She swelled with love for him, but her smile never surfaced. As soon as she saw Honora cringe she was at her side. “What’s wrong?”
Cavan hunched down beside his wife and took hold of her hand. “What is it, Honora?”
“Pain,” she answered both, while cradling her protruding stomach.
“Has it been steady?” Zia asked, hoping the babe wasn’t demanding to be born. It was too early. Another week and the babe would have a better chance to survive.
“No, but I haven’t felt right since I woke.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Cavan demanded.
“That doesn’t matter,” Zia said with a gentle squeeze to his arm.
He got the message. “Zia is right. What matters are you and the babe. You need to rest.”
Zia smiled. “Now Cavan is right. Rest is what is best for you at the moment. So let’s get you settled in your bed.”
Cavan lifted his wife gently and carried her to their bedchambers while everyone tried to follow.
Zia turned to Artair. “Please, keep Cavan busy for a while so that I may examine his wife without interference. Your mother will help me, and she’ll bring word when it’s all right for Cavan to return.”
“Zia is right,” Addie said. “He will worry about Honora and she will worry about him and—”
“Say no more,” Lachlan said. “Artair and I will keep him entertained until you summon him.”
“Will Honora and the babe be all right?” Artair asked.
Zia knew that question was on everyone’s mind, and she tried to reassure them. “If the babe can wait at least one week, he will have a better chance, and with rest, Honora should be fit for the delivery.”
“This is going to be a long week,” Lachlan said.
Surprisingly, Honora did well and listened to everything Zia told her. She remained abed, and everyone took turns keeping her occupied, while at other times she preferred to do her stitching, sewing garments for the babe.
Zia spoke with Cavan about his wife every morning and evening, letting him know how well she was doing and keeping him from worrying more than necessary. With only three days until a full week passed Zia was hopeful all would go well.
The cleric would arrive in two days. No word had been heard from the bishop, and Zia sensed that her grandmother was close. She had hoped that when word was sent for Mave to come help James, her grandmother would also come.
Zia desperately missed her and their conversations especially about healing. Such discussions helped her to learn and to solve problems. Artair would listen to her talk about various ailments but he hardly had the knowledge to respond with suggestions, though of late she had to admit he had impressed her. He had actually suggested a treatment that worked though he credited her. He had recalled her using it for some other ailment at one of the villages and thought that it might suffice in the present case as well and it had. So he did truly listen with sincere interest when she spoke with him and that pleased her very much.
Things would be good, all would be well.
Then why did a feeling of foreboding hang over her?
“You’re deep in thought,” Artair said, sitting on the bed beside her. “And you look much too tired.”
Zia laid her head on his shoulder with a sigh. “I am, but it is late and everyone rests well, which means that I can also rest well.”
He slipped his arm around her and rested his cheek on the top of her head. “This will all pass soon enough and life will be good for us.”
“I just thought the same myself.”
“We are of one mind, that is good,” he said.
She lifted her head. “Do you worry at all?”
He eased her gently down on the bed and leaned over her. “Know this…I would enter hell itself to see you safe. I will never let anyone harm you, and never—ever—would I let anyone take you from me.”
Zia had never seen such a vicious scowl on his face. It actually distorted his handsome features and made him appear more feral than human. This was the warrior who resided within him, the one who would fight to the bitter end, and would fight for her.
She smiled softly and spoke from her heart. “I do not want to leave your side.”
“You’re not going anywhere,” he assured her with a lingering kiss.
He needn’t do any more, for her body responded instantly. “It has been too long that you have been inside me.”
He smiled. “It’s only been two days.”
“Much too long,” she said, ran her fingers up the back of his scalp and drew his mouth to hers. She tasted him with a hungry need, and he responded in kind. Their last joining had been slow and gentle, but this time they both were in no mood to take things slow. Or perhaps they feared that at any moment someone would knock at the door and their precious time together would end.