Reckless Viscount

by Amy Sandas

  Leif wasn’t sure how long he stood frozen in shock, but then all of a sudden his brain clicked back on and he felt a rush of energy.

  “Go quickly and tell the first person you see to call for the doctor, then fetch Mrs. Helmstead, tell her what is happening.”

  “Yes, my lord.” The young maid bobbed a quick curtsy as he finally released her wrist.

  “Go. Now!”

  She spun around and ran down the hall, but Leif didn’t wait to see her go.

  When he opened the door to his wife’s bedroom for the first time since her return, he looked first to the bed. Finding it empty, his steps stuttered as he wondered if maybe he’d misunderstood what the maid had said. Then again, she never said Abbigael was in her bedroom, he had just assumed. He almost turned to leave when he heard the labored breathing of someone in physical distress. Striding into the room, he followed the sound around the bed and saw his wife curled into a ball on the floor. Her pale hair was a tangled mess around her shoulders and over her face. She was dressed only in her underclothes and they had been soaked through with sweat and the release of her water.

  Seeing her, Leif was instantly awash in so many emotions that his knees nearly buckled under the weight of his own feelings. But he refused to allow himself to falter. Abbigael needed him.

  He focused on that thought and rushed toward her.

  He touched her forehead as her body drew tight and taut with pain. Her skin was flushed with the heat of exertion. It took all of his willpower not to draw her into his arms as she clenched her teeth against the gripping contraction, but some instinct told him to wait. Once he saw her muscles start to release, he slid his arms beneath her form, which in spite of the rounded belly seemed slight and far too fragile to endure the rigors of childbirth. He felt a strange stab of fear in his gut but forced it away as soon as it arose.

  He barely managed to get her settled on the bed before another pain claimed her.

  He spoke to her, telling her to relax when her limbs turned rigid, urging her to breathe when her teeth clamped tight. He knew pain was easier to handle when one didn’t resist it and he encouraged her to stop fighting, to allow the pain to come. He didn’t know if he was making any sense or if he was helping her, but he thought she seemed to be more comfortable as the contractions came and went.

  Unfortunately, as she relaxed, he grew more worried.

  The pains came very rapidly, one on top of the other, and he knew without a doubt that the doctor would not make it in time. Part of him wanted to rush to the stables and grab a horse to go in search of the doctor himself, but he could not bring himself to draw away from Abbigael’s side for even the time it would take to pull the bell in the corner of the room. He had to trust his staff would do what was necessary and he held his position on the bed next to his wife, feeling decidedly inadequate as he tried to ease her suffering with words of encouragement and a gentle hand.

  His relief was enormous when only a couple more minutes passed before Mrs. Helmstead swept into the room. She was followed by two maids whose arms were overloaded with clothes and bowls and numerous other things Leif did not care to identify. The housekeeper directed the maids to set their burdens down with a wave of her hand as she came directly to the bed.

  “My lord, it is time for you to leave. This work is for women,” the elderly servant stated with surprising sternness and a degree of lucidity he hadn’t seen in her since he had hired her to his household.

  “I’m not leaving,” he answered briskly, “so don’t waste your time trying to chase me off.”

  Though the old woman narrowed her eyes, she did not argue.

  Approaching Abbigael from the other side of the bed, Mrs. Helmstead tried to ask her some questions about the frequency and duration of her pains. But it immediately became apparent that Abbigael could answer nothing.

  The old woman moved with amazing speed and agility for her age and matronly figure, climbing atop the bed and positioning herself to examine the progress of the labor more directly. The confident way she assured Abbigael with hushed words uttered in strong tones and her obvious familiarity with the process of labor helped to ease Leif’s rising concern. He turned his attention away from the servant and focused on his wife’s face.

  She was flushed and her skin was moist with exertion. Her eyes were closed and her breath came in shallow puffs between her parted lips. Leif smoothed his hand back from her forehead, pushing the twisted and tangled locks of hair away from her face.

  During a brief rest between contractions, she turned toward his touch and opened her eyes. They were glazed over and she seemed to be looking at him from a distant depth within herself. The pain he saw there alarmed him, but not nearly as much as the silent fear he saw swirling in the bright pools of her eyes.

  She was scared.

  Knowing that nearly broke him. His throat swelled with emotion and threatened to close off. He wished with a fervent desire that overwhelmed him that he could take away her pain and fear, but there was nothing he could do. Feeling helpless, he continued to murmur words of praise and confidence when her eyes clenched shut again as another contraction took over.

  He watched her body grow taut and strained in the throes of agony. He had to wonder if such a heavy degree of suffering was typical. He couldn’t imagine why any woman would have more than one child.

  Leif looked to Mrs. Helmstead, seeking some reassurance.

  The older woman was directing the two maids with short clipped instructions. The younger women rushed about the room. One brought a stack of clean towels to the housekeeper’s side, the other wet a cloth and wiped Abbigael’s face to cool her.

  The contractions continued to build until one of them caused Abbigael to give a strangled cry as she curved her entire body inward. She tucked her chin to her chest and drew her knees up against her body. Her breath seemed to get caught in her lungs.

  Mrs. Helmstead looked up sharply and met Leif’s concerned gaze.

  “Get behind her.”

  “What?”

  “Get behind her and cradle her between your legs. Her strength is slipping and she going to need your support.”

  Leif hesitated. What help could he possibly be?

  “Do it now!”

  Shoving aside thought in favor of action, he slid his arm behind Abbigael’s shoulders and urged her forward as he maneuvered himself behind her. He did as Mrs. Helmstead said and propped his still-booted feet on the bed, bent his knees around his wife’s slight and weakened form, then brought Abbigael back against his chest so her head fell to his shoulder and her hot forehead rested against his jaw.

  He just managed to get into position as the next pain came. He felt every muscle in Abbigael’s spine tense and he reached around her to link his fingers with hers.

  “Now, Abby dear, it is time to use the strength of this pain to bring your child into this world.” Mrs. Helmstead’s words rang through the room with power and motivation. Her tone was filled with confidence and did not allow room for dissent, even if Abbigael had been of a mind to.

  The next moments would forever be blurred in Leif’s mind. At first his attention shifted between his wife and the servant, hoping to catch some sort of clue that all was going as it was supposed to. But as time went on and Abbigael seemed to be losing strength with every breath, he focused his attention on her alone as he whispered words of encouragement and braced himself around her to provide a stable foundation for the physical effort that consumed her entire being. Finally, after what seemed to be ages and seconds at once, he heard the fierce and furious cry of an infant.

  He lifted his gaze and saw a pink and angry bundle being lifted by Mrs. Helmstead from the cradle of his wife’s body. He caught sight of tiny arms and legs waving wildly in the air before the small person was handed to the maid waiting to wrap it in towels warmed and ready. The maid then quickly brought to child to Abbigael and lay the bundle in her waiting arms.

  Their child.

  He blinked a
way the hot moisture from his eyes and looked down at Abbigael.

  Her strength and awareness seemed to have returned the moment the child let out the first scream and she was bent over the baby muttering soft cooing words of welcome. She turned her head to look up at him and he saw in her eyes such a pure wealth of love and devotion that his heart ached at the sight of it.

  “Good Lord.” Mrs. Helmstead’s whispered exclamation drew Leif’s swift gaze and he saw her reaching frantically for the towels at her side.

  “What is going on? What is happening?”

  His questions went unanswered as the old lady worked frantically to staunch the rushing flow of blood Leif could now see escaping from his wife’s body. Towels soaked in red were taken away and more were brought in to take their place.

  “Leif?” Abbigael’s whispered question brought his gaze back to her in just enough time to see her eyes roll gently back as her head slumped heavily against his shoulder.

  “Abbigael,” he said sternly, squeezing her shoulders in an attempt to rouse her. “Abbigael.”

  Panic filled him as she remained unresponsive.

  Oh God, no! She couldn’t leave him again. He wouldn’t allow it this time.

  He barely noticed as one of the younger maids took the baby away and Mrs. Helmstead came up alongside Abbigael to press heavily into her abdomen. He refused to look any lower than Abbigael’s face, not wanting to see how much blood she continued to lose as the three women moved with efficient but worried movements around her body.

  He focused intently on her delicate features. His hand swept carefully over her brow and down her cheek that was growing cool and clammy beneath his touch. He rested his other hand against the side of her throat, holding his fingers against the thinning thread of her pulse. And he began to mutter the words that had been building in his chest from the moment he met her. Words of love and devotion that he didn’t think he would ever say. Words that forced him to remove all the layers of protection until his long-buried heart was exposed and raw. Fear washed ice through his blood as he realized he should have been saying these things to her for months. He could only hope she heard him, prayed that his love would be enough to keep her here with him. He had to believe it was possible though nothing else in his life supported such a belief. But Abbigael was different. So very different, and he had taken her for granted and distrusted her and pushed her away.

  His voice grew hoarse with the effort to force the raw words of his emotions past the hard lump growing larger in his throat with every passing minute that she remained unconscious in his arms. And as the pulse in her throat grew weaker, hot tears ran down his face and he begged her not to leave him in deep wrenching sobs.

  Finally, he felt an intrusive touch against his shoulder. His arms were tense and aching as they locked protectively around his wife’s body. He reluctantly turned his head and met the weary gaze of his housekeeper.

  “Tell me she will be all right,” he ordered, not recognizing the sound of his own voice as he forced it through a choked throat.

  “Her womb has begun the process of healing and the bleeding has slowed to an expected rate. But she has lost a lot of blood. She is very weak.”

  “There must be something we can do.”

  “I have made a tea with some herbs that will help her, if we can get her to drink some.”

  “I will do it.”

  The woman handed him a cup filled with a golden tea that smelled faintly of forest earth.

  “She will live?” he asked, needing to know the truth in spite of the fear that clawed at his insides.

  “As long as the bleeding continues to slow. We must keep watch. She needs rest as do you, my lord.”

  “I am not leaving her.”

  The servant nodded.

  “Then once she has finished the tea, you can help me to get her out of her damp clothes and change her bedding. The sooner she is settled into a clean bed the better she will be able to rest.”

  Leif patiently went about the task of pouring the tea between Abbigael’s lips drop by drop. Then he followed his servant’s instructions as they stripped away the soiled clothing and washed her skin with a warm cloth. The whole time, Abbigael slept an unnatural sleep. Her pulse was weak and rapid beneath her frighteningly pale skin. He cradled her limp body in his arms as the old woman changed the bedding and then settled her against the pillows again.

  Feeling her pulse, he was encouraged to find that it felt stronger and less frantic.

  Only then did he recall the baby with a shocking jolt. He had been so focused on Abbigael he had forgotten all about his child.

  Turning to Mrs. Helmstead, he asked, “The baby?”

  “The baby is doing very well, a fine strong son. A wet nurse has been fetched.”

  Relief flooded through him. A son. And he was strong and healthy.

  “Bring him here.”

  “But, my lord—”

  “I want the child here when Abbigael awakes. She will want to know he is safe.”

  “And the wet nurse?”

  “You can ask her to stay, if you must. Now, please have the baby brought here right away.”

  Mrs. Helmstead left and he washed quickly in the basin of wash water refreshed by the maid and redressed in clean breeches and a shirt.

  Mrs. Helmstead returned with a swaddled bundle held close in her arms and Leif went to her and reached for the baby.

  “I will ring if anything else is needed.”

  “You don’t need to stay here, my lord. I can have a maid stay with the lady and child until morning.”

  “No need. Thank you.”

  The woman turned away with a roll of her eyes and began to mutter under her breath about vagaries of nobility.

  Leif had already dismissed her from his mind, his focus now was on the tiny creature in his arms. The baby boy was surprisingly alert as he squirmed in the folds of his blanket as if he were desperate to be free. Then his face scrunched up and turned a bright shade of pink and he opened his mouth and let loose a demanding little wail of discontent.

  Smiling a grin so wide his cheeks ached, Leif settled into bed alongside his wife. Holding the baby in the crook of his elbow, he lowered the neckline of Abbigael’s nightgown. Very carefully, he laid their son against her side and positioned his seeking mouth at her breast. The child whimpered just before he began to suckle. Feeling a flood of warmth and love so overwhelming it was frightening, Leif wrapped his arms around his wife and child, promising himself that he would never again sleep another night away from her.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Consciousness warred with overwhelming exhaustion, and Abbigael pulled herself into full awareness with great effort. She shifted position and gasped when her muscles spasmed in aching protest. She tested herself with farther movement, carefully lengthening her arms and legs, and felt a great tenderness deep inside and a permeating weakness in her limbs unlike anything she had ever known. Her entire body felt wasted and worn from head to toe.

  “Don’t try to move too much.” Leif’s hushed words stirred the hair at her temple and she turned her head to the side, meeting his kaleidoscope gaze only inches from hers.

  As if finding clarity in the deep colors of his eyes, she suddenly remembered everything.

  “The babe?” she asked. Her voice cracked and her throat felt raw.

  Leif’s entire face transformed with his smile. “He is right here,” he answered with a dip of his head toward the limited space between them.

  Abbigael lowered her chin and saw the baby cradled in the crook of her arm, supported by herself and Leif. Only his pink face could be seen, but to Abbigael, it was enough for her to decide that a more perfect baby had never existed.

  “A boy,” she whispered in reverence as she struggled through her weakness to lift her hand and brush her fingertips across his tiny nose and soft round cheek.

  “Strong and healthy,” Leif added.

  Abbigael fought to recall the specific events of th
e birth, but so much of it was clouded by pain and fear. “Why don’t I… Something happened.”

  “You lost a lot of blood.” He swallowed hard. “It has slowed through the night, but you will need time to recover.”

  Abbigael sensed something beneath his words. She reached out with her awareness in an attempt to define it and felt an inexplicable rush of fear and anguish and love all at once. The emotions came upon her so quickly it was all she could do to try to hold back sudden tears.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying,” she muttered as she curled her hand over her son’s small chest, feeling comforted by the gentle rise and fall of his breath.

  “You are tired.”

  Abbigael was sorely tempted to lift her gaze to his, but she feared what she might see in his eyes. Instead, she tucked her chin and brushed her cheek against the soft downy thatch of their son’s pale hair and murmured softly, “Yes, that must be it.”

  “Abbigael,” Leif said softly as he shifted his arms around her. “I realize this is probably not the time for serious discussion, but I don’t think I can wait for a more opportune moment.”

  Abbigael caught her breath and held it as she was seized by an overwhelming sense of regret and sorrow. The tears pricked again in her eyes. She didn’t know where the emotions came from, but she feared nothing good could come of such hollow pain.

  “No, you are right,” she said. In her weakened state, her words did not sound nearly as confident as she wished them to. “We have much to discuss.”

  “We do?” Leif’s tone was an interesting combination of assent and confusion.

  “Of course,” Abbigael replied quickly, not wanting him to say what she suspected he might before she had a chance to propose her own solution. “Now that our son is born, we must make certain arrangements for the future.”

  “What sort of arrangements?”

  Abbigael felt him stiffen along her side when she mentioned the future and so was not surprised by the suspicion in his voice. He would not like what she was about to say. Her heart ached with the yearning for things to be different, but she saw no other way.