Page 52 of Bedding the Marquess
“But—”
“They will return soon,” Emily repeated adamantly, as if trying to also convince herself of this fact.
“I—I think I am losing my baby,” Caroline said tremulously, feeling herself shatter as she spoke her worst fear into the world.
“Lady Swanleigh.” The physician appeared at Emily’s side. “I am Dr. Ian McCullom,” he said, reiterating what Oliver had said. There was a slight melodic brogue to his voice, something soothing, and it briefly sliced through her panic. His eyes wereclear and determined; his every motion exuded confidence. He was drying his hands on a pristine white cloth when he said, “I must ask some questions and examine you.”
Caroline nodded, tears blurring her vision. Another wave of pain gripped her abdomen, making her moan more from fear than pain. She did her best to answer the physician’s questions and Emily helped her to fill in the words she was unable to force from her throat. He asked her how she’d fallen, how frequently the pains in her abdomen were coming, and approximately how long they’d been occurring. He took note of the time when she indicated another cramp was seizing her belly and then compared it to the time when another came.
“Lady Swanleigh,” he said, feeling the hammering pulse in her wrist. “You must try to calm yourself. I realize that is a ridiculous thing for a man to say to a woman in your condition, but it is of the utmost importance that you at least try. Your heart is racing and your condition can place stress on your unborn child.” He looked down into her eyes, trying to impress upon her the seriousness of his words. “You have no signs of bleeding or dilation, and that is agood thing.”
Caroline nodded along with him.
“I need you to breathe in through your nose, hold it, and breathe out through your mouth, like this.” He demonstrated a prolonged inhalation, counted to four, and then exhaled slowly and evenly. Caroline tried, but her lungs did not want to cooperate.
“We will do it together,” Emily chimed in and began mimicking Dr. McCullom.
“Yes, like that,” said the physician. Caroline focused on Emily and was gradually able to perform the exercise correctly. After several rounds, he murmured, “Very good,” in a soothing tone and returned to check her pulse. “When you have calmed, wewill fetch you something to drink. Contractions can sometimes be worsened when a woman’s body is lacking sufficient fluids.”
“We haven’t had anything to drink since this morning,” Emily said thoughtfully, her hand flying protectively to her own belly.
“And you are expecting as well?” McCullom asked, and Emily nodded in reply. He peppered her with similar questions to those he’d asked of Caroline, but she hadn’t experienced any pains and he reassured her that there should be no cause for concern. It was actually soothing for Caroline to focus on their exchange while she continued the breathing exercise.
He went to the door and peered out into the hall. Caroline heard him request fresh water for both his guests before he returned to the bedside.
“How are you feeling now, Lady Swanleigh?”
Caroline nodded. “Better. Less panicked.”
“Good.” His smile was as handsome as it was reassuring. “Your pains are spaced fairly far apart and appear to have no regularity. You say you have felt movement?” Caroline nodded again. “As have I. The little one you have in there has quite the kick. And you are nearly seven months along now?”
Caroline could feel Emily’s eyes on her and her cheeks began to burn. “Very nearly,” she answered truthfully, feeling low for having lied to Emily by omission.
“I am not saying the risks have passed, but I am hopeful. We will observe you as you continue to rest, and we will monitor your condition closely.”
There was a light knock on the door and McCullom opened it to admit a beautiful, dark-haired young woman bearing a tray with a crockery pitcher of water and cups. Her bright-blue eyes surveyed the scene as she set her burden on the table beside the bed. Her green-gray gown was simple, but of obvious quality—not what one would have suspected from an assistant to a medical professional.
“Is there anything else I might help with?” she asked in a cultured accent.
“Thank you, no,” McCullom replied as he poured water for both Caroline and Emily, and then tidied up the materials he’d used to clean and bandage the women’s minor scrapes and bumps.
After being helped to sit up, Caroline drank the cool, clean water. It soothed her raw throat and quenched the desperate thirst she hadn’t realized she’d been suffering. And, now that she wasn’t in such a state of panic, she was definitely beginning to feel every one of those cuts and bruises McCullom had tended. Her left knee screamed when she bent it; abrasions on the heels of her palms burned, and she’d had quite the knock to her forehead. She had been so focused on the contractions of her womb and the blow to her abdomen to notice anything else, but every one of her injuries added up to a fair amount of discomfort.
Emily took Caroline’s glass and set it aside. Caroline could see that the cut on her forearm had been bandaged, and the scrape on her cheek had been cleaned. She had complained of a battered elbow and a sore wrist, but she’d been otherwise without serious injury. As angelic as Emily appeared, she was a fighter—that much had been blatantly apparent as soon as she’d thrown that knife at their abductors.
“Where did you learn to wield a knife?” Caroline asked.
Emily appeared somewhat abashed by the question and did not reply until they were alone in the bedchamber. “Oliver taught me.”
“Where did he learn such a thing?” The last word ended on a groan as her belly tightened again. She felt the panic stir once more, but reminded herself that she needed to breathe…that McCullom had reassured her that there was no imminent threat to her pregnancy…that the swift little kick she just felt was promising.
Emily was at war with herself, that much was evident. “It was part of his training,” she finally said.
“Training? For the military?”
“Something like that.”
Caroline sighed, realizing she would get no more information out of her, and she hadn’t the strength to argue.
