Seducing Anne (34 page)

He dried off her inner thighs with it.

“Every time I have a rush, this fluid gushes out of me. It shall drive me mad.” Her voice went up in pitch.

“I am certain it will. You are most fortunate, though because you have me to mop you up.” He grinned, and he made sure to speak more formally and in the dialect she used. It would be difficult for her to concentrate if he kept speaking in his time period’s slang and accent.

“Oh no, oh no, oh no!” she chanted, sucking in a tight breath.

“Breathe. Low and deep, like we have practiced daily. Do you recall?”

She nodded and exhaled with a groan.

He got directly behind her and massaged the sides of her belly.

She was having a really strong one. The tightening muscles were like touching a solid brick wall.

His eyes went wide. So powerful.

He had felt her belly before during a Braxton Hick, but those were usually a smaller area. This was her entire womb, squeezing tight.

Her breaths were steady, deeper, but too fast.

So, he breathed loud on purpose like he did with practice so she’d follow his lead.

She did—responding automatically like he knew she would.

“Good girl. Such a good girl, breathing low and deep so our baby gets lots of air.” He smiled, and his chest was like a warm, sunny day—all radiant and gentle.

“Oh no!” she cried out again.

Instead of ending, the one that had already been happening decided to run right into another one.

This seemed too close together.

He glanced over at the alarm clock on his nightstand and noted the time so he could start keeping track.

She was showing signs still of early labor, though—at least emotionally she was.

He’d read over a hundred different home birth stories online and various midwives’ breakdowns on what the emotional and behavioral signs were for where a woman was in labor during the different stages.

She was also still dressed, so they would have some time before the birth actually happened. Modesty was something that usually failed them once they were near the pushing stage. At that point, very few women cared who saw them naked. It was the last thing on their mind.

But then . . . If she had been in Henry’s court in confinement, she would be attended to strictly by women.

In this house, she’d be dealing with two men. Granted, Nick was her cousin, but she was a proper lady.

She might not want to get completely naked.

He had an oversized shirt of his prepared for such a case so she could be comfortable and fairly modest if she so chose.

It was in his best interest not to rule anything out.

He eyed the birthing kit over in the corner, sitting next to the dresser.

After this swell ended, she went onto her knees and clasped her arms around his neck.

“I cannot do this,” she said with a pitiful wail.

“Oh God,” he said under his breath.

Maybe she was further along than he’d thought.

“Would you like to get in the bathtub, love? I have some cloth tea bags filled with dried lavender. The scent will lull you away into a blissful place, and you always love the hot springs.”

He gauged her reaction, but her eyes were closed. She nodded a few seconds later.

“I will pick you up, carry you into the bathroom and I want you to empty your bladder one more time before I set you in the water,” he said nice and slow so she could register all he told her.

Another little head nod and jutting bottom lip.

Once he had her in the bathroom and the bath water running, she screeched, “Get out! I have to . . . I have to . . .”

She grunted.

“Relieve your bowels if you must, but I am staying,” he said, tossing the tea bags into the tub and checking on the temperature.

She grumbled about how disgusting this was, and how no husband wanted to see such ill-mannered things as a woman passing stools.

While she slipped into French, explaining how this was undignified once more, she had a really strong wave power through her and make her entire body tense up.

He dropped into a squat before her, and she leaned her forehead onto his.

“Breathe like me, brave woman. Do it nice and slow.” He modeled it for her again.

She copied him with exactness.

“Good. So strong and brave—my girl.” He stroked the top of her belly, but she silenced his hand, giving him a look of reproach. Then her palm went over his, and she squeezed his hand lightly.

“You are doing so well . . . It is almost over,” he said, his voice soft.

Her eyes went from cutting to hang-dog.

“These are too powerful for me. I am but a little woman,” she keened.

“You are but a strong, vibrant dove with the constitution of no other, and you were made to be mine and have my baby. I know it, aye.” He blinked and kissed her nose.

She smiled and then all but collapsed into him, kissing him with a desperation.

“Our baby,
our
baby,” she said at his lips when she broke away, and then she went silent, another contraction assaulting her.

”Ride through it like you would a wave. Float above it. When this one is over, I will have you in the water, and you will be much happier.”

“Shhhhh . . .” She slid her forehead back and forth on his.

He pressed his lips together and smiled.

She was definitely progressing quickly. Women were supposed to get bitchy and annoyed during a contraction when someone spoke or moved them while in later stages of labor. It broke their concentration.

“Love you,” she whispered at the end of it.

He stood up, stroked her hair, then turned off the tub water while she cleaned herself up.

She stripped down and then he lifted her into the water.

He did a mental checklist of where she was at—cleansing bowels, broken bag of waters, barking at him to shut up, not wanting him near when she was having a lot of contractions on the toilet.

His fingers flexed. He wanted to check her dilation.

Would she let him?

“Ohhhhh gaaaaawd,” she moaned as she leaned back a little and sunk deeper into the water. “This is sublime!”

“Relax and let your muscles do the work. Your body knows what to do. Just let it. And you tell me what you need to help keep you in a state of looseness.” He stepped over to her and massaged her shoulders.

“Is everything all right?” Nick called out from the hallway.

“She is in labor,” Guy replied. “Can you get her something to drink? Perhaps some orange juice.”

Anne wrinkled her nose in distaste.

“How about water?” he asked her.

“With ice,” she squeaked out with a small smile.

Anne loved ice. It was a novelty she was fixated on.

“Can you fetch her water bottle in the fridge, please?” Guy called out. “Have the orange juice ready for afterward and a sandwich for her.” He turned to her. “You need something easy to drink without ice slopping in your face.”

She nodded.

Nick knew what to do. There was a list they had created together like masterminds, almost planning a heist.

They posted it on the fridge—all of Nick’s responsibilities.

Guy could hear Nick bustling around in the kitchen, filling up large pans with water and turning the stove burners on.

They needed to sterilize certain equipment for the birth so they needed some boiling water.

Nick’s hand appeared at the doorway a few moments later, holding a chilled Smartwater bottle.

Guy snatched it, thanked him and handed it to Anne, but she refused to drink.

“You must stay hydrated, sweetie,” Guy said with a coaxing tone, stroking her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“If I drink, then I will have to make water in the toilet again, and I do not want to get out of this tub.”

Her lower lip was sticking out even further now.

“I will get you a pan to piss in so you only need stand a little bit. Now, you must drink.” He opened the lid for her, pushed it up to her lips and she took a few sips.

He smiled at her, crouched down and draped his arms over the edge of the tub.

It was amazing how much more relaxed she was in the water.

She burped, and her cheeks colored. “Oh no—I am so rude.” She gasped.

“You are not rude—you, madam, are having my baby, and there is a lot of pressure on your upper organs right now, including your stomach.”

He stroked her stomach now, and realized it was hard, but she seemed unaware.

Was it a smaller contraction? Or was she adjusting to them—taking them more in stride?

He started to ask her, but she cut him off with a curt, “Shush!”

Once more, he grinned, then pressed his lips together.

It seemed she was learning to master ignoring the beginning of a rush, but once it hit the peak, she could no longer deny its existence.

That seemed to be the rhythm for the next half hour as she had several more contractions.

She grunted for a moment on the next one, and he took her hands that were clutching the side of the tub.

“Relax your hands—it is linked to your puss,” he reminded her.

She dropped her head back, made a grating sound at the back of her throat and went lax.

Her concentration was fierce.

When it faded, she dropped her head back down and looked absolutely exhausted.

“These are not fun,” she said, her eyes expressing she was already feeling worn out.

“They are necessary, though.” He chuckled and kissed her.

She clawed at his chest, growing desperate again, kissing him hard.

Once more, she ended it with an “Our baby!”

“Yes, ours—no one else’s.”

“Our Elizabeth.” Her eyes searched his with sheer terror and pleading.

“She will remain with us, and you shall feed her from your very own breasts,” he said with a reassuring tone.

She nodded, bit her bottom lip, and another one edged in on her, but this time she gasped.

“Oh Lord! This is too much . . . I cannot . . .” She was breathless, her legs sloshing in the water. “I cannot!”

“You can. You already are, sweet lady. Keep your bottom relaxed. Let the baby open the way. She wants to greet you so you can kiss her sweet little head.”

“Her head hurts me!” She yelped and then reached down toward her pussy for a moment.

“I will check you as soon as this is over,” he told her near her ear.

“Hair! I feel hair that is not my own,” she said, her fingers delving lower now and pushing up inside her pussy.

Her eyes went wide and she whimpered with an anguished sound.

“That is terrific!” He kissed her temple, and his heart swelled up, making his breath catch.

Then she almost doubled over, her breasts in the water. She reached out for him with one hand.

He massaged her hand, kissed the back of it and then stroked her inner arm.

Her fingers were loose, but she stretched and wiggled them, sucking in some air when she did it.

“So good. You are staying right on top of th—”

“I do not want to hear it!” she bit out.

He shook his head at himself. His emotions were making him forget what she needed.

He was just so damn excited to know his baby was on the way.

When it ended and she leaned back, there was some thick pink-tinged mucus floating in the water.

He got up to wash his hands so he could check her, but she made this panicked, edgy sound.

“No! Stay with me, husband!”

“I am here.” He went back down to kneeling at her side and stroked her knee poking out of the water. She was about to come after him when he was moving away from her.

“I will be affrighted if you leave,” she told him, her eyes once more pleading for help.

“I will never leave you—
never
. But I am going to check you now.” He caressed her inner thigh, and she naturally parted her legs for him.

He leaned over, his arm delving into the water and he smiled when he felt the hair on top of what felt like a hardened coconut—just a few inches up inside her.

Well, obviously, she was completely dilated then if the head was this low.

He almost hadn’t believed her—wondering if it had been wishful thinking on her part. This was going so quickly.

All those weeks of prelabor must have prepared the way.

“Nick!” Guy called out.

“Yes?” His voice was close. He must be in their bedroom, just outside of view.

“Prepare the bed please. Place the shower curtain down after you strip off the coverlet, then put the sheet over it I have in the birth kit. After that, spread out some chux pads, and have a towel waiting for both Anne and the baby.”