Compromised Hearts (27 page)

Suddenly, he looked up to catch Emily’s sleepy gaze on him and he smiled. She was looking decidedly tossled, but he thought she was beautiful. Somehow he sensed that he would think so for a very long time. He fancifully mused on how she might look in fifteen years time.

“You are looking at me in a rather strange way.”

“I was trying to picture how you’re going to look when you start getting on in years, darlin'.”

“Oh, charming,” she groaned. “Most likely
a little gray, a little wrinkled, and my hourglass figure’s sands will have shifted.” She responded to his chuckle with a little smile.

“What do you think I’ll look like in fifteen years or so?”

“Well, I suspect the hair will be the first thing to go.”

“Yeah?” He could not suppress the urge to touch his thick head of hair.

“Yes. Then, of course, the waistline begins to be not so taut.” She patted that area, then held her hand over his groin. “Certain things will begin to sag, get a little less firm, like your chin.” She patted his chin and giggled softly at his mock scowl.

“Witch.” He pulled her lightly into his arms.

“Cloud? Are you happy about the baby?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, I am. It makes me feel, hell, I can’t describe it. I’m damn glad I didn’t exercise my usual caution. It’s going to be hard as hell to wait until spring. I want my child now. Excuse me, our child.”

“Much better. I’m eager too, and not only because I’m doing the carrying. The minute I knew I was with child, I wanted to know whether it was a boy or a girl, what color hair, what color eyes. What name.”

“Ah, yes. There’s that to think on.”

“If this is a boy I thought to name him after you, but I decided that one of you was quite enough.”

“I’ll choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Might be best,” she murmured with a soft laugh she could not quite suppress.

“Now, a name. Horace? Wilbur? No? How about Hubert?” He laughed as she groaned louder with each suggestion. “Well, do you have any suggestions?”

“Maybe Algernon. That groan sounds like disapproval. How about Mortimer? Guess not.” She giggled when he swore softly. “Zebulon? Archibald? Charlemagne? Galahad? Launcelot?”

“Enough. I declare you the winner.”

“Why, thank you kindly. Actually, I thought it might be nice to carry on what seems to be a tradition.”

“Ah, you mean think of names that go with Ryder like Cloud, Wolfe, Thunder and Skye.”

“Yes. There must be some left. Of course we could always consider Llewellyn.”

“Consider it forgotten, young lady.”

“Your wish is my command.” She saw the light in his eyes and hastily added, “Forget I said that.”

“Shame. I had a few good wishes to make.”

“I shudder at the thought. Do you realize we’ve thought of no girl’s name?”

“How about Cordelia?” He failed to fully disguise the laughter in his voice.

“How about I do you a severe personal injury?”

“Bloodthirsty wench.” He smoothed his hand over her back. “God, you feel good. I never spent a whole night with a woman
before I met you. I sorely missed you in my bed after I left you at Harper’s.”

“Why didn’t you ever spend a whole night with a woman before?”

“Don’t know, really. It gave them ideas, I couldn’t stand the closeness. A lot of reasons.”

She thought on that for a moment, idly toying with the light hair low on his stomach. In the cuddling that came after the lovemaking, there was a deepening of the intimacy they shared. It was quite possibly enough to make à woman think more than he wanted her to. She was very glad that he had not indulged in the habit of a speedy retreat with her. It would have truly made her feel a whore and nothing more.

“I sorely missed you as well,” she said quietly and felt his hold on her tighten slightly.

Cloud suddenly found himself with several concerns. His mind had been fully taken up with making her legally his, with putting his name on her and the child she carried. Now, other thoughts began to creep into his mind.

Despite her fortitude and ability to adjust, there was no ignoring the fact that she was used to a far different life than he was offering. Lockridge was no Boston and would not be for many a year, if ever. It had neither the society nor the comforts she had grown up with. Although she seemed to have lived on the fringes of all that for several years, even the fringes were more than he
could offer her.

Until he got a firm start, things would be rough. He was starting from scratch with a bare piece of land and a little else. What money he had would be needed to get that start.

“There won’t be any pretty dresses for a while.”

His abrupt statement startled her. “I think I can survive the deprivation.” She frowned then, sensing that something was troubling him. “Every one of my meager supply of pretty dresses is a Carolynn cast-off, Cloud.” She began to trail kisses down to his chest. “I have very simple needs and wants.”

“That’s good because all I’ve got right now is some money and a nice piece of land and plans.” His hands tightened in her hair as her lips and tongue played over his nipples and he found it nearly impossible to think of the problems that had just crowded his mind. “None of them can come together ‘til spring.”

“By then I will have had the baby and can be of some help to you.”

She smiled a little as she drew idle designs low on his abdomen with her tongue. It was a little strange to hear Cloud voicing what could only be termed insecurities. As she moved her kisses to his taut thighs, she decided that it was her duty as his wife to take his mind off of such insignificant worries. Moving her hand to the juncture of his thighs she decided that she must be doing
a good job of that.

He watched her, tried to recall what he had been talking about, and failed. All he could think of was his need and what he tensely waited for her to do. Patience never having been one of his virtues, he tangled his hands in her thick hair and hinted her kisses towards the spot that so ached for them.

When she took the hint, her hands slipping beneath his backside to knead and caress him, he shuddered with pleasure. She seemed to have an innate skill, setting him aflame with her flickering, stroking tongue and soft warm lips. He struggled to maintain control, to savor the delights she gave him.

Emily found yet again that pleasuring Cloud set her blood running hot. His hips rose ever so slightly, moving in a gentle, silent request. She trembled along with him as she answered that request, his hoarse words of enjoyment sending shivers down her spine.

“God, Em, no more,” he groaned at last, pulling her up his body and into his arms.

Skillfully, despite his body’s trembling need, he set her upon him. He watched, moving his hands up her body to cup her breasts, as she moved with a tantalizing slowness. It did not last long. Soon he was urging her to match the ferocity of the desire she had stirred in him. They found release within a heartbeat of each other, Emily collapsing into his ready arms.

“Ah, little Em,” he whispered when he
found the strength, “I don’t know how it can, but I swear it just keeps getting better.”

“I’ll be a good wife to you, Cloud,” she said.

“I know you will, sweets, and this is going to be a damn good marriage, one as good as my folks had.” He spoke in a low voice, making the statement a vow.

T
he winter went slowly, but it was not really the fault of the weather. Cloud had never been an overly patient man, and Emily found that her own patience was stretched to its limits as they waited for the birth of their child. The slower pace of life, as well as the isolation brought on by winter, helped not at all. Some days dragged by intolerably.

Adding to her discontent was her size. Once she had started to grow, she could not seem to stop. By the time a hint of spring had entered the air, she felt ready to burst.

She knew that last month would be the hardest. There did not seem to be much of her that did not ache. Her legs hurt, her
back hurt, and her stomach alternately itched and
ached. Although she hated her increasing idleness she was too awkward to do much of anything.

One evening she sat in the parlour next to Cloud, whose nose was buried in a newspaper. She was feeling more uncomfortable than she had ever felt before and wondered if it was the rain. A little testily she put down the cachet she had been crocheting to glare at her belly.

“Maybe you ought to just shoot me as you would a crippled horse.”

Cloud glanced at her. “You don’t look much like a crippled horse.”

He was assailed by increasing fears as the time of waiting for their child drew to a close. Although Cloud had not given them much notice, he had seen pregnant women before, and he could not shake the feeling that Emily was far bigger than she ought to be. The lack of a doctor had not really bothered him until she had begun to get so large. Now an experienced midwife did not seem good enough. It was getting harder and harder to keep his growing fears hidden from her.

“No, I suppose I don’t. More like a beached whale.”

She smiled a little weakly when Cloud, Wolfe, and James laughed. They had all been so patient with her. Emily doubted that any other pregnant woman had been so pampered.

Shifting in her seat for what seemed like
the hundreth time, she stifled a sigh. Just lately her every sign of discomfort put the poor men on nervous alert. But as the minutes passed, she found herself going on alert too. There began to be a disturbing regularity to her discomfort. A frown touched her face as a still gentle pain moved through her in what could only be a contraction. She watched the clock to see if there was a regularity of time to her pain.

She glanced out the window with a frown. Fierce winds drove the rain against the window so hard she feared it would shatter; thunder shook the rafters and lightning emblazoned the sky. Even if someone could get to the midwife, the woman would have to be forcibly dragged back, for only a crazy person would go outside in such weather. Just as that thought passed through her mind along with the acknowledgement that she was in labor and the well-spaced pains were growing steadily stronger, a frantic banging came at the front door.

For a moment they all stared in that direction in amazement. When the urgent knocking was repeated, the three men bolted to answer the door. Emily struggled to her feet to follow them at a more decorous pace.

Flinging open the door, Cloud gaped at the two dripping figures that stumbled inside. “Good God, Harper, what the hell are you doing out in this weather?” He hastily forced the door shut.

“This lunatic threatened to surgically
deprive me of an important part of my anatomy if I did not bring her here immediately.” Harper shed his soaked outerwear only to curse at how equally soaked he was beneath it. “I still hesitated, as would any sane person, but she pulled a gun on me. I decided I had a better chance of living through the storm than of arguing with her.”

Despite its having been darkened by the rain, Emily recognized the wild, nearly orange hair that was unveiled by the person with Harper. So too did she recognize the figure that was as softly delicate as her own. She smiled in bemused pleasure when almond-shaped, chocolate-brown eyes settled upon her.

“Giorsal, what in God’s good name are you doing here?”

“Weel, I had a feeling ye’d be needing me tonight.” She smiled at Harper. “Sorry I had to threaten you,” she said, “but you were being verra pigheaded.”

“I was being pigheaded?” croaked Harper.

“Aye, but I forgive ye.” She moved towards Emily. “Seems I was verra nearly too late.”

“On, Giorsal.” Emily laughed tearfully and hugged her friend tightly.

“Here now, none o’ that.” Giorsal did not extract herself too quickly, however. “I’m wetter than a fishie.”

“Come inside here. There’s a good fire blazing and some brandy.” Wolfe urged them into the parlour.

“Aye, there’s time for that.” After a
searching look at Emily, Giorsal went into the parlour.

Introductions were made as the two wet guests were made comfortable. Emily had to smile at the bemused way Cloud, Wolfe, and James eyed Giorsal. The little Scotswoman seemed to have that effect on everybody.

“Emily, where did you meet this extraordinary female?” Harper eyed Giorsal as if she were not quite human.

“Weel, there I was, trapped in an alley with nowhere to run, a lust-crazed beastie of a mon advancing on me. I was praying fiercely for God to strike him dead with a lightning bolt when he suddenly collapsed at my feet. Weel, since I didnae smell anything burning, I thought for a moment that he’d been taken faint by my beauty, but then I saw that he’d been felled by an expertly wielded parasol.” Giorsal grinned faintly at the soft laughter her tale evoked.

“I’ll never tease you about your parasol again.” Cloud grinned at Emily. “It seems to be a lethal weapon.”

“Och, aye, she’s raised a few lumps with the frilly thing.”

“Listen to that.” Harper winced when the wind pounded against the windows. “I must be mad.”

“Aye, ‘tis a wondrous storm.” Giorsal moved to the window to stare out. “Thunder fit to deafen you, lightning fit to blind ye and a devil’s wind set to pick ye up from the verra earth and fling ye away.” She spoke in an
awe-filled voice, then turned to Emily. “A fine night for having a bairn.” She moved towards Emily unaware of how pale all four men had grown. “To enter the world with nature’s fury all around. Only a bairn meant to be strong, brave, and daring would peep out on a night like this.”

“Or foolish,” Emily murmured with a faint smile.

“Nay, ne’er that. How far apart, lass? Got one now?” Emily nodded, and Giorsal placed her hands on Emily’s abdomen, her dark-eyed gaze fixing upon the clock. “Aye. Time draws near.” She nodded as she felt another contraction begin. “Best to get the water and linen ready.”

“Emily?” Cloud’s gaze fixed upon her stomach revealing his horror.

“Now, isnae that just like a mon, child, to no see the obvious.”

“Emily.” Cloud’s voice held an unsteady urgency. “Are you going to have the baby now?”