Page 8 of The Beast's Bride
“Do ye suffer?” she asked, forgetting her own misery for a moment. “Is Baltair cruel to ye?”
She watched her sister’s tension increase. Her lovely face tightened, and her gaze shuttered. “He’s myhusband,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m luckier than a lot of women.”
Rhona frowned. “That’s no answer, Caitrin.”
Her sister’s blue eyes flashed in a rare show of irritation. “What do ye want me to say?” she challenged. “That he beats me nightly, that he belittles me at every chance? Would that please ye?”
Rhona stared back at her. “No,” she replied, her voice subdued. “Of course not.”
“Then don’t pry … ye might not like what ye hear.”
Caitrin’s face twisted suddenly. With a gasp, she dropped her embroidery onto her lap and clutched at her lower belly. A moment later she hissed a curse—one that Rhona had only ever heard her father’s men use in the training yard. Certainly not the sort of thing her beautiful sister would utter.
“Caitrin … what’s wrong?” Rhona kicked her basket of wool aside and knelt before her sister, grasping her ice-cold hands.
Caitrin glanced up, face strained, eyes wide. “The bairn … I think it’s time.”
Heart pounding, Rhona launched herself to her feet. “Adaira!” she bellowed, knowing that their sister was resting in the bower next door. “Fetch the midwife!”
The birth was a difficult one. Caitrin struggled for the rest of the day and the entire night that followed. Her grunts and cries filtered down through all levels of the keep, and when the midwife told her she should bear the pain more stoically, Caitrin screamed obscenities at her.
Although Rhona wasn’t the type of lass to be shocked by cursing, hearing such words uttered by her sister made her wince. It worried her too, for Caitrin seemed in such agony. Sweat poured down her red cheeks. Her eyes were wide and desperate.
During the long night that followed, Rhona and Adaira didn’t leave Caitrin’s side. Eventually, Adaira succumbed to fatigue, slumping in the narrow wooden chair beside her sister’s bed. However, Rhona remained awake. Her eyes burned, her shoulders ached, and yet she stayed at Caitrin’s side, gripping her hand tightly when the next onslaught of birthing pains attacked her.
As dawn approached, the gaps between them shortened. Caitrin was almost delirious with pain, her breathing coming in gasps.
“Breathe deeply, Lady Caitrin,” the midwife admonished her. “S-l-o-w-l-y.”
Caitrin cast her a malevolent look, although she did not curse at her this time. She had long since lost the strength to abuse the poor woman. She was too tired.
“Just a short while longer.” Rhona urged as Caitrin’s fingers clenched around hers. Her sister squeezed so tightly that Rhona heard the bones in her hands creak. But she didn’t cry out. Caitrin needed her to be strong.
“I can’t,” Caitrin choked out the words, tears streaming down her face. “I’m so tired. I can’t take—” Her voice choked off as another wave of pain assailed her.
“Ye will,” Rhona replied, fear turning her voice fierce. “Ye must.”
Their gazes met and held. At that moment Rhona forgot about her own unhappy situation, about the games that loomed in just a couple of weeks. In that moment she would have happily agreed to wed the odious Aonghus Budge if it would have kept her sister safe.
“Come, Caitrin,” Rhona said, her tone pleading now. “Don’t think of the pain, don’t think about how tired ye are … just think of the bairn inside ye. It must be born. Once this is over the pain will stop.”
Caitrin’s fingers clenched around hers. “Stay with me, Rhona,” she gasped. Her face was flushed, her mouth tight with pain. “Don’t leave me.”
“I’ll never leave ye,” Rhona replied. Her vision blurred, and her chest ached from the love she felt for her sister. “I’m right here at yer side, and I always will be.”
A tiny wailing babe was born as the first ribbons of violet and gold decorated the eastern sky. The lusty sound of his cries filled the birthing chamber. His small, red face was scrunched up and angry.
Caitrin sobbed with relief and sank back on the pillows.
“Ye did it.” Adaira was weeping as she clutched her sister’s hand. “He’s so beautiful, Cate. Ye are so clever.”
Beautiful.To Rhona the babe looked anything but. Covered in blood and birthing fluid, he wasn’t a comely sight. However, Caitrin did not appear to mind. Her face was a picture of joy as the midwife wrapped the bairn in a soft woolen shawl and handed him to her.
“What will ye name him?” Adaira asked, scrubbing at the tears that still trickled down her cheeks.
“I don’t know,” Caitrin murmured. “Baltair wanted him named after his father … Eoghan.”
“And where is yer husband?” Rhona huffed, casting a look at the midwife who had sent for him as soon as she’d realized Caitrin was going into labor. The woman, whose face now sagged with exhaustion, returned her look. “He was hunting some distance away, Lady Rhona. He’s probably riding here as we speak.”
