Chapter 14

Rebirth

Carrying a torch to light the way, the stable hand Argant led Laudine, Ulla, and their chivalrous escorts toward the humble cabin nestled in the dense woods not far from the castle stables.

“Send a messenger to fetch us when you’re ready to return. Good luck, my love. Rozenn is in very capable hands.” Esclados kissed Laudine’s cheek, dipped his head to Ulla, and departed with Gaultier and the other two knights, back to le Chateau de Landuc.

When Argant opened the heavy front door of the cabin, Laudine led a reluctant, apprehensive Ulla inside the simple home.

The acrid, coppery stench of blood permeated the foreboding air.

A frantic Quentin, his freckled face crumpled in fear, rushed to greet the pair of midwives. “Thank the Goddess you’ve come. She’s in here.” He led Laudine and Ulla into a dimly lit room where a listless Rozenn, her cheeks flushed and feverish, lay whimpering in a bed saturated with blood. Quentin knelt at his wife’s side and kissed her limp hand. “Laudine and Ulla are here. They’ll help you deliver the babe. Be strong, mon amour. Our child will be born soon.”

An alarming amount of blood. I’ll stanch it with yarrow so I can determine the cause.

“Hello, Rozenn. Ulla and I are here to help bring your babe into the world.” Laudine smoothed the damp hair from the young woman’s flustered face and spoke in a calm, soothing voice. “I’m going to check you now. Take a deep breath, exhale slowly, and relax.”

When the tightening of Rozenn’s enormous stomach subsided, Laudine examined her and conferred quietly with Ulla. “She’s been pushing too soon. The mouth of her womb has torn. That’s why there’s so much blood.” She glanced at Rozenn, who dozed fitfully between the intense contractions. “I’ve slowed the bleeding with yarrow and applied herbs to soften the womb and hasten the birth. The herbs work quickly, so she’ll be ready to push very soon. Let’s replace these blood-soaked linens with fresh ones. It will boost her spirits and renew her strength.”

While Laudine rolled up and removed the soiled sheets, Ulla slid fresh ones under Rozenn’s feet and legs.

Two hours later, after much coaxing, encouragement, and strenuous exertion, an exhausted but jubilant Rozenn cradled her squalling newborn son. Tears streaming down her sweat-drenched face, she sobbed to her two midwives, “Thank you both so very much. I could never have done it without you.”

“You’re most welcome, sweetheart.” Laudine mopped sweat from Rozenn’s sopping brow. “You did very well. But you did tear a bit during the birth, so l need to do a few stitches. Let’s give the babe to Ulla. She’ll clean him up while I tend to you.” Laudine carefully lifted the infant from his mother’s embrace and turned to face her former protégée.

Pain and panic flashed in Ulla’s widened eyes as Laudine placed Rozenn’s newborn son in her trembling arms. Illuminated from behind by the beeswax candle on the wooden table, a shimmering halo bathed the young priestess in soft, incandescent light.

An angel of the Goddess Dana. Laudine’s breath hitched at the sublime sight.

While she treated Rozenn, Laudine watched as Ulla lowered her lips to kiss the babe’s small head, tracing a delicate fingertip through his dark, abundant hair. The gifted healer gently swabbed mucous from the babe’s tiny mouth and nose. She applied an herbal ointment to the cut cord on his small stomach. Folding a clean cloth between his tiny legs, she tucked it snugly around his waist. Finally, Ulla swaddled the babe in a white wrap of softest linen, cradling him close to her broken heart.

When Laudine finished stitching Rozenn’s torn skin, Ulla placed the alert, wide-eyed babe into his mother’s loving arms. She smiled encouragingly as Rozenn put the infant to suckle at her breast.

After washing her hands in a basin of water, Laudine strode to the doorway and called for Quentin.

The tall, lanky Master of Horse dashed into the room, relief apparent on his haggard, bearded face.

“You have a fine, healthy son,” Laudine informed him cheerfully as he rushed to Rozenn’s side, bending down to kiss his wife’s beaming face and his son’s tiny head. “Rozenn will be just fine,” she assured him, as she and Ulla packed up their herbal supplies. “She needs plenty of rest, nourishing food, and lots of liquids to replace the blood she lost.”

Laudine slung her satchel over her shoulder and nodded to Argant, who disappeared out the front door to fetch Esclados and Gaultier. She smiled at Rozenn, her heart overflowing with joy. “Congratulations, petite maman. You’re a mother now.” She kissed Rozenn’s cheek to bid her goodbye. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check on you and the babe. Sleep well. Bonne nuit .”

Ulla kissed Rozenn and the baby farewell, a look of desperate longing in her dark emerald eyes.

An effusive, grateful Quentin hugged both midwives and led them to the front door.

When Argant returned with the escorts, Laudine and Ulla left the small, happy family in the cozy cabin and stepped out into the chilly October night.

Slivers of silver moonlight sliced through the dense trees.

“Mother and child are both fine,” Laudine informed Esclados as he bent to kiss her cheek. “The babe’s a strong, healthy boy.” She smiled at her female companion. “Ulla tended to the babe while I cared for Rozenn. I am so grateful for her tremendous help.”

Ulla seemed agitated and distraught, for she avoided Laudine’s direct gaze and kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Anxious to flee, the young healer darted off, away from the knights headed toward the castle, dashing across the bailey, back to her cottage in the woods.

Laudine exchanged a worried glance with her husband and son as the three of them watched Ulla sprint across the forested ground. “It was extremely difficult for her to hold Rozenn’s babe. It must have revived the painful loss of her own infant son.”

“Come, you must be exhausted. Let’s get you home to bed.” White teeth gleaming in the waxing moonlight, Esclados wrapped his arm around Laudine and handed his burning torch to their oldest son. “Gaultier will light the way.”

****

In the empty solar of the castle, Cardin drained his goblet of mead and stared into the fire. Fear, guilt, and grief gripped his heart, just as it had nearly seven years ago.

The night Lukaz was born.

As he gazed into the dancing flames, Cardin relived the torturous past.

Charlotte’s gut-wrenching screams. Relentlessly pacing in front of the blazing hearth, torn apart by her audible agony. Three excruciating days of labor, as she expended all of her strength to give birth. And finally—on the longest night of the year and the darkest day of Cardin’s life—his beloved wife brought forth the child she had so desperately desired.

And sacrificed her precious life for her son.

Cardin buried his face in shaking hands, raking long fingers through his thick, dark locks.

A commotion at the castle entrance interrupted his gruesome memories. When his parents and older brother entered the private parlor a few moments later, Cardin lurched to his feet and rushed across the room to grasp his mother’s hands.

Her amber eyes glowed in the golden firelight. “Rozenn and her newborn son are both fine.” Concern clouded her clear gaze. “But Ulla is not.” The gentle hand that had soothed so many of his childhood scrapes now stroked his bearded cheek. “She needs you, son. Go to her.”

Limbs twitching, pulse pounding, Cardin shook as adrenaline surged through his veins.

Tonight, like me, Ulla relived the painful past.

The infant son she lost…and the husband who died defending her.

She and I are alike in so many ways. Tragedy has broken us both.

Ulla is a gifted healer. But she needs healing now.

His voice raspy, rough, and raw, Cardin growled, “I will.”

****

An owl hooted from the dense beech trees where splotches of moonlight filtered through the thick foliage. Swiftly and silently, Cardin strode across the leaf-strewn ground as he made his way to Ulla’s secluded cottage with the thatched, slanted roof. Dim light illuminated the two mullioned windows flanking the front entrance where twining trails of lush ivy climbed a wooden trellis.

He trotted up the three stone steps and knocked upon the heavy oak door. When Ulla did not respond, he tried the latch and found it unlocked. Cardin let himself in and bolted the door behind him.

In the silent darkness, banked embers glowed in the fireplace along the left wall where Vill reclined on the hardwood floor. Upon Cardin’s entrance, the wolf rose to his feet, lumbering forward to greet the familiar guest with lolling tongue and wagging tail.

“Good boy, Vill.” Cardin stroked the shaggy fur and scratched behind the lupine ears. Satisfied with the affection and attention, Vill returned to slumber in front of the hearth.

Cardin glanced around the still room. A wooden settee with tufted pillows of rabbit fur and a pair of walnut chairs were arranged in front of the fireplace. Behind the rear wall of the living area, a narrow hall led to two small bedrooms. At the far end of the rectangular interior, a kitchen stretched across the back of the quiet cottage.

Where Ulla stood, bathed in moonlight, staring out the window.

Her body shook with silent sobs, her sniffles the only sound. Slowly and cautiously, as he would approach a wounded animal, Cardin slipped to her side.

She acknowledged his presence with a half turn of her head before fixing her gaze back on the forest. Like glittering stars in the night sky, the tears on her face glimmered in the moonlight.

Cardin gently touched her cheek to wipe one away. He pushed back a wayward lock of long hair which clung to the side of her grief-stricken face. Tenderly, he took her hand, cradled it within both of his own, and raised it to his trembling lips. “Tonight, while you and my mother delivered Rozenn’s babe, I relived the night Lukaz was born.” He lowered his head to kiss the inner curve of her bent thumb, tucked protectively inside his palm. “The night I lost my wife.”

Startled by his intimate confession, her widened eyes darted to his.

He grasped her forearm, gently turning her to face him. In the dark depths of her sorrow, he glimpsed fear, pain, and empathy. “For the past seven years, I’ve been suffering in solitude. Blaming Lukaz for her death. Shunning my son, living in shame. Drowning myself in drink.” He pulled her to his chest, wrapping secure arms behind her shivering back.

Caring compassion glimmered in her gaze as tears spilled down her crumpled cheeks.

With the pad of his thumb, he brushed them away. “And you, Ulla. You’ve done the same. Shunning others. Suffering in solitude. Shattered by grief. Just like me.” He searched her forlorn face, immersed in her lonely longing. “Tonight, when you held Rozenn’s babe…you relived the birth of your own. The son you lost. The husband who died defending you.” He tenderly traced her bottom lip with the tip of his thumb. “You and I are the same. Broken. Damaged. Alone.”

He lifted her quivering chin. Her sorrowful eyes mirrored the endless mourning of his own empty soul. “You’re a healer, Ulla.” Lowering his lips to brush softly against hers, he whispered into her open mouth. “Heal us.”

Tenderly, he drew her lips into his own, tracing the inner lining with the tentative tip of his tongue. Gently at first, he deepened the kiss, pulling her close as his arms crossed behind her. He leaned her back, one of his hands reaching up into her lush mane of dark curls to cradle her head as he probed every recess of her luscious mouth. Like a dying man slaking his thirst at a cool, crystalline stream, he drank Ulla’s flowing essence deep into his desiccated soul.

She came alive in his awakening embrace.

Wrapping her arms behind him, she gripped him tightly in a desperate, clinging hold. She slid her arms under his tunic, running her hands over his flexed back as she caressed the bare, sensitive skin. Helping him remove the garment, Ulla buried her nose in the dark hair across his chest. As if inhaling his scent, she breathed deeply, trailing kisses with warm, eager lips.

Cardin bent to nuzzle her slender throat, sucking at the smooth, delicate skin. When Ulla eased her gown over her shoulders to reveal small, perfect breasts, Cardin’s ravenous lips swooped down to suckle the soft nipples with a deep, guttural groan.

She pressed her hips against his hardened length, kissing the skin at the base of his neck as her long fingers stroked the hair upon his pounding chest. Withdrawing from his embrace, she stepped out of her woolen gown as it fell and puddled on the kitchen floor. Limbs visibly trembling, long black curls cascading to her slender waist, a nude Ulla took hold of Cardin’s calloused hand.

And—with a gesture for Vill to remain by the hearth—led him to her bedroom down the hall.

****

Moonlight shone through the sheer curtains of the windows on the opposite wall. Ulla stoked the embers in the fireplace on the right and tossed another log atop the crackling sparks. When she turned to face him, Cardin devoured her with ravenous, reverent eyes.

Her creamy skin glistened in the soft, gilded light like a golden, glowing goddess. Longing and fear etched her exquisite face as he pulled her into his sinewy arms. Showering her with soft kisses, he tenderly traced her lips with the tip of his tongue. He parted them to intensify the kiss, exploring the luscious depths of her tempting mouth.

She responded to his taste, her tongue dancing seductively with his. Curious fingers caressed his bare skin as she pulled him close, pressing her hips firmly against his. Her long, lean legs quivered with desire.

He laid her gently upon the bed and removed his boots, braies, and sword. Kneeling over her divine reclining body, Cardin worshipped her with adoring lips. He savored the flavor of her silken skin, the luscious flesh between her lithe thighs.

Throbbing with need, throttled with desire, he positioned himself between her open legs. Slid trembling hands beneath her rounded bottom. Tilted her receptive hips up. And—with a primal, guttural growl—plunged into paradise.

Ulla wrapped her slender arms around his back, her long legs around his waist, lifting her body to meet his pounding thrusts. Limbs taut with increasing tension, jaw clamped upon his straining shoulder, she soon shuddered beneath him, her molten core clenching his shaft in rhythmic contractions of release.

Cardin erupted into her warm womb, emptying his soul as he filled her with seed.

He held her tight, reveling in ecstasy, shifting his weight slightly so he wouldn’t crush her. He peered down into her smoldering, sated gaze. “That was heaven.” Her full, sensuous lips beckoned. Brushing them with a tender, reverent kiss, he whispered, “Divine healing—from my golden goddess.” A rebirth of his shattered soul.

He lay down beside her, cradling Ulla over his thundering heart. He stroked the glorious mane of her long black curls, inhaling the floral scent of rosewater from the luxurious locks. Now that they’d shared their bodies and seared their souls, Cardin knew he could never leave her.

First, Ulla had healed the wounded wolf Vill.

Then Lukaz, the withdrawn Little Wolf.

And tonight—by bonding with a broken, battered Cardin—Ulla had healed the Basque Wolf of Biarritz.