Christine Dorsey - [MacQuaid 02] (27 page)

“What of Mary? Did he hurt her?” Rachel hadn’t planned to ask that. It just seemed to slip out. And she wished right away that it hadn’t. Caroline’s feelings came pouring through her. How sweet Mary was. How much she was loved by all. It seemed even Robert cared for her in his own way. At least he treated her with some respect.

“Did Logan love her? Did he love Mary as much as everyone else?” Rachel’s hand flew to her mouth. “Please, don’t answer that. ’Tis none of my business and I don’t know why—”

“I think that’s something you need to discuss with Logan.”

“Which of course I won’t.” Rachel stood, shook out nonexistent wrinkles from her borrowed gown and headed for the door. Pity is what Caroline felt for her at this moment and Rachel could not bear it. “I really don’t care one way or the other,” she insisted before reaching for the knob. “It was simply—”

Rachel wasn’t certain if she experienced the surge of discomfort or heard the small cry first, but when she whirled back toward Caroline she was grasping the windowsill, white brackets of pain framing her mouth.

“Caroline!” Rachel rushed toward her.

“’Tis nothing... really. A mere twinge. Nothing to concern—Oh...” She allowed herself to be escorted to the chair by the hearth, but refused Rachel’s offer to ring for tea.

“Do you suppose you could find Wolf?” Caroline asked, her voice breathless. “I believe he is to become a father again.”

“It is said, and it is true, that just before we are born a cavern angel puts his finger to our lips and says, ‘Hush, don’t tell what you know.’”

— Roderick MacLeish

Prince Ombra

“Why is it taking so long?” she whispered when her path took her near him.

“These things take time. Would Your Highness kindly stop pacing the length of the parlor?”

Rachel shot him a scathing look before settling into the chair opposite his. But before her skirts were flared out to her satisfaction she realized Logan may have called her by that deplorable name, but there was none of the stinging sarcasm behind his words.

He was just as concerned as she was?

The thought hit her with unerring accuracy, chilling her so that Rachel wrapped her arms around herself to ward off the sensation. Somehow her own worry had seemed foolish. What did she know of the birthing process? But Logan knew. Perhaps only from the books he devoured, but he knew.

Yet somehow the fact that he sensed there was a problem relieved her mind. She trusted him to do something about it.

Her gaze drifted to Caroline’s two older children. They sat in a puddle of sunshine near the window taking turns spinning a wooden top. Occasionally they tired of trying to count the revolutions and took to bedeviling Henry. The dog lay sprawled, vying for the same patch of warmth glittering through the glass panes. Three-year-old Mary, named no doubt for Logan’s dead wife, also clutched a homemade doll with a carved wooden head.

Rachel had been introduced to the children the morning after she arrived and found them well-behaved and amiable... and they thoroughly intimidated her. The girl especially seemed forever staring at Rachel. But she seemed a sweet child, quite pretty and soft-spoken, even at her tender age.

The boy, Kalanu, looked a miniature version of his father, which held the promise he would grow into a tall, handsome man. Being older, nearly six, as he mentioned yesterday, he was obviously growing tired of entertaining his sister. The sound of their most recent squabble drifted toward Rachel and Logan.

Logan tossed Rachel a look as if she should do something about the situation, which was returned by a stare of utter shock. When he inclined his head sharply toward the children, Rachel shook hers just as vigorously.

His lips thinned. “I think perhaps the children would enjoy a walk in the fresh air, Rachel.”

“Then why don’t you accompany them, Logan?”

“Because I thought I might see if there’s something I might do to help Caroline.”

“Oh.” Rachel felt thoroughly chastised. Of course this was what she wanted him to do... had hoped he would do. But the children...

With as much dignity as she could muster Rachel stood and approached them. They looked up when her shadow darkened their play area. “Shall we take a walk outside?”

They both seemed eager, scrambling to their feet, kicking Henry in the process. The dog protested by lifting his head and slitting open one eye.

“Can Henry come, too?”

Rachel smiled at the animal. “Yes, I think that would be an excellent idea. Now do get your cloaks, I think ’tis chilly out today.”

The air was brisk, though the sky was an unfailing blue. Rachel took a deep breath, glad now that she was here. Glad for the chance to leave the house, where she’d been since Caroline began her confinement yesterday morning. Even if she was accompanied by two children.

“Is Baby Alkini sleeping?”

“Yes, she is.” Wolf and Caroline’s third child was still in leading strings. Rachel smiled down at Mary who immediately lifted two pudgy arms, one clutching her doll.

“She wants you to carry her,” offered Kalanu. “She’s such a baby.”

“Am not,” the little girl countered, yet she stood her ground, arms raised. They had barely stepped off the wide porch that fronted the house, so she could hardly be tired. But Rachel found no help for it but to lift the child into her arms. Settling her onto a hip seemed to help to ease the load.

They strolled toward the river, Kalanu dashing ahead at times and pretending to pull taut the string of a bow and arrow. “Papa promised to take me hunting with him this winter,” he announced and Rachel nodded, trying not to meet Mary’s eyes. The girl was using her perch to stare intently at Rachel’s head.

Finally, unable to ignore the scrutiny any longer she drew in her breath. “Is my hair mussed, Mary?”

“No.” But the wary stare continued. They reached the shore of the river before the little girl spoke again. “Is Mama going to die?”

“Of course not. I mean...” Was she? Was that what caused the uneasy feeling she had? Rachel shook her head. “Whatever made you ask such a thing?”

“We thought it might be so because you’re here.” Kalanu tossed a stone into the gurgling water. When he looked up his dark eyes shone with tears.

“Me? But why would you think—”

“Please don’t take our mama away to heaven.”

“Oh sweetheart.” Rachel knelt with the distraught child, cuddling first her and then her brother into an embrace. “I won’t take your mama away. I won’t.”

The sniffling stopped and tearful eyes stared into hers. “Promise?”

A chill ran through Rachel, so cold and so strong that she shuddered. “Yes, I promise,” she breathed, unable to help herself from making that response.

The relief the two children exhibited was dramatic and frightening. What had she vowed? Only that she would not take their mother away. Which of course she wouldn’t. But somehow, staring into their trusting faces, Rachel knew it was much more that she’d pledged.

She didn’t know exactly what it was until she watched them play a bit later. Rachel sat on a tree stump, her eyes closed and covered by her palms, slowly counting to five and twenty. The children scurried about supposedly each finding a hiding place, though for the last three times Mary had insisted upon sharing her older brother’s... much to his annoyance.

They were whispering and Rachel smiled, thinking how easy they’d be to find but how she would search about toward the house a bit before pouncing on them where they hid behind a holly bush. Then a word floated to her above the constant gurgling of the river.

“Angel.”

Rachel shifted, turning her head to hear them better.

“Mama won’t die,” Mary said, her voice filled with relief. “And don’t say she might. Angels don’t lie. Mama said so.”

Forgetting the game Rachel’s hands dropped. She caught a glimpse of Mary’s surprised expression before she ducked around behind her brother. Making no pretense to search elsewhere, Rachel hurried around the tree, dropping to her knees in front of the startled little girl.

“What do you mean, angels don’t lie.”

“They don’t.” Mary’s eyes took up most of her face. “Mama told us how they came out of heaven to talk to the sheep.”

“Shepherds. Can’t you remember anything, Mary? Angels wouldn’t talk to animals, baby,” Kalanu declared.

“They might,” the child insisted, turning toward her brother and stamping her foot. Then she focused back on Rachel. “Tell him they might talk to animals if they wanted.”

“Your sister is correct,” Rachel agreed before folding Mary’s hands in hers. “But tell me what this has to do with you... and your mother.”

“Mary thinks you’re an angel,” Kalanu said, adding under his breath. “She’s only a silly baby.”

“Am not.” Mary pulled from Rachel’s grasp, turning to face her older brother with her small chin thrust forward. “Besides, you said so, too.”

“I said she looked like the picture in the book,” he insisted, though he couldn’t seem to meet Rachel’s eye. “You’re the one who thinks she sees the halo.”

“I do see it. It’s right there.” One stubby finger pointed to a spot over Rachel’s head. Instinctively her hands reached up to feel... nothing.

“Children, I...” She what? Rachel could think of nothing to say. In the end she pretended the wind was too cold and bundled them into the house and up the stairs to the nursery, promising to return later to read them a story.

Rushing down the stairs she couldn’t resist checking her reflection in the beveled mirror above the gateleg table in the hallway. There was nothing circling her golden curls. Shaking her head she hurried into the parlor, stopping short when she saw Logan... his fingers inches from the decanter of Madeira on the table by his chair.

He looked up, his expression unreadable. Rachel’s gaze held his for a moment, her heart pounding faster. But when he looked down, the long dark lashes shadowing his eyes, her heart plummeted.

“Caroline isn’t...?” The lump of emotion in her throat wouldn’t let her continue. All she could see was the sweet faces of Caroline’s children. The calm belief that her word was true.

“Dead?”

His voice snapped Rachel out of her reverie.

“No.” He took a deep breath. “But...”

“What?” Rachel was across the room, kneeling in front of him before he stopped shaking his head. “The baby isn’t coming as it should.”

“Why not?” Rachel grabbed his hands.

“I don’t know. Sadayi seems to think the child is too big.”

“Well, what is Sadayi doing? Certainly there is—”

“She’s given Caroline some herbs and called on the spirits to help.” His voice was flat.

“She’s given up on her then? They’ll both die. Caroline and her baby.” Rachel tried to meet his gaze but he would have none of it. “Where’s Wolf?”

“With Caroline.” He did glance up then. “She hasn’t given up.” Again he seemed to find the design in the carpet of interest. “Though she grows weaker.”

“Then you must do something.”

He did meet her eyes then, his shadowed in disbelief. “You’re daft. I can do nothing.”

“You can.” Her gaze followed his as it slid toward the decanter. “I’ve seen you read your books.”

“There’s a huge difference between reading and doing, Your Highness.”

“Perhaps not so huge. I also know of your surgery on the Campbell boy.”

“Aye. ’Tis sawing off his arm, I did.”

“’Tis saving his life, you did.”

He was frightened.

Logan’s fear surged through her as surely as if it were her own. Rachel squeezed his hands, knowing again the joy of being one with him. She could even feel the magnetic pull of the Madeira and the power of the man sitting before her as he triumphed over the temptation.

“You will do your best for Caroline and her babe,” Rachel whispered. Her fingers were white from the pressure of their bonding, and she knew when she released his much larger hands they would bear the imprint of hers.

Rachel was so sure of herself... of him... that even when he asked her to bring the wine she barely hesitated. “For Caroline,” he explained, though she had asked for none.

But entering the bedroom on the first floor where Caroline lay shook all Rachel’s confidence. It seemed as if the pall of death already hung over her. As if her soul already hovered between this life and the next.

Rachel expected Caroline to cry out in pain. She was not present when Queen Charlotte delivered the young Prince George, but word about the court was that she’d bellowed quite loudly, calling out in her native tongue till the royal bedchamber echoed with German.

But Caroline lay still, barely whimpering when a spasm of pain rippled through her body. Her husband seemed in nearly as bad shape. The tall man Rachel thought so fierce hunched over beside the bed, his hand clutching his wife’s as if he could imbue her with some of his own strength. He didn’t even glance up when Rachel and Logan approached the bed. Nor did Sadayi cease her rhythmic chanting.

When Logan’s hand settled on his brother’s shoulder, Wolf finally tore his eyes away from his wife. His dark stare was so grief-stricken Rachel wanted to rush from the room. But she stood by Logan as he spoke, his voice a beacon of calm and reason.