Debra Kay Leland (38 page)

She was on the bed, her face was pale, dampened curls clung on her forehead and neck as she struggled against the pain.  She bit back a sob, and
gripped the sheets beneath her unable to utter a word through gritted teeth.

He felt the fear in
the very words he now spoke,
“The child?!”

She closed her eyes and nodded. 
“’Tis—‘tis too soon…!”
  She clung to him as another pain shook her thin frame. 
“Too soon…!”

He held her through it, the horror in her eyes worse than any pain she was feeling!  He smoothed a strong hand down her pale face. 
“Shhh, all shall be well, I have prayed for thee...  Ye and the child shall be well.”

She clung desperately to the hope in his voice as he eased her back upon the bed and smoothed her
damp hair from her pale face.

“Take heart, my love, all shall be well.”
  He kissed her softly and stepped away, not wanting her to see the worry in his own eyes.

She tried to sit up, her voice as despite as her words. 
“Nay!  Do not leave me!”

He pressed her softly down again upon the bed. 
“I must call the midwives and the healer, but I shall come back to thee.”

She closed her eye and gritted her teeth against the pain
as she nodded again, her hands gripping the sheets as she cried out weakly.  He hurried to the door yelling the guards to get the midwives and healer as he threw off the rest of armor then hurried back to her and sat beside her gently, lightly touching her pale face.  Soft sweet words cooed to her as he did so,
“All shall be well...”

He gently wiped the tears that fell silently down pale cheeks. 
“…I—I am afraid…”

“Shhh, ‘tis natural.  The women shall come to help
thee and I shall not leave thy side lest ye wish it…”

Her eyes widened, as another pain took her and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.  But before it was done the women were in the room with clean sheets and water, a knife and string, he almost cringed at the sight of it knowing already the pain she would endure. 
“Out with thee, Lord Farrington!”

He looked
into Miranda’s pleading eyes. 
“Nay, I shall not leave her to do this alone.”

“But a man does not belong
—”

He cut her off with a wave of his strong tanned hand. 
“See to the lady and her child, but I shall not leave her!” 
He stood and moved towards the head of the bed, yet she never took her eyes from him.  He sat down there and stroked her damp face, cooing softly to her as the women worked around him.  She wore only a thin white gown, the women placed large folded sheets beneath her.  The midwives cast her concerned glances and whispered of their fears, but in his heart he prayed…

The old healer came and sat beside her on the bed and spoke gently to her of the birth, her eyes darted to his for strength, and he did not waver.  Another pain took her
, she clenched her teeth and struggled against it; her choked hoarse voice escaped her throat,
“Spare—spare my life, oh Lord…  S—save my child… m—mercy!”
  She collapsed back panting for breath, desperate tears streaming down her frightened face.

He felt tears stinging in the depths of his own eyes as he spoke to her of his love and of the child that they would raise.  She opened her eyes and gazed at hi
m searching his face for hope.

The healer spoke to her gently and looked up at Garrick. 
“I have need to check the girl…”

He nodded and looked down into her damp frightened face as she whispered tearfully. 
“If—if I die…” 
Her faint voice broke with tears.

He tried to speak but she silenced him with trembling fingers. 
“N—nay… if something happens… promise me ye shall protect my child...”

He closed his eyes and nodded.  Another pain gripped her.  She clenched her teeth and grabbed onto his tunic till her knuckles were white
.  “N—name it as I have asked…”

He kissed her softly. 
“Ye shall name thy child thyself, take heart, my lady, all shall be well…”

The healer leaned forward and touched his arm. 
“It shall not be long now.  She must have struggled all day waiting for thee.”

Her words meant to comfort him only made his heart cringe.  But instead the hour passed with pains and prayers, heart wrenching cries and pleas for mercy…  And then finally…  “There, there, yes, push, my lady!  I can see William’s ch
ild and it has his dark hair!”

Miranda couldn’t help but cry, tears streaming down her flushed face.
“Let it live, please, let it live…”

He smiled at her weakly and stroked her damp hair, echoing her prayer in his own heart. 
“All shall be well…”

She looked to him with bloodshot eyes then stiffened as another pain gripped
her making her cry out again.

“Push!  A little more!”

Then suddenly, the pressure and pain slipped away, her eyes flew open in shock and relief as looked into his eyes too afraid to even cry.  He looked down at the child that now lay in the healer’s bloodied hands and smiled as Miranda’s soft voice came to him. 
“Is—is it alive?”

The healer lifted the child for her to see. 
“All is well, m’lady!  ‘Tis a boy!  Ye have son, Miranda!  A son!”

She squeezed her eyes shut at the soft cries of her son, hot tears falling down her face as great sobs shook her thin frame; he bent low and kissed her trembling lips gently.  Never before had he ever been so moved with love as he was right then.  The midwife took the child and bathed it gently, its soft cries filled William’s chamber as she wrapped it with great care and brought it to the bed.  He opened his arms and took the small infant, smiling down into the face of a miracle. 
And he felt his heart ache within him, as if it were his own. 
“I promise to love thee as though ye were my own and raise thee as thy father would have wanted.”
  He kissed the child small dark head, then handed him to his mother who watched him with tear filled eyes.

She took him and smiled, tears still streaming down her pale face, her damp hair in soft ringlets, her pale lips now pink and delicate.  She looked at the child, William’s child and touched its face gently. 
“He’s beautiful...  I—I prayed that he would look like William.”
  She lifted a small fist and kissed it tenderly. 
“Evan.”
  She tested this name on her lips and smiled.

He bent forward and kissed her softly. 
“I would go and tell my uncle that he has a grandson…!”

She nodded and kissed the child whose soft cries gave way to the large blue sea
rching eyes of his father.

The midwife smiled at her and touched her cheek gently.  “The almi
ghtily has been kind to thee.”

She smiled back tearfully.

“My lady, I have seen babes born early, thine is not overly so, see how alert he is, and how he struggles not for breath.  He is small, but healthy.  William would be proud of thee.”

Miranda smiled a teary smile and kissed her child again…

Edmund had been told by Nigel that the girl was giving birth.  He sat up despite the painful wound that had been slow to heal. 
“Nay! ’Tis too soon!”

Nigel looked at him with worried eyes as Edmund clasped back against his pillows hopelessly. 
“What have I done that I deserve to have all taken from me…!  Have I not suffered enough?!”
  The hours crept by slowly as he waited in the darkness of his chamber for word, any word, his heart bracing for the news that William’s child was dead…

Garrick tapped on his uncle’s door and opened it without waiting for a reply; the whole house was concerned for the child who had come early.  Edmund’s haunted eyes searched his face as he whispered hopelessly in the dim light, “
Tell me not that the child is dead…”

Garrick smiled reassuringly. 
“Uncle, all is well… the child is fine, and so is the girl.”

Edmund covered his face with a strong hand biting back the emotion that shook him. 
“’Tis alive…”

Garrick laid a hand on his shoulder as he spoke,
“Aye, very much alive.”

He frowned.
  “A—and a boy?”

“Aye, uncle, a
boy.  William has given thee a grandson to take his place.  A boy with hair as dark as his father’s.”

Edmund could not hide the smile that swept across his worried face. 
“A boy!  My God!  I have prayed so!  Oh Garrick, all rides on that child!”

Garrick smiled.
  “I know, uncle, he shall be well protected and made worthy to take his father’s title, I promise ye that.”

Edmund struggled to sit up again. 
“I must go see him!  Give me thy hand!”

At the soft tap at the door the midwife opened it; she laid a finger lightly to her lips and smiled.  The two men walked silently into the dimly lit room towards William’s bed where an angel lay, her shiny ringlets spread across the pillow like a halo, her dark lashes resting on golden cheeks, her pink soft lips looked almost as if she smiled, and in her arm lay a small dark haired child that slumbered peacefully on.

Edmund bit back tears and stepped forward, his large hand reached down and gently touched the small dark curls that swept across his grandson’s head.  He smiled and couldn’t help
but think that the boy looked like his father had when he was but a babe.  It was like seeing William’s birth all over again.  He glanced at Garrick whose eyes were on the golden haired girl that slept innocently in his son’s bed.  He smiled, pleased with the love he saw there. 
“She is lovely, Garrick.”

The man glanced at him and flushed at his thoughts. 
“Aye, lovely, an angel could not have been more so
…”  Garrick stepped forwards and gently lifted the child from his mother’s loose arm, not disturbing her restful sleep.  He turned and handed the babe to his grandfather. 
“Evan Sheridan, m’lord.”

The old man raised dark brows; though he’d heard her speak of it beforehand he had not considered it much until now.  Evan was a Welsh name. 
An English Earl with a welsh name?
 
“Evan?”
  His gaze dropped to the child that slumbered in his arms. 
“I suppose ‘tis fitting, for if it was not for the love of a simple Welsh lass I would be left with not.  Aye, Evan it shall be.”

Garrick nodded.  “’Tis fitting, his father would have thought s
o too.”

Edmund looked around his son’s chamber’s that still looked the way it had the very day he’d left, more than glad the girl had treasured the room as he had.  “’Tis fitting that the child be born here... and
that William be given a son.”

Garrick nodded, “Aye, all has been righted again, uncle.”

The old man just smiled and kissed he babe in his arms.

Garrick looked at the girl again, knowing that all things were righted for him too.  He would no longer be alone with the memories of lost love, but have a family to fill his life and days.  The healer had told him it would be over a month till she could be a proper wife to him, he would wait; it would be enough that the girl would be his…

When Miranda woke, it was night; her body was weak and ached from what she had endured.  Her hand went to her now flat empty stomach and she looked towards the chair next to the bed with worried eyes thinking of what Lydan had said though she knew she shouldn’t.  But instead teary eyes found Garrick where he sat with one leg propped on the rail of her bed holding her son as he gazed down lovingly at the child.  He glanced up and smiled at her.  “Ah Evan, thy mother ‘tis finally awake.  And just in time I think, the child has found his fist but it has not satisfied his hunger.”

She smil
ed, a soft blush on her cheeks.

He stood and laid the child in her ar
ms as she looked at him shyly.

He smiled down at her.  “I—ye—” He laughed softly.  “I shall leave ye till
morning.  Sleep well, my lady.”

She waited till he had gone then arranged the blanket so that both she and the child were covered and gently coaxed him to her nurse.  She smiled at him and touched his soft face that reminded her so of William’s.  He would have been proud, but no more than she was of both a man that had been her husband and of the son he had graced her with…