The More I See You (45 page)

She expected him to make a beeline to their bedroom, but he stopped in the courtyard. There was something of a crowd gathered there and Jessica wondered if they were hiding kindling behind their backs.

But all she received were smiles and hugs. Hamlet looked ready to begin springing, so she suspected he was on the verge of something really big.

“A lay about your adventures,” he said, rubbing his hands together expectantly.

“Oh, no,” Jessica said, with an uneasy laugh. “I think those are better left alone.”

“But—”

Richard pulled Jessica away while Hamlet was still talking. He ignored the rest of the men who had come to greet her and pulled her up behind him to their bedchamber. Jessica felt as if she were dreaming. She had to admit that in her heart of hearts, she had greatly feared she might never climb those steps again.

Richard opened the door, then stood back. “After you, my lady.”

Jessica walked into the room and gasped. She turned around and around, trying to take in the entire view.

He had painted the bedroom walls. Talk about an unobstructed ocean view. It was more magnificent than she ever could have imagined. She laughed and threw herself at him.

“You’re amazing,” she said breathlessly. “It’s
beautiful
!”

“Nay,” he said, shutting the door and bolting it. “You are the beautiful one.” He walked over to the fireplace, set her backpack in the chair, and held out his hand.

She took it, then followed him to the alcove.

“We should make a final wish.”

“A final one?”

He smiled. “Very well, then. The first of many wishes—together.”

She nodded and let him draw her up. He wrapped her in her cloak and led her over to the window. He threw open the shutters and was silent.

“There,” he said, pointing to a shooting star. “Wish to stay together. Hurry.”

She watched the star’s arc fade and wished, secure in her love’s embrace.

“I wish that we’ll be together forever,” she whispered.

He pressed his lips against her ear. “I wish that we’ll be together forever,” he echoed. “Now it can’t help but come to pass.” He reached over her and shut the window, then dropped her cloak onto one of the benches. “Where were we?”

“I’m just sure we were about to make glorious love.”

“A fine idea.”

There were a thousand things she had to tell him and show him, but those would wait.

After all, they were both in the same century.

They had all the time in the world.

Richard sat in the gathering hall below his bedchamber and glared at the souls gathered with him there. To a man, the cowards seemed to have no counsel on how he might sally forth and conquer his current problem.

He looked at Hamlet, who seemed to have nothing better to do than to stare off unseeing into the distance. Finally Hamlet took notice of Richard’s glare and reluctantly looked at his master.

“My lord?”

“You have no suggestions?” Richard demanded. “You, who have suggestions for every bloody trial a man might pass through?”

Hamlet only shrugged helplessly. “A lay I might compose, or a wooing gift for after the, um, after the . . .” He shrugged again and fell silent.

Richard looked at the rest of the men gathered there. John would be of no use. The man was currently doing his best to slip fully into his cups. William was sharpening his sword. Not even Warren looked to have any spare thoughts rattling about in his head. Richard turned to the final occupant of the chamber and fixed him with a steely glare.

“What of you?” he demanded. “Have you nothing to offer?”

And Miles de Piaget, father of six, only remained sprawled negligently in his chair. “I’ve already told you what to do.”

“I don’t like your idea!”

Miles shrugged. “You wanted to know what I thought and I told you. Abby will come to fetch you, you know, if you don’t go.”

Richard thought that facing an entire army of angry Saracens sounded more pleasant than what he might encounter upstairs. He looked at Miles and winced.

“She’s been passing unpleasant the past few days.”

“Richard, she’s bursting with your babe. Of course she’s going to be unpleasant.”

“I fear for my life.”

Miles laughed shortly. “As well you should. If you find this frightening, brace yourself for the time her true labor comes upon her.”

“True labor?” Richard echoed. “What, pray you, has this past month of gut-wrenching pains been if not true labor?”

“Braxton Hicks,” Miles said wisely. “’Tis but the skirmish before the war, my friend.”

“The saints preserve me.”

“Aye, and that isn’t the last time you’ll say that.”

Richard looked at the rest of his men and dismissed them with a wave. “Spare yourselves,” he said. “I doubt you’ll want to learn more.”

The others wasted no time in fleeing the chamber. Once they were gone, Richard looked at Miles. It was odd. He had known the man facing him for a great portion of his life, encountered him numerous times at Artane, watched him with his wife and babes, yet never once had it crossed his mind that Abigail might be other than she seemed. Richard was a private man and he assumed Miles was the same, but there was a handful of questions he burned to ask. So he took a deep breath and asked them.

“How has it been?” he asked first.

Miles smiled. “I daresay you aren’t asking about childbirth.”

“I’m not.”

Miles rested his head against the back of the chair and stared up at the ceiling a moment or two before he looked at Richard again. “Miraculous.”

“Because of her birth date?”

“Because she is Abby. Her birth date has merely made things unusually interesting.”

Richard took a deep breath. These were personal questions and he hoped he wasn’t overstepping the bounds of manly good taste.

“Has she been happy?”

Miles shrugged, but he smiled as he did so. “You would have to ask her. She hasn’t thrown me out of our bed yet. We have six children living. Aye, I think she’s happy enough.”

“And she doesn’t miss her time?”

“I can’t answer that for her, Richard. I suppose the question is, would you miss your time should the roles have been reversed?”

Richard nodded slowly. “I suppose there would be things I would miss.”

“But wonders you would gain.”

“Ah, but the things they have given up for us,” Richard said, thinking about the contents of Jessica’s backpack.

“Future marvels, or medieval lords,” Miles said with a wry laugh. “I can see why they are giddy with happiness.”

Richard paused. “I have pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“Images captured on parchment. Images of future marvels. Jessica brought them back with her.”

Miles looked horribly tempted. “Will I regret looking?”

“The question is, will I regret fetching them from my trunk?”

“You might, and worse, you might not escape the
chamber again. Perhaps after the babe is safely delivered. I daresay we both might be entitled to some kind of reward.”

“You?” Richard snorted. “What have you done to deserve aught?”

“Endured you,” Miles answered promptly. “Especially when I told you that your place is upstairs, aiding your lady. I could have been sleeping peacefully here upon the table. I have six children, you know. I’m tired. I need my rest.”

Richard only scowled. “They do not want me above. I am shouted at most unkindly whenever I dare poke my nose inside the chamber.”

“You’re likely interrupting Abby at her work.”

“She’s putting my wife under some kind of spell,” Richard said, though he had to admit that the sound of Abigail’s voice was properly pleasing.

“It’s hypnotic birthing,” Miles said wisely. “Abby learned it from a friend in her time. It relaxes the mother and dulls the pain. Trust me, this is a good thing.”

“A strap of leather between the teeth would serve just as well.”

“When your lady prefers your arm to leather, you’ll find you’ve changed your mind on that.”

“Richard!” The voice from above was accompanied by thumping on the ceiling.

Miles smiled pleasantly. “That would be my lady, summoning you to do your fatherly duty.”

“Men shouldn’t enter birthing chambers—”

Miles waved Richard away. “Off with you, lad. You were there in the beginning. Best be there in the end.”

Richard wondered if he would manage it without losing what he’d ingested to break his fast that morn. He swallowed with great effort.

“I truly think,” he began sternly, “that my place is not—”

“
Richard!
”

Richard blanched. “By the saints, I’m not sure—”

“We never are. Shall I carry you up?”

Richard was tempted to cuff Miles smartly, but then again, the man was at least a score of years his senior and it would have been disrespectful. And he was of the Artane ilk, and those lads were never shy about settling disputes with a wrestle. Richard suspected biting his tongue was the wisest course of action. He would likely need all his strength for what he faced above.

He took a deep breath, pushed himself away from the table, and left the gathering hall.

The stairs up to his bedchamber had never seemed so steep before. And he was certain there were a few missing, for it took him far too little time to reach the landing above.

Abby was waiting for him at the door. “Hurry up,” she said briskly. “I have things for you to do.”

Richard didn’t ask what those things were. He didn’t want to know. What he wanted to do was run the other way and hide under a table until the deed was finished.

But he was nothing if not courageous, so he entered his chamber, flexed his fingers, and put on his best battle expression.

“What will you have me do?” he asked grimly.

“Just go hold her hand for now.”

Jessica was currently sitting in a large tub of water before the fire. Richard was intimately acquainted with the size of the tub, for he’d been the one to build it. He wasn’t sure that having his child born in water was the proper thing to do, but Abby had been adamant that it would decrease Jessica’s pain. Richard couldn’t imagine that such a simple thing as having a child could be so painful.

“Holy moly,” Jessica gasped, clutching the edges of the tub. “That was a strong one.”

“Breathe, Jessica,” Abby commanded. “Remember what I taught you. Here, Richard, go kneel behind her and hold on to her when she wants you to. I’ll let you cut the cord when the time comes if you want to.”

Richard knelt down behind his wife, touched her shoulders, and then found himself swept up into events he never could have imagined.

Jessica’s labor was hard and fast. Back labor, Abby called it, and apparently it was very painful. Richard soon found himself in the tub with Jessica, and her pain became his pain. He was quite certain he would never again hear out of his left ear in the same manner he had before. He could feel the pains gripping his wife and wondered how it was she could bear it.

And he found himself heartily thankful that he was a man.

And then the time came when a small babe was pushed from his wife’s body and brought up out of the water to be put in her arms. Richard put his arms around Jessica and held both her and their child.

And he wept.

It was only after Jessica and the babe were securely tucked into his bed that he found he could manage words without tears. He sat on the edge of the bed and looked at his lady. She smiled wearily.

“Wasn’t that fun?”

“What?”

“Fun, Richard. Wasn’t that fun?”

“Other ear, Jess,” he said, digging in his offended ear in hopes he might restore his hearing.

She only laughed softly. “Sorry. I don’t think I was quite prepared for that last little bit.” She looked down at their child. “But it was worth it.”

“Aye, love, I daresay it was.”

“Where’s Abby?”

“She took your chocolate and descended to celebrate with Miles.”

Jessica gasped. “She didn’t! Not the whole stash!”

“She told me ’tis a passing foul thing to be eaten by a mother with a babe to suckle.” He smiled. “I offered myself as repository, but she was adamant neither of us be poisoned.”

“You’d better be kidding.”

“The pregnancy crankiness is not dissipated?”

“When it comes to a supply of chocolate that has to
last me a lifetime, there is no dissipation of the crankiness.”

He leaned over carefully and kissed her. “I only gave her what was due her. Your treasure is still safe.” Though he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t be mounting a small assault upon the stuff once Jessica was asleep. He hadn’t been all that fond of it at first taste, but the flavor certainly improved with time.

But for now, he would sit where he was, be grateful he’d survived the birth of his babe, and watch his beloved lady sleep. Perhaps later he would descend and thank Abby and Miles for their companionship and aid. And he would tell Miles that he thought he might someday understand the terror and joy of fatherhood. He rested his hands, one on the wee babe and one on Jessica’s knee, and prayed that he was equal to the task of keeping them both safe and giving them what love he had in his poor heart. He’d never truly understood how Jessica could weep when she was happy, for tears had never been joyful to him.

But now, as he looked at the two who meant the most to him, he felt himself weep yet again, even as he smiled.

He understood.

And what indescribable joy it was.

Margaret Blakely stood at the foot of the bed where her daughter had last slept and stared down at the history book lying there. The police had warned her not to touch anything. It had been the latest in a series of polite commands of which she had been on the receiving end ever since the third phone call that had changed her life.

The first had been news of her husband’s death.

The second had been news of Jessica’s first disappearance.

The third had been the call from the missing-persons division of Scotland Yard. It was this one, however, that Margaret had found the least unexpected. Jessica had done it. Margaret couldn’t help but feel her heart break for the third time as well. There was the pain of knowing she would never see her daughter again, but there was also the bittersweet joy of knowing she had found a great love.