by Aury Dobsyn
She could feel the sexual magnetism that made him so confident and with every seductive gaze he cast her way, her heart turned in response. Whether it was his tender and patient manner or the maddening hint of arrogance he often used to tease her, she knew her heart would soon belong to him.
With these thoughts clouding her mind, Ella almost forgot the new mare she rode, one of the many willed to her Uncle James. Her attention return to Gavin, aware that he was allowing her a reprieve from the normal banter.
When they had set off this morning, her mood had been anything but jovial, due to her conversation with the cooks. Even though she had not fully confessed her sin from eight years ago, the memory left her despondent. This was not the first time her dismal thoughts got the better of her, sending her racing over the breathtaking moors, but leaving her voiceless.
Acute and perceptive, Gavin gave her the space she needed. When she finally slowed the sable mare to a walk, he complied by doing the same, then patiently waited for her to break the silence.
“Do you believe boldness breeds strength?”
Her innocent question sent bolts of fire to Gavin’s loins as images of breeding ignited his imagination. The perfection of her face and form left him hard with desire day in and day out, yet not so much as a kiss passed between them since they had been wed. Now, she talks of breeding. Lord, does she have any idea the effect she has on me.
At night Gavin dreamed of her naked in his bed, with arms stretched out, welcoming him to her body. He would caress the delicate flare of her slender hips, the mercilessly tight and narrow waist, then lower to the silken thighs firm from years of wild rides on horseback. Perspiring and randy as a goat, he would awaken with intense need for the female in the next chamber. Swimming in the frigid loch each morning was now mandatory. After cooling his ardor in the frigid water, he would return often to watch her sleep for a moment or an hour.
Trying to clear his mind and focus on her question, Gavin failed. “Can ye repeat that?”
“Aye, do ye think boldness breeds strength? I am toying with the idea of breeding this fine, spirited mare with Apollo.”
She toys with much more than that, he thought. Thinking on her question, he responded dryly, “Aye, ‘tis a fine idea.”
Hearing his impassive tone, a wave of guilt washed over Ella. His patience was wearing thin, she knew, with a wife who gave no affection and continued to keep him at a distance. Unable to find words, she meekly followed him to a small nearby loch.
With the saddles removed and the horses brushed down, Ella moved to sit under a tree while he stripped down for a swim. With nary a cloud in sight to hinder the summer sun, the day was overly warm and only furthered her overheated state.
Her husband’s unclad body was sculpted like a Greek God, she thought, as she watched him with wide eyes. His muscular form radiated strength, power and supreme athleticism. Her gaze lingered on the well-developed chest sprinkled with dark hair, then drifted lower to the chiseled perfection of his stomach, unbelievably lean and without a trace of fat. As he removed the last article of his clothing, he turned and gave her and enticing view of his the molten bronze skin of his muscular back, as well as his buttocks that looked rock hard.
Rock hard was the painful state Gavin found himself in as he endured his wife’s brazen perusal of his body. Did the little innocent wench think him made of stone, to look upon him so boldly without even blinking. Dear God, did she just lick her lips, he asked himself. Without another thought, he dove into the frigid water.
When he broke the water’s surface, he glanced at the all-too enticing female under the weeping willow tree. Disappointment crossed her features, as if he had taken away her favorite toy. As the throbbing between his legs lessened, he suddenly found himself elated by the desire he saw in his bride.
His heartbeat quickened when he saw her remove her boots and roll her breeches up to her knees. The sight of her slender legs made him instantly hard again, thinking how they would feel wrapped around his waist.
The thin white tunic that Eva had made for her, combined with the sun’s helpful rays, allowed him to see the tightly fitted chemise underneath. He had asked his sister to make clothes that Ella could ride in, but with maddening realization, he knew he should have been more specific.
A fortnight ago, Tavish had returned from the Mackenzies with clothing for Ella, but it was not what Gavin had envisioned. His idea had been for a longer tunic, one that would hide those sleek legs and incredibly enticing bottom. Instead, Eva had sent short chemises that covered only half of his wife’s small, perky backside. Without thought, his sister had also fashioned silk, drawstring petticoats that were fitted and reached only mid thigh. Gavin had thought it a jest when he rummaged through the garments, yet after seeing five sets and then reading her note, he realized he had been mistaken.
Dearest Gavin,
I was thrilled when Tavish arrived with your request for new riding apparel for the remarkable woman, now your wife. Mother sent Ella’s measurements, so they should fit well and be more comfortable than what she owns. I used the finest material for the undergarments, all very light weight and double stitched. The material should cause no irritation to Ella's tender back. The cut of the undergarments was made to fit easily under her normal riding attire, but provide some protection for her more delicate areas as well as security to others.
I became so engrossed in my task that I also made her some short sleeve tunics, using a new thin material that I have been experimenting with that appears to be stronger. The new breeches I fashioned are a combination of wool and leather, which makes it more durable for riding.
Please tell your dear wife that I am so excited to meet her and make her a new wardrobe. There are nae words to express my gratitude for what she had done for Gabriel, who continues to sing her praises. Even though I have yet to meet her, she is already incased in my heart and will have my undying love for eternity.
Give everyone my love. I look forward till the day we can be together again.
Your Darling Sister,
Eva
Darling is not the word Gavin would use to describe his sister, mayhap malicious or cruel. His displeasure was intensified when he saw the delight in Ella’s eyes the day he handed her the garments.
Returning to the present, he now endured the pain of a man who had not touched his wife since their wedding night, but been blessed and cursed with the view of the form fitting breeches that outlined her slender curves.
His body tensed when the profile of her body came into view. Her flawlessly curved derriere teased while it simultaneously beckoned him.
Noticing Gavin’s intense look, she asked, “Why are you staring at me like that?”
“Like what? I only reciprocate yer action moments ago,” he stated with a husky, seductive voice.
“I was nae staring at you,” Ella exclaimed as she plopped down on a boulder and danged her feet into the water. “Well mayhap a little, but that’s only because I have never seen a . . . a . . . naked man before.”
“At least there is truth to that admission, and I will make one of my own.”
With the grace of a predator stalking its prey he moved towards her, then took her small feet into his hands, and began to rub the arches with his thumbs.
“I stare at ye because I want ye more than I have ever wanted a woman afore.”
His hands slid up her calves to her knees as he slowly position his body between her legs. When his large palms covered her hips, he said in a deep voice, “The verra sight of ye intoxicates me with the desire to touch, taste and kiss yer delectable body. I burn to have ye in my arms, to stoke ye as I would a fire, until yer heat equals my own. I want to be inside ye, until ye surrender into euphoric ecstasy.”
The smoldering flame Ella saw in his eyes, coupled with his powerfully sensual words, sent a heated shiver racing through her body. Her personal battle of restraint was lost when she felt the warmth of his palms cupping her face, his thumbs stroking
her cheeks. His kiss was an awakening experience that left her reeling, but clinging for more. He tilted her head to deepen the kiss, catapulting her to a place beyond logic and reason.
Her serenity was shattered by the hunger of his kiss. Her willpower to rebuff his tender assault disappeared. She succumbed to the force of his lips, savoring every moment until her fervor matched his.
Her hands were ravenous as they explored his muscular chest and broad shoulders. She suddenly felt his hands drift down the contours of her body to grip with possessiveness her bottom. Like a fisherman, he reeled her in, until she his arousal was pressed to the core of her body.
Remembering the searing pain she felt the eve of their wedding, she pushed him away with surprising strength. Quickly scrambling to her feet, she raced over to the mare and vaulted on her back. Eager to be away, she never looked back and did not see the dejection and overwhelming pain in his eyes.
Gavin’s raging desire destroyed his normal control and in his haste to claim her, he had forgotten the pain he caused their wedding night. Seeing the wounded, fearful look cross her beautiful face instantly made him regret his actions and prevented him from giving chase.
He cursed himself for being so impatient as he emerged from the loch, dressed and saddled his horse. For a moment, he stared down at the saddle she had not bothered with in her mad flight to keep her husband at a distance. He reminded himself to send one of his men for the discarded saddle, then at a sedate pace, set off for home.
It took an hour to return to Doran Castle. During that time, his thoughts focused on his wife and gaining her trust. He wanted her to share with him the grievous sin she committed, so he could take away the pain she had burden herself with for eight years. He also wanted her in his bed, but only if she was willing and as eager as he.
59
Darkening clouds had gathered overhead when Ella arrived back at the castle just after the noon hour. Lady Esme had greeted her, and by the older woman’s anxious expression, she knew immediately something was amiss.
“Ye must come quick. Rachel has gone into labor and our midwife has sent word that she canna leave the Mackenzie holding.”
Rushing over to her mother-in-law, she grabbed her satchel, then set off at a brisk pace for Rachel’s cottage.
“When did her labor pains begin?”
“Last eve,” Lady Esme stated, trying to keep pace with the healer.
Halting abruptly, Ella asked, “Why wasn't I informed?”
“Rachel knew ye were in mourning. She dinna wish to bother ye since we had already sent for the midwife.”
Ella started sprinting towards the village, her fear so great that nothing else mattered. When she entered the tiny cottage, Helena and Boyd were with Rachel and their faces reflected their own fear for the woman lying on the bed, withering in pain.
Looking around the cottage, Ella noted that her suggestions had been carried out. Clean linen and water were by the table. Extra water was being heated in the stone fireplace and two leather straps hung from the ceiling over Rachel.
Pulling out the small bag of herbs previously made specifically for this occasion, she gave it to Helena and ordered, “Mix this with steaming water, then give it to Rachel. It will lessen the pain and help reduce infection.”
Turning to Boyd, she said, “I know you love your wife, but for now you must leave.” Rachel’s husband dropped a kiss on his wife’s perspiring head, then left the cottage.
“Shhh, all will be well Rachel,” Ella crooned. “You know I have been assisting with birth for many years.” She then quickly, but thoroughly washed her hands.
Rachel would have smiled if not for the labor pain that engulfed her, making her body go rigid from the gripping contraction in her abdomen.
“You must breath. Each time you feel the pain come, focus on breathing,” she stated, then put the apron Helena had given and then moved to the foot of the bed.
“Now, let me take a look and see how far along-” Her words stopped when another contraction assailed the laboring woman, followed by the outpouring of clear liquid from her womb. Dear God, the bairn will be coming much sooner than anticipated.
“Helena, help me move her down the bed.”
Once Rachel was in the right position, Ella examined the position of the babe. In a voice that concealed her fear, she confirmed, “Rachel, the babe has yet to turn. It cannot be born without help.”
Rachel replied in a small, frightened voice, “What do ye mean, needs help?”
Over the past fortnight, Rachel had accompanied and assisted Ella with tending to the ailments of the villagers. Although she had taught Rachel much during this time, she neglected to inform her friend about the problems associated with the birthing process.
“I will have to turn the babe around while he is inside you. It will be painful, but if I don’t do this, you and the babe will not survive.”
Helena cried out, “Dear Lord, nae!”
With her confident gaze fixed on Ella, Rachel said, “I have complete faith in ye. Do what ye must.”
The trust Rachel had in her was astounding, and the impact caused Ella’s eyes to flood with unshed tears. She silently vowed to see that this courageous woman and her child survived, even if she had to move heaven and hell to do so.
Regaining her composure, she lifted the sheet and eased her hand inside Rachel’s womb. She was thankful her hands were so small, allowing her to access the tight, fragile region of a woman. With practiced and experienced fingers, she checked to make sure the cord was not around the babe’s neck, while Rachel gritted her teeth. Her movements were slow and time seemed to stand still as she attempted to maneuver the babe into the correct position.
While trying to angle the head downward, Ella felt the gush of warm blood. With every moment passing, Rachel lost more blood and soon would not have the strength to continue laboring to bring new life into the world.
Ella’s heart lurched when she was unable to turn the babe without the cord curling around the neck. She removed her hand, then tried with her non-dominant one, hoping for a different result. Tentatively, she tried lowering the head different ways.
A cry of relief broke from her lips when blessedly the babe’s head lowered, free from the cord. Bubbling joy shone in her eyes when she yelled “Push, Rachel! Push hard!”
Time slowed as Rachel fought for her child’s life. Rewarded moments later, the top of the newborn’s head came into view.
“I see the head! Keeping pushing, Rachel,” she encouraged.
With the assistance of the leather straps hung over the bed and Helena kneeling behind her, Rachel was able to pull herself into a better position to labor. She let out a bloodcurdling scream, and then used all her remaining strength to push the babe from her womb.
Lady Esme continued to bath her brow, while adding to Ella’s encouraging words. “Keep pushing, sweetheart. The bairn is coming.”
“You’re doing well, Rachel. One hard push is all that’s needed,” Ella said.
The laboring mother wailed one last time as the bairn emerged from her body, into Ella’s waiting hands.
“You have a son, a very large son, Rachel.”
With haste, Ella cleaned out the silent infant’s mouth, which in turn let loose a loud bellow of outrage. But, to the women inside the cottage and the men on the other side of the timbered walls, it was music to the ears.
Ella cut the cord, then handed the babe to Helena to clean and swaddle. Turning back to Rachel, she delivered the after birth, and was relieved that her friend swooned shortly thereafter. This was a blessing, especially considering what came next.
“Lady Esme, please bring a needle and thread from my satchel.”
“What?”
Ella knew the practice she was about to perform on Rachel was unheard of in Scotland and England, but her Aunt Eleanor had made an extensive study of the birthing process. The only way to save a mother whose flesh had been severely ripped from delivering a large babe was to stitch
the area closed.
“I don’t have time to explain, you must trust me. Please, the needle and thread.”
Using small stitches and a steady hand, she closed the wound, periodically cleaning the area with hot water to avoid infection. Although Rachel more than likely would become fevered, stitching the torn flesh would reduce infection and lessen the amount of blood loss.
Rachel remained unconscious during the delicate procedure. After a thoroughly bath and dressed in a fresh sleeping gown, she awakened briefly.
Lady Esme pulled Ella aside to speak with her privately. “What are her chances?”
“Her chances are better now that she no longer bleeds, but the next few hours will be critical.”
“What can I do to help?”
“The babe will need a wet nurse, and I will need apple vinegar cider or malt ale.”
“Thirsty are ye?”
Ella gave a humorless chuckle, then said, “Nae, I will bathe Rachel with it.”
The older woman’s jaw dropped in stunned disbelief before she stammered, “But we have just bathed her.”
“The brew lowers fever when applied to the skin.”
“Is she feverish then?”
“Nae, but she soon will be. The birth was difficult, the babe overly large, and she lost more blood than most. Aye, she will become feverish, but the yeast in the cider and ale will help more so than cool water alone.”
When Ella saw doubt lingered on the older woman’s brow, she explained, “After my Aunt Eleanor delivered a stillborn eight years ago, she was told by the midwife she was barren. Refusing to accept such a fate, she dedicated her life to learning all she could about pregnancy and the birthing process. She researched medicinal texts written by the greatest minds to ever live. The monks at the Westshire abbey travelled to foreign countries to gather research for her. Philip rewarded my aunt’s efforts by funding these quests. We applied the knowledge she gained and in the last two years, in over a hundred births, we lost less than a handful of women. All whom delivered twins.” Ella paused for a moment then added, “My methods may sound strange, but they work. Please trust me in this.”