fine—”
“No, Gray, don’t leave!” Frantic, she clutched his arm. “Pen’s having her baby.”
In that moment, in Gray’s sudden presence, Claire saw the broadest shoulders in the land. The arms that closed around her were strong and powerful, the touch of lean fingertips almost tender. She longed to cling to him. The near desperate fear she had glimpsed on his face made her heart catch.
Her trunk had landed a short distance away. Gray went over and confirmed that the driver was dead.
Claire had rummaged through the trunk and found her cloak. She spread it over Penelope. Wadding up a gown, she placed it beneath her friend’s head.
Gray’s eyes found Claire’s. “Do you know anything about birthing?”
She hesitated. “A little.”
Gray’s expression had turned grim. “Well, we’ll have to sort our way through it, eh?”
Penelope’s face was streaked with tears. She tried to summon a smile. “You forget, I’m here, too. Of course we’ll muddle through it.”
Whatever the reason, Gray’s presence lent Claire courage. “She hasn’t felt well all day,” she told him. “Her back began to ache shortly after we left.”
“I didn’t think it could possibly be the baby. It’s too early.” Penelope gave another half sob. “It’s too early, Claire.”
Claire shook her head. “Oh, he’s a brave one, Pen,” she tried to joke. “A fighter just like his mother and father.”
There wasn’t room for two of them inside the carriage. Penelope lay on the back cushion. Claire slid in and knelt at her side.
Penelope took Claire’s hand and laid it on her belly. “There. It’s drawing again.” Claire felt the womb tighten beneath her fingers. “Every few minutes now.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
Claire shook her head. “You’re so brave, Pen. You’re doing wonderfully.”
Penelope’s smile turned into a grimace.
Gray was busy starting a fire and rummaging through the trunks to find something to use as cloths.
The hours passed slowly.
And Penelope’s labor intensified. Her breath came in half pants . . . oh, it seemed like hours!
Claire’s gaze slid helplessly to Gray’s. She was afraid to reveal her worry in fear of alarming her friend further.
By then she and Gray had switched places. She was at Penelope’s feet, while Gray had squeezed in next to her. Penelope’s gown was lifted over upraised knees, concealing her modesty from Gray, and she was crying. Claire didn’t know how to help her.
With a handkerchief, Gray blotted the dampness from Penelope’s brow. She was struggling to be brave but her strength was flagging. Her spirit as well. She strained, holding her breath against the pain.
“No, you must breathe!” Claire urged her. “Breathe, Pen!”
Weakly, Penelope pushed herself up on one elbow. Another contraction and she fell back weakly, as if all the strength had drained from her.
“I can’t,” she said with a sob. She was losing heart. “I can’t go on.”
Claire despaired as well. Perhaps she shouldn’t have insisted that Gray stay. He might have been back with help by now.
All at once Claire cried out. “Oh, Pen, I can see him! I can see him! He has red hair like Theo!”
Penelope tried to surge up. She couldn’t make it. She fell back, her face dripping wet. “Help me,” she begged. “Help me.”
Gray clasped her hand; it rested on her belly. He slipped his other arm behind Penelope’s back to bring her nearly upright. Her nails dug into his hand. She screamed and heaved mightily.
Claire gave a joyous sob. “You have a daughter, Pen! A beautiful little girl who looks exactly like Theo!”
She thrust the little one at Gray. “Here. Tend to her while I tend to Pen!”
The cord was cut, the afterbirth expelled. Hauling in a breath, Gray wiped the slick wee body with a chemise. The baby let out a wavering cry, paper-thin eyelids screwed shut. Wrapping her tiny form in his coat, he looked down at the babe he held, snug in his jacket,
“No, Gray, don’t leave!” Frantic, she clutched his arm. “Pen’s having her baby.”
In that moment, in Gray’s sudden presence, Claire saw the broadest shoulders in the land. The arms that closed around her were strong and powerful, the touch of lean fingertips almost tender. She longed to cling to him. The near desperate fear she had glimpsed on his face made her heart catch.
Her trunk had landed a short distance away. Gray went over and confirmed that the driver was dead.
Claire had rummaged through the trunk and found her cloak. She spread it over Penelope. Wadding up a gown, she placed it beneath her friend’s head.
Gray’s eyes found Claire’s. “Do you know anything about birthing?”
She hesitated. “A little.”
Gray’s expression had turned grim. “Well, we’ll have to sort our way through it, eh?”
Penelope’s face was streaked with tears. She tried to summon a smile. “You forget, I’m here, too. Of course we’ll muddle through it.”
Whatever the reason, Gray’s presence lent Claire courage. “She hasn’t felt well all day,” she told him. “Her back began to ache shortly after we left.”
“I didn’t think it could possibly be the baby. It’s too early.” Penelope gave another half sob. “It’s too early, Claire.”
Claire shook her head. “Oh, he’s a brave one, Pen,” she tried to joke. “A fighter just like his mother and father.”
There wasn’t room for two of them inside the carriage. Penelope lay on the back cushion. Claire slid in and knelt at her side.
Penelope took Claire’s hand and laid it on her belly. “There. It’s drawing again.” Claire felt the womb tighten beneath her fingers. “Every few minutes now.” She squeezed her eyes shut.
Claire shook her head. “You’re so brave, Pen. You’re doing wonderfully.”
Penelope’s smile turned into a grimace.
Gray was busy starting a fire and rummaging through the trunks to find something to use as cloths.
The hours passed slowly.
And Penelope’s labor intensified. Her breath came in half pants . . . oh, it seemed like hours!
Claire’s gaze slid helplessly to Gray’s. She was afraid to reveal her worry in fear of alarming her friend further.
By then she and Gray had switched places. She was at Penelope’s feet, while Gray had squeezed in next to her. Penelope’s gown was lifted over upraised knees, concealing her modesty from Gray, and she was crying. Claire didn’t know how to help her.
With a handkerchief, Gray blotted the dampness from Penelope’s brow. She was struggling to be brave but her strength was flagging. Her spirit as well. She strained, holding her breath against the pain.
“No, you must breathe!” Claire urged her. “Breathe, Pen!”
Weakly, Penelope pushed herself up on one elbow. Another contraction and she fell back weakly, as if all the strength had drained from her.
“I can’t,” she said with a sob. She was losing heart. “I can’t go on.”
Claire despaired as well. Perhaps she shouldn’t have insisted that Gray stay. He might have been back with help by now.
All at once Claire cried out. “Oh, Pen, I can see him! I can see him! He has red hair like Theo!”
Penelope tried to surge up. She couldn’t make it. She fell back, her face dripping wet. “Help me,” she begged. “Help me.”
Gray clasped her hand; it rested on her belly. He slipped his other arm behind Penelope’s back to bring her nearly upright. Her nails dug into his hand. She screamed and heaved mightily.
Claire gave a joyous sob. “You have a daughter, Pen! A beautiful little girl who looks exactly like Theo!”
She thrust the little one at Gray. “Here. Tend to her while I tend to Pen!”
The cord was cut, the afterbirth expelled. Hauling in a breath, Gray wiped the slick wee body with a chemise. The baby let out a wavering cry, paper-thin eyelids screwed shut. Wrapping her tiny form in his coat, he looked down at the babe he held, snug in his jacket,
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