Choosing the Highlander (8 page)

He followed Anselm and Terran. When he arrived at the guest quarters, he found Constance already at Aifric’s side. She had attempted to sit with the young lass earlier, he’d learned from Terran, but he and Anselm had ushered her back to her bed, where she could rest and heal. Now that Aifric’s birthing was impending, he approved Constance’s participation, especially since she’d been resting now for most of the day.

The young lass sat forward with folded linens behind her. Constance rubbed vigorous circles on her back while murmuring encouragements.

Wilhelm’s chest swelled with pride. She would make a fine Lady of Dornoch one day, provided he found a way to rid himself of the Ruthven-sized thorn in his side.

Anselm directed the other monks to supply hot water and extra bedding. He attempted to shoo Terran out of the room, but his cousin was having none of it.

“I stay,” he said simply.

Wilhelm, on the other hand, had no reason for being there. Satisfied that Constance seemed up to the task of delivering a bairn, he set off to find more chores that needed tending—the farther from the poor lass’s whimpers the better. Mayhap the sheep could use feeding.

Never would his father forgive him if he neglected to earn his keep as a guest of the church. After all that had transpired at Ruthven’s, he would be presuming enough on his father’s forgiveness without adding unnecessary offenses.

#

The young woman—Aifric was her name, Connie had learned—lost consciousness after an afternoon of intense labor. At first Connie thought she’d fallen asleep, and she’d been relieved, because the girl looked beyond exhausted. But when her rounded belly clamped down of its own accord with a powerful contraction and Aifric didn’t wake, she became worried.

“What do we do?” she asked Aselm.

Earlier, the monk had brought her clothes and an afternoon meal. He had insisted she remain in bed to rest even though Aifric had sounded distressed. But when the girl’s moans had become more urgent, she’d offered her help and Anselm had finally accepted. The nun he’d sent for wouldn’t be expected until later tonight at the earliest. That left Connie and Wilhelm’s cousin Terran, at the helm. Anselm seemed relieved to be demoted to the role of hot water fetcher and provider of supplies.

Connie held one of Aifric’s hands. Terran held the other. He looked even more worried than she felt. In her worry over the girl, her own pain had faded to a manageable level. A few hours of sleep had no doubt helped her healing as well.

“When will the midwife be here?” Terran asked.

The man was a strapping warrior, like Wilhelm but with longer and slightly darker hair. His presence seemed to take up most of the tiny room. Anselm had tried several times to get him to leave, but Terran refused.

“Not soon enough,” Anselm replied with his face set grimly. “Mayhap you should attempt to wake her,” he said to Connie.

She patted Aifric’s check, terrified of hurting her. She was so frail. It had likely been weeks since she’d eaten. Malnutrition made sharp angles of her cheekbones, and bruise-like shadows made her eyes appear sunken. How had this happened? Where was her family? Why had Ruthven treated her this way?

She didn’t have a husband. That much she’d learned from Aifric between contractions. It seemed Terran had more than a polite interest in her. Maybe, if Aifric made it through this ordeal, she and Terran would find happiness together.

Though she would never admit it to anyone, she liked to unwind in the evenings with a romance novel from the library. The busyness of the city and the stress of her job made her crave a small dose of softness in the evenings. Maybe the stress of the past two days had made her cling to the romantic notion of an instant attraction. Or maybe the dream she’d had last night was making her sentimental.

She spoke directly into Aifric’s ear while patting her shoulder. “Wake up, hon. We’ve got to deliver your baby.” Still no response. “She won’t wake up.”

“Keep trying.” Anselm looked resigned, like he didn’t expect this to go well.

“Wake, love,” Terran whispered to Aifric. “A little while longer, and you’ll have your bairn in your arms. You can rest then.” He kissed her forehead. “I’d give ye my strength if I could, lass. Would that I could.” His voice cracked. “Wake now. Please. For me.”

Aifric remained motionless except for her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

Terran’s tenderness with a woman he had only met the night before caused Connie’s heart to constrict. It wasn’t just Connie’s secret romantic inclinations making her see something that wasn’t there. Love had bloomed for these two, and it had done so incredibly quickly. Maybe this what the man in her dream had meant by
senseless acts of love.
 

It could happen to you too.
 

But it wouldn’t. This kind of love had never been part of her plans. Too unpredictable. Too abstract. Love wasn’t something you could quantify like income and career status. She could never depend on something of indeterminate value.

Maybe sudden devotion wasn’t for her, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the sweetness of it. She would be damned if she didn’t do everything in her power to give these two the happy ending they deserved.

She racked her brain for every bit of information she’d ever learned about giving birth. Everyone knew a woman’s cervix had to dilate ten centimeters. Doctors would check by inserting fingers into the birth canal. What they felt for, Connie could guess at; the cervix must feel like a ring, stretched taut with the baby’s head creating a hard plane in the center. Once the opening was large enough to accommodate an infant’s head, there would be pushing. Someone usually helped guide the baby out. The cord had to be cut. She could do those things. Provided nothing went wrong.

Time to roll up your sleeves and get to work, Con.

She’d never shied from hard work, and wasn’t about to start now. She certainly wasn’t going to leave Aifric to the ineptness of a monk who stammered every time Connie suggested looking between the girl’s legs and a man who was so besotted he couldn’t stand to see her in pain.

“I’ll check her cervix,” Connie said, more to herself than to the men. They both gave her blank stares. “To see if she’s close.” The explanation didn’t seem to help their understanding. She sighed. “I’m going to place my hand at the entrance to her womb and see if she has—” would they know the word dilated? “Stretched enough to allow the baby to pass.”

Anselm’s face turned red. “I’ll just fetch some more hot water.”

Terran said, “Do it.”

She took a bracing breath and rolled up the sleeves of her borrowed dress so she could dip her hand in a bowl of warm water, the only thing available for washing. Wincing, because she had never viewed another woman so intimately, she lifted the blankets. There was instantly no question that Aifric’s cervix had dilated to ten centimeters because a bluish scalp with matted black hair pressed at a perfect tight circle of flesh like a cereal bowl coming through a hole in a sock.

“Oh. Um.” She glanced at Terran, her hands trembling. “It’s happening. The baby is coming.”

Terran was there with her less than a heartbeat later, looking between Aifric’s legs. Just then another contraction eased the baby a little further. The child’s closed eyes were just visible near the front of Aifric’s mound. Instinct told her it wouldn’t be long now.

“That’s it, lass. Your bairn is coming.” Terran cupped his hands like a catcher in a baseball game.

Connie laughed, oddly jubilant at witnessing this miracle. “Wash your hands first.”

He blushed and obeyed.

Ten minutes later, Terran delivered a pink, wrinkly little girl. She wasn’t moving.

With tears in his eyes, he asked, “Is she…?”

“No,” Connie said. “Here. Give her to me.”

Terran placed her carefully on the bed between Aifric’s legs where Connie began rubbing the tiny, beautiful thing with a clean blanket. She used quick, firm strokes, remembering that babies needed to cry when they were born. Sure enough, the infant’s face got even redder and her little mouth opened. A distinctive newborn cry filled the room.

“There you are, sweetheart,” she said to the baby. She wrapped the little girl in the blanket and transferred her to the arms of a shocked looking Terran. “You find something to tie off the cord while I check on mommy.”

Giving commands came easily to her thanks to managing projects at her engineering firm. Sometimes confidence could even make up for lack of knowledge, if a gal got lucky. Hopefully, they’d all be lucky today, because unlike at work, she had no idea what to do with a newborn.

Aifric was still breathing, and she didn’t seem to be bleeding badly. “I think she’s all right,” she said to Terran. “Probably just weak from not being able to eat?” She hoped that’s all that held Aifric unconscious and that they could get some sustenance into her now that the birth was over.

A throat-clearing sound called her attention to the doorway. Anselm hovered there with a cautious smile on his face. “All is well?”

“Aye,” Terran said, grinning like a fool as he looked up from the cord. He had double-knotted a length of twine-like rope around it. While she and Anselm watched, he sliced it clean through with a long-handled knife. “Look at the wee lass.” He held her up for Anselm to see. “A bonny sweet thing.” Her skin was pink and soft, and her face was scrunched up but somehow more beautiful than anything Connie had ever seen before. She wasn’t a chubby baby, but she wasn’t skinny either. Her mother had given her a good start, it seemed, despite her own poor health.

“Aye,” Anselm agreed. “Would you like to be her da?”

Terran didn’t miss a beat. “We’ll do it as soon as she can stand at my side for the vows.” He turned his attention to Aifric, who stirred and moaned, oblivious to the men. She was probably in a lot of pain and exhausted. Connie didn’t blame her one bit for losing consciousness.

Terran tried to show her the baby, but she didn’t open her eyes. “Bring her mead,” he told Anselm.

“No,” Connie said. “Water or tea, but nothing alcoholic while she’s breast feeding. And something to eat. Maybe she’ll be able to keep it down now that she’s delivered the baby.” After Anselm left, she told Terran, “Let’s see if we can get her to nurse.”

She lowered the neckline of Aifric’s nightgown, and directed Terran to put the baby at one swollen breast. Nature took its course, and the baby attempted to suck. But the breast was too firm. The tiny mouth couldn’t seem to latch on.

Connie did what felt natural. She grabbed Aifric’s breast none too gently and compressed just behind the nipple. This did the trick. The baby girl sucked the entire areola into her mouth and began nursing. Connie let go, and the baby continued without difficulty.

How amazing! The little thing was born with an instinct to survive, and her mother, even while malnourished, was able to not only give birth to her but also provide sustenance.

Wonder expanded in her chest as she watched Terran bring one of Aifric’s hands up to rest on the baby. He whispered sweetly. To mother or baby, Connie wasn’t sure. She stood and tiptoed out of the room, leaving the little family to their privacy and hoping Aifric would recover and be all right.

When she returned to her room, weary and hungry, it was to find Wilhelm pouring steaming water into an ewer. “Take off your clothes,” he said. “I intend to bathe you.”

Chapter 7

Shock and lust held Connie paralyzed in the doorway.

Wilhelm had traded his poupoint and hose for a linen shirt and simple trousers. Both garments looked like they could use a washing, as did the man himself. Grime and sweat streaked his face. Between that and his faint odor of earth and hard-working man, her heart thumped extra hard, pumping blood spiked with attraction.

The son of a baron and laird, he would be considered nobility. But he had clearly worked hard today, not demanding service, but serving instead. And now, he wanted to serve her.

For a heart-stopping moment, she wanted to let him. Heck, she wanted to let him do more than bathe her.
I’ll undress if you do first.
It was on the tip of her tongue. But no. She was not about to undress in front of a man she hardly knew.

It must be her exposure to the love between Terran and Aifric making her desire a connection with this warrior from the past. She had no doubt an intimate interlude with Wilhelm would prove exceptional, but short-term flings weren’t her style.

In one day, two tops, Wilhelm would be a memory, nothing more. Her dream had given her hope that this shopkeeper Leslie had spoken with might actually exist. She needed to find him. Or at the very least return to Druid’s Temple so she could make her way back to the present day.

“No, thank you,” she made herself say. She kept her voice low so no one overheard her Midwestern-American accent and tempered her refusal with a smile. “I can wash myself. I wouldn’t say no to something to eat, though, if you have anything handy.”

She winced, realizing she’d just treated Wilhelm like wait staff at a hotel. It had to be the stress of the day. It wasn’t easy seeing someone suffer, especially when they’d already been through so much.

Poor Aifric. Thank heaven the baby appeared healthy. That had been far from a guarantee considering the young mother’s condition.

Wilhelm watched her with intense blue eyes while he untied the laces of his shirt. The linen parted, revealing nothing underneath but fair, firm skin.

Connie gulped.

“You mistake my meaning. ’Twas no’ meant to be a request.” He let the shirt slip down his arms. It fell to the floor, but her gaze remained glued on Wilhelm.

He. Was. Magnificent.

His skin was paler than the linen he’d just shed. Creamy and smooth, his muscular chest and torso made her want to lap him up like the most decadent white chocolate. And maybe even take a nibble.

His broad shoulders were so thick with muscle she would be hard pressed to get a good grip if she wanted to give him a massage, and she did want to give him a massage. She’d never wanted that with any other man, but here she was wanting to dig her fingers into Wilhelm’s flesh to ease his aches after a hard training session or simply to bring him pleasure.