Page 67 of Her Dark Seduction
“Forgive me, sister. I won’t try to move you.” Jack’s voice was kind. “Is there anything you want or need that I can get you?”
Aye,I need my husband. I shook my head, sobbing.
“Do you wish for my brother?”
I jerked my head up, hope springing in my heart which died on seeing the sad expression he wore. He kissed the top of my head, stroking it with his free hand.
“Lisetta—I am so sorry he’s not here.” He smiled weakly as if trying to convince himself of the truth in his next words, “I am sure when he returns he’ll want to see you—and your child—safe and well.”
I gripped the table as the pain overwhelmed me again, grateful for his strong arms supporting me as we waited for Lily to return with the midwife.
****
My confinement lasted several hours, and as night fell, I gave birth to a son. I had begun to deal with the pain of each contraction, and as my body stretched to accommodate his entry into the world, I grew calmer, determined to be strong for his sake. The midwife tried to send Jack out of the room, but he stood firm, holding my hand and ignoring Lily’s admonishments. At one point, I looked up at the man supporting me and thought it was my husband. I cried out his name before turning my head in disappointment, realizing that the blue eyes looking back at me were not the eyes I had been praying with all my soul to look upon again.
When my body eventually tightened in the instinct to bear down, the pressure inside me was almost intolerable. Encouraged by Jack and the midwife, I gritted my teeth and strained as hard as I could. Surrendering to my weakness, as the child slid from my body, I screamed the name of the one person I wanted by my side.
“Vane!—Vane!!”
I collapsed forward, my body floating. I kept my eyes closed, sensing the oncoming blackness, and the welcoming relief from pain—both physical and emotional. The world swirled around me as I heard the midwife’s voice.
“’Tis a boy.”
A sharp cry returned me to the world—the pitiful wail of a child. The sound ripped through my soul and in that moment I understood my purpose. A mother’s instinct told me my son needed to be safe in my arms. All that mattered was the urge to protect him. I struggled to my feet and held out my arms.
“Give me my son.”
“Mistress, you must rest. Let your brother take you upstairs to your room first…”
“I. Need. My. Son,” I said slowly and clearly through gritted teeth, shaking off Jack’s steadying arm though my legs trembled.
“Give him to her, Edwina,” Jack said softly, “I can carry them both.”
The midwife wrapped my son in a blanket and handed him to me. As he opened his eyes to look at me for the first time I felt a warm rush of love. It was as if Vane himself looked back at me with the love I yearned for. I knew then that if I could not have the love of the father, the love of the son would be my solace. My tears splashed onto his perfect little face, but for first time in my life they were tears of joy.
I barely registered Jack as he carried me upstairs. Placing me on the bed, he held out his arms for the child, but I refused, clutching him to me as if my life depended on it.
“It seems I have a nephew.” He smiled. “Have you thought of a name?”
“Aye,” I replied, bending my head to kiss the top of my child’s head, breathing in the beautiful scent of him.
“I will let you rest now, Lisetta. Edwina will attend you in the morning.”
Before I could answer he had gone. The babe wriggled in the blanket, working an arm free. I held out a finger, and he curled his little hand around it, forming a tiny pink fist. My son—whom I loved as much as I loved his father.
“Welcome, my love,” I whispered. “Geoffrey Valentine Sawford.”
