Page 60 of A Second Chance for Carys
Carys and Mistress Ivy exchanged a discreet glance. It was time for them to go. The new parents needed to be alone with their son.
“Now that my work is done, I think I will make use of the bed you asked to be prepared for me earlier,” the healer told her once they had reached the floor below.
“Yes.” Carys opened the door to her friend. “You deserve it. Thank you for what you did for my daughter.”
“You’re welcome. It was as I predicted, an easy, if somewhat lengthy birth. And with a husband like Matthew Hunter in her bed, your daughter will be blessed with many more children in the years to come.”
“Let’s hope so.”
At the bottom of the staircase Carys took a moment to steady herself. Tears were threatening again. They seemed to want to come out of their own accord, which was hardly surprising after the emotional upheaval she had just been through. Then, all of a sudden, a hand landed on the small of her back, warm and comforting. No need to check who it was. She would have recognized James’ touch everywhere and, anyway, who else would be so presumptuous? To her relief, Richard was now happy with Avice, who was a much better match for him than she would ever have been.
“Come, my love, don’t stay here all alone,” he purred. “You can cry all you like, but in my arms.”
She turned around, buried her face against his chest and did just that. Nevertheless, as they were tears of joy, they did not last long. She drew away, feeling suddenly exhausted by the sleepless night and the outpouring of emotions. James was looking at her through slightly blurry eyes, his clothes were in disarray and his jaw was dark with stubble. He had never looked dearer to her.
“Have you slept at all?” she asked, even though she could guess the answer.
He gave an amused snort, confirming her suspicions. “And leave the lad alone in the great hall? I think not. Someone had to be there to keep him from tearing his hair out or drinking himself to death. I’m sorry to say that Richard wasn’t much help, though this was not his first time becoming a grandfather. He was a wreck at the thought of having another grandson, and even Avice’s food went untouched.” He nodded toward the room at the top of the stairs where Matthew and Branwen were getting to know their son. “I have nothing against Mistress Ivy but the next time those two have a child, we will have to choose a midwife who lets him in with Branwen, because I’m not doing that again, not for all the gold in the world. Forget him,mynerves will not survive it.”
Carys laughed through her lingering tears. “Yes. We will definitely have to do that, because I’m not having Branwen fretting again the way she did. I swear she was more worried about how Matthew was faring than her own discomfort. It didn’t help to calm her down, as you can imagine.”
“But all is well?” There was a note of worry in his voice. Of course he would have worried himself sick last night, without even being allowed to show it. He would have wanted to be strong for Matthew, and not let his fears show, but the events of the night would have brought back painful memories for him. Joanne had lost the daughter who had come early and their second child, though it had been born at the right time, had not survived the birth. “That was an awfully long labor.”
“All is well. Mistress Ivy had warned us first babies often take longer to be born and she was certainly proven right. But Branwen was magnificent.” Tears threatened again but Carys ruthlessly pushed them away. “She was so brave, I’m so proud of her.”
“She’s your true daughter then.” There was such love and emotion in his voice that she gave another sob. What was the man doing, speaking to her thus when she was already an emotional mess? If he carried on like this, she might not be able to refrain from crying “Come, let’s get you something to drink, and one of Avice’s famous honey tarts.”
“Yes. “ That sounded heavenly. She hadn’t realized she was famished as well as parched, but it was little wonder if she was. She had barely had time to snatch a sip or two of ale during Branwen’s labor. Trust James to think of everything.
“While he carved a groove in the stone floor with his pacing, Matthew told me the name they intended to give their son,” James informed her while he poured them both a cup of ale.
“Oh?” Lost to the relief of seeing baby and mother were well, Carys had forgotten to ask about the name. She looked at him expectantly but he didn’t offer any more explanation. “Well, are you going to tell me what it is?” she said, accepting the ale.
He made a grimace. “That’s the thing. I can’t. It’s a Welsh name I cannot for the life of me repeat. Something like Yorwar.”
A smile tugged at her lips at the way he butchered the name. She would have to teach him her language, as she was sure to enjoy hearing his take on familiar words. “I think you mean Iorwerth.”
“Perhaps.”
He looked so put out that, unable to resist, she kissed him full on the lips, heedless of who might see them. In any case, the people at Sheridan Manor had better get used to the notion that the steward was no longer a free man.
He was nowherman, and soon, everyone would know it.
“Worry not, my love. I’ll teach you how to pronounce it properly. Or you could find a nickname for him, something to be used just for you. He’s your grandson, you can do what you like.”
His eyes lit up in relief, the dark in them shining like obsidian. So beautiful. “I could, couldn’t I?”
The joy on his face was too much. Carys knew how much this birth would mean to him, who had lost all four of his children and, with them, all hope of ever having grandchildren. It meant as much as it meant to her.
They each had been given a second chance at family, thanks to the two people they had adopted as children of their hearts, and it was just perfect that way.
“Have you eaten enough?” James asked once she had enjoyed two of the tarts. The spring sun was illuminating the hall, turning everything golden around them.
“Yes.”
Without further ado, he swept her into his arms. “Then, it’s off to bed with you. You need a good sleep, as do I. And then when we wake up, I’ll do what I intended to do yesterday morning. Twice.”
Epilogue
