Page 101 of My Hellion, My Heart
Lana drew a deep breath, worry puckering her brow for a moment. She hesitated as if trying to choose her words carefully. “Some births are more challenging than others. It won’t be long now.” She hurried past him. “I know it’s difficult, but try to remain calm. It’s the best thing you can do for the both of you.”
Although Dr. Hargrove, Lady Northridge, and his own mother had insisted that such ordeals were normal, it did not help that Henry had scoured the texts in his library and had learned the staggering, nausea-inducing statistic that one in five women died in childbirth. Even Princess Charlotte had died five years before, a few hours after she’d given birth to a stillborn. She’d been in labor for over two days. That news had rocked England.
And fear of the same outcome crippled him now.
Though he knew that Irina had the best care, and that Dr. Hargrove had delivered many healthy babies, including Irina’s own sister’s, the knowledge had put a coil of fear in his chest that would not loosen. Nor was it alleviated by Irina’s more frequent cries of pain followed by the subsequent rushing of footsteps from the outer room to the inner room and back.
But Lana was right—Irinawasa fighter.
Even in in the beginning throes of labor, she’d been a warrior. Hours before, pale and beautiful, she had clasped his hand tightly and told him to be ready to welcome his child.Theirchild.
Henry allowed himself a tiny smile. Irina had been convinced based on her women’s intuition that their baby had been conceived in Escalles. Henry wasn’t as sure, given how many times he’d kept his young wife abed after their wedding, but it wasn’t surprising that Irina had found herself with child in short order.
“We have a duty to fulfill,” she’d reminded him, when she had boldly initiated their lovemaking one morning shortly after their arrival at Marsden Hall.
He had laughed. “You are quite determined.”
“I never shy away from a challenge.”
Nor had she.
Expectant motherhood had made her even more beautiful, filling out her features and making her alight from within. Henry couldn’t keep his hands off her. And though he’d heard passion diminished for some during pregnancy, it had not for them. Henry never seemed to be able to get enough of her, and she’d been as insatiable as he, even up to recent weeks. When her belly became too rounded for certain positions, he pleasured her gently from behind, which she seemed to enjoy as much as he did.
Like him, Irina had delighted in the changes of her body, and he’d often found her walking the gardens of Marsden Hall, talking to the child growing within.
“What do you say to the baby?” he asked her once. “When you walk.”
Irina’s smile had been radiant. “I tell him or her about their wonderful father, and how much their parents will love them, and how happy we will be to meet them. I tell them that I hope they inherit their father’s eyes and his strength.”
“And what shall they inherit from you?” he’d asked, smiling back.
“My mule-headedness, I suppose.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He had kissed her indignant laughter away then. “I happen to love that about you. You never give up in any circumstance.”
Yes, his Irina was a fighter. And she was far too stubborn not to best the current challenge at hand. Henry drew a deep, calming breath and returned to the outer room where he sat and tried not to drive himself mad with irrational thoughts. He wanted to be there the minute there was any news, and regardless of the outcome, he had to be strong for Irina.
It seemed like an eternity had passed before Dr. Hargrove himself appeared.
The smile on his face immediately put Henry’s tormented heart at ease, though not entirely. He wanted to see his wife for himself.
“My lord,” the doctor said. “Would you like to come in and meet your family?”
Henry blinked at the odd choice of words, but supposed that Irina wanted to tell him herself the gender of their child. As he entered the room, his gaze immediately went to the love of his life, even as it swept over the birthing attendants holding an infant and cooing at the far side of the bed.
Henry was happy to be a father, but he was even happier to see his wife healthy and well. A few dark shadows hung beneath her eyes, and her brow still seemed somewhat pale, though her cheeks were flushed from the effort of the birth and her violet eyes were like jewels, gleaming in her face. Every part of him leaned in magnetic impulse toward her.
“Hello, my love,” he said to her, bending to kiss her forehead. “You have never looked more beautiful.”
Irina chuckled softly and turned her lips up for a proper kiss, despite the lack of privacy. He obliged with a muffled laugh. “You flatter me, my lord. I must look a fright.”
“You are beautiful,” he insisted.
She ran a hand over the stubble coating his jaw, her thumb tenderly stroking across his cheek. “Would you like to meet your sons?”
Dumbfounded, he stared at her.“Sons?”
“Twins.” Irina grinned at his expression as the birthing attendants brought two swaddled shapes toward them. “An heir and a spare.”
