The Wolfe (123 page)

When Byron finally stuck his head
into the room close to an hour later, he was surprised to see it looking like a
social event. He motioned William into the bedchamber.

Jordan lay flat on her back, her
feet elevated with pillows. She smiled wanly at William and he returned her
smile, putting his hand on her head gently.

“How is she, Byron?” he asked.

“She is a very tired lady,” Byron
replied. “Baron, you simply cannot have a pregnant woman traipsing about all
over the country. She needs rest, and lots of it. In fact, I do not want to see
her out of this bed for quite a while, if at all until the babe is born.”

William looked sharply at him. “Then…then
the babe is all right?”

“As far as I can tell, yes,” the
physician replied. “I can still hear a strong heartbeat. But consider this your
warning; she is to remain in bed.”

William nodded firmly, greatly
relieved. Sylvie had Jordan drink a potion while Byron pulled the earl aside.

“And I know of your appetite for
your wife,” the little man said quietly. “There will be no more of that, not if
she is to see this pregnancy through. You will leave her alone, is that clear?”

William was amused by the tone but
kept a straight face. “Absolutely. You have my word.”

Sylvie moved to pack Byron’s things
away and Byron caught her from the corner of his eye. Shooing her away, he
finished packing himself and ushered the woman from the room. When they were
gone, William once again smiled bravely at his wife and sat on the edge of the
bed.

“It looks like there will be no more
traveling for you,” he said.

There was a bit of color back in her
cheeks. “So I was told. But what of Questing?”

He ran a finger along her cheek. “It
will still be there. But nothing is more important that your health or the health
of the babe, so you will remain here as ordered. It will give me time to see to
the renovation of Questing and have it in order by the time we are ready to
occupy it.”

She pouted. “But I did so want this
babe to be born there.”

He leaned down and kissed her. “I
simply want this babe to be born.
Period
.”

***

It was the longest six months in
recorded history, at least for William. He divided his time between Questing’s
improvements and tending his wife, who was a very naughty girl at times. For
the most part, she did stay in bed as ordered, but there were times he would
enter the room and find her standing by the window, wistfully gazing over the baileys
of Northwood. Not having the heart to scold her, he would simply put her back
to bed and threaten to tie her there if she didn’t stay.

Troy and Scott crawled and walked
while their mother was in the infirmary, followed closely by Sylvie, their
grandfather, uncle, and cousins. There was never any shortage of companionship
for the twins and William was with them whenever he wasn’t at Questing or with
Jordan.

Jordan did feed them every meal, the
one thing she could do for them as they sat in their little chairs and she
spooned mashed vegetables and fruits into their little mouths. They were
ravenous eaters, much to their father’s delight, and by their first birthday weighed
nearly twenty-five pounds apiece.

And along with their appetites, they
had developed distinctive personalities that constantly amazed their loved
ones. Scott was vivacious and aggressive, while Troy was a bit more cautious
and loving. Jordan delighted in putting them in the big bed with her and
playing with them until they either crawled off the bed or fell asleep in her
arms.

It was a difficult time for her,
with her babes growing up before her eyes and she not able to take a more
active role in their lives, so she contented herself by doing what she could
and depending on William and the others for the rest.

Some days she thought she was going daft
with uselessness. Jemma spent every day with her, progressing rather nicely
with her own pregnancy and Jordan well remembered when the situation was
reversed and how she would come and visit bedridden Jemma. The knights, too,
would spend days with her playing games or simply talking, much as they did
when she had been recovering from her arrow injury. She actually enjoyed the
time spent, even though she was so bored with being in bed that she could
scream, and she especially enjoyed sharing her bed with her husband every
night. To be held by him at nightfall was the pinnacle of her day.

William had told her from the onset
that he had been forbidden to touch her and she had been devastated, yet it had
been a learning experience for both of them. They discovered that they could
derive almost as much pleasure from simply holding one another as they could
from the sexual act, although at times it had been a definite test of willpower
and on several occasions William found himself pacing the halls after his wife
had gone to sleep. He was afraid if he returned to then bed, all of his control
would leave him.

He was also well aware that at times
like these, men often turned to other women for release. But his desire was not
for the pleasure obtained as the result of the act, but simply for the feel of
his wife. To seek out another woman was not even an option for him. His wife
never brought the subject up and he attributed it to her trust in him.

But just as their firstborn children
turned a year old in March, so was their third child expected. ‘Twas a cold
night on the first of April when Jordan first felt the pangs of labor begin.

As with the twins, she waited over
an hour before rousing her husband, thinking that indeed it would be some time
before this babe made an appearance. However, as also with the twins, the pains
quickly grew intense and it was no time at all before her membranes ruptured,
soaking her and the bedclothes.

After a particularly hard pain, she
nudged her husband. “English?”

He drew in a deep breath and opened
his eye, rolling toward her. “What is…?” he had instinctively reached out to
touch her and drew his hand back in alarm. “Good God! You are all wet!”

She smiled faintly as he bolted from
the bed and pulled his breeches on hastily, not bothering to sit when he pulled
his boots on. He was seized with urgency, for he knew the twins had come
quickly and he had no desire to deliver his own child.

His wife suddenly cried out with the
force of her next pain and her knees came up. He looked stricken. “I shall go get
the wet nurse to keep you….”

She cut him off with a loud grunt. “Nay!
Dunna leave me!”

He fell to his knees beside the bed.
“Jordan, I must go get Byron.”

Another terribly hard contraction
seized her and she groaned and grunted loudly, scaring him out of his wits. “Ye
canna! There’s no time.”

William knew he went pale. He tore
off the bedclothes and yanked her shift up, revealing the blood stained
bedclothes. Her belly was as hard as stone and he could literally see the
contractions bringing her stomach to a rigid peak.

“God, Jordan, how long have you been
having these pains?” he demanded, trying to keep his wits about him.

“An hour or longer, I dunna know,”
she whispered, licking her dry lips.

His brows drew together. “An hour or
so? Lord, Jordan, you should have told me….”

She broke him off with another
strangled cry and he saw her whole body straining to bring forth the babe within
her. She was right; he could not leave her. But it did not prevent him from
opening the bedchamber door and bellowing to the wet nurse to send for Byron.

Jordan was panting with her effort,
sweat already soaking her.
Keep your wits, man.
he silently scolded himself.
You know what to do, you have done it before. Water, clean linen, a sharp
dagger, twine,…. Jordan cried out again and his knees went to water. Aye, he’d
done it before…but not on his own wife.

But he was all she had at the
moment, so he prepared himself. Sitting on the bed, he pushed his wife’s shaking
legs apart and put his fingers into her, feeling the baby’s head almost immediately.
Speaking softly to her, he went over to the water basin and dipped a cloth in it,
returning to swab her clammy brow. Her eyes were closed, but opened when she
felt him.

To his surprise, she smiled. “Sorry to
do this to ye, English.”

He smiled back. “Nay, you are not.
You have planned this all along, you little vixen.”

She started to chuckle but it was
cut off by another contraction that nearly brought her off the bed. He held on
to her, nearly feeling the pain himself, whispering softly into her ear as it
subsided.

Back on the bed, Jordan licked her
lips again. “Oh, English, I am so thirsty,” she whispered. “Can I have some
water?”

“Nay, love,” he was never more sorry
to deny her. “It could make you ill.”

She opened an eye to look at him. “How
would ye know that?”

He shrugged, swabbing her arms with
cool water. “I know a little about birthing babes,” he admitted. “I have had to
do it twice before.”

“Ye have?” it was as much emotion,
other than pain, that she had yet to show. “Who? When?”

“Peasant babies, love,” he kissed
her forehead. “Nothing important.”

“Every babe is important,” she
admonished him. “Then ye are well-versed in this. I feel better knowing that.”
Her last words trailed off into a hard, grunting cry.

The bedchamber door flew open and
Paris stood in the doorway. His face was etched with intense concern.

“I was in the hall and the wet nurse
told me,” he said as he flew into the room, passing a trained eye over Jordan.
William had only done this twice. Paris had done it a dozen times. At one time
he had considered becoming a physic. “Move away, William.”

“Nay,” William said flatly, meeting
his wife’s gaze. “I will bring my daughter into the world.”

Paris had no time for arguing. “I am
more experienced. Move aside.”

William shot him a glare. “I will
not. You may help, if you wish, but I will….”

Jordan screamed, bringing up her
knees and grunting with the effort of pushing. “It’s coming! I can feel it!”

The men’s heads snapped to her,
Paris moving around to see better as William pushed her legs apart a bit more.

“I see it, love,” he was suddenly
joyful, gleeful. To actually see the babe quelled most of his fears and
returned him to the confident man he was. “She is almost here, Jordan. Push
with your next pain, as hard as you can.”

Paris moved away, going to make sure
he had water and some kind of clean swaddling ready, finding a dagger to sever
the cord.

The next pain was immediately after
the previous one and Jordan bore down, biting her lip so hard that she drew
blood. William rubbed her shaking thighs and hips, constantly amazed she was
able to bear this kind of pain so well. If he could have taken it upon himself,
he would have.

“It’s a son!” she panted as the pain
subsided a bit.

He grinned, watching the baby’s head
crown. “A daughter.”

The next pain came and she pushed,
Paris helping her by sitting behind her and supporting her back. “A
son!
”

The baby’s head was through and
William turned the child slightly, his breathing coming fast and excited. He
was completely focused on his child, his wife.

“Hello, Catherine,” he murmured.

She pushed so hard with the next
pain that the babe nearly came the entire length out and William laughed,
knowing she was focusing her irritation on him into her efforts.

“Dunna call my son Catherine,” she snapped,
breathing heavily. “Oh, English, this hurts. I dunna want to do this anymore.”

He smiled sympathetically, patting
her thigh. “Almost done, love. Almost done.”

Paris shook his head, his gentle
hand on Jordan’s forehead. “You two are a pair,” he said. “This woman is
birthing a child and you continue to harass her.”

William opened his mouth to speak
but another contraction came and Jordan cried out with the effort, one last time.
She felt the great rush of relief as the child slipped free and into her husband’s
waiting hands.

Panting and smiling, she tried to
lift her head to see her babe. “Well?” she demanded breathlessly. “How is he?”

William was busy and Paris left
Jordan to go and assist him. A couple of seconds later she heard a lusty little
cry and she crowed with relief. She was far too weak to sit up, but she was
trying desperately to see her child, tucked between the two knights.

Paris cut the cord and William held
up the babe for her to see. Happy, emotional tears brimmed.

“Your son is fine,” his voice was
hoarse. “Look at him, Jordan. He’s huge.”

She gave a sort of triumphant shout
and fell back onto the pillows, relieved and exhausted. William handed his
wailing son over to his friend and moved to embrace his wife. He found that he was
shaking as much as she was.