Surrender The Night (50 page)

Devon paused, his head cocked in confusion. He’d not heard that joyful tone in her voice for a very long time. Indeed, ever since they’d exited the mine, she’d seemed . . . different.

His fading exhilaration left him bone weary. The bucket sagged in his hands. “No more riddles, Kat. My head’s spinning.”

She stepped up to him. Even streaked with soot, her face was poignantly lovely in the lantern glow. “Very well, my dear lord.” She took his free hand and put it to her abdomen. “In a few months the whole world will see at a glance how much we love one another.”

Devon’s hand jerked against her. “What do you mean?” he whispered. He’d braced himself to lose her too many times. The lightness in his head began to descend through his body.

“I’ll wed you whenever you say, Devon. I have to. I’m not barren after all. I . . . carry your child. I’ll deliver sometime in the spring.”

Congratulations were shouted from the watching men. Devon didn’t hear. He knew only that Katrina had let him glimpse heaven again.

The bucket fell from Devon’s loose grip. “A baby,” he whispered. He blinked, but the roaring in his ears grew louder. “A baby.” He sighed again. Then, for the first time in his life, Devon Alexander Tyrone Cavanaugh fainted. Straight into Katrina’s arms.

The men roared with laughter and ran forward to help Katrina support his heavy weight. She brushed them away and sat down where she stood. Cradling Devon in her lap, she kissed the top of his head and blessed it with her joyful tears.

Chapter Sixteen

‘But true love is a durable fire.

In the mind ever burning,

Never sick, never old, never dead. From itself never turning.”

—Sir Walter Raleigh,

“As You Came from the Holy Land”

The
Earl of
Brookstone, his handsome face haggard with strain, paced the study. The cigar he carried left a trail of smoke behind him.

Billy, who was sitting next to Ellie on the couch, caught his wife’s hand and played with her gold band. “He’s so paper- skulled he don’t
know what he’s doing. He hates those things. Only keeps them for me.”

Ellie giggled and patted her own rounded belly. “Will you be the same when my time comes?’ ’

Billy pretended to be affronted. “Have you ever seen me less than calm?’ ’

“Yes,” Ellie said complacently. “Many times.” She looked significantly down at herself and smiled when her stalwart husband blushed.

“What are you two muttering about?” Devon snarled, saving Billy from a reply. “Something at my expense, I daresay.”

“Lad, why don’t you go on up? You’re run ragged with worry.” And you’re running me ragged, too, Billy said with his eyes.

Devon didn’t even notice. He was staring blindly up the stairs. “She told me to stay here. She doesn’t want me.”

Snorting indelicately, Ellie retorted, “Nonsense! She’s only trying to save you worry. The way you’ve hovered over her these last eight months, she was afraid you’d faint again if you were forced to watch her pain.”

Billy rolled his eyes. “A reasonable expectation, lad, ye must admit.”

Devon glared at him. “I’ll never live that down. You won’t let me.”

Innocently, Billy stared back at him.

Growling in frustration, Devon whirled to pace again, lifting the cigar back to his mouth—the lighted end first. He cursed and licked his burned lip. “If this is a taste of what fatherhood will be like, then I can’t anticipate the experience.”

Ellie rose and walked over to him, snatching the cigar away. “There’s only one way to find out.” She stubbed the cigar out in the ashtray on the desk, then gave him a small push. ‘ ‘Go and see her. She wants you there, truly.”

Devon sent a longing look up the stairs. Then; “Bloody hell. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t.” And he clambered up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

He’d expected chaos in the bedchamber; what he found was calm. Katrina was breathing as Rachel instructed. Her face was drawn with the long labor, and her fingers combed through the coverlet, but she didn’t groan.

John had stayed with Robert at the cottage to keep him out of the way, but he’d asked to be informed as soon as the child arrived. Devon had left orders that his servants were to travel the district with the news. So many people wanted to know. Especially Davie, who had recovered to become the headman of Devon’s other mine. They’d already found one new vein of copper and believed they were on the verge of discovering another.

Collecting his frightened thoughts, Devon inched toward the bed. “Katrina, are you all right?” He drank in the sight of her tired face. It had been fifteen hours. How much more could she bear?

Her eyes popped open. “What are you doing here?”

He stepped back, his face tightening. “If you don’t want me
...”

She gasped and
groped for his hand. “Stay.”

“She’s been trying not to scream so she wouldn’t alarm you,” Rachel said, swiping Katrina’s damp brow.

Devon’s eyes filled with tears. If he lost her now ... He clutched her hand so tightly his knuckles whitened. “Scream away, my love. Anything that will make this go faster.” He smiled wanly. “If I faint, I promise to do so out of Rachel’s way.”

Katrina smiled weakly at the joke and returned his clasp.

Rachel smiled at him sympathetically. “It won’t be long now. You can help her push.”

Only another hour passed, this time with Devon holding Katrina’s hand, urging her on according to Rachel’s com
mands.

“It’s coming,” Rachel cried. “Once more, Katrina!” Groaning, Katrina arched against the great bed. A tiny body slipped into Rachel’s waiting hands. “It’s a boy, Katrina.” Devon barely spared the child a glance. Katrina was the one who’d worried the whole eight months that she’d fail him.

His breath stopped as he watched Katrina fall back limply. He patted her cheek. “Kat? Kat, speak to me!”

“Let me see him,” she whispered. “Is he . . . hand
some?”

Devon took the blanket-wrapped bundle. He glanced at the tiny face, then stared. The best of himself and Katrina looked back at him. The boy had Katrina’s large, slanted eyes and golden hair. He had Devon’s square chin and slashing eye
brows. The tiny fist grabbed at his questing finger, and missed. Devon helped. The lad gripped strongly.

Smiling proudly, Devon took the child to his wife. “You’ve done as well in this as you do in everything else, my love. He’s beautiful.” He set the baby, who was still crying l
ustily, in his wife’s arms.

He sat down next to her and watched as she turned the blanket back to investigate. A bemused smile stretched Devon’s face as he watched her count the fingers and toes. “See, he’s all there. Just as I told you he would be.”

Katrina sighed her relief and hugged the tiny body close. “Thank God.” She opened her bodice and put the baby to her breast. His howls stopped abruptly.

Going to the armoire, Devon fetched a small gaily wrapped box and carried it to the bed. “Here you are, my love.”

“Oh Devon, not another present. The Brookstone jewels are more than I’ll ever wear.”

“This one isn’t ostentatious. I know your tastes better now. I saw this on my last trip to London and knew you must have it.”

He tore off the wrapping for her, then opened the box and spread out the protective paper. Katrina reached inside.

Her breath caught as he turned up the lamp so she could see clearly. Her eyes drank in the object in her hand. “Oh Devon, it’s beautiful.” She held a porcelain unicorn. Its mane flowed wildly, its feet pranced proudly, but its head butted with affection against the side of the girl who stood beside it, her arm about its neck. Their posture was such that the viewer couldn’t tell who was leading whom; they seemed one lovely entity, each incomplete without the other. Flowers were strewn on the lush grass that seemed to beckon them to a golden future.

Only the girl’s long hair and the unicorn’s horn were gilded; the rest of the statue was white, all the more striking in its purity. The girl’s features seemed familiar. Katrina turned the statue about. “Why, it looks like me.”

Devon dropped down beside her to lift her and the child into his arms. “It is you,” he said huskily. “The girl I’ll carry always in my heart, even when we’re very, very old.” He hesitated, then asked, “Can you dream with me now, my love? Do you still believe, as you told me after our first meeting, that Eden doesn’t exist?”

She cupped his cheek, her tears falling hot and fast. “I’ve no need to dream any longer. Reality is all the joy I’d ever hoped to find.”

The unicorn fell unheeded to the coverlet.

The child suckled on, knowing his first taste of the security that its parents had so lately found, blissfully unaware of the tortuous road that had led to his birth, or of the many happy years still to come.

And outside,  even the night surrendered to a glorious full moon.