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Chapter Sixteen

T he moans never quite became screams, and they were all the more heart-wrenching for it, because they betrayed Branwen’s exhaustion, anguish and determination to save her strength to help her baby along when the moment came. Carys had no idea what to do, save murmur soothing words in Welsh and bathe her forehead with a cool cloth.

The powerlessness was killing her but at least she was reassured on one point. Mistress Ivy had assured them that, although the babe was on the early side, there was nothing to worry about.

“I’ve delivered plenty such babies in my time. They just come when they’re ready, there is no stopping them. Born in the warm months, and with proper care, he will not suffer,” the woman had concluded in her soothing, matter-of-fact way.

She’d also warned them that first babies could take rather a long time to come into the world. Unfortunately, that prediction had proven all too true. Branwen had been laboring all day and for the best part of the night now, and it was showing. Her face was drawn, her hair matted with sweat, her movements slower, testimony to the strain put on her body. Would she have enough strength left to deliver the child? Having no experience of giving birth herself to calm her nerves, Carys felt utterly helpless, rather like a father-to-be would feel.

How ironic for a woman.

“Ah. Here we go,” Mistress Ivy declared at long last, sounding impossibly cheerful. You could have sworn she had just arrived in the room. “Now you’re going to have to push, my lady.”

“Push!” Branwen made a sound that might have been a laugh in other circumstances. “What do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”

“This will feel different, you’ll see.”

“How will it—” Carys squeezed her daughter’s hand in support because it was clear from the panic flaring in her eyes that she’d just understood what the woman was referring to. “Oh,” she moaned. “No. I don’t think I can’t do this.”

“Yes, you can. There is no other way.”

This time Branwen did scream.

Just as the first ray of sun shot above the pink horizon, the baby slithered out of her exhausted body. Something happened in Carys’ heart. It swelled, or tripped, or exploded, she wasn’t sure quite which. Mayhap all three at once. This had been the most intense experience of her life.

“A beautiful son.” She beamed as she watched the midwife clean the little body with competent gestures. The parents’ instinct had been proven right, they had been gifted with a little boy. Not that they would have minded a daughter, she was sure.

“A son,” Branwen repeated, sounding bewildered by the sudden ending to her torment. “I don’t know why, but I just knew it would be a boy. Is everything all right? I can’t hear him scream. Is he?—”

“Everything is perfect, don’t worry. Not all babies cry, you know,” Mistress Ivy soothed, placing the babe in his mother’s arms. Then she winked at Carys, as if the two of them shared a secret. “But some mothers, and even grandmothers, have been known to shed tears.”

As if on cue, Branwen started sobbing and the single tear that had been gathering in Carys’ eyes finally fell. For a long, beautiful moment mother and daughter hugged each other, the little boy nestled between them.

“I’m so proud of you, Branwen bach . Look at what you did. He’s perfect.”

“I know. I can’t believe it. It’s over and I have a beautiful babe as a reward for my efforts.” Huge amber eyes lifted to her. “I want Matthew. Please, Mam, go get him, he will be beside himself with worry.”

Without having seen the poor man, Carys knew her daughter was right. The midwife had been adamant that men were not allowed in the bedchamber during the birth. Branwen had been too racked with pain to argue and Matthew too intent on not getting on the bad side of the woman in charge of his wife’s well-being to insist but Carys could not help but feel it had been a mistake to send him away. The parents-to-be would have borne the ordeal more easily if they had been together.

She gave her instructions to the maid stationed outside the door for that very purpose. “Go tell his lordship he can come now. The babe is born, and well. Then go to bed. You look about to collapse.”

The girl nodded and disappeared down the spiral staircase.

Carys took the baby in her arms while Mistress Ivy dealt with the afterbirth and made Branwen more comfortable. Her whole body felt warm with joy. The little boy was perfect, so small yet already a person in his own right, with deep blue eyes and an impossibly small mouth. She could have watched him all day.

A moment later the door opened on a haggard Matthew. That he had not slept a wink that night was obvious. Pale, disheveled and unshaven, she had never seen him in such a state. He blanched when he saw that his wife was crying.

“Raven. Oh God, I’m so sorry, this is all my fault … I should never have— Are you all right?”

Branwen let out a laugh, the sound bursting through the last of her tears. “Yes, it is all your fault,” she said, wiping at her cheeks with slightly shaky hands. “I would never have allowed anyone else to do it. You gave me the most wonderful little boy and I love you for it. Take your son and come to me. Please, I need you both.”

Matthew walked up to Carys, looking guilty, as if he were loath to take the babe from her. But no one had more right to the little boy than he did. This man had given her daughter everything, his love, his protection, the life she deserved, a child to cherish. As if that was not enough, he had been the reason she and James had met. Had he not brought his new wife and her family to Sheridan Manor, she wouldn’t now be in a position to enjoy the gift of a grandson and a life with a man she loved and who loved her.

Smiling, she handed him the bundled up baby. He took him with the ease of a man who loved children and knew how to take care of them. Branwen had told her many times how good he was with his nieces. Carys could see that it was no boast. Her son-in-law would be the father every child dreamed of, loving and attentive.

“He has Branwen’s black hair,” he whispered, as awed as if that were a miracle, or even unusal for a baby to look like his parents.

“He does. And he has your mouth, I think. A perfect little boy.”

“Yes, perfect.” The smile he gave her shot straight to her heart. After one last nod in her direction, he walked over to the bed and bent to give his wife a tender kiss. “Oh, cariad , I thank you for this gift from the bottom of my heart. I’m so blessed to have you both.”

Carys and Mistress Ivy exchanged a discreet glance. It was time for them to go. The new parents needed to be alone with their son.

“Now that my work is done, I think I will make use of the bed you asked to be prepared for me earlier,” the healer told her once they had reached the floor below.

“Yes.” Carys opened the door to her friend. “You deserve it. Thank you for what you did for my daughter.”

“You’re welcome. It was as I predicted, an easy, if somewhat lengthy birth. And with a husband like Matthew Hunter in her bed, your daughter will be blessed with many more children in the years to come.”

“Let’s hope so.”

At the bottom of the staircase Carys took a moment to steady herself. Tears were threatening again. They seemed to want to come out of their own accord, which was hardly surprising after the emotional upheaval she had just been through. Then, all of a sudden, a hand landed on the small of her back, warm and comforting. No need to check who it was. She would have recognized James’ touch everywhere and, anyway, who else would be so presumptuous? To her relief, Richard was now happy with Avice, who was a much better match for him than she would ever have been.

“Come, my love, don’t stay here all alone,” he purred. “You can cry all you like, but in my arms.”

She turned around, buried her face against his chest and did just that. Nevertheless, as they were tears of joy, they did not last long. She drew away, feeling suddenly exhausted by the sleepless night and the outpouring of emotions. James was looking at her through slightly blurry eyes, his clothes were in disarray and his jaw was dark with stubble. He had never looked dearer to her.

“Have you slept at all?” she asked, even though she could guess the answer.

He gave an amused snort, confirming her suspicions. “And leave the lad alone in the great hall? I think not. Someone had to be there to keep him from tearing his hair out or drinking himself to death. I’m sorry to say that Richard wasn’t much help, though this was not his first time becoming a grandfather. He was a wreck at the thought of having another grandson, and even Avice’s food went untouched.” He nodded toward the room at the top of the stairs where Matthew and Branwen were getting to know their son. “I have nothing against Mistress Ivy but the next time those two have a child, we will have to choose a midwife who lets him in with Branwen, because I’m not doing that again, not for all the gold in the world. Forget him, my nerves will not survive it.”

Carys laughed through her lingering tears. “Yes. We will definitely have to do that, because I’m not having Branwen fretting again the way she did. I swear she was more worried about how Matthew was faring than her own discomfort. It didn’t help to calm her down, as you can imagine.”

“But all is well?” There was a note of worry in his voice. Of course he would have worried himself sick last night, without even being allowed to show it. He would have wanted to be strong for Matthew, and not let his fears show, but the events of the night would have brought back painful memories for him. Joanne had lost the daughter who had come early and their second child, though it had been born at the right time, had not survived the birth. “That was an awfully long labor.”

“All is well. Mistress Ivy had warned us first babies often take longer to be born and she was certainly proven right. But Branwen was magnificent.” Tears threatened again but Carys ruthlessly pushed them away. “She was so brave, I’m so proud of her.”

“She’s your true daughter then.” There was such love and emotion in his voice that she gave another sob. What was the man doing, speaking to her thus when she was already an emotional mess? If he carried on like this, she might not be able to refrain from crying “Come, let’s get you something to drink, and one of Avice’s famous honey tarts.”

“Yes. “ That sounded heavenly. She hadn’t realized she was famished as well as parched, but it was little wonder if she was. She had barely had time to snatch a sip or two of ale during Branwen’s labor. Trust James to think of everything.

“While he carved a groove in the stone floor with his pacing, Matthew told me the name they intended to give their son,” James informed her while he poured them both a cup of ale.

“Oh?” Lost to the relief of seeing baby and mother were well, Carys had forgotten to ask about the name. She looked at him expectantly but he didn’t offer any more explanation. “Well, are you going to tell me what it is?” she said, accepting the ale.

He made a grimace. “That’s the thing. I can’t. It’s a Welsh name I cannot for the life of me repeat. Something like Yorwar.”

A smile tugged at her lips at the way he butchered the name. She would have to teach him her language, as she was sure to enjoy hearing his take on familiar words. “I think you mean Iorwerth.”

“Perhaps.”

He looked so put out that, unable to resist, she kissed him full on the lips, heedless of who might see them. In any case, the people at Sheridan Manor had better get used to the notion that the steward was no longer a free man.

He was now her man, and soon, everyone would know it.

“Worry not, my love. I’ll teach you how to pronounce it properly. Or you could find a nickname for him, something to be used just for you. He’s your grandson, you can do what you like.”

His eyes lit up in relief, the dark in them shining like obsidian. So beautiful. “I could, couldn’t I?”

The joy on his face was too much. Carys knew how much this birth would mean to him, who had lost all four of his children and, with them, all hope of ever having grandchildren. It meant as much as it meant to her.

They each had been given a second chance at family, thanks to the two people they had adopted as children of their hearts, and it was just perfect that way.

“Have you eaten enough?” James asked once she had enjoyed two of the tarts. The spring sun was illuminating the hall, turning everything golden around them.

“Yes.”

Without further ado, he swept her into his arms. “Then, it’s off to bed with you. You need a good sleep, as do I. And then when we wake up, I’ll do what I intended to do yesterday morning. Twice.”