Married At Midnight (3 page)

"Legally, yes ... Though there should be certain church formalities."

"But it would be legal, especially with a clergyman officiating."

"That is why I am here, Captain."

"Then let's do it."

"I don't know—"

"What possible reason can you have to refuse?"

"The lady's wishes, sir!"

Charles looked at Kate to see her watching him, dazed but comprehending. "Do you understand, Kate?

Would you

like my name for the child? I'm not saying I can be much of a husband. I'm not a family man. But if it would ease you..."

She disappeared into another of the appalling spasms but emerged to say, "Yes, please. If you don't terribly mind."

"Do it," Charles snapped to Rightwell.

It looked as if the clergyman might object again, but he swallowed it—perhaps because of the silent threat of violence Charles was sending him. He began to gabble from memory the rite of marriage, frequently interrupted by Kate's red-faced struggles and Charles' peeps under her skirts to check progress.

"Hair! I see hair!" he shouted. "Hurry up, dammit. Yes, I do. Of course I do. Yes, she does. Say it, Kate!"

She blinked up at him. "I do, I do, I do."

"Then I now pronounce you man and wife."

Impelled by the moment, Charles laughed and kissed Kate smackingly on her slack lips. She startled him by laughing herself, though it twisted into a groan and another writhing push.

Charles watched under her skirts and would have sworn the baby was going to push out, but then Kate relaxed and

the hair disappeared again. It didn't seem right to him.

He pulled Rightwell to one side, hopefully out of Kate's hearing. "I thought you said babies should come down. She's pushing uphill!"

"Midwives often have birthing chairs, Captain, but we have no such thing here."

"So they do it sitting up?"

"Mostly . .. yes. In one case, the husband formed the chair."

"What do you mean, formed?"

"He sat on the chair, and she sat on his lap."

Kate had heard. "I should be sitting up?" She struggled up, and Charles went to help her. Though badly shaken by this whole event, he was a battle-hardened officer and it took only a moment to decide. He pulled her to her feet then

turned to Rightwell. "Do you want to be husband or midwife?"

"You, sir, are undoubtedly the husband."

"Dammit, so I am." He swung her into his arms, thanking God he was a big, strong man. He took some pleasure from

the thought that Fallowfield had been shorter and slighter and would doubtless have buckled. "Come on, Kate. Over

to the bench."

"The bench?" It was just as if she were drunk.

"That's right. We'll have the baby out in no time." He sat with his back braced against the wall and arranged her in his lap, her legs spread wide over his. Then he realized they were facing most of his fascinated men.

"About face!" he commanded, and they hastily obeyed.

Soon only Rightwell was facing them. Clearly wishing he were somewhere else, the clergyman sat on the ground and tentatively peeped up Kate's skirts. She grunted again, but at least this time she didn't writhe or arch, but seemed to

curl down upon herself. Caught in the moment, Charles began to urge her on as if she were a raw recruit in her first charge. "That's my girl! On and at 'em. Push, push, and never say die!"

She collapsed back on him, gasping, "Bully. I knew it."

"Officer. You can do it."

"Do I have a choice?" Then she was grunting and pushing again. Suddenly she gave a kind of squeal.

"What's happened?" Charles demanded.

"The head," Rightwell gasped. "It's out. Good God!"

"What's the matter with it?"

"Nothing. Nothing. But it's a
head!"

"What the devil did you expect, man?" Then Charles realized that Kate, slumped against him like a sack of grain, was laughing. He turned her sweaty face to him. "I suppose you find us funny," he said.

"I find you wonderful. This is a most peculiar state to be in, though. I wish I could see ..."

He pulled her skirts up and she looked down. "Oh God! It's my baby!"

"Now, what did
you
expect?"

But she wasn't listening. She was reaching down. He twisted to look too. It was astonishing. The baby was looking

up, eyes open and seemingly as startled as everyone else.

"I wonder what
you
expected, infant," Charles whispered. "Not a bunch of rough, dirty soldiers . .." But then had to gather his wits as another push hit Kate. Her skirts had settled over her thighs again, so he couldn't see, but he heard Rightwell gasp. "It's slippery! I almost dropped it. He. It's a boy!"

And the baby cried.

Kate grabbed her skirts up high to look. "Oh!" Then she reached out. "Here. Give him here! My baby!"

All dreaminess seemed to have fled as she snatched the baby to bring it close, wrapping it in the layers of her skirt for warmth.

"Careful, madam," Rightwell said. "It's ... er ... still attached."

Kate was oblivious and the cord seemed long enough.

"Hello," she whispered quietly and Charles thought his heart would stop.

By some miracle all her ravaged weariness evaporated for the moment so that she was at her most beautiful, and she

and the wizened baby were staring at one another like reunited lovers.

"Was that as hard for you as it was for me, beautiful one?" she murmured, stroking the baby's cheek.

"Exciting, too, though, wasn't it? And tiring. Do you want to sleep now?"

A lilting lullaby drifted through the air. Chase and his whistle. Charles realized he was stroking Kate's tangled hair and had just planted a kiss on her cheek. It seemed wrong, but completely right.

After all, they were married. He was beginning to think that might have been a rash act bringing all manner of complications in the future, but remembering the peace it had brought her, he couldn't regret it.

And she was right.

This little innocent didn't deserve to have the stain of bastardy on him all his life.

With a swallowed laugh, he realized that it was as well that his uncle, Lord Jerrold, had a healthy son and

heir. Society was inclined to look closely at the bloodlines and legitimacy of heirs to the peerage. Nor would it be right to bring a cuckoo into that nest.

Long life and health to Cousin Tom!

Charles pulled his wits together. No wonder they didn't let men into these matters. It was far too powerful a business. And, he now realized, the baby was still attached inside. His eyes met Rightwell's.

"Does it just come out?" he mouthed.

"I believe so." But the man seemed as shaken and unsure of himself as Charles.

Charles looked up and caught some of his rough, tough killers trying to peep at the baby, faces as soft as the most

doting grandmother. He glared and they hastily looked away again.

Then he looked dotingly at the perfect Madonna and child.

Reality intruded in time. Kate was no lightweight, and now the excitement was over, his legs began to complain. He wasn't sure he could move her, though, until the afterbirth separated.

Rightwell cleared his throat. "I do believe Mrs. Tennant should put the child to the breast about now.

Since there is no question of a wet-nurse . .."

"Mrs. Tennant," both Kate and Charles said together. Then they laughed self-consciously.

"Oh dear," said Kate.

"Oh, my dear," Charles replied with a grin. "Do as the doctor says."

"I think I'd like to, but how do I manage the gown?"

Charles muttered under his breath, thinking horses and dogs were a' damn sight easier.

"Perhaps, Captain, you could carry the lady back to the bed."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"I believe so..."

"Hold on to the baby, then, Kate." He gathered her into his arms and praying his stiffened legs didn't give way, rose to stagger over to the shielded corner and the bed. He settled her on her back, but she immediately sat up, seemingly not

at all tired. "Believe it or not, I feel splendid! Could you unbutton my gown, please."

Charles felt inclined to give her a lecture on proper womanly behavior, but when it came down to it, he had no idea

what such behavior was in this situation. Certainly he could not imagine some of the fine, delicate mothers of his acquaintance—including his own—going through this enterprise, but he had to assume they had.

He saw now that she'd let out a gown with many panels of extra cloth so that it flowed loosely from the shoulders. But

it was still fastened by buttons down the back. He undid them and eased the gown off, trying not to see more than he should. As she'd said, she wore no corset, so only her cotton shift covered her breasts.

Blushing fiercely, she loosened the drawstring to expose a breast, and brought the baby close. "They said it would come naturally at the time."

The baby, young though it was, did seem to show the same instinct as any baby animal. It opened its mouth like a bird, trying desperately to find the source of food. Kate tried to guide her nipple into the mouth, but he judged it more luck than skill when proper attachment was made. Kate winced, but then seemed to settle to it, too, stroking the baby's

damp hair and cooing to him.

Charles realized he'd been staring at her breast,
and though
there
was nothing lascivious in his
thoughts, he called

for someone to bring one of his spare shirts. Unfortunately he had nothing clean, but some covering was better than none. He slashed it down the front and draped it around Kate's shoulders, covering baby and breast.

"Sir." Rightwell's rather tight voice intruded into Charles' contemplation. "Do you have any idea what I should do with this?"

Charles looked down and suppressed a laugh. The reverend gentleman was clutching what looked like a large lump

of liver in his bloody hands.

Kate looked, too, and started blushing again. "Oh, Mr. Rightwell, I am so sorry. I never meant for you to be so
intimately
involved in this."

"I am pleased to have been of service, Mrs. Tennant." It was polite but unconvincing.

"Someone has to tie off and cut the cord," she said. "Then, I think, the afterbirth can just be thrown away.

Also, I am

not completely featherwitted. I came with a bag, and it does include some necessities for the baby and ...

and personal cloths for me."

Hoping it was not more complicated than it looked, Charles tied the rubbery cord with a strip of rag then sliced it with his knife. He half expected the baby to scream with pain, but it sucked on obliviously.

Rightwell went off to dispose of the afterbirth and Peabody hurried forward with Kate's bag. "Lovely baby, ma'am,"

he said with a bobbing bow, "and you're a gallant trooper!"

"Thank you, Private," said Kate, but Charles hurried the man back to the other side of the blanket even though there

was nothing untoward to be seen.

He was beginning to feel quite shaken by all this. He'd wanted the baby born, but a mother and baby seemed a much more vulnerable package than a heavily pregnant woman.

This, legally, was his wife and child yet he had no idea how to take care of them.

"Could you take him, please."

Charles looked to see that Kate was holding out the baby, now bundled in cloth.

"Me?"

"I need to ... to do something."

He saw the pad of cloth in her hand and understood. Reluctantly, very reluctantly, he took the tiny bundle

in his hands. The baby was asleep now, peaceful but still looking more like an old man than a baby should. Ah well, not all babies could be beautiful, he supposed. It was still a precious mite.

And when he thought of it, a new colt could hardly be described as a thing of beauty, but they generally soon became

so.

He looked up to find Kate relaxed back against the wall, watching him. The shadows under her eyes seemed darker, and her hair was a mess. She'd pulled a ratty blanket over her legs and clutched his dirty shirt around her shoulders.

She was still one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

"I suppose you want him back," he said, surprised at how reluctant he was to relinquish his burden.

"Eventually." Again, that bewitching smile twitched her lips. "Thank you, Captain."

"I don't feel I did anything much to the purpose."

"You were there. I needed someone I could trust."