was aware only of how badly she hurt and of Nicholas—the reassuring sound of his voice, the strength of him behind her, the mercies he showed her as he held her hand, pressed cool cloths on her cheeks, or gave her sips of water.
Nicholas looked down at the face of the woman who dozed against his chest. She looked so young, her sweet face lined with suffering, her hair damp with sweat. Not for the first time he found himself cursing her husband. The man was lucky he was already dead. Otherwise, Nicholas would have been sorely tempted to kill him with his bare hands. As it was, he might still dig up the bastard’s grave just to kick his worthless bones.
It was past midday already, and if her pains had started when she’d gone to bed last night, as she’d said, that meant about sixteen long hours had gone by. If she’d been a mare, she’d have been in deep trouble and he would have intervened hours ago. He would have reached inside her to make certain the foal was positioned correctly to allow birth, then he’d have tied a rope around its hooves to help pull it from its dam’s body. But she wasn’t a mare, and even if she allowed him to check her, he wasn’t entirely sure what was normal for human babies. And what exactly would he do about it if something were wrong? Babies didn’t have hooves, and a woman’s body was far more delicate than that of a broodmare.
She shifted in his arms, began to whimper. Her head rolled from side to side on his chest. “Nay! Please! I cannae take this!”
Nicholas pressed his lips to her ear, tried to speak with a certainty he did not feel. “Yes, you can, Bethie. You’ll get through it. Don’t fight it. Just let it roll over you. Breathe. That’s the way. It will pass.”
Her body trembled. She squeezed his hands, and her moan became a desperate cry.
After what seemed an eternity, she relaxed and began to doze again.
Nicholas tried to remind himself that women endured this all the time. He told himself this was only natural. Still, her suffering tore at him. He wished he could somehow take the pain upon himself or speed her release from anguish.
“If I die, promise me you’ll bury me and say a prayer for me and my baby.”
Her voice—and her words—startled him. He’d thought her asleep.
“You’re not going to die.” He smoothed a strand of damp hair from her cheek, hoped with all his heart he was right.
“Promise me. Dinnae leave me for the animals.”
The image her words conjured turned his stomach, and he spoke more harshly than he’d intended. “I’m not a barbarian, mistress.”
“Promise me?” She sounded weak, exhausted.
For the first time Nicholas truly began to fear she might not survive. “Aye. I promise.”
“Stay with me. I’m so afraid!”
He ran a finger down her cheek, wondered at this strange tenderness he felt for her, a woman he barely knew. “I’m not going anywhere.”
At his words, she seemed to relax, her body melding limply into his.
And for the first time in six years, Nicholas prayed.
***
Lost in a fog of pain, Nicholas her only succor, Bethie felt a dark eternity had passed, when in the midst of another pang something felt different. She found herself suddenly bearing down, compelled to push with all her might. Though it still hurt horribly, there was more pressure than extreme pain. “Ooooh!”
