Chapter Fourteen

Seven Months Later

O liver paced outside the bedchamber, his heart pounding as he heard his wife’s screams. “It’s perfectly normal for birthing women to scream, the doctor had told him. It’s a painful process, but she won’t remember the pain once it’s over. All she will remember is the midwife placing her beautiful son or daughter in her arms.”

Oliver kept reminding himself of these words, hoping they would ease his fears. He wanted to rush into the room and save Kate from whatever horror she was experiencing, but all he could do was pray. For the second time in his life, he felt completely powerless. The first had been when Beatrice had fallen ill, and he could do nothing to save her. And now that same helplessness overwhelmed him.

Finally, the screams stopped, and all was silent.

Oliver ceased pacing. What’s happening? Why has everything gone silent?

He could take no more. He had to go inside and get answers. As Oliver pushed open the bedchamber door, an animal-like cry sounded, followed by his wife’s wail. “No more! Please, I’m exhausted.”

“What’s going on?” Oliver rushed inside, unable to see Kate, whose canopied bed was curtained off.

The midwife turned; her eyes wide with shock at seeing him enter the sacred birthing space. Oliver’s gaze fell on the little bundle in her arms. He blinked, so mesmerized he was unable to move.

“Make haste,” the doctor ordered from behind the canopy. There’s another one coming.”

“Another?” Oliver’s heart raced. Two babes?

The midwife stepped forward and handed the bundle to Oliver. “Your daughter.” She smiled and then raced to the doctor’s side.

Oliver peered down at the tiny, scrunched face, and his heart swelled.

“My beauty,” he whispered just as another wail sounded.

Soon, the midwife emerged with a second bundle.

“It’s a boy!” she said.

Oliver thought he might explode with happiness. “And my wife? How is Lady Knox?”

“Excellent, my lord.” The doctor emerged from behind the canopied bed, wiping his hands on a cloth.

Oliver made his way to his wife with their daughter in his arms. The midwife followed, carrying their son. Kate lay with her head resting against a mass of pillows. Her chestnut hair was matted with sweat and stuck to her forehead. But her smile was radiant, and Oliver had never seen her look more beautiful.

“Your son, my lady.” The midwife handed the baby to Kate. Oliver sat beside her on the bed, still cradling his daughter.

“Two babes—a son and a daughter. Who knew we could be so lucky?” Oliver kissed Kate’s damp forehead.

“I want to call her Olivia,” Kate said, looking at the baby in Oliver’s arms, after her Papa.”

“I think that’s perfect. And this little angel shall be Theo.” Oliver smiled at his son, resting in Kate’s arms.

“Oh, Oliver,” Kate leaned against his shoulder, “I’m so happy.”

“We’re so happy. And we will be.” Oliver gazed at the sweet faces of his newborn babes and saw a lifetime of love, laughter, and happiness before him. “Always.”