Redemption (Book Two of the Shipwrecked Series)

Chapter
One

The noise startled
Quinn, making the small hairs rise on the back of his neck.  He stalked
silently through the forest, experienced feet avoiding the dry brush and sticks
of autumn to completely veil his presence.

            He heard it again and
froze.  His hand moved reflexively to the dagger that he kept in his belt.  His
breathing was hushed and his ears echoed with the sound of his own heart beat
thundering in his chest.  He stood apprehensively, listening and waiting for
the sound again.

He waited in
silence, muscles frozen in absolute stillness. A muffled scream echoed through
the trees followed by an anguished moan.  Then silence.

Quinn’s ears
piqued as they made out the sound of heavy, labored breathing.  Silently, his
arm reached up behind him and his fingers found their intended target.  He
pulled an arrow from his quiver and fit it deftly into his bow.

The breathing
intensified and he heard a small whimper.

           
What in the hell is
that?

            Taking a deep breath
and drawing back his bow, Quinn moved stealthily through the bushes.  He
stepped quietly, being careful not to reveal his presence.  The muffled scream
came again, startling him and he froze, listening.  His adrenaline soaked heart
hammered in his chest.

            He judged the sound to
be coming from next to a large birch tree directly in front of him, not more
than ten feet away.  Heavy vegetation obscured his view and his eyes fought to
focus.  He squinted as he tried to peer through the bushes. 

            Being an expert hunter,
his feet padded silently across the forest floor.  He took in a swift breath,
holding it as he pushed past the bushes.

            She let loose a blood
curdling scream as Quinn confronted her, bow drawn and arrow pulled back, the
arrowhead mere inches from her face.

            Quinn’s reaction was
delayed.  His steely gray eyes were trained on her and he was ready to loose
his arrow.  His sinewy muscles were tense and ready to respond.           Realization
flooded over him and he lowered the arrow.  He moved slowly as he registered
the terror that clouded the woman’s green-brown eyes.  He watched as her
beautiful face contorted.  She closed her eyes in agony, leaning back against
the tree and letting loose another muffled scream of pain.  This was the very
sound that had drawn him here.

            Taken aback, Quinn
dropped his bow and arrow, letting them clatter to the forest floor as he
understood what was happening.

            She was giving birth.

            Lost in her pain, she
was supporting herself against the trunk of a large birch tree, hands clutching
her swollen belly. Quinn surveyed the scene before him, unsure of how he should
react.  The lovely young woman was in the most advanced stage of pregnancy, her
bulging belly obscured beneath a short deer-skin shirt.  Her olive skin and
long unbound black hair gave away her heritage.  She was an Indian.  Quinn
watched helplessly as her slender legs quivered to support her weight.  She
gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, fighting to crest the wave of this
contraction.

            Her hands spanned her
belly, ripe and hard as a melon beneath the deer skin.  Her chest heaved with
the effort of her labor, causing the top of her breasts to rise at the neckline
of the shirt.  When the contraction passed she let out a slow, shaky breath and
used the back of her arm to wipe the sweat from her brow.  Her eyes opened
again and she regarded Quinn quizzically, struggling to regain control of
herself before the next contraction overtook her.

            “I…I’m sorry…I…” Quinn
stammered, reaching down to pick up his bow and beginning to back away from
her.  He certainly did not want to incite the fury of her husband, who was
surly just around the corner.  Quinn was cautious of Natives, respecting them
enough to keep reasonable distance.

            Her full lips curled
into a smile and the faintest laugh escaped from her throat.  To see such a
huge man so unnerved by her situation, retreating into the forest was
intriguing.  Men seemed to avoid childbirth no matter where they hailed from.

            “Please don’t leave me,”
she whispered, eyes imploring him, begging him to stay.

            Quinn’s eyebrows arched
in surprise.  She spoke English.

             “I…I think I need
help,” she gritted out as she felt the beginnings of the next contraction
squeezing her womb.  She clenched her teeth together and reached out a hand to
him, motioning him towards her.  A scream tore involuntarily from her throat
and she pulled her hand back, holding onto the base of the tree for support as
the full force of her contraction overwhelmed her.  She focused on breathing,
forcing the ragged breaths in and out, in and out.

            “Arrghh!” she gritted,
writhing in pain against the base of the tree.  Her muscles trembled from the
effort that it took to remain standing.

            Quinn stood as still as
a statue, frozen in place as he watched her labor.  Only once in his life had
he felt so helpless.  He reached out a hand to touch her on the shoulder and
then thought better of it and retracted his hand.  He was at a loss for how he
could help her, but he knew that he would do anything to take away her pain. 
If there was anything that Quinn abhorred, it was the sight of a woman in pain.

            His heart clenched as
he watched her.  She was so slight in stature yet so brave as she worked
through the pain of her contraction.  Her breathing was ragged, so strained
that Quinn worried she might die.  He stood helplessly, watching her as the
pain slowly receded from her face.  Her muscles went slack and relaxed as she welcomed
a brief respite from her pain.

            She leaned against the
tree, exhausted.  Her head fell back against the rough bark, eyes still tightly
closed as her breath slowed and steadied.

            Quinn released the
breath that he had been holding, relief washing over him as her body stilled.

            “I doona ken how tae
help ye,” he admitted softly, still afraid to touch her.

            Her eyes opened now and
he saw the fear residing in them.  She was strikingly beautiful.  Quinn’s
eyebrows knit together as he wondered why she had been neglected and forced to
face this trial alone in the forest. 

           
Damn savages
. 
He raged silently to himself. He then wondered if she was indeed a Native.  She
looked to have Native heritage, but she spoke perfect English.

            “I think the baby is
stuck,” she revealed, concern weighing heavily in her voice.  Her eyes searched
his, begging him to help her.  “I don’t want to die!” she shrieked, her resolve
crumbling as she threw herself at Quinn.

            He caught her awkwardly
and pulled her against his chest.  Not knowing what else to do, he stroked her
back.  She smelled of sunshine and forest.  Her soft, earthy scent caught his
attention.  He fitted his arms around her and stroked her back reassuringly,
biting his lip and looking heavenwards, praying for divine intervention.

            She grabbed fistfuls of
his linen shirt and melted against his chest, sobbing now as he held her.

            “Please help me.  I
don’t want to die,” she cried, tears dampening his shirt.

            “Shhh….hush now, lass. 
Hush… I willna let ye die,” he whispered, stroking her silky black hair and
whispering honeyed words that he hoped she found reassuring.

            “Oh God!  Here comes
another one!” she cried out, bracing herself against Quinn as the first wave of
the contraction tightened around her belly.

            Quinn pulled her
closer, supporting her weight as her body began to tremor.  Pain flooded over
her as the contraction took hold.

            Her breathing came
raggedly now and she clenched her teeth together, burying her face in Quinn’s
shirt as she fought the pain.

            “Breathe,
lass…breathe,” Quinn coaxed, holding her securely by the arms.

            She writhed against
him, gritting her teeth and working hard to suppress the desire to scream.  She
groaned and closed her eyes, focusing, concentrating on moving past the pain. 
She knew that the contraction would subside, but she sincerely thought that she
might die before it did.  The contraction intensified and a scream tore from
her throat.  Her pain was agonizing.

            Holding her helplessly
and watching her suffer was torturous for Quinn.  He would have given anything
to take her pain away, to bear some of the burden for her.  She was so slight,
so fragile looking that he began to believe she
might
actually die.

            “Aye, that’s a braw
lass.  It’s almost over, keep breathing,” he soothed, brushing her hair back
from her face as he watched the contraction dissipate. 

            Her deep brown eyes
flashed up to meet his.  He noticed that they were flecked with vibrant green. 
They were also filled with trust and relief.

            “Thank you,” she
whispered, smiling slightly as she regained control and the pain subsided. 
“I’m so glad that you’re here.”

            Quinn swallowed hard. 
He was certainly
not
glad that he was here.  What a nightmare this
hunting trip had turned into.

            “I think the baby’s
stuck and I don’t know how to get it out,” she said, breathing heavily as she
looked up at Quinn.

            His arms were still
wrapped carefully around her and he hoped that the fear he was feeling inside
didn’t play openly across his face.  She was looking at him as if he was her
savior.  She was looking at him as if he knew how to fix this.

            “I...um…” Quinn trailed
off, unsure of what to say.

            “You need to check me,”
she said, eyes serious and mouth set in a hard line.  “I can’t see down there
and I need you to look.”

            “What?” Quinn
exclaimed, pulling away from her and looking down at her sternly.  “Ye want me
tae look at ye?” he huffed incredulously.  “
There?”

            “You’ll have to because
I can’t see!” she reasoned, her request making perfect, logical sense to her. 
“Hurry, we don’t have much time before the next contraction.”

            Quinn groaned and
swallowed hard.  Realizing that she had a point, he really was the only one who
could actually see what was going on, he said a mental prayer for strength and
lowered himself to his knees before her.  His face flushed with color and he
avoided making eye contact with her again, unable to believe what he was about
to do.

            Gingerly, he lifted the
deerskin shirt and peered between her legs.  His eyes bulged as they settled on
her most intimate flesh.  He could see the crown of the baby’s head, scalp dark
in contrast with her olive skin.  He cringed as he noticed how tightly her skin
was stretched around the baby’s head.  She was too small and the baby looked
big.  With a lump of fear in his throat, Quinn cautiously stood up and met her
intense gaze.

            “Well?” she asked
impatiently, biting her lip as she waited for his verdict.

            “I can see his head,
but I doona think….” he trailed off, searching for the right words.  “He’s
big!” Quinn babbled, instantly regretting his frank appraisal of the situation
as he watched her eyes widen with fear.

            “We have to get him
out!” she fretted, a look of panic overtaking her eyes as the next contraction
gripped her.  “Ohhh….”she cried out, swaying from side-to-side.  “Hold me
again!” she barked, grabbing fists of Quinn’s shirt and pulling herself towards
the solace of his chest.

            Quinn coached her
through the contraction, his chest stinging where her nails scored his skin as
she fought against her unbearable pain.  His mind eased slightly as he felt her
tremors of pain dissipate and his skin was released from the grips of her
clawing fingers.  He regarded her seriously now, gauging what he must do.  He
knew that if the baby did not come out soon, it would die.  He also knew that
she was in danger of death, and that the longer the baby remained stuck, the
more likely this outcome would be.  In the short amount of time that Quinn had
spent with the lass, he had felt her strength weakening.  She was exhausting
herself with the strain of the unrelenting contractions.