“Thank you,” whispered Summer, trying to flash Autumn a smile though she only felt sadness in her heart.
“Why did this have to happen?” asked Winter, shaking her head and wiping a tear away with the back of her hand. She was two years younger than Summer and sixteen years of age.
Summer had wanted her sisters at her side for the birth since they had always been so close to her. Growing up without a father most their lives, they’d learned to depend on each other, as well as their mother, Annalyse. But now, their family was, once again, reunited and that was one thing that made her feel blessed instead of cursed.
“Let me hold my son,” said Summer, reaching out with shaky hands, taking the limp, cold body of the newborn baby boy from the midwife. If only she could will the life to reenter his precious, little body, she would do it in a heartbeat. She laid the boy upon her chest and stroked his back gently, feeling a bond form between them although he was already gone from this life. His skin had turned blue and it looked as if his little body was slightly deformed. The bones in his legs were twisted. Had he survived, she wasn’t sure he would have been able to walk at all. She’d known something was wrong days ago when she had stopped feeling him stir in her womb. She’d sent for her family a sennight ago having the feeling her baby’s life was slipping away from her. At times like this, she didn’t want to be right.
“Get out of my way,” she heard the voice of her angry husband from the door. She looked up to see him push Crandell to the side and step around him. “I will not be kept out of the birthing chamber or any chamber in my own castle. Do you understand that, you fool?”
“Aye, my lord,” said Crandell, keeping his eyes cast downward as he allowed the baron to pass. Crandell was one of the oldest knights in the castle. He was also one of the kindest men she knew. He’d turned out to be a good friend of Summer’s. At her request, he’d promised to try to keep the baron out of the room until after the birth. “I demand to see my child,” snapped the baron, storming into the room. The servants scattered in all directions as the baron’s presence created a wave of fear.
Summer squeezed Autumn’s hand harder, anticipating what was to come. The baron’s angry, dark eyes sought her out as he stormed to the side of the bed.
“Is it a boy?” he growled, not bothering to ask how she fared or about the state of the baby.
Summer bit the inside of her cheek so hard she could taste the coppery tang of blood on her tongue. Holding back her emotions, she tried to act the way expected of the wife of a baron. She despised the man more than anything and, oftentimes, had thought about telling him how she really felt. But she’d always held her tongue instead. Speaking out against the baron would have caused trouble for her family, not to mention herself. The alliance between their lands was crucial. She would do nothing to jeopardize the safety of her brothers and their families because of a slip of the tongue.
Not able to bring herself to answer her husband, she clutched her dead baby to her chest. She cursed the fact she felt another tear escape her eye, running a jagged path down her cheek.
“What is this? You are crying?” he spat. “You are so weak, it is pathetic. Now tell me, do I have another son or not?”
“Ye had another son,” the old, Scottish midwife spoke for her. “I’m sorry, Baron, but he didna make it.”
“What are you saying?” The baron’s head snapped around to glare at the midwife. Then he spun back on his heel and, before she could say a word, he reached for the baby. “Give me my son.”
Summer held the baby tighter, not wanting to let it go. Having no patience in the least, the baron ripped the child out of her embrace.
“Nay!” she cried out, no longer able to stay silent. “Give my son back to me!”
“Your son?” His dark eyes bore into her and then fell to the baby in his hands. “What is the matter with him?” he asked, holding the baby up in the air and shaking it. “Wake up, you silly fool.”
Dominick, sensing something was wrong, started crying loudly from the opposite side of the room.
“Keep that child quiet!” spat the baron to the handmaid. Then his focus turned back to his wife. “Summer, what did you do to my baby?”
“Yer baby?” asked the midwife, releasing a puff of air from her mouth and shaking her head. “Summer is the one who went through the pain of birthin’ the bairn.”
“How dare you talk to me like that?” With one hand, the baron swung his fist at the old woman, knocking her to the floor.
“What’s goin’ on in here?” Reed, Summer’s brother from the Highlands, rushed into the room with Summer’s father, Ross Douglas, and her mother, Annalyse, right behind him.
“Mother!” cried Summer, trying to sit up in bed. Feeling weak and drained, her body shook. The sheets were cold and covered in blood. The whole situation made her feel as if she were going to retch.
Annalyse ran to Summer’s side, while Reed helped Nairnie to stand.
“Ye’ve gone too far this time,” warned Reed, glaring at the baron. His hair was flaming red just like the anger in his eyes right now.
“You are not welcome here,” the baron shouted. “None of you are, so leave!”
“I’ll no’ leave my sister when she is in such a state,” said Reed, standing upright, still holding on to the old woman. He wore the dark green Douglas plaid, dressing like a Scot though he hadn’t a drop of Scottish blood flowing through him. He talked like a Scot as well. Reed was one of the triplet bastards of King Edward III. He and his brothers were raised with Summer and her younger sisters the first twelve years of their lives before they discovered who their birth parents were. While they were only cousins to Summer and her sisters, they still thought of each other as siblings.
“Summer!” Summer’s eldest sister, Spring, ran into the room next. Summer’s family had just recently found her again after she’d been stolen as a baby and raised as a warrior. Behind Spring were the rest of their brothers, Rook and Rowen. The triplet brothers were at one time known as the Demon Thief, raiding King Edward when they found out he was really their father and had ordered them killed as babies.
“Spring, you came,” said Summer, no longer able to hold back the tears. Spring was six years older than Summer and pregnant with her second child now. She’d made an alliance as well and married Laird Shaw Gordon, up in the Highlands. They had a baby boy together, and also two boys and a girl who were her husband’s children from a previous marriage.
“Of course, I came! I wouldna miss this for the world,” said Spring, hurrying to her side. “Ye are my family and I would go to the ends of the earth for ye.” She sat down on the edge of the bed and hugged Summer, not caring that the sheets were covered in blood. Spring was stronger than any woman Summer knew.
“The baby was stillborn,” Summer whispered, wiping away a tear with the back of her hand, hoping her husband wouldn’t notice.
Summer’s chin rose as she watched the baron trying to shake life back into the dead child. It was like a limp rag doll in his hands.
“Give the baby to me,” Spring demanded, sounding like a fierce warrior once again. The look of anger and determination on Spring’s face made her seem as cold as the baron. Spring had been raised by the Gunn Clan and learned to be emotionless. Not until she married Shaw Gordon had she been able to get in touch with her feelings.
“He is my son and you’ll not tell me what to do,” said the baron. “Guard! Take this baby and bury him.”
“Aye, my lord.” Crandell hurried into the room to get the baby.
“Nay, leave it,” Rowen said, stepping forward with his brothers at his side. The three of them towered over everyone else, their presence intimidating to those who didn’t know them well. With bright blue eyes and identical faces, even with their different hair colors, the triplets often instilled fear in people.
“My lord?” Crandell looked over to the baron, confused as to what he should do.
“Take the whelp. He’s no good to me anymore.
He’s dead!” The baron pushed the baby into the guard’s hands. “His limbs are twisted, and he’s a product of the devil. Throw it into the gongpit, as it’s not baptized nor will it receive a proper burial.”
“Nay,” screamed Summer, not wanting her child thrown into the cesspool of the privy. “Please, just bury him in the garden. Just don’t throw him away like garbage.” It was hard not to cry, but her anger kept her from doing so.
About Elizabeth
Elizabeth Rose is a multi-published, bestselling author, writing medieval, historical, contemporary, paranormal, and western romance. She is an amazon all-star and an award-nominee. Her books are available as Ebooks, paperback, and audiobooks as well.
Her favorite characters in her works include dark, dangerous and tortured heroes, and feisty, independent heroines who know how to wield a sword. She loves writing 14th century medieval novels, and is well-known for her many series.
Her twelve-book small town contemporary series, Tarnished Saints, was inspired by incidents in her own life.
After being traditionally published, she started self-publishing, creating her own covers and book-trailers on a dare from her two sons.
Elizabeth is a born storyteller and passionate about sharing her works with her readers.
Please be sure to visit her website at Elizabethrosenovels.com to read excerpts from any of her novels and get sneak peeks at covers of upcoming books. You can follow her on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads or BookBub. Be sure to sign up for her newsletter so you don’t miss out on new releases or upcoming events.
Also by Elizabeth Rose
Medieval Series:
Legendary Bastards of the Crown Series
Seasons of Fortitude Series
Legacy of the Blade Series
Daughters of the Dagger Series
MadMan MacKeefe Series
Barons of the Cinque Ports Series
Second in Command Series
Secrets of the Heart Series
Holiday Knights Series
Medieval/Paranormal Series:
Elemental Series
Greek Myth Fantasy Series
Tangled Tales Series
Contemporary Series:
Tarnished Saints Series
Western Series:
Cowboys of the Old West Series
And More!
Please visit http://elizabethrosenovels.com
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