by M. S. Parker
I pulled at his shirt, needing to feel him. If I was forced to go for days or weeks without being able to touch him, I needed to have this memory to hold on to. Skin against skin.
Gracen must have been thinking along the same lines, because a moment later, our clothes were on the floor and his hands were on my body, touching, feeling. He knelt between my legs, and I gasped as he slid inside with one smooth stroke. He held me there, neither of us moving, our bodies linked. His eyes found mine, and in that moment, everything was right and perfect.
Then he dropped his hands from my hips, threaded his fingers between mine, and began to rock against me. Pleasure built in me slowly, a steady build-up of pressure and heat that had me squeezing Gracen's hands, writhing against him. Each stroke dragged across my g-spot, pushing me higher until I groaned out his name.
My orgasm rolled over me like one long wave, growing until he came, his hands tightening around mine. Neither one of us spoke as we came down. We settled next to each other on our sides, my back against his chest. He pulled a sheet over us and wrapped his arms around me, hands resting on my belly.
We let the candle burn down naturally, the sputtering of the wick and our breathing the only sounds. The air in the room cooled, but Gracen was warm wrapped around me. No matter when we fell asleep, I always woke to find his arms and legs surrounding me. It should have been stifling, but I found it comforting.
It was funny. Even though I'd been engaged, Bruce and I had barely slept in the same bed for more than the occasional weekend, which meant I'd been more used to sleeping alone rather than with someone. More than that, I actually hated sleeping with him. I'd never felt comfortable at his place, and a lot of that was because I knew he wasn't comfortable with me being there.
With Gracen, however, I slept better with him next to me. The few times we'd been apart since we'd fallen in love, my nights had been restless. I had no doubt that this time would be no exception. But I still had tonight, so I snuggled deeper into his arms and let myself relax.
Chapter 15
I couldn't see, but my eyes were open. It was just black, everywhere. The sort of darkness that meant I could hold my hand in front of my face and not see it. I didn't know where I was, but I was alone. I couldn't say for sure how I knew that, but I did. I was here, in the dark, alone.
And someone was missing. Someone specific.
My son.
My son was gone. Someone had taken him, and I had to get him back.
I screamed out his name, and the dark swallowed the sound. I wanted to run, to search, but I didn't know which way to go, where to look. I screamed again, over and over until my throat was raw and my voice cracked. I ran with my hands out in front of me, but I never came to a wall, never came to anything.
I was trapped in nothing for a lifetime, desperate to find my son and knowing that this would be forever.
Then, something changed.
It was gradual at first, building until it wasn't only my subconscious that recognized it as laughter. It grew louder and louder until it forced me to my knees, hands clamped over my ears.
It still echoed in my head even as I jerked awake. I reached for Gracen before I realized that I was alone in the bed. It was past sunrise, which meant he had already left. I swallowed hard as I stared up at the ceiling. It had only been a dream, probably triggered by knowing that, at least for the next week or two, I was alone.
It was odd, thinking of Roston as my father-in-law when I didn’t feel anything even remotely warm toward him. His dislike of me was tangible, and I hated feeling like I was beholden to him, but I couldn't just leave. All I could do was try to be as quiet and accommodating as possible, not give Roston or the staff any reason to pay special attention to us.
I knew I needed to tell Alize and Celina that we had to lay low, but I was pleasantly surprised at how well they took it. It would have been a prime time for Alize to be grumpy, shut up in the home of a stranger – a rude, disdainful one at that. But we turned to spending nearly every waking hour together, and it wasn't as bad as I feared it would be. Alize and I took turns helping Celina learn to read English. I taught Alize how to crochet, and the three of us made blankets and socks for the baby. Both girls helped me work on my French, speaking and reading.
Dye was with us most of the time too. Bringing us what we needed for whatever we were working on. Making sure we had food and drink. I tried talking to her about my dreams, the ones that seemed to come true, but she just shrugged. I wasn't sure I believed that she didn't have an opinion about it, but I didn't press the issue.
If it hadn't been for Roston, it would've actually been a pleasant time as I waited for Gracen to come back so we could finish making plans for our baby.
A week after Gracen left, I came downstairs one evening to find Celina in tears over something Roston said to her. Alize was furious, barely able to manage enough English to tell me what happened. It was enough, however, to piss me off. I told the girls I'd handle it, but I wasn't sure how I’d manage to do so. Father-in-law or not, he couldn't go around treating people like shit, no matter how important he thought he was. There was only so much I could take in silence.
I told the girls to stay out of sight even more than usual, and that I'd let them know when I talked to Roston. The look on Alize's face said that if I didn't follow through, she'd do it, and I had no doubt that she would. I also knew that would be a bad idea.
The next morning, the girls were still asleep as I awoke earlier than normal, so I ventured downstairs. The parlor would be quiet right now, and it'd give me the chance to settle in before I spoke to Roston. I needed as much of an upper hand as I could get. I brought a ball of thick, navy blue yarn, and a blanket that was about a quarter larger than myself but still needed to be finished.
One of the servants brought me a cup of hot tea as I settled by the window. I was halfway through the drink and had added another inch to the blanket when I heard familiar, heavy footsteps. A few seconds later, Roston appeared in the doorway. A tense silence filled the air as we looked across the room at each other. I resisted the urge to shrink away when Roston took a couple of steps into the room. He looked at the work in my lap and then back at me.
“Did you tell him you were pregnant? Is that how you tricked him into marrying you?”
I refused to dignify that with a response. Besides, he wouldn't believe me if I told him that Gracen married me because he'd fallen in love. Arguing the point wouldn't make him any more open to the truth. What I did need to do, however, was talk about how he was treating Celina.
There was no point in trying to make small talk, so I got straight to the point. “I know you don't like me, but that's between us. I'm not asking you to be civil, because I don't think that's possible, but I think you could manage to ignore them.”
“Them?”
I gritted my teeth. “Alize and Celina, the young women in my charge.”
“Is it not enough that the son who scorned me had the gall to return married to a servant, and now expects me to acknowledge an heir from that union? Must I also endure the company of these two strangers in my own house?”
Once again, I amazed myself at how capable I was of biting my tongue. “Believe me, we’ll be out of here as soon as humanly possible. You'll never have to see us again.”
Roston’s chin lifted slightly as if my desire to leave was an affront to him. It didn't matter that he didn't want us here. He wanted us to want to be here.
I was thankful when Roston chose to not take the conversation any further. I was pushing the limits of my self-control. After he left, I dropped my crocheting and walked over to look out the window. The sun was up now, and people were out on the estate, but I wasn't really looking at any of that. I wasn't looking at anything in particular. My mind was far away, wondering when Gracen was coming back, when we would finally be free of this place, of his father. All questions I didn't have answers for.
All I knew for certain was that it couldn't come soon enoug
h.
Gracen came back nearly two weeks from the day he left, and it was Dye who came to tell me, grinning from ear to ear. I cursed my unwieldy body as Dye helped me up, wishing I was able to run downstairs like I would've six months ago. By the time I reached the base of the stairs, he was already there.
He grabbed me, crushing me to him as he pulled me into his embrace. Even as I felt the strength of his arms, I could feel how he was holding back to keep from hurting the baby. He kissed my cheeks, my eyelids, then my mouth. Light butterfly kisses that shifted into something more as his lips lingered.
His tongue slid across mine, and I dug my fingers into his hair. Damn, I'd missed him. It didn't matter how slow or fat I felt, kissing him turned me on. I was pretty sure I would've wanted to have sex with him no matter what the circumstances were.
“It has been too long,” he murmured.
“So, you missed me then?” I whispered.
He chuckled, a low, sensual sound that twisted all those low parts of me. “More than words can say.”
“I guess that means you can never leave me again,” I teased.
Gracen’s kiss was answer enough, filled with the sort of passion that made my toes curl.
When he finally pulled back this time, we were both gasping for air, and I was pretty sure we had an audience.
“You know,” I said, “you always do this before you’re about to sweep me off my feet and carry me up to bed. But you might want to remember that I weigh a lot more now.”
The last word ended on a shriek of laughter as he swept me up in his arms. “Let's go to bed.”
We didn't see anyone as he carried me up the stairs and into our room, but I probably wouldn't have noticed if there'd been an entire army there. All I cared about was that my husband was home.
He laid me down and stretched out next to me. He ran his hand over my stomach, the urgency that had been in his kiss transforming into something deep and slow. He kissed my belly and then moved back up to my mouth. Our touches were lazy, as if we'd suddenly gone from no time at all, to all the time in the world. His body began to relax as he leaned on his elbow, and I could feel exhaustion coming over him.
Bit by bit, I watched as Gracen fell asleep. I stayed awake, needing to watch him, touch him. I traced the lines of his face with the tips of my fingers, imagined the years stretched out ahead of us and all the times I would get to lay like this, looking at him, feeling him next to me.
I didn’t want to tell Gracen about the things Roston said to Celina or the resulting conversation we'd had. As much as it bothered me that Gracen wanted to believe the best about his father, wanted to believe that Faver had lied about Roston's involvement in what happened to me, I couldn't bring myself to tell Gracen something that could drive a wedge between them. As long as the baby and I were safe, I wouldn’t press the issue.
I was so deep in thought that it took me almost a whole minute to realize that Gracen had woken up and was looking at me. He smiled when my gaze finally met his, and I pushed thoughts of my father-in-law away.
“What did Washington say?” I asked, snuggling down to put my head on his shoulder.
“At the moment, he only wants me to pass along letters Alexandre writes. He knows the baby is due soon, and that I want to be here for it.” Gracen kissed the top of my head. “So all we need to do right now is focus on our family.”
That sounded good to me. Everything else could wait until after.
Chapter 16
I wouldn’t let Ennis win. Not this time. I'd been pushing myself, training so that I'd pass the physical with flying colors. If I was going to uphold the Daviot family tradition of joining the military, I refused be half-assed about it. I'd always been in good shape, but 'good' wasn't going to cut it. Not for me.
Ennis was taller than me, but his legs weren't much longer. He was using every advantage, though, to stay ahead of me. I didn't let myself get distracted though. Pacing myself was how I'd win. This wasn't a sprint to see who was faster. This was about endurance. I had to control my breathing, ignore the pain that was lancing up my side. Across my stomach, like the worst cramp...
I jerked awake, a pained moan escaping before I could swallow it. For a few confused seconds, I thought what I'd felt was only a part of my dream. Sometimes, when I had those vivid dreams – even the ones that didn't end up giving me deja vu – the physical sensations carried over. That usually happened with sexual dreams, and I'd wake up on the brink of an orgasm, but it sometimes happened with other things like cold...or pain. Never this intense though.
All of that went through my head in a flash. The pain was gone before the thoughts were, but the memory of it lingered enough to make my sleepy brain realize that something was wrong.
Maybe not wrong, but definitely not right.
I shifted, frowning at the ache in my back. It was new, a different sort of uncomfortable than how it felt when I'd gone to sleep. I ran my hand over my stomach. Since I first realized I was pregnant, I'd tried to remember everything I'd ever read or learned about having a baby. Like I knew that they would drop into position so they'd be lined up at the birth canal. And that women sometimes got these things called Braxton-Hicks, which were false labor pains.
Without a sonogram, there was no way to tell exactly how far along I was, but I knew my due date was near. I couldn't pinpoint it with any accuracy, couldn't tell if I was early or late, but something was definitely happening.
I moved my hands slowly over my belly, staring up at the ceiling as I concentrated on trying to figure out what happened. Then, it happened again. I couldn't really think of any real way to describe it other than a painful cramp, but that wasn't really accurate. Somehow, I doubted I'd be able to explain it to anyone who hadn't felt it before.
Shit.
I counted as the pain eased, keeping track of how many minutes passed before the next one came. I needed to be certain. I didn't want to give a false alarm, not when I knew it would scare Gracen unnecessarily.
When the next contraction came, however, I couldn't stop myself from hunching forward, moving the bed enough to jar Gracen.
“Is it the baby?” Gracen asked as he sat up. His face was pale in the early morning light.
I nodded first, then shook my head. “I don’t know! I’ve never had a baby before. I think so.”
Tears sprung to my eyes as I focused on my breathing. I wanted my mother so badly that it was almost a physical pain as intense as the one that had woken me. This wasn't the same sort of longing that came with a wave of homesickness, or the desire to see my family again. It wasn't even the same thing as a child wanting their mother when they didn't feel well, and they wanted the comfort that only a parent could offer.
No, this was more like the type of need I'd heard from wounded soldiers. The desperate, primal need for one's mother when the possibility of dying was so real that it could be tasted.
I thought I'd understood what it meant to be in a place where standard medical practices were still mostly barbaric, but it wasn't until now, when I knew I was facing childbirth in a time where the mortality rate was more than double the average in my own time, that it truly sank in. I could do this without drugs. I wasn't excited about that part, but it was bearable. Knowing how Gracen had lost his first wife and child this way, though, made it all infinitely more real.
He grabbed my hand, concern in his eyes, his mouth forming a thin line. “What do you need me to do?”
It took every ounce of focus I had to keep my voice firm. “You need to keep that letter you received from Alexandre in order to keep your meeting with Washington's aide.”
He shook his head. “I will cancel the meeting.”
“No, you need to keep it.”
“I will not leave you. Not now.”
I could see everything in his eyes. The agony at my pain. The fear that he'd lose me and our child. The knowledge that there was nothing he could do for me.
“You cannot risk leaving that letter around here. W
ashington needs to see what the French court is saying.”
“Honor–”
“Fetch Alize and Celina. Go to your meeting. They will take care of me while you're gone.”
He looked like he was about to argue with me when, suddenly, my water broke, soaking the bed and everything below my waist. He jumped out of bed and ran for the door, not even bothering to pull on his pants as he rushed into the hallway, calling for Alize and Celina.
I cursed as I struggled to sit up. I knew this was going to be...messy, but I wanted to be in something clean and dry until then. I had time. First labors were often long. I remembered that. The contractions were still far enough apart that I knew I had a long day ahead of me.
Well, as much as anyone could ever really know about something like that.
“Honor.” Celina was the first one back in the room, immediately coming to my side. All of her hesitation was gone. “How much between pains?”
“Enough,” I said.
“Bien.” She put one arm behind my back and took my other arm. “Do you want to stay in here?”
I shook my head. “We don't know how long this will take.”
“Take her into the next room.” Gracen was suddenly at my other side, helping Celina lift me to my feet. “Alize is getting the bed ready.”
I nodded, focusing all my attention on keeping my feet underneath me as we moved out of the bedroom and down the hall a few feet. Alize was already there, a strange expression on her face. When I drew closer, I realized that the look wasn't odd in and of itself, but was, rather, something I simply hadn't seen from her before.
She looked like an adult. Not simply serious, but focused and determined. Ready to take charge. She'd moved everything off the bed, and was busy spreading out a thick, worn comforter.
“Celina, mon ange, water, please.”
Celina nodded as she helped Gracen lower me to the bed. She hurried out as Gracen and Alize got me situated. The pillows behind my back eased the tension there, but I knew it was only momentary.