Epilogue

Nine months later…

"Quit yer pacing, Dermott—ye're driving me to drink."

He didn't bother to turn around as he handed his flask to Sean. Worry arrowed through him until he thought he'd go mad. "Why won't they let me in to see her?"

Sean placed a hand to his shoulder. "The lass is fighting like a warrior to birth yer babe."

Dermott held out his hand. "Give me the bleeding flask back!"

Sean shoved it into his hands, while Flaherty blocked Dermott from reaching for the door to the bedchamber he'd been summarily shoved out of a few moments earlier.

Dermott glared at Flaherty first, Sean second. He raised the flask to his lips and took a gulp of whiskey, shoved his cousins out of the way, and pounded on the door. "Let me in! I need to see me wife and babe."

The eerie silence that followed his demand shook him to the core. Sean clamped a hand on Dermott's right shoulder, Flaherty his left. "Ye'll not barge in there until ye're bidden," Sean said.

The guttural cry he recognized instantly as his wife's had Dermott's blood running cold. "Ye'll not keep me from me wife!" The flurry of movement and hushed voices had him imagining the worst.

The physician stepped out of the room and shut the door behind him, holding on to the doorknob. "O'Malley, I need you to stop shouting—you are upsetting your wife." He stared at Dermott and pitched his voice low, saying, "The babe is stuck—we have to turn him, and need your patience and prayers, not your demands and interruptions."

God help him, Dermott was raised on a farm… He knew what it meant. His heart began to pound.

Flaherty gripped Dermott's shoulder and bowed his head to pray. "God, please grant Georgiana strength."

Sean echoed his words, adding, "But hurry."

Grateful for his cousins' prayers, Dermott added his own: "God, I need the lass. I cannot live without her. Spare me wife… Take me instead."

"Have faith, Dermott," Sean rasped. "The Lord and yer da are watching over the lass."

Dermott stared at the door, willing their prayers to reach the Lord's ears, and eventually heard the lusty cry of a newborn babe. He shrugged out of Sean and Flaherty's hold and headed for the door. It swung open, and he stumbled into the room. "Lass! Are ye all right?" He knelt beside Georgiana, willing his strength into her. She looked so fragile to him. "I swear I'll never touch ye again. Please forgive me for putting ye through this agony."

"Did you see them?" She did not sound tired—she sounded exultant.

He glanced down at the babe—nay, babes—in her arms and felt every drop of blood drain from his head. The last thing he heard was his wife calling his name.

"Easy now, O'Malley," the physician said, helping him off the floor. "Happens more often than you might think—the shock of witnessing your wife's pain and seeing your twins for the first time."

Dermott blinked, and the lass was no longer wan and fragile—she was triumphant and glowing. "Twins?" He couldn't feel the top of his head.

The next time he opened his eyes, he was lying on the floor beside the bed where his wife gave birth. "Did ye say twins?"

There it was again, the sound of faery bells ringing as the lass's laughter filled the air with hope. Sunlight filtered in through the window, adding a halo to the babes in Georgiana's arms.

He sat up and stared at his babes. "Two of them?" His head cleared and worry filled him. "Is that why ye had such a hard time birthing them?"

The physician rolled down his sleeves before donning his coat. "I'm going to be leaving your wife in the excellent care of Mrs. O'Leary, the cook, and the housekeeper. Between the three of them, they looked after the countess when her babe was born. O'Malley?"

"Hmmm?" Reluctantly, Dermott shifted his gaze to look at the doctor. "Aye?"

"I have strict instructions to be followed to the letter. Your wife will need to stay abed until I am satisfied that she is out of danger."

"Danger?"

"It is not uncommon for a woman who has had a difficult birth to hemorrhage."

He felt his eyes roll back in his head a third time before everything went black.

*

After the physicianassured her that Dermott would be fine, he left. She turned to the midwife. "Are you certain my husband did not fracture his skull the third time his head hit the floor?"

Mrs. O'Leary smiled at her. "He'll have an aching head, but he'll survive. Between the doctor and myself, we have not lost a husband yet."

Moisture filled Georgiana's eyes as she confessed, "I thought I was going to die without bringing our babes into this world."

The midwife mopped Georgiana's tears. "I have assisted the doctor on many occasions. Between us, we have delivered hundreds of babes over the years. I have never lost a babe, nor mother, when I have had to turn one that needed the gentle touch and guidance of my hands to embrace life outside the womb."

"Will I hemorrhage?"

"Not if you follow our strict instructions, especially once the urge to be intimate with your husband returns—and it will with a vengeance. Your body needs to heal, and you need to recover your strength, which will be taxed by nursing two babes. Promise me, you will rest, eat, and ignore those dark and desperate looks your husband will be sending your way once he sees you on the road to recovery."

Georgiana laughed. "I promise." She glanced at her husband, who was beginning to stir again. "Do you think his cousins counted how many times he hit the floor?"

"His O'Malley and Flaherty cousins?" Mrs. O'Leary asked. "Aye, they'll feel duty bound to never let him forget it."

Georgiana was enraptured by the beauty of her daughters—two of them. She still could not believe there were two.

Dermott's moan had her glancing at him as he sat up next to the bed. "Bugger it…again?"

She smiled. "Aye. Are you ready to let the family meet our daughters?"

He started to shake his head, and groaned. "Oh, me aching head. The Lord must have decided I needed to share a tiny bit of yer pain by whacking me head on the floor…three times. Lass, I never dreamed that ye'd have to endure such—"

"It's over now, and our daughters are beautiful, aren't they?" When he just stared at her, she asked, "Aren't you going to kiss me, Dermott?"

"Aye, as soon as we name the wee lasses in yer arms."

"I was thinking Bridget after your mum, and Mary in memory of mine."

*

He pressed hislips to Bridget's tiny forehead first, Mary's second. With tears in his eyes—tears he was not ashamed of—he kissed the lass…the love of his life, the other half of his heart, the mother of his children. "Mo ghrá, mo chroí—ye are me love and me heart, lass. We'd best be letting me cousins in, as I intend to name them guardians and protectors of our babes. Are ye ready?"

"Aye, Dermott. Have I told you today how very much I love you?"

He snorted with laughter. "As a matter of fact, ye cursed me name, the day I was born, and me manhood. I cannot say I recall ye saying anything about loving me."

He cut off her immediate protest with his lips, pouring everything he felt for the lass into his kiss. When he eased back, she was smiling, and he heard Sean and Flaherty calling his name. "Time for our wee lasses to meet the first of their family. Come in, lads, and meet the newest members of the family ye're bound to protect with yer life!"

Later, when theywere alone, Dermott lay beside his wife, who cradled Mary to her heart, while he cradled Bridget to his. "I'm thinking 'twill be best to teach the lasses how to climb at a young age."

"Why in the world would we do that?"

His eyes twinkled with merriment as he kissed the scar on his wife's forehead. "I have a feeling that they'll be as stubborn and beautiful as their ma, climbing and leaping off stone walls."

"Can you forgive me for the things I said right before Mrs. O'Leary barred you from the room? She saved my life and that of our daughters, doing what had to be done."

His heart hammered as he remembered the fear that had had him by the bollocks. "Aye, if ye promise not to bring up that particular part of the birthing again until I'm old and gray."

Georgiana leaned against him and sighed. "I look forward to growing old with you, Dermott."

"Aye, lass, Lord willing."

"Lord willing, Dermott."