The Elusive Flame (45 page)

She spread a hand over her belly and felt its tautness. Even before she had become cognizant of the heated reprimand that Heather had been diligently laying upon the intruder, Cerynise had awakened to a growing discomfort in her back and a sticky seepage between her legs. There was, of course, only one conclusion which could be rationally drawn. “I think our baby was making plans on being
born today even before that horrible man came into our house.”

“Great stars in heaven, madam!” Beau swore, scrambling to his feet. “I’d better fetch Hatti and send someone for the doctor.”

Cerynise looked up at him pleadingly. “Do you suppose you could help me to our bed first? This marble is terribly uncomfortable.”

“Should’ve thought of that first,” Beau mumbled in some chagrin as he scooped her up in his arms. “Not very gallant of me to leave a lady in distress.”

She giggled and looped her arms around his neck. “That’s all right. I forgive you. After all, you’re my knight in shining armor. But I must say, if you take too many more tumbles with me, you’re going to be crippled before your time.”

“As long as I grow old with you, madam,” he replied softly, “then I’ll be satisfied.”

Once in their bedroom Cerynise bade him to stand her to her feet beside their bed and help strip away her soiled robe and nightgown. “I know I’m not very nice to look at without my clothes now,” she said sheepishly, clutching her arms before her naked body as he brought back a clean gown from her chest-on-chest. “But hopefully it won’t be too long before I get my shape back and we can make love together again.”

“I think you’re beautiful now, madam,” Beau whispered, touching a kiss to her brow. He recognized the glow of love in her eyes and felt immensely blessed by his good fortune. Shaking out her nightgown, he lifted it above her head as she raised her arms. “After all, you’re carrying our child, and that makes you more than lovely to me.”

“Does it matter to you what we have?” she questioned through the garment as she slipped her hands through the sleeves.

“As long as the babe is healthy and well formed, I’ll be delighted no matter what gender it is.”

Cerynise’s head came free, and she grinned up at him as he pulled her long hair out of the gown, allowing it to fall in tumbling waves down her back. “Have I yet told you this morning that I love you?”

Beau glanced toward the windows. “Considering it’s still dark outside, I guess you haven’t.”

Wrapping her arms around his lean waist, she pressed a kiss upon his naked chest. “Then I’m telling you now, sir. Your wife loves you immensely.”

Beau laid his arms around her shoulders. “Well, madam, your husband
adores
you, so there.”

Suddenly Cerynise turned aside and doubled over in pain. She clutched his fingers in a desperate grip as he supported her with an arm wrapped around her back. After a moment she gasped, “I think you’d better spread the linens that Hatti prepared on the bed.”

“Wouldn’t you like to lie down first?” he asked worriedly

“Not until the linens are laid out. I don’t want to soil the mattress.”

It was simpler to placate her than to argue, Beau decided, and made haste to perform her wishes. In another moment she was lying back upon the pillows.

“I’d better go fetch Hatti now,” he told her and hurried out. He paused briefly at his parents’ door to announce that Cerynise had gone into labor before making his descent.

“Hatti, where are you?” he called after reaching her quarters and finding them empty.

“Right here, Mistah Beau,” the black woman answered from the yard. Stepping to a place where he could see her, she looked at him curiously. “What yo’ be wantin’ me for?”

“The baby’s coming!” he declared.

Hatti nodded knowingly. “I ’spected ’twas time, the way Miss Cerynise’s burden done lowered in her belly these past few days.”

“She’s upstairs in our bedroom.”

“I’ll be along directly, Mistah Beau,” the woman reassured
him, waving away his concern. “As soon as I get washed an’ dressed, then I’ll be up. There ain’t nothin’ gonna happen in betwixt time.”

“I’d better send someone to fetch the doctor.”

“If’n I was yo’, Mistah Beau, I’d wait a spell for that, seein’s as how this be Miz Cerynise’s first chile. It may be hours before the babe comes…”

“Hours?” Beau felt the color drain from his own face, and suddenly his knees seemed far too weak to support him. “That long?”

“I’ll know directly,” she replied, taking pity on him.

Beau unwillingly turned his attention to other matters. The servants were extinguishing what remained of the fire on the side of the house. The damage was insignificant and could be easily repaired. For that, he was thankful, but the charred fence along the street would have to be torn down completely and rebuilt immediately to keep the backyard reasonably safe for Cerynise.

The wind had died away, and morning had softened the sky to a cloudy, sultry gray when Beau resettled himself in a chair in the master bedroom and raised his head in an effort to stretch the kinks out of his neck. Cerynise was still in labor, and at present, Heather was sitting beside her on the bed, holding her hand. His mother had refused to listen to any more of his pleas that she should go to her room and rest. Beau had finally, reluctantly, acquiesced to the fact that she would stay. Brandon had recognized his wife’s unswerving determination from the very beginning and had known better than to argue. If he had learned anything in their lengthy marriage together, it was that Heather Birmingham could be quite willful at times. Obviously this was one of those occurrences.

“I think
you
should get some sleep,” Heather murmured sympathetically, turning that same kind of consideration upon her son, who was trying desperately to cope with his growing anxiety. Several moments passed before
her words finally penetrated, but Beau shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.

Cerynise’s eyes settled lovingly upon her husband, and he returned her gaze in frank adoration. After a glance between them, Heather decided the couple needed some time to be alone together. Bestowing a smile upon her daughter-in-law, she patted her hand and moved away from the bed with an excuse. “I’m going down to see how that nice young man, Cooper, is doing, and then I’m going to have Philippe cook us up some breakfast. Until then, I think the two of you could stand some privacy.”

Hatti agreed wholeheartedly and, with a chuckle, waddled toward the door. “Yell or somethin’ if’n ya’ll needs us.”

Beau waited until the door had closed behind the two women before he crossed the room and stretched out on the bed beside his wife. Pressing close, he rested his head near hers on the same pillow. “Does it hurt much?”

Cerynise threaded her fingers through the long, lean ones that reached out to her and brought them to her lips for a kiss. “The pain comes and goes,” she murmured, lifting soft, liquid eyes to his. “Otherwise, I’m doing fine, according to Hatti.”

“Are you afraid?” he asked, gently sweeping his hand over the mound of her stomach.

“Not with you beside me.”

His hand paused. “And when I have to leave?”

“I don’t want you to.” Her fingers lightly caressed the back of his hand. “I can stand anything as long as you’re with me.”

It was some time later when Beau heard Hatti’s footsteps approaching the bedroom door. Immediately he pressed a kiss upon his wife’s brow and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. As he collected clean clothes from his armoire, he tossed Cerynise a grin before he promised, “I’ll be back as soon as I get washed and dressed. Then I’ll stay with you through it all.”

Her eyes filling with tears of relief, Cerynise nodded.
She hardly took a breath before a long, slow tightening across her belly alerted her once again. Even so, she braved a smile, sending her husband on his way.

In the ensuing hours the pressure intensified, and by noon the contractions had reached a degree that Cerynise could no longer conceal her discomfort from her husband. Though no cry slipped past her clenched teeth, it was impossible for Beau to ignore the marked tensing of her body and the sharp grimaces that accompanied the contractions. While Bridget stood nearby fanning her mistress, he stayed beside the bed, his face taut with concern as his wife squeezed his fingers in a tenacious grip. Seeking to give her relief in the only way he could, he bathed her face gently with a wet cloth and brushed sweat-dampened tendrils from her brow and cheeks as he offered words of encouragement.

The heat of August could not be easily subdued. Not a breath of air stirred, and as the afternoon progressed, the second-story bedroom became stifling. Yet, for the sake of modesty, Cerynise tried to keep herself covered with a sheet. It was Beau who kept dragging the linen away to wash her arms, legs and feet with cool water. With the wafting breezes Bridget created with the fan, Cerynise had to admit that, when her arms and legs were lightly dampened, it brought her greater relief from the sweltering warmth.

Dr. Wilhelm was fetched about two in the afternoon, and upon his arrival, it became evident that he was used to taking charge and imposing his mandates in similar situations. Quite blatantly he told Beau that he was dismissed henceforth from the bedroom. The look of panic that swept over his wife’s face wrenched Beau’s heart, and he began to argue for a right to stay.

“I’ll brook no refusal from you, young man!” the physician firmly declared. “I don’t want to see you in this room until after your child is born. Now find yourself something else to do beyond the confines of this bedroom, because you’re not staying.”

Heather and Hatti exchanged worried glances, for both of them could see that Beau was preparing to wage war. To forestall such an event, Heather went to her son and sweetly urged, “Go downstairs with your father, Beau. We’ll watch over Cerynise.”

“I should stay here.…”

Emerging from yet another pain-shrouded seizure, Cerynise eyed the doctor with a great degree of apprehension, wondering if she could abide his officious attitude. As if his confrontation with Beau wasn’t enough, the doctor began complaining that there were too many people in the room to suit him and started banishing piecemeal those whom he considered unnecessary, beginning with Bridget. The maid was uncertain whose orders to follow. Having been summoned for the purpose of cooling Cerynise as much as possible, she could see an ongoing need for her presence. She glanced from her mistress to Beau in plaintive appeal, hoping one of them would advise her.

“What should I do?” she whispered, searching Beau’s tensed features.

“Your mistress needs you.…” he began, but he was rudely interrupted by the strong-willed physician.

“Get out of here, girl! And you’d better be quick about it!” Dr. Wilhelm barked irately. Having seized dictatorial authority, he thrust a stubby finger toward the door, sending the maid fleeing in tears.

Abruptly he turned on Hatti, who calmly set her arms akimbo and stood like an invincible bastion, daring him to try the same tactic with her. From the stubborn set of her jaw, Dr. Wilhelm apparently decided that she was a hopeless cause and directed his attention once more to Beau, who hadn’t budged. Cerynise could believe by the darkening glower on her husband’s face that he was just as outraged with the doctor as she was. She thought it prudent to intervene. “Go sit with your father, Beau. I’ll be all right.”

The doctor took that as all the permission he needed to lay a firm hand on Beau’s arm in a quest to hasten him
toward the door. “We don’t need fathers assisting in the delivery of their offspring,” he announced impertinently. “Your wife will be much better off without you fretting over her.”

“Get your hands off me,” Beau snarled, his eyes slicing through the man’s pinch-faced frown. “If I leave, ’twill be without your damned escort.”

Dr. Wilhelm blustered in the face of such rage and took offense. “I beg your pardon, sir!”

Hatti interceded before any harm could befall the unwise physician. Taking Beau’s arm, she hauled him toward the door. “Go sit with yo’ pappy, Mistah Beau. Leave de doctor alone so’s he can help Miz Cerynise.”

Beau was thrust into the hall and the door slammed shut in his face before he could argue with the woman. With fists clenched, he stepped back to the portal, but he quickly realized he wouldn’t be helping Cerynise by getting into a row with the doctor. Heaving a frustrated sigh, he complied with Hatti’s wishes…at least for the moment.

Brandon met his son at the bottom of the stairs and, laying a comforting arm around his shoulders, led him into the study. Once in the room, he pressed a brandy snifter into Beau’s hand and attempted to take the younger man’s mind momentarily off his problems. “Did I ever tell you about the night you were born?”

Beau gulped down half the fiery liquid without even tasting it. “No, Pa…I don’t believe you did.”

“Your mother insisted that she had to have a blue nightgown, something about boys not wearing pink. She drove me mad. I was thoroughly convinced that you were going to be dropped on your head right there in the middle of the room.” As he spoke, he refilled Beau’s glass and pushed him gently into a chair. “Hatti finally kicked me out. I was in such a state, I didn’t even know what I was drinking that night.”

After having sampled for himself the stress associated with having a wife in labor, Beau could appreciate how distraught his father must have been. As for himself, he
didn’t know if he could bear the likes of such trauma more than once in a lifetime. “What about when Suzanne and Brenna were born?”

“Much easier,” Brandon assured him. “Of course, they were also smaller, which helped.”

Beau tossed down the contents of the glass and held it out for another refill as his eyes met his father’s. “Hatti said earlier that she thinks this baby will be fairly good sized. I just hope not
too
large.”

Neither said anything more after that, for there was nothing else to be said. Beau had expressed the depth of his fears in that one statement.

Two more hours passed, and there was still no word from above. Beau found it impossible to sit still and began pacing back and forth across the room. Brandon managed to get him into a game of chess, but when his offspring lost to carelessness three times in a row, he took pity on him. Philippe, who was himself anxiously fretting, came into the study to announce that he had finally managed to prepare some food if either man wanted nourishment. The chef could have saved himself the bother. Neither son nor father had any interest in eating.