Chapter Thirty-Five

J illian spent the last weeks of her confinement in the warmth of the hall. The keep held more warmth than last year, her husband assured her, but she was still chilled.

Her steps were slower; she knew she waddled like the fat ducks that fed on the grain she loved to throw them. She smiled, thinking of the way they greedily gobbled it up. Her smile faded when she realized, lately, she ate with the same gusto.

A deep ache nagged at her lower back, but she ignored it and bent her head once again to concentrate on the needlework that lay on her huge belly. The linen jumped, she moved it aside and pressed lightly on her belly, smiling. It was a foot, she was certain of it, feeling the shape and angle of a heel. Another sharp pain radiated up her spine. She gasped with the strength of it, dropping her needlework to the floor.

Jillian looked around her to make certain no one had seen her distress, wanting to wait before telling anyone the babe was ready to be born. She retrieved her needlework. Picking it up she marveled at the fact that her hands did not snag on the fine linen. Tears filled her eyes; she had Garrick to thank for that, and more, so much more.

A home. Family. And love, so much love.

Garrick paused in the doorway to watch his wife. She was breathtakingly beautiful to him. The fact that she was heavy with his child made her even more beautiful in his eyes. He frowned when she arched her back as if in pain. He strode over to where she sat, eyes closed, concentrating. "Is it the babe?" he asked roughly.

Her eyes shot open, and the knowledge hit him in the chest. They were the focused eyes of a warrior. She was readying herself for the battle ahead. One hand was gripping the piece of amber dangling from her necklace while the other held tightly to the needlework of which he knew she was so proud.

He could not help himself; he grinned.

"Do you think this is funny, husband?" she ground out between clenched teeth.

He shook his head. "It is a part of life, our life. I plan to see that you deliver our babe safely, so that we can begin work on his brother."

"How can you even think of getting me with child, when I have yet to deliver the one I carry?" she said gasping, breathing hard through another contraction. This one was much stronger than the last. She knew labor would be hard work, but she was not afraid, she was ready.

He took her hands and held them in his strong grip. "I know you're strong lass, a true warrior."

She smiled, he knew just what to say to soothe her.

"You battled to win my heart and heal my soul with all the courage you possess."

"'Twas the sweetest victory," she whispered.

Garrick lifted her into his arms and carried her across the hall.

Gert stopped them at the bottom of the stairs. "Is it time?"

"Aye," Garrick answered.

"I'll fetch my healing herbs and meet you upstairs." The woman practically skipped outside into the biting cold toward the kitchen.

Garrick shook his head; the daft woman had forgotten to put on a cloak. The urge to laugh bubbled up within him. He looked down into Jillian's eyes; she had done that for him. His wife had given his life meaning, filled his home with laughter, but most importantly taught him how to love again.

Moved beyond words, he bent his head to kiss her, and she bit his lip.

The daft man was trying to kiss her while she was struggling to remember to breathe through the pains. When the contraction passed, she looked at his fat lip.

"I am sorry," she said contritely.

"I'm not." His lips sought to kiss hers again.

This time she let him.