Arizona Caress: She Feels The Heat Of His Hot Embrace

by Bobbi Smith

  Douglas had heard Wild Dove's shriek, so he dropped what he was doing and ran to the house. He came charging through the door to find his wife on the floor and the other woman kneeling beside her.

  "What is it? What's wrong?" Doug demanded, dropping down next to Nilakla and quickly taking her hand.

  "It's the baby, Douglas, I'm . . ." Nilakla bit down on her bottom lip as a wrenching pain tore through her.

  "Dear God . . . " he cried hoarsely, panic leaving him immobile.

  "We must get her on the bed," Wild Dove directed as calmly as she could. She knew it was too soon for the child to come, but she also knew there was nothing they could do to stop it now that it had started.

  Doug needed no more prodding. He swept Nilakla up in his arms and carried her to the bed, settling her gently there.

  "Wild Dove . . . this can't be happening. It's not time yet!" He turned to the older woman, his expression frantic.

  "If a baby wants to be born, there will be no stopping it, Douglas," she told him seriously. "I need your help . . . Nilakla needs your help."

  "What can I do?" Doug was desperate.

  Wild Dove sent him to bring more water and to get some cloths, mainly to give herself a few minutes alone with Nilakla. While he was gone, she helped her undress and then covered her with a light blanket.

  "Wild Dove, what am I going to do?" Nilakla asked anxiously.

  "You're going to have a baby," she replied, trying to lighten the mood, but they both knew the danger involved.

  "It's too soon . . ." she groaned.

  "Many are born early," Wild Dove tried to reassure her. "Your son still kicks, does he not?"

  "My son?" Her eyes brightened at the thought, and she reached down to touch her taut stomach. "Yes, my son . . . he moves a lot and strongly, too."

  "Then he is a strong child, and he will be fine."

  "I hope so, Wild Dove. He's all I've got . . " Nilakla fell silent as another contraction gripped her.

  Doug's thoughts were full of remorse as he hurried to get the water. Their baby was coming too early, and it was all his fault . . . He cursed his stupidity for bringing Nilakla to the ranch. He should have made her stay in the village until after the baby was born. As he condemned himself he failed to remember that she had refused to remain behind, that she had insisted on going with him. The guilt he was feeling was too overwhelming. If they lost the baby, the blame would rest squarely on his shoulders. He should have known that she wasn't strong enough for all the labor they'd been doing around the ranch. He should have protected her. Instead, he had allowed her to work herself to a frenzy, and now . . . now, their child might die because of it.

  Lugging two buckets of water with him, Doug rushed back to the house. As he got close, Nilakla's scream rent the air. He came to a dead stop as a cold shaft of fear impaled him. "Nilakla!" He shouted her name as the buckets fell from his hands as he charged inside.

  "Douglas . . ." Nilakla clutched at his hand as he dropped to his knees beside the bed. Her eyes were wild with fear. "Douglas, I'm so afraid."

  "I know, love," he told her, bending to tenderly kiss her forehead. A moment later, when she appeared to be relaxing, he glanced over at Wild Dove. "Is this going to take long?" he demanded, expecting any easy answer.

  The Indian woman's expression was sympathetic as she saw the tormented look on his face.

  "There is no way to tell. Some babies come quickly, others . . ."

  "Well, is Nilakla all right?"

  "She's as well as can be."

  Her answer was not what Doug wanted to hear and it only served to increase his anxiety. "What about the baby?"

  Wild Dove was careful how she responded. She did not want to worry him unduly, but then again he had to know the truth so he could be prepared should anything go wrong. "We will not know until he is born."

  Nilakla moaned in terror as she felt a contraction begin again. She tightened her grip on Doug's hand as pain built to a paralyzing peak. She was panting and gasping for breath as it held her in its terrible grip.

  "How much longer?" Doug asked worriedly. He wanted this over and done with.

  "Hours yet."

  "Hours!?" He was outraged. He gritted his teeth in frustration as he watched his beloved straining to control the pain. "Easy, darling. Easy, love." He tried to comfort her, but he knew he was only mouthing words. There was no way he could ease her suffering, no way he could help her through the pain.

  Wild Dove discreetly left the house, allowing them time alone. She knew they were both frightened, but she also knew there was nothing she could do or say to help the situation.

  Hours passed, yet nothing changed. The heat within the building grew stifling. Doug took to fanning Nilakla, hoping that at least by doing that he could help her in some way. She drifted off to sleep once, and she looked so deathly quiet as she lay there that Doug almost was afraid she'd died. Only the steady rising and falling of her chest let him know she was still alive.

  The thought that he might be losing her haunted Doug, tearing him apart with sharp claws of regret. He thought of how stupid he'd been. He admitted openly to himself now that he had been using her in the beginning of their time together, and he cursed himself for it. Even as late as a few months ago, he'd been ready to go back to Boston and leave Nilakla behind without a thought, and now she could die . . .

  How could he have been so blind to the honesty of her love and to his own feelings? he berated himself. Why had it taken a near tragedy for him to recognize the beautiful thing that they had? Their time together as man and wife had been so short, he agonized. It couldn't end now, not when it was just beginning!

  Fervently, Doug began to pray, telling God how sorry he was for not having appreciated Nilakla as much as he should have, promising God that he would never, ever leave her, vowing to be the best husband and father he could be if only God allowed her and their child to live.

  It seemed to Doug, though, that his prayers went unanswered, for Nilakla was wracked by the hard-driving contractions again and again, but the baby refused to be born. Doug was beside himself with worry and as his concern deepened he blamed himself for the horror of their situation. Even though he knew Nilakla wouldn't have been happy living back East, he blamed himself for the fact that there was no hospital around, no doctors or nurses close by to help her. In Boston there would have been help available. Guilt weighed heavily upon him.

  "Douglas . . ." Nilakla whispered his name, reaching out weakly to touch him. She was exhausted from the strain of the prolonged labor, but she needed to touch him, to make sure he was still there, to pretend for just a little while that everything would be all right. As she was about to speak, a pain wrenched at her, and sweat beaded her forehead. She bit down on her lip to keep from screaming and tasted blood. It twisted her body in its brutal grasp and then faded and was gone.

  For Nilakla it was more than the agony of her body that was tormenting her. Her fear grew that her baby, born so early, would die, and her own will to live weakened. She believed that Douglas had only stayed with her this long because of the child, and if the child was lost . . . Without Douglas, Nilakla felt her life had no meaning. Without Douglas, she had no reason to go on. She closed her eyes and gave a deep sigh.

  Doug was watching her intently, wondering how a woman could endure the torture she was going through and still survive. When she closed her eyes and went so still again, terror once more seized his soul. He whispered her name hoarsely, fearing she had gone from him. "Nilakla . . . "

  She stirred as he said her name and drew a ragged breath before opening her eyes to look at him. "Douglas . . . "

  "I'm right here. I love you, darling!" he told her fiercely, wanting to reassure her. When she smiled sadly, he wondered what was wrong. "Nilakla?"

  "Don't lie, Douglas." There was a finality to her tone that scared him.

  "Lie to you? About what?" he demanded, caught completely unawares by her cryptic statement.

  "I kno
w the truth."

  "What truth?" Doug was lost to her reasoning.

  Nilakla turned her head away so she wouldn't have to look at him.

  "What truth?" he repeated.

  "I know that you'll leave me just as soon as the baby is born," she said, her tone flat and lifeless.

  Doug stared at her in complete surprise. Leave her after the baby was born? Where had she ever gotten such an idea? Leaving her was the last thing he'd ever do! She was all he cared about in life, didn't she know that? Didn't she realize that he'd given up everything for her? Nothing mattered to him but her. She was his life, his future, his only reason for existing.

  "Nilakla." His voice was strangled with emotion as he moved to sit next to her on the bed. When she still didn't look at him, he reached out and gently cupped her cheek, turning her face to him. "Nilakla, I love you. I would never leave you."

  Her dark eyes met his, and for one poignant moment he could see all the anguish and torment that was locked within her.

  "But I heard you!"

  "You heard me?" Doug frowned, unable to imagine what she was talking about.

  Another pain seized her right then, and Nilakla gasped and tightened her hold on his hand. Doug wished that he could make her pain his own. He murmured soothingly to her as he smoothed her hair back from her forehead. When it had passed, and she had relaxed a little, he continued.

  "What was it you thought you heard me say, love?"

  "I heard you tell Chance I'll wait until the baby's old enough and then I'll make the trip back," Nilakla blurted it out.

  Doug remembered the conversation very well. "I did tell Chance that," he affirmed in a gentle tone, wanting to comfort her. "I intended for all of us to make the trip together once you and our son were well enough."

  Nilakla searched his face for some sign that he was lying, but saw none. "You did?" she whispered, stunned.

  "I did, and I still do. I love you, darling," he said earnestly as he bent over her and kissed her softly. "You are my world. I love you, and I'll never leave you . . . never!" he finished devotedly, his voice breaking.

  Tears sparkled in Nilakla's eyes as she listened to his declaration of love and devotion. "Do you mean that, Douglas?"

  "I love you, Nilakla," he vowed, his own eyes filling with tears as he lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a cherishing kiss to her palm.

  Her heart swelled to near bursting with the joy of her discovery. Happiness filled her, and she lifted her arms to draw him down for a tender, emotion-filled kiss.

  "I love you, my husband," she told him.

  Doug held her close for a moment, and then as another contraction took her, he lay her back on the bed. He stayed with her, never leaving, never wavering in his vigil. Still, the hours stretched on, but now Nilakla was fighting. She was tired, but she was determined that her son would be born and live. Wild Dove came in often to check her progress, but there seemed to be little change.

  As the shadows of dusk lengthened, Nilakla's contractions grew closer and closer together. Wild Dove tried to get Douglas to leave the room, but he refused. He was determined to stay by his wife's side through the entire birth.

  Near midnight the pains folded one on top the other until in a moment of taut silence, Nilakla's and Doug's son was born. Nilakla collapsed back on the bed as Wild Dove took the tiny baby. Douglas kissed his wife joyfully in celebration of the birth of their son, but then they both noticed that it was quiet in the room, too quiet.

  "Wild Dove . . . my baby . . ." Nilakla pleaded with the other woman who was standing with her back to them, the babe shielded from their view.

  "How is he?" Douglas had unconsciously come to his feet and taken a step toward her when she faced them.

  Wild Dove was smiling widely as she held out the tiny, blanket-wrapped infant to him. "Your son is small but fine," she told them happily.

  Douglas was in awe as he took him from her. The baby barely seemed to weigh anything in his big, powerful hands, and Doug stared down at him, enthralled. When he looked up at his wife, his eyes were glistening with unshed tears.

  "We have a son, Nilakla. We have a son."

  He sat down carefully beside her on the bed and put their child into her arms. The baby nestled against his mother, recognizing her instinctively. Nilakla looked up at her husband, her love for him shining in her eyes. They were a family now, and they would be together forever.

  Chance was bored. There was no other way to phrase it. He let his gaze drift around the ballroom crowded with people and wondered what he was doing there.

  In the weeks since Rori had gone to live with the Prescotts, he'd lived the life of a hermit, staying home, working all the time and never going out though invitations were constantly pouring in. Tonight, he'd allowed his mother to talk him into escorting her, but now he was rather sorry he had. Without Rori by his side, life had become unbearable.

  Chance wondered how much longer he could restrain himself from going over to the Prescotts' and forcing his way inside to confront her. He knew the very thought of him barging into someone's house would outrage his mother's delicate sensibilities, but he still liked to entertain the idea—especially since the note he'd sent to Rori that morning had been returned within the hour, unopened.

  "Chance . . . it's so good to see you," Bethany purred, thrilled to find that he'd finally showed up at a party. He'd been absent from the social scene for so long that she was ready to go directly to his home just to see him.

  Chance smiled coolly in greeting the lovely blond. "Good evening, Bethany. How are you tonight?"

  "I'm just fine, but how are you? I haven't seen you at any of the soirées lately, and I was worried that you might be ill or something."

  "No," he replied drolly, "I haven't been ill, just busy."

  "I see." She gave him her most flirtatious look. "Well, it's just wonderful to see you again."

  "Would you like to dance?" he offered, ever the gentleman.

  "I'd love to, thank you."

  Chance took her in his arms and guided her expertly out onto the dance floor. Bethany was lovely to look at, and she certainly was an excellent dancer, but still he found himself wishing it was Rori in his arms. The one dance he'd shared with her so long ago had spoiled him for other women. There could never be anyone else for him but Rori. He just had to figure out a way to get her, that was all.

  Had Bethany been aware of Chance's thoughts, she would have been furious. She knew from Evan that Chance had not seen Aurora since the day she'd moved in with her aunt and uncle. She was hoping that, by now, whatever attachment he had felt to her was fading. She didn't know that she couldn't have been more wrong.

  They began to chat as they danced. Since Chance had been closeted away from everyone, Bethany filled him in on all that was going on with their mutual friends. He was paying little real attention to the gossip, just making the right responses at the right times, until she touched on Rori.

  "You'll probably be interested to know that Evan has become quite extraordinarily fond of your former protége." Bethany had deliberately brought up Aurora. She'd noticed that she didn't have Chance's full attention, and she knew she'd be able to judge how he felt about the other girl by the strength of his reaction to her news.

  "Rori?" he asked sharply, intent on her every word.

  "Why, yes. They've been seeing each other regularly since my party for you. Didn't you know?" she asked innocently enough.

  "No, I hadn't heard."

  "Yes, well, it's getting quite serious. I know he's very serious about her."

  Chance tensed at the news. Evan was serious about Rori? She was as innocent as a lamb going to the slaughter with him! He knew Strickland like the back of his hand, and he knew he was a no-good, fortune-hunting blackguard. He wanted to go to her and tell her, but he knew there was no point to it. He'd tried once before, and she hadn't listened. What made him think she'd listen now? Still . . .

  Bethany noticed that he had suddenly seemed to w
ithdraw from her, and she asked, "Is something wrong? Have I said something to upset you?"

  "No," Chance denied quickly as the music came to an end. "No, not at all. If you'll excuse me?"

  Chance strode off leaving Bethany standing there fuming as she watched him go. It was time to put their plan into action. She and Evan had hesitated until now, allowing nature to take its course, but they could no longer afford to let things ride. Chance was not changing. He still cared far too much for Aurora, and she had to get her out of the picture.

  Chance realized he was probably being idiotic as he climbed into his carriage and ordered the driver to the Prescotts' house. He knew he would probably be turned away again, just as all his previous attempts had been, but he knew he had to try this one last time. It was late, but he didn't care. He was determined to warn Rori about the dangers of getting involved with Strickland. When the carriage pulled to a halt, he got out and moved purposefully up the walk to knock at the front door.

  "Why, Chance . . . what a delightful surprise," Charlotte greeted him warmly. She had feared that he'd given up on Aurora completely.

  "Good evening, Mrs. Prescott," he replied, surprised by her warmth.

  "Won't you come in?" she invited, surprising him even more.

  Chance moved into the foyer, puzzled by the change in her attitude. "I was wondering if I could possibly speak with Rori for a few minutes?"

  "I'm sorry, Chance, but she's gone out for the evening. Is there anything I can help you with?"

  He considered this for a moment and then decided to speak his mind openly. Charlotte Prescott was, after all, Rori's guardian now, and she might not know the truth about Evan Strickland.

  "There is something I'd like to talk with you about if you have a moment?"

  "Of course. Come into the parlor with me. Joseph has gone out, so I've been here reading all night. It will be pleasant to have some company." She ushered him into the sitting room. "Would you care for a drink? A bourbon, perhaps?"

  "No, thank you. I'll just say what I have to say and be on my way."