Page 102 of My Hero
Roger guided her to her betrothed, and Garth held a beringed hand out to her. She glanced at the insignia. It was the Wolf de Ware. It was right that he wore it, she thought. It would remind him that though he also wore the cross of peace, the warrior wolf was always within him.
He took her hand, and Prior Thomas began the solemn rite of marriage. The moment seemed enchanted as the words fell from his lips in an elegant rhythm, their magic echoed even more powerfully by the man beside her. Even as Garth spoke, the sun peeped from behind a silvery cloud, spraying its rays through the bare limbs of the tree and down over his head like the halo of a saint in a cathedral painting. She sighed. How magnificent Garth was—beautiful and honorable and noble—and how lucky she was to have him.
She hugged his forearm and stepped a pace closer.
Suddenly, something wiggled beneath her bare foot. She shifted her weight. It wiggled again. Nay, she thought, holding her breath. It couldn’t be…not in October.
She didn’t mean to scream. It was just such a surprise. And such an unpleasant one when she’d been drifting along on such lovely thoughts.
Of course, onceshescreamed, Elspeth shrieked in turn. Garths’ eyes narrowed dangerously, and the poor prior backed away in alarm. Cynthia heard three swords unsheathe behind her. But all she could do was hop about on one foot, trying very hard not to curse as the pain of the bee sting throbbed under her toe and even harder not to laugh as she beheld the de Wares—Duncan, Holden, and Cambria—with swords drawn to fight the insect foe.
Decorum was eventually restored. As the prior dabbed at his brow, Garth used his dagger to gently dislodge the barb, murmuring with a smile that the task seemed somehow familiar. Elspeth’s heart resumed its normal pace under the calming ministrations of Roger the steward. The de Ware swords returned to their sheaths and the prior to his post.
Later she’d apply a poultice of lemon balm and mint to the swelling. But for now, she wanted to continue with the ceremony. The clouds had thickened ominously, and she could smell rain in the air. Besides, Garth’s palm cupping her bare foot had done little to assuage the desire surging through her veins. Her body was unmistakably eager to consummate the marriage.
She spoke her vows sincerely but hastily, halting just once when the babe again pressed a sharp heel against her rib. She was over halfway through them when she heard the breeze begin to rise lazily through the boughs of the willow. She supposed that was why she didn’t notice the other sound earlier—the soft wheeze coming from behind her.
But there was no overlooking the quick, furious whisper that came moments later. That was followed by a long sigh, then a quicker, more furious whisper. Soon there were whispers from all sides and something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. Finally, she couldn’t ignore them anymore. She stopped mid-sentence and wheeled around.
Everyone was gathered around Linet. Her face was strained and as white as birch bark, and she staggered against Duncan.
“What the devil?” Garth said.
“Oh, shite!” Cynthia cried, picking up her skirts and rushing to Linet’s side. “It’s the babe, isn’t it?”
“Oh…Cynthia…” Linet puffed, “I’m…sorry.”
Cynthia waved away her words. There was neither reason nor time for apology. By the looks of her, Linet might well deliver her babe before she could get inside the keep.
“Duncan!” she ordered, snapping into action. “Spread your cloak on the grass here. Help her lie down.”
“On the grass?”
“Aye! There’s no time! Holden and Cambria! Fetch hot water from the kitchen! And Elspeth—”
“I’ve got it,” the trusty maid called, already on her way. “Primrose, yarrow, and raspberry infusion. I’ll bring them all. Roger, come along to fetch linens!”
Cynthia briskly rubbed her hands together and crouched beside Linet, laid out now upon the sod. She smiled at the huffing woman in reassurance.
“It’s your second child, aye?”
Linet nodded vigorously.
“Then we’d best hurry.”
A first babe nearly always took half the night, but a second…there was no telling how quickly it would come. Cynthia blew a loose strand of hair from her eyes and glanced at the sky. Lord—she was so ill-equipped outside, and the heavens looked ripe to loose their burden any moment. It was ludicrous. She needed a bolster, linens, hot water…and a midwife. It took more than one person to properly deliver a babe.
“What I really need is a midwife.” She peered speculatively up at Garth and Duncan.
“I’ll go,” Duncan said sternly, ready to spring to his feet to fetch her. “Where is she? In the castle? In the village?”
“There’s no time,” Cynthia replied.
Garth understood at once. He placed a hand on his brother’s arm. “Us. She means us.”
“Us?” Duncan said in horror. “But we’re not… We’ve never… It’s Holden who helped birth—”
“What do you need?” Garth asked, undaunted, kneeling before Linet and pushing up his sleeves.
