Reckless Viscount (41 page)

He lifted his gaze and saw a pink and angry bundle being lifted by Mrs. Helmstead from the cradle of his wife’s body. He caught sight of tiny arms and legs waving wildly in the air before the small person was handed to the maid waiting to wrap it in towels warmed and ready. The maid then quickly brought to child to Abbigael and lay the bundle in her waiting arms.

Their child.

He blinked away the hot moisture from his eyes and looked down at Abbigael.

Her strength and awareness seemed to have returned the moment the child let out the first scream and she was bent over the baby muttering soft cooing words of welcome. She turned her head to look up at him and he saw in her eyes such a pure wealth of love and devotion that his heart ached at the sight of it.

“Good Lord.” Mrs. Helmstead’s whispered exclamation drew Leif’s swift gaze and he saw her reaching frantically for the towels at her side.

“What is going on? What is happening?”

His questions went unanswered as the old lady worked frantically to staunch the rushing flow of blood Leif could now see escaping from his wife’s body. Towels soaked in red were taken away and more were brought in to take their place.

“Leif?” Abbigael’s whispered question brought his gaze back to her in just enough time to see her eyes roll gently back as her head slumped heavily against his shoulder.

“Abbigael,” he said sternly, squeezing her shoulders in an attempt to rouse her. “Abbigael.”

Panic filled him as she remained unresponsive.

Oh God, no! She couldn’t leave him again. He wouldn’t allow it this time.

He barely noticed as one of the younger maids took the baby away and Mrs. Helmstead came up alongside Abbigael to press heavily into her abdomen. He refused to look any lower than Abbigael’s face, not wanting to see how much blood she continued to lose as the three women moved with efficient but worried movements around her body.

He focused intently on her delicate features. His hand swept carefully over her brow and down her cheek that was growing cool and clammy beneath his touch. He rested his other hand against the side of her throat, holding his fingers against the thinning thread of her pulse. And he began to mutter the words that had been building in his chest from the moment he met her. Words of love and devotion that he didn’t think he would ever say. Words that forced him to remove all the layers of protection until his long-buried heart was exposed and raw. Fear washed ice through his blood as he realized he should have been saying these things to her for months. He could only hope she heard him, prayed that his love would be enough to keep her here with him. He had to believe it was possible though nothing else in his life supported such a belief. But Abbigael was different. So very different, and he had taken her for granted and distrusted her and pushed her away.

His voice grew hoarse with the effort to force the raw words of his emotions past the hard lump growing larger in his throat with every passing minute that she remained unconscious in his arms. And as the pulse in her throat grew weaker, hot tears ran down his face and he begged her not to leave him in deep wrenching sobs.

Finally, he felt an intrusive touch against his shoulder. His arms were tense and aching as they locked protectively around his wife’s body. He reluctantly turned his head and met the weary gaze of his housekeeper.

“Tell me she will be all right,” he ordered, not recognizing the sound of his own voice as he forced it through a choked throat.

“Her womb has begun the process of healing and the bleeding has slowed to an expected rate. But she has lost a lot of blood. She is very weak.”

“There must be something we can do.”

“I have made a tea with some herbs that will help her, if we can get her to drink some.”

“I will do it.”

The woman handed him a cup filled with a golden tea that smelled faintly of forest earth.

“She will live?” he asked, needing to know the truth in spite of the fear that clawed at his insides.

“As long as the bleeding continues to slow. We must keep watch. She needs rest as do you, my lord.”

“I am not leaving her.”

The servant nodded.

“Then once she has finished the tea, you can help me to get her out of her damp clothes and change her bedding. The sooner she is settled into a clean bed the better she will be able to rest.”

Leif patiently went about the task of pouring the tea between Abbigael’s lips drop by drop. Then he followed his servant’s instructions as they stripped away the soiled clothing and washed her skin with a warm cloth. The whole time, Abbigael slept an unnatural sleep. Her pulse was weak and rapid beneath her frighteningly pale skin. He cradled her limp body in his arms as the old woman changed the bedding and then settled her against the pillows again.

Feeling her pulse, he was encouraged to find that it felt stronger and less frantic.

Only then did he recall the baby with a shocking jolt. He had been so focused on Abbigael he had forgotten all about his child.

Turning to Mrs. Helmstead, he asked, “The baby?”

“The baby is doing very well, a fine strong son. A wet nurse has been fetched.”

Relief flooded through him. A son. And he was strong and healthy.

“Bring him here.”

“But, my lord—”

“I want the child here when Abbigael awakes. She will want to know he is safe.”

“And the wet nurse?”

“You can ask her to stay, if you must. Now, please have the baby brought here right away.”

Mrs. Helmstead left and he washed quickly in the basin of wash water refreshed by the maid and redressed in clean breeches and a shirt.

Mrs. Helmstead returned with a swaddled bundle held close in her arms and Leif went to her and reached for the baby.

“I will ring if anything else is needed.”

“You don’t need to stay here, my lord. I can have a maid stay with the lady and child until morning.”

“No need. Thank you.”

The woman turned away with a roll of her eyes and began to mutter under her breath about vagaries of nobility.

Leif had already dismissed her from his mind, his focus now was on the tiny creature in his arms. The baby boy was surprisingly alert as he squirmed in the folds of his blanket as if he were desperate to be free. Then his face scrunched up and turned a bright shade of pink and he opened his mouth and let loose a demanding little wail of discontent.

Smiling a grin so wide his cheeks ached, Leif settled into bed alongside his wife. Holding the baby in the crook of his elbow, he lowered the neckline of Abbigael’s nightgown. Very carefully, he laid their son against her side and positioned his seeking mouth at her breast. The child whimpered just before he began to suckle. Feeling a flood of warmth and love so overwhelming it was frightening, Leif wrapped his arms around his wife and child, promising himself that he would never again sleep another night away from her.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Consciousness warred with overwhelming exhaustion, and Abbigael pulled herself into full awareness with great effort. She shifted position and gasped when her muscles spasmed in aching protest. She tested herself with farther movement, carefully lengthening her arms and legs, and felt a great tenderness deep inside and a permeating weakness in her limbs unlike anything she had ever known. Her entire body felt wasted and worn from head to toe.

“Don’t try to move too much.” Leif’s hushed words stirred the hair at her temple and she turned her head to the side, meeting his kaleidoscope gaze only inches from hers.

As if finding clarity in the deep colors of his eyes, she suddenly remembered everything.

“The babe?” she asked. Her voice cracked and her throat felt raw.

Leif’s entire face transformed with his smile. “He is right here,” he answered with a dip of his head toward the limited space between them.

Abbigael lowered her chin and saw the baby cradled in the crook of her arm, supported by herself and Leif. Only his pink face could be seen, but to Abbigael, it was enough for her to decide that a more perfect baby had never existed.

“A boy,” she whispered in reverence as she struggled through her weakness to lift her hand and brush her fingertips across his tiny nose and soft round cheek.

“Strong and healthy,” Leif added.

Abbigael fought to recall the specific events of the birth, but so much of it was clouded by pain and fear. “Why don’t I… Something happened.”

“You lost a lot of blood.” He swallowed hard. “It has slowed through the night, but you will need time to recover.”

Abbigael sensed something beneath his words. She reached out with her awareness in an attempt to define it and felt an inexplicable rush of fear and anguish and love all at once. The emotions came upon her so quickly it was all she could do to try to hold back sudden tears.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” she muttered as she curled her hand over her son’s small chest, feeling comforted by the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

“You are tired.”

Abbigael was sorely tempted to lift her gaze to his, but she feared what she might see in his eyes. Instead, she tucked her chin and brushed her cheek against the soft downy thatch of their son’s pale hair and murmured softly, “Yes, that must be it.”

“Abbigael,” Leif said softly as he shifted his arms around her. “I realize this is probably not the time for serious discussion, but I don’t think I can wait for a more opportune moment.”

Abbigael caught her breath and held it as she was seized by an overwhelming sense of regret and sorrow. The tears pricked again in her eyes. She didn’t know where the emotions came from, but she feared nothing good could come of such hollow pain.

“No, you are right,” she said. In her weakened state, her words did not sound nearly as confident as she wished them to. “We have much to discuss.”

“We do?” Leif’s tone was an interesting combination of assent and confusion.

“Of course,” Abbigael replied quickly, not wanting him to say what she suspected he might before she had a chance to propose her own solution. “Now that our son is born, we must make certain arrangements for the future.”

“What sort of arrangements?”

Abbigael felt him stiffen along her side when she mentioned the future and so was not surprised by the suspicion in his voice. He would not like what she was about to say. Her heart ached with the yearning for things to be different, but she saw no other way.

Looking down into the face of the innocent child nestled in the shallow space between them, she uttered the words she knew would break her heart all over again. “I cannot continue to live here feeling as I do. I had no idea that my…feelings for you would grow so deep.” She swallowed past the heavy lump in her throat. “It’s too difficult knowing you are near and wanting…so much more.”

“Stop. Just stop right there.” Anger lowered Leif’s voice. “You cannot leave.”

“I will find a house close by and you can visit your son anytime.”

“No.”

Cold fear flew down her spine. He wasn’t going to let her take the baby.

“Leif, a child needs his mother. I will not leave without him”

“Then stay.”

Tears welled again in her eyes and she blinked hard trying to push them away, but they only came on more insistently.

“You don’t understand,” she whispered painfully. “It hurts too much. I cannot pretend that the circumstances under which we married are still enough for me.”

“I don’t want you to pretend.”

“Leif—” She stopped helplessly, feeling as if he were being intentionally obtuse. She did not know what else she could say.

He lifted his hand to the side of her face. His thumb brushed over the gentle arch of her eyebrow and then swept across her freckled cheek. He tilted her face up until she was forced to meet his gaze. For a moment she was lost in the green and gold that flashed beneath the surface of blue like jewels beneath the sea.

He smiled then and she recognized the charming scoundrel who had recklessly claimed a kiss then claimed her heart.

“Irish, I made a terrible mess of things,” he muttered with a rueful twist to his lips as he settled his hand over the curve of her hip in a gesture that felt both soothing and possessive. “I suppose that shouldn’t come as any true surprise,” he added with a soft chuckle.

“You did say you would make a terrible husband,” Abbigael offered, encouraged by the new lightness in his manner.

Leif cleared his throat. “It seems we must renegotiate the terms of this marriage.”

Abbigael was instantly apprehensive. More terms and limitations. What could he want from her now? “Renegotiate? But—”

Leif tapped his thumb against her lips to stem the flow of her argument and gave her an admonishing look. “You haven’t even heard the terms yet. Won’t you give me a chance to redeem myself?”

She narrowed her eyes at him but decided to remain silent for the moment.

But he didn’t continue right away. Instead, he gave a shaky laugh as he glanced away from her. His eyes focused over her shoulder while he took a deep breath then groaned in frustration.