One Wore Blue (54 page)

Kiernan awoke as an excruciating pain tore across her lower back and curled around to the front of her abdomen, as tight as an iron band about her. She awoke to the sound of her own scream, for the pain had taken hold of her so severely, she hadn’t had the awareness to fight it.

“It’s all right, Kiernan. It’s all right. Hold my hand, and it will pass.”

Fingers curled around hers. She heard the soft, husky sound of Jesse’s voice, and she looked up quickly into his eyes. He was with her, a rueful, tender smile curved into his lips. He placed a cool damp cloth upon her brow.

They were home, she realized.

They had made it to Cameron Hall.

It was her home now. She was his wife, and they had made it. The child would be born here. She was lying on the huge four-poster bed in Jesse’s bedroom. Beyond the windows she could see the gardens and the slope of the lawn. If she moved just a bit, she would probably be able to see all the way to the river.

The pain was easing. Even as he spoke, the pain was easing.

“Jesse, how long have I been out?” she whispered. Her lips and her mouth were so terribly dry. She was no longer clad in her cumbersome travel clothing and cape. She had been changed into a cool cotton nightgown with fine embroidered
sleeves and a smocked bodice. She recognized the gown vaguely, then realized it was her own.

It wasn’t one she had brought with her in the wagon. It had been brought from her own home on the peninsula.

She jerked up, grabbing Jesse by the shirt collar. “My father! Jesse, my father! Have you seen him? Is he well?”

He caught hold of her hands, pushing her back down.

“Kiernan—”

“Jesse!” she cried, pushing against his hold. Then, exhausted, she allowed him to push her back down.

“Kiernan, you’re very close to giving birth to our child. You must relax and save your strength.”

“Jesse—”

“Wait!” he told her firmly.

He walked across the hall to the door and threw it open. “John!”

Once again, Kiernan jerked up. “He’s here? Can he walk?”

“What do you mean, ‘Can he walk’?” John Mackay’s voice boomed out to her. A second later, he was brushing past Jesse and coming to her bedside. “Ah, Kiernan, it’s glad I am to see you lying there awake and aware now. I was worried half out of my mind when you were lying there so still.” He perched at her bedside. Scanning her father’s face anxiously, Kiernan decided that he was slimmer and his face was pale, but his eyes were bright and filled with mischief, and his grip upon her hand was strong.

“Oh, Papa, Christa sent word that you were sick.”

“Yes, I was sick. Miss Christa Cameron was a saint, she was, keeping up with me. They’ve something of the healing touch in this family. I had a fever for days and days, it seemed, but she was patient as could be. And I was beginning to feel just as right as rain—until Jacob rode up on that horse of Jesse’s to find out how I was faring. Then I heard about you, young woman!”

Kiernan swiftly lowered her lashes. After all she had done on her own, she felt like a chastised child. She realized that it was because she loved her father so, that she did not wish to disappoint him.

“Why, I was ready to run for my old shotgun, daughter, until I found out that the man had done right by you.”

“John!” Jesse protested calmly, standing behind her father, “I’d gladly have done right by her long ago, had she ever given me half the chance.”

“Right,” John Mackay agreed. His cloud-blue eyes were on his daughter’s. “Daughter, you might have written me!”

“I didn’t want to hurt you!” she said. “But I was coming home—I’ve been trying to come home.”

John Mackay grinned. “Kiernan, you have come home. Still! You should have had more faith in your old father. I’d not have been angry with you, ever, Kiernan.”

“I love you so much, Papa.”

“And I love you, daughter. But you shouldn’t have come across country like that. Jesse says the baby is early. We’ll pray that the little one is well. You shouldn’t have caused that on my account.”

“But I had to.”

“And if I heard things right, it’s well enough that you did. Daniel is here safe too. And you’re a married woman again.” He leaned close to her and winked. “Married to a Yank—but legally wed, and my grandchild will have a name. Mackay’s a fine enough name for any man or woman, but a child wants his own father’s name, and that’s a fact.”

“Oh, Papa—” she began, but she broke off, breathless, tensing and bracing against the pain. It was coming, and it was getting worse and worse.

She fought the urge to scream, grinding down on her teeth. Her fingers wound like steel around her father’s. She was able to best the urge to scream out with the agony that assailed her, wrapping all the way around her again, but a whimper did escape her lips, and her father was quickly upon his feet.

“Jesse! Do something for her!”

“Sir, she’s in labor. There’s very little I can do.”

“She’s your wife, son!”

“And she’s in labor.”

He smiled when he sat beside her again. His fingers, so strong, gripped hers. “Kiernan, don’t tense so—go easy, it
will be all right. Breathe, my love, you’re turning blue. You’ll manage. I’m here with you.”

The pain was blindingly intense. Tears sprang into her eyes, and she felt as if she were being cut in two. It went on and on.

“It’s all right, Kiernan,” Jesse soothed her.

“Go to hell, Jesse!” she whispered.

“Jesse,” John Mackay began in distress.

“John, you’d better leave me with her now,” Jesse said, grinning. “The baby will come very soon. Send Janey and Christa in, will you?”

Kiernan closed her eyes tightly. The pain was just beginning to fade.

“Right!” John said.

Jesse eased his fingers from Kiernan’s and ripped back the covers. She started shivering fiercely. The pain had ebbed, but she was miserably cold.

“Jesse, give those back!” she pleaded.

“Kiernan, I need you to sit up more.”

“Oh!” she screamed, startled when the pain seized her again so quickly. The last pain had barely ebbed away, but already the new one was upon her. It was strong, sweeping from her back to her front with near-blinding agony.

She seized hold of Jesse, gasping as an overwhelming desire to push suddenly mingled with the pain. “Jesse, the baby is here!”

“Wait, Kiernan, let me see. If you push too soon, you’ll injure yourself!”

She fell back, feeling her cheeks flood with color. She felt so wretched. She was in such terrible agony, and Jesse was seeing her so huge and ungainly, and so intimately, at such a wretched time.

He moved to examine her, and she wrenched her knees together tightly.

“Kiernan, I’m your husband!” he told her.

“It hurts!”

“Well, of course it hurts—you’re having a baby.”

“Jesse—”

“I’m a doctor, Kiernan.”

“You’ve never had a baby, so don’t tell me how it feels!”

“Kiernan, please!” he whispered with exasperation.

To her distress another cry escaped, and she was certain that in a few minutes she would be a fountain of tears, it hurt so much. But he was beside her again, holding her in his arms, cradling her. “Kiernan, I love you. I don’t know how it feels, but I’ve delivered other babies. I’m nervous about delivering my own, but I’m also ecstatic, Kiernan, because in just a few more minutes we can both cradle our child. Our child, Kiernan. A beautiful, precious new life, something wonderful that came from love, despite all the horror of war. Something that is love and defies the fact that life would call us enemies. Kiernan, trust me. I love you, with all of my heart. And I am doing my best for you and for our babe.”

Tears glittered in her eyes, but she went easy in his arms. He started to push her back again. Then he whispered mischievously in her ear. “Besides, I’ve been between your thighs often enough before.”

“Jesse!” she cried out.

But he laughed, and despite her refreshed anger, she was filled with new-found strength. She gritted her teeth against his touch when he examined her, and when she cried out that the pain was coming again and that she had to push, he cried out in turn, “The head is here! Just the tip, but it’s here, Kiernan. Dark as a raven’s wing. It’s fine, Kiernan, push!”

Christa was up by her shoulders supporting her, while Janey waited to take the babe. Kiernan pushed and pushed and pushed, and the three of them encouraged her. Exhausted, she fell back. She cried out that she was too tired, that she couldn’t go any further.

She told them all to go right to hell.

Jesse called out, “Kiernan, the head is free, our child is nearly born. Push again—hard!”

She pushed. She felt the child expulse from her body, and she was relieved and exhausted and ecstatic all at the same time. “Jesse!”

Everyone was silent. There was no cry. She pleaded, “Jesse, is the babe—”

She broke off as she heard a little cry at last, and Jesse was at her side, showing her the child. It was dark, as he had told her, slick from birth. But its little arms and legs were moving madly, and suddenly the babe wasn’t giving out little cries—it was screaming.

“Oh!” she gasped in gratitude. “Jesse—”

“A little boy,” he told her. “Mrs. Cameron, you have given me a son. I thank you with all my heart.” He cut the cord swiftly, coming around to her.

He kissed her, his lips warm on hers. He placed the screaming bundle into her arms, and her arms closed around her child. She looked into the squalling little face that she and Jesse had created, and love surged through her that was deeper than any she had ever imagined.

“We’ve a son!” she said softly. She protested when Janey reached to take him away.

“He’s got to be bathed, Miz Kiernan.”

“And we’ve got to finish with you!” Jesse informed her. “You’ve torn, Kiernan. You need a few stitches.”

“But I feel so good, Jesse!”

He laughed, and she leaned back, and she listened to Christa describe the baby. She didn’t feel a bit of pain or unease while Jesse delivered the afterbirth and stitched her up. Christa held her bundled son, while Janey brought her water to bathe her face and a new nightgown. There seemed to be so very much activity, but when she tried to hold tight to Jesse again, he forced her back down. “Sleep, Kiernan.”

“Jesse, he’s so beautiful.”

He kissed her brow. “Indeed, he is.”

“I want to see him. I can’t possibly sleep.”

But even as she said it, an overwhelming exhaustion laid hold of her. Jesse pressed her back into the pillows. “How nice. For once, my love, you don’t have the energy to fight me!”

She smiled, her eyes closed, and she slept.

*  *  *

She was awakened soon after she fell asleep, it seemed. Janey had brought her son, and he was squalling furiously. “He’s very hungry,” Janey told her.

Kiernan fumbled with her gown, then marveled that instinct showed her how to bring him to her breast. The first little tug he made upon her nipple brought a gasp to her lips. Then a sensation of wonder filled her.

She had married her enemy, and they’d had a child together, she mused.

And she’d never known such a sweet sensation of peace.

After a while, Janey took the baby from her and tiptoed away as she drifted off again.

When she awoke again, it was morning. Birds were chirping wildly, and the sun was streaming through the windows.

Patricia was at the foot of her bed in a rocking chair with the baby.

“Oh, Kiernan, he’s just beautiful!”

“Is he? I think he is, but is he really, to everyone?”

“Exquisite!” Patricia told her. Kiernan smiled, and reached for him. She set him on the bed and unwrapped his blankets and cotton breeches and looked at him.

“He has all his fingers and toes,” Patricia assured her. “He’s just a little bit small, but that’s because he’s a little bit early. Jesse says he’s well developed, though.”

That was what mattered, Kiernan thought. She smiled. Her new son was staring at her. His eyes, for the moment, were bright blue. His cheeks were perfectly rounded and flushed. His lips had a sweet pucker, and his hair, cleaned and dried, was raven black. “He’s a Cameron, all right,” Kiernan murmured. She looked at Patricia, feeling a twinge of guilt. But Patricia’s warm brown eyes were filled with nothing but tenderness as she studied the baby. “He looks just like Jesse.”

The baby’s face screwed up into a scowl, and he let out a fierce scream. Kiernan laughed. “Sounds like him, too, doesn’t he?”

“Are you casting aspersions on my brother?” a masculine voice asked.

Kiernan looked up. Daniel was standing in the doorway. He was pale, but he seemed stronger.

She let out a little cry and slipped from bed herself. She winced as she realized that it wasn’t easy to walk, and he scolded her for getting up just as she scolded him.

“Daniel, you should be in bed!”

“Kiernan, you get back in there!”

They laughed, and then she hugged him carefully. He placed a kiss on her forehead.

“Daniel, are you going to be all right?” she asked anxiously.

He nodded. “I’m going back to bed. I just wanted to tell you that my nephew is beautiful.”

She nodded, meeting his eyes, and bit her lower lip. “He’s part Yankee,” she said, “but I love him anyway.”

“Yes,” Daniel said with a soft sigh and a slow smile. “His dad is a Yank, and I love him anyway.”

“So do I,” Kiernan admitted.

Daniel grinned. “Good. Now get back to bed, and I’ll do the same.”

Kiernan did so. She and Patricia played with the baby, and Kiernan nursed her son again. Then Janey brought her breakfast. She was ravenous. Her father came to see his new grandson, and Jacob came, and even Jacob admitted that for a little thing, he was a fine-looking boy.

Everyone had come—except Jesse.

“Where is he?” Kiernan asked Christa.

“Oh! He was down in the office. I imagine he fell asleep down there. I’ll go see.”

“No,” Kiernan said, “I’ll go.”

“Wait!” Christa protested. “He’ll be furious that you’re up.”

“I feel very well, and I’ll be good like Daniel and come right back to bed. But I want to see him now.”