Love's Fiery Jewel (53 page)

"Well, once that nasty anti-theater law is repealed, our
entire company will return as a troupe to America. John
Henry will be managing the company with Lewis Hallam,
and John said if Amethyst were to ask to be reinstated
into the troupe this very day, he would not hesitate a
minute in giving her back her former place. He was
always very impressed by Amethyst's voice."

"Oh, I'm sure," Damien said dryly, brightening his
smile considerably at Sally's hesitant expression, his
hand tightening subconsciously on the black curl he
fondled until Amethyst winced with the jerking movement. His attention full on Sally, he continued drawing
her out. "And what else did he say, Sally?"

"Oh, just that Amethyst has grown to be a beautiful
addition to the many beauties already numbered within
the troupe..." Batting her eyelashes outrageously,
Sally hesitated before continuing, "And that Amethyst's
father was a great actor with a fine voice, and she must
have inherited her talent from him."

"Thank you, Sally." Sincerely appreciative of the
compliment to her father, Amethyst smiled warmly, her
eyes filling with unexpected tears. Annoyed with herself,
Amethyst brushed away the tear that slid down her
cheek. What was wrong with her lately? Everything
seemed to move her to tears!

Noting her sudden emotional state, Damien said
lightly, "I think Amethyst is getting a little weary now,
Sally, and should get some rest. I do appreciate your
calling." Urging her lightly to her feet, Damien escorted
the startled Sally to the door, managing to raise another
blush as he said in a manner meant to charm, "You are a
dear girl, Sally. Do come again."

Within minutes a beaming Sally was making her way
home, her mind filled with the dashing Captain Straith.
Turning again toward Amethyst, Damien surveyed her
silently for a few minutes, his eyes softly assessing. The
soft swells of her breasts, generously exposed in the deep,
square-cut neckline of her light blue organdy gown
heaved in a lightly agitated manner as she regarded him
intently. Black ringlets touching the graceful curve of
her neck; wide, solemn eyes appearing a true, brilliant
blue in reflection of her dress; she was so unbelievingly
and unconsciously lovely that Damien felt a tightness in his throat just to look at her. Walking slowly to her side,
he knelt beside the couch. Cupping her small face
between his two palms, he kissed her gently on the
mouth, his kiss slow and lingering. Lowering his head, he
kissed the trembling breasts, the velvet softness of her
skin sending a thrilling jolt through his veins. Lowering
his head even further, he kissed the great protrusion
beneath, a smile coming to his lips as his child moved
actively beneath them.

Lifting his face to hers once again, Damien said softly,
"Do you suppose our son will have your great violet eyes,
Amethyst? Or your shining black hair?"

Seeming startled by his unexpected question, Amethyst replied softly, "You're so certain I carry your son,
Damien? It may be a girl."

"You carry my son."

"At any rate, Damien," Amethyst said with a small
catch in her voice, "I believe we will know soon."

His expression suddenly tense, Damien said hoarsely,
"What do you mean?"

"I think the child is preparing to be born."

Suddenly whitening under his tan, Damien rose
abruptly to his feet. "Tillie!" The sharpness of his tone
brought the anxious mulatto from the kitchen at a run.
Nodding to her unspoken question, Damien said softly,
"Send for Dr. Martens immediately. Amethyst's time has
come."

Moving quickly toward the front door, Tillie did not
bother to answer his soft command. Leaning over,
Damien scooped Amethyst into his arms in a quick
movement and started toward the bedroom door.

"Damien, you needn't carry me. I've only had a few
twinges. I'm quite able to walk and would probably
benefit from the exercise."

His expression deadly serious, Damien responded
softly, "Perhaps that's true, darling, but it gives me pleasure to hold you in my arms and I'm of a mood to
indulge myself."

Without another word, he walked into the bedroom
and lay her gently on the bed. Kneeling beside her he
touched her cheek tenderly. Seeing she winced with
another pain, Damien said encouragingly, "Dr. Martens
will be here soon."

The hand that stroked her brow was shaking. Startled,
Amethyst looked to Damien's face to see it a ghastly
white beneath the surface tan as a small muscle jumped
in his jaw. Pouring some water from the pitcher beside
the bed into the small basin that sat beside it, Damien
dipped the cloth into the cool water and turned to gently
wipe the small beads of perspiration that had appeared on
her forehead. His voice casual, he pat the refreshing
coolness against her cheek, "Oh, by the way, I hope John
Henry is not counting on your return to the troupe after
our child is born, because he'll be disappointed, I'm
afraid. You'll not go back to the theater, Amethyst. He
shall have to be content with the Storer sisters, or
perhaps the very willing Sally Warren, because..."

Angrily staying his hand, Amethyst gasped through
another painful spasm, "Damien, John Henry is interested merely in my talent. He has no interest in me
as..."

Continuing as if she was not speaking, Damien
directed the conclusion of his remark into her angry
eyes, "...because you belong to me, Amethyst, and will
never belong to another while there is a breath in my
body"

The following hours were vague and confused in
Amethyst's mind. The brief, occasional spasms increased
in frequency and duration as the day crawled endlessly
by, as the night wore on, promising to tear her apart with their intensity. His austere countenance unsmiling, Dr.
Martens remained at Amethyst's side during the vigil, his
words short but encouraging.

Grasping for Tillie's hand as another spasm continued
its grueling course, sweeping over her in relentless,
inundating waves that wrenched and pulled at her body
unceasingly, Amethyst uttered a low moan, tears spilling
out the corners of her eyes as she struggled to catch her
breath.

"Tillie... Tillie... will it be much longer? I don't
.. .don't think I can stand much more..."

Her dark eyes moving swiftly to Dr. Martens, Tillie saw
the brief nod and turning, whispered reassuringly, "Not
too much longer now, child. Soon Amethyst have him
baby in him arms, and everything be..."

Tillie's voice faded from her ears, the sound of a
woman's scream taking its place as a ferocious pain stole
her breath. But this time the spasm did not pass,
continuing to throb and strain at her body in long,
unending spirals of pain that drew her to the edge of
consciousness. The cries grew louder, increasing with
her own distress. Who was it who cried so breathlessly?
Certainly it could not be she! She heard the wail again,
this time louder as the agony inside her increased
beyond bearing. The snap of the bedroom door as it
opened to bang back against the wall tore Dr. Martens's
attention momentarily from his frantic activity. Darting
a quick look in its direction, he snapped sharply, "Get out
of here, Damien. This baby is about to be born!"

Oblivious to the doctor's command, Damien's eyes
went directly to Amethyst's pain-filled face, his throat
choking at the agony reflected there. Brushing Tillie
away as she attempted to remove him from the room,
Damien moved quickly to Amethyst's side. Kneeling
beside the bed, he whispered softly against her cheek. "It won't be much longer, darling. Our child will soon be
born." Taking her small hands as Amethyst groaned
deeply, Damien held them tightly in his, his eyes on her
tortured face as she twisted and turned with the grueling
spasm. Suddenly with a low, prolonged groan she was at
peace, her lids dropping closed over the great tear-filled
orbs, and Damien knew a moment of sheer panic.

"Amethyst!"

His low, hoarse cry was scarcely heard over Dr.
Martens's short, victorious announcement as he held the
child in his hand and spanked it sharply, "You have a
daughter, Damien. A beautiful, perfect girl..."

His head snapping upward, Damien's glance came into
contact with the small, blood-streaked infant who
wriggled in the doctor's arms, her shrieking protest to his
slap long and pronounced.

"A daughter?" Amethyst's faint query turned Damien's attention in her direction. His voice deep and
husky, he whispered softly in response, "Yes, darling.
We have a daughter."

Her gaze vague and disoriented, Amethyst looked
directly into his eyes, her glance unseeing as she
whispered softly over and over again, "Thank God, thank
God it's a girl."

Her hands trembling, Amethyst lifted the child to her
breast, carefully guiding the searching mouth to the
enlarged nipple she sought. Gasping as the small lips
closed hungrily over it, Amethyst closed her eyes briefly
at the strange sensation moving through her body. Her
own child, nursing at her breast... Opening her eyes
again, Amethyst gazed down at the beautifully round,
almost totally bald head, reaching out her slender fingers
hesitantly to touch the golden fuzz that sparkled so
brightly on the pink surface. So intent was she in her tentative exploration that she started sharply when
Damien's low tone broke the silence. She had almost
forgotten he sat on the bed beside her.

"She looks quite content now, doesn't she, darling?"

"Yes, she does, Damien," Amethyst responded quietly,
unwilling to look up into his face. Her child had been
born twelve hours before and she had yet to look Damien
directly in the eye for fear of the emotion she would see
reflected there. Her hand caressing the soft, rounded
cheek, she ventured hesitantly, "Are... are you disappointed, Damien?"

"Disappointed?"

"Disappointed that I didn't give you a son?"

There was a brief hesitation before Damien spoke,
cupping her cheek to turn her face toward him. Raising
her eyes, Amethyst came into contact with his familiar
glance, her heart beginning to race as Damien scrutinized
her silently. Drawing his fingers lightly over her smooth
cheek, he moved his hand to her temple to touch the
black wisps curling there. "If I am to be completely
truthful, darling," he began thoughtfully, "I would have
to say I was slightly disappointed at first. I had hoped if
the baby was a girl that she would look exactly like you,
but she does not."

Startled by his answer, Amethyst stared speechlessly
into his face, unable to respond, allowing Damien ample
time to continue.

"If I was not to have a son, I had pictured a petite,
dark-haired little girl with black lashes and brows, and
blue eyes that would eventually turn a beguiling
lavender. Instead, my daughter is blonde with light
lashes and brows..."

"...and peculiarly light gray eyes remarkably like her
father's," Amethyst concluded softly. "But you are not
disappointed that I did not bear you a son?"

Surveying her expression silently for a few moments,
Damien replied softly, "You hoped for a girl, did you not,
Amethyst?"

Steadily returning his glance, Amethyst replied softly,
"Yes, Damien. I did."

"Then I'm happy you were not disappointed, darling,"
he returned softly. "As for me, I am content to wait. We
have a beautiful daughter. Our next child will be a son."

Swallowing tightly, Amethyst jerked her glance back
to the child nursing blissfully at her breast, aware of the
broad hand that had slipped to her shoulder in a
possessive caress. Her voice trembling lightly as she
spoke, Amethyst said hesitantly, "I...I should like to
name her after my mother, Damien. Marian Greer is a
lovely name."

"I have no objection to naming her Marian, darling,"
Damien interrupted quietly, once again turning Amethyst's face so he might read her expression, "but her
name will not be Marian Greer. It will be Marian
Straith."

"In a situation such as ours, Damien, the child carries
her mother's name." This time it was Amethyst that
interrupted his statement, her pale face flushing.

"And her mother's name will soon be Straith."
Damien's expression was stiff as he continued firmly,
"As soon as you're back on your feet, I intend bringing a
minister to this house and we'll be married."

Closing her eyes weakly, Amethyst said in a hushed
voice, "I will not marry you, Damien." A lone tear
slipped out of the corner of her eye, and brushing it away,
Amethyst whispered, "The child will carry my name."

His stiff expression suddenly relenting, Damien bent
to kiss her pale lips, lowering his head to kiss the pink
cheek of the child that nursed at her breast before lifting
his eyes again to hers. He spoke with soft conviction. "This is my child, Amethyst, and make no mistake about
it, you and she will both share my name"

"No...no, Damien." Shaking her head wildly,
Amethyst said emphatically, "No."

Catching her cheeks between his palms, Damien
effectively stopped her violent protest. She was trembling, and angry with himself for his thoughtlessness,
Damien said softly, "We won't discuss it now, darling.
You're exhausted, and I'm too filled with happiness to
argue with the woman who has just given me a beautiful
daughter. We'll name her Marian as you wish. Now just
relax back against me, darling... that's right. You've
had a difficult day..."

Contenting himself with the fact that the tenseness
was leaving Amethyst's small body as she rested her back
against his chest, Damien consoled himself with the
silent thought that she would get over her foolish protest.
Now was not the time to press her.

Within the half hour Tillie had removed the sleeping
child from Amethyst's arm and Amethyst drowsed
against the pillow. Reclining silently by her side, Damien
studied her intently. Light shadows beneath drooping
violet eyes and an unusual pallor, silent testimony to her.
ordeal, lent her an appearance of vulnerability that tore
at his heart as his love for her swelled to overwhelming
proportions inside him. She was so beautiful... so
precious to him.. .the mother of his child... dearer
than life. He longed desperately to make her his wife, to
know the security that the two he loved most in the world
bore his name. And it would be so, damn it! It would be
so!