The Captain's Caress (49 page)

Fiona was disgusted by the foolishly adoring way Brent stared at Summer, but she was never one to waste time on lost causes.

“Then make yourself useful. A wagonload of things have to be brought in. You and Roberto see to it while Madelena and I try to get her settled.”

When Summer refused to let go of Brent’s hand, he said, “I’m just going outside. I’ll never leave you again.”

“I’m going to need a lot more straw,” Madelena declared. “If you will have your baby like a mare, at least we can make a decent bed for you.” She scolded the two men sharply every time Summer made a sound, but Summer was finally settled on a fresh bed. “Now go start the fire and heat some water while we get her out of these clothes,” Madelena said to the men.

“Roberto can make the fire by himself,” Brent argued. “I’m not leaving her again.”

“If you can look at her in the straw and still think she’s beautiful, I guess you’re as besotted as she is,” Fiona said huffily. “But you’ll have to turn your eyes away while we change her. I’ll not have you staring at her naked.”

“How do you think she got this way?” Brent smiled wickedly at Fiona.

“Young people have no manners anymore,” lamented Madelena. “If Roberto had spoken to my mother like that, my father would have shot him.”

“If your father had seen Summer, he would have understood.”

“Are you saying I’m so ugly it’s a relief to turn away?” Madelena’s eyes glinted dangerously.

“Everyone knows that Roberto still has to drive your admirers away with a knife, but look at her. Even now she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.”

“You’re hopeless,” said Madelena. “If you must stay where you have no business to be, get out of my way so I can do my work.” Brent continued to hold Summer’s hand and to whisper lovingly in her ear even when Madelena poked him in the ribs to make him move. She grumbled while she changed Summer’s clothes, then made some pungent remarks on the behavior of young people as she drew the sheet over Summer; but later, when she stepped outside to confer with Roberto, her attitude was quite different.

“You should see the two of them holding hands and staring at each other as if there were no one else in the world. You’d never know they were in a crumbling shack on a dirt floor.”

“I thought you would send him out, or haven’t you changed her yet?”

“He’s so blinded by love he wouldn’t know whether she was mother-naked or wearing a golden gown. Did you ever feel that way about me?” she asked coyly.

“With you rolling about and screaming like a wild woman?” Roberto asked, aghast. “I stuck my head in the wagon once, and you let out such a screech I thought they were cutting you open.”

“You have no romance in your soul. You couldn’t really love me,” she pouted.

“Then your sister pushed me off the step. Your father had to protect me.”

“Master Brent’s not afraid.”

“Why should he be? You and Fiona treat him like a prince. Your mother and sisters treated me like an archfiend for getting you pregnant.” He pulled Madelena roughly to him. “But I’d do it again in a minute,” he said, responding instantly to the warmth of her body against his.

“Behave yourself,” his wife scolded, though she was enormously pleased. “I’m too old for that kind of stuff.”

“That’s not what you said last night,” he teased, breathing hotly in her ear.

“I’ve got to go back.” Madelena blushed and tried to break out of his hold. “Fiona can’t manage without me.”

“Neither can I. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said shyly. She gave him a deep kiss and then ran back into the farmhouse, feeling younger and more lighthearted than she had in years.

Chapter 46

The women took turns watching Summer throughout the night. “She’s not going to be quick with her time,” said Fiona. “It may take another day.”

“How can she stand another day of this agony?” Brent asked, fretting helplessly as Summer lay exhausted after a wave of pain.

“There’s nothing wrong,” Madelena insisted, trying to allay his fears. “She just started her labor too soon. The poor thing is worn out, but she’s doing fine.” Brent tried to be reassured, but he became more and more worried as the morning wore into midday and then afternoon. He wanted several times to throw caution to the winds and send for a doctor.

“Don’t be an imbecile,” Madelena admonished. “How can you expect Summer to remain calm if you act like a spooked yearling? You can’t tell me you carried on like this when your ship was in trouble. She needs someone to lean on, not someone to add to her fears. It’s going to take all of her strength to deliver this baby.”

Brent felt like an apprentice seaman being dressed down.

At sunset the pains intensified and started coming closer together. One hardly receded before another swept around Summer’s body like the coils of a large snake, causing her to moan distressfully and arch her body in protest. The two women then came out of their state of seeming unconcern and busied themselves with preparations for the birth; Brent’s offer of help was firmly refused. “You’ll have all you can do to keep yourself calm,” Fiona told him tersely.

So Brent, completely shaken by the terrible agonies Summer was being forced to endure, stayed by his wife’s side. He had never considered what it meant for a woman to bear a child; the ordeal of birth was completely foreign to his masculine experience. Despite the pain of his own wounds, and the deaths and maimings he had witnessed, it nearly drove him mad to see the woman he loved being battered by this seemingly perpetual torment. He wanted to fight something, to curse someone for her pain.

It was a new experience for him to sit by while others were busy, but he clenched his teeth and curbed his rage as best he could for Summer seemed to derive comfort from his presence. It was his own fault that she was having this baby. If sitting by her side, holding her hand, mopping her brow—woman’s work he would have scornfully called it just hours earlier—could make her trial any easier, then that was what he would do. It was the only way he could relieve the guilt he felt for having forced this misery on her. He made a silent vow never to do it again.

As the light faded, her pains grew worse. Summer reached out to clasp Brent’s hand as a particularly vicious convulsion wrenched at her abdomen, burying her in a haze of torment. She felt that she was drowning in pain, her head rolled from side to side, and she was unable to stop the low moans that slipped from her compressed lips. Faces became unclear and voices seemed to be coming from a distance, but Brent’s hand was her lifeline, the link that kept her from being pilotless in this storm of suffering.

Then the most terrible pain of all gripped Summer, and pushed down with violent force. A muffled scream escaped her lips, but before she could recover, another contraction, even worse than the first, seized her like the embrace of a constrictor. She felt a terrible pressure, an overwhelming desire to push down, to rid herself of the burden that tortured her so. Brent cradled her in his arms as still another wave gripped her and she tried to throw herself from the bed.

“It’s coming,” cried Fiona. “I can see the wee creature’s head.” Without knowing quite why he did it, Brent yielded Summer to Madelena. It was his child and his arms must be the first to hold it.

“One more push ought to do it,” prompted Fiona. Summer tried to respond, but before she could gather herself, another wave washed over her. It was so all-consuming she felt swallowed by it. Through a haze she felt the baby’s head slip from her body; another push, and the baby lay in Brent’s arms. The brutal pains rapidly lost their force, and Summer closed her eyes. She had done it, she had given birth.

Brent stared transfixed at the tiny, wrinkled face. The infant boy opened his eyes, took his first gulp of air, and cried out in protest. Brent had looked forward to becoming a father and had thought in an inchoate way of what it would be like. But now that his dream had turned into reality, he felt as much at a loss as any man could.

“You’d think the man had never held a baby.” Fiona laughed.

“I haven’t,” said the bemused Brent. “We don’t have babies at sea.”

“Bless me, I never thought of that. He really
doesn’t
know what to do.”

“Then it’s time he learned,” said Madelena. Brent came out of his fog long enough to discover he was about to drop the baby. The women laughed heartily as he tried to balance the infant, rear end in one hand and head and shoulders in the other. His hands kept going up and down like the weighing pans of a meat scale.

“Bless the man if he’s not trying to juggle with it.” Fiona was enjoying Brent’s confusion. The baby, dwarfed by Brent’s enormous hands, looked up at his father with clear blue eyes.

“Don’t stand there laughing at me, woman.” Brent was truly flustered. “Show me what to do before I drop him.”

“You put the arm next to you like this, you clumsy brute.” Madelena placed Brent’s left arm horizontally across his chest. “Then you lay the baby in the crook of it, and you still have your right hand free to make sure you don’t drop him onto the floor.” Both women were greatly amused as the hapless Brent held the child stiffly, certain that the slightest move would cause him to drop it. He could hardly believe that anything so tiny would grow into a man. The baby waved a tiny fist at his father and uttered a loud cry.

“He’s protesting your rough handling,” Madelena crowed. “You’ve got a lot to learn before you can be trusted with a baby.”

“Brent,” Summer called softly.

He started so violently at the sound of his beloved’s voice that he nearly did drop his son.

“Merciful saints,” Madelena exclaimed, and took the child from the now completely unstrung father. “The man is a menace.”

“It is a son?” Summer asked dreamily.

“It’s a boy,” Brent said moving quickly to her side, “but he’s awfully tiny.”

“The man’s a fool,” Fiona declared. “It’s a fine, big man-child and the spitting image of his oaf of a father.”

“Brent is not an oaf,” Summer protested. “He’s the smartest and bravest man in the world.”

“See what love can do, even to sensible women?” Madelena placed the child in the outstretched arms of its father. “See if you can give it to its mother without dropping it.” She spoke sharply, but her eyes glowed as Brent gingerly took the baby and placed it next to Summer.

“He looks like you,” Summer said fondly. “I hoped he would.”

“He’s the very image of his father,” Fiona agreed.

“How can you say he looks like me? He’s tiny, red, and wrinkled all over,” Brent said with unfatherly frankness.

“He’s beautiful.” Summer ignored the outraged Gypsies who threatened to drive Brent from the farmhouse. “I’m glad. You deserve a perfect son.”

“The woman’s bewitched,” scoffed Fiona.

“No I am not,” Summer declared, showing a hint of her old energy. “Brent is the most marvelous man in the world and he deserves to have nothing but perfect children. Don’t you say anything against him, or I’ll chase
you
out of the farmhouse.”

“Listen to her,” crowed a delighted Madelena. “She’s the warring mother already. If you’ve got so much energy, feed that baby. He’s got a lot of growing to do before he catches up with his father.”

Brent helped Summer prop herself up on quilts stuffed with straw, and holding her son in her arms sent chills of pleasure through her tired body. She could hardly believe that the tiny baby belonged to her, that this was what she had carried around for all that time. How could Gowan ever think she could give up anything so wonderful? She guided the tiny mouth to her breasts. The infant didn’t understand at first, but he soon began to nuzzle. The first tug on her swollen nipple stung, but her heart was filled with joy as she looked down into the precious face of her child. It was worth the pain, the months of fear and worry, the physical strain of carrying him; this one inexplicably wonderful moment was worth it all. She looked up at Brent and smiled wanly. He was watching her with the bewildered look peculiar to most new fathers.

“Are you pleased with him?” she asked.

“I’m proud of both of you,” he replied. “But I promise I won’t put you through this again. One son will be enough for us.”

“Don’t be absurd.” She smiled lovingly. “I want lots more babies, especially if they’re all as beautiful as this.”

“You can’t mean you want to go through this again?”

“Many times,” she said ecstatically. Brent couldn’t believe she was serious, but the looks on Madelena’s and Fiona’s faces told him he had stumbled up against one of the mysteries of the female sex. As much as he might love his son, he would never be able to understand how Summer could want another child so soon after an agonizing birth that had taken the better part of two days.

“We can have as many as you want.” He smiled. “But how about a little time out in between. I’d like to enjoy you with a flat stomach.”

“You’re a wretched beast, Brent Douglas, and I’ll never understand why I love you.” Summer giggled.

“It’s the curse of all women,” said Madelena, a merry twinkle in her eyes. “I could tell you tales about Roberto that would make your heart cry.” Their tension released, the adults gave way to unrestrained merriment.