The Rightful Lord (The Saga Of Wolfbridge Manor Book 3), Sahara Kelly [english novels for students .TXT] 📗

Like this…” He stood near and showed Jane how to breathe in through her nose and out through her mouth.

She nodded as the pain eased.

“Good girl,” said Gabriel. “Right then. Let’s get you comfortable.” He glanced around. “Gentlemen, for this moment you may turn your backs.” He helped Jane to stand, and let Trick unfasten her laces, leaving her in her chemise.

As this was going on, Gwyneth laid out the linens thickly on the couch, knowing little about childbirth other than it would be a messy business.

“Here we go then,” Gabriel and Trick eased her back down as another violent spasm shook her.

“You go ahead and scream, sweetheart,” soothed Royce. “We can all take it and it may help you…”

She didn’t, but Gwyneth sensed it was a near thing.

“It’s too soon,” she whimpered as they rested her onto the now-covered couch. “Too soon. A month at least…Trick…” she grabbed his hand again. “What if…what if there’s something wrong?”

“There’s nothing wrong, Jane, darling. I’m sure of it. Why, didn’t the babe do its best to kick me out of bed not two nights ago?”

She managed a weak smile and nodded.

“There you are then.”

Royce came and sat on the far end of the couch. It was one of those with half a back, ideal for the purpose, and he straddled it, reaching for Jane’s feet.

“Now comes the hard part, Jane. I have to see how far along you are.”

Gwyneth was amazed at the tender way he spoke and touched her toes. She could have hugged him, but knew he was focused on the mother-to-be.

“So,” continued Royce, “I’m going to shoo away Harry, Jeremy and Evan.” He turned with an apologetic look. “She’ll be glad of a cup of tea in a while, Evan. Maybe even a wee something to eat, but definitely water. And a brandy for the rest of us all. You’ll know when the time comes.”

A pounding at the front door startled them all until Gwyneth sighed with relief. “Mrs B. Jeremy, get her in here. Quickly.”

The men scattered as Royce eased Jane’s legs apart, keeping as much of her covered as he could. “Gwyneth, move those candles closer…”

She picked up the branch and carried them to his shoulder. And, God help her, she took a look as well.

Blinking, she couldn’t quite believe her eyes.

“God, I see hair,” mumbled Royce.

Jane cried out again, tears overflowing. “It hurts…

“Of course it does, my poppet,” Mrs B erupted into the room and dove for the couch and her daughter. “Yer just need to ride it out.”

She glanced around, her gaze fastening on Royce. “Yer know what yer doin’ then?”

He nodded. “I’ve done this before. She’s very close, so it’s good you’re here.”

Mrs B nodded at Gwyneth. “Not what I’d want fer my girl, but better here than on the road.” She turned to Trick and cuffed him gently. “Yer shoulda stayed put, lad.”

“I wanted to, believe me,” he said ruefully. “But Fivetrees is so isolated, and Jane was scared. We had hoped to make it to you.” He sighed. “To be honest, I was scared too. There was no time, Mother B. It’s all happening so fast.”

Jane’s cries were louder and close together now, and Gwyneth found herself sweating along with her. “I’ve got more cloths,” she said, making sure they were within range of Royce, should he need them.

“Good.”

Gabriel came to Gwyneth’s side and took her hand. “Are you all right, my Lady?” He kept his voice low, although there was noise now, almost continuously, from Jane.

“Yes, I’m doing well, and praying for Jane,” she answered, taking comfort from the clasp of his hand.

“It’s exciting,” he said. “I’ve never seen a baby born before.”

“Well, you’re about to,” said Royce, whose keen ears had caught Gabriel’s comment. “Grab the scissors…”

Thus directed, Gabriel reached into the nearby sewing box and removed a small pair of embroidery scissors.

“Hold them in the hot water…” Royce’s voice was breathless as his hands delved between Jane’s outspread legs. He’d kept her chemise draped over as much of her as he could, but now Gwyneth could sense the urgency in every move he made.

“Jane,” he said carefully. “When the next pain comes, I want you to push…”

“Oh no,” she sobbed. “I can’t. It hurts…”

“Yes you can…now…push…”

Jane screamed, tears running down her cheeks.

“Once more…give it all you have, sweetheart…push…”

A harsh and violent scream racked her and echoed throughout the room, sending shudders through Gwyneth. Oh God—how could she survive such agony?

After that ear-shattering cry there was a moment’s silence.

And then a new voice joined them.

The baby cried.

Royce’s voice broke as he pulled away, holding a pink and messy little body in his hands.

“Jane,” he said. “Trick. Well done.” He swallowed roughly. “You have a son.”

Mrs B burst into tears as Jane lay back, exhausted and gazing at her husband who stared at the babe.

“Is he…all right?” Jane turned her head weakly toward Royce.

“The only thing wrong with him is that his mama and papa can’t count.” Royce chuckled. “This is a perfect and healthy young fellow, Jane. A good number of pounds too, I suspect. Which leads me to conclude you were off in your supposition as to when he was conceived.”

He took cloths from Gwyneth and cleaned the tiny squalling babe gently, then passed the clean scissors to Trick. “Here, papa. Free your lad to begin life on his own.”

Blinking hard, Trick nodded. “’Tis smaller than a foal’s,” he commented, snipping the cord and making them all chuckle.

“So’s the baby, yer daft lad,” Mrs B sniffled and hurried to his side, crooning over the little one as Royce gave her a little soft cloth to wrap him in. The cries were loud and healthy and brought the other men