His eyes sliding closed, Trent collapsed onto his knees, and buried his face in his hands.
And time froze, with the moment lasting unto forever. And in that instant; he died a thousand times inside.
A faint keening cry, like the kittens Winnie had taken in five months past, filtered through the quiet. Another cry followed. And then came another. And then through that off-tempo whimpering, came a voice; whisper soft and ragged. But real.
“Trent?”
Or mayhap he merely heard that which he needed to hear—Winnie. “Winnie,” he whispered, as he struggled to get himself on his feet.
And the sea of people parted.
His eyes, belonged to just one.
His wife.
Propped against a mound of pillows, Winnie remained in repose; pale and sweaty, but alive.
And then, of their own will, his legs were moving, and Trent was tripping and stumbling over himself in his haste to reach her side.
A sob ripped from his throat as he sank onto the mattress beside her. “I love you,” he rasped. “I’m so sorry. I would chop my limbs off before ever allowing you to suffer like this.”
“Trent?” she said softly, but he couldn’t stop the flow of words.
“I feared I’d lost you.”
“She’s well,” the doctor behind said in nasally tones. “All things considered.”
“I’m well,” Winnie assured, her voice still threadbare from her exertions. “But I want you to—”
All things considered…?
“I’m never touching you again.” The promise came ripped from him.
“That’s hardly a vow I’m wanting you to make, Trent.” A tired smile; one that was wry and full of all Winnie’s usual spirit and charm curved her lips, and it was when he knew…she was going to be all right, which meant he was going to be all right, because as long as she was alive and, in his life, he could survive anything.
Gathering her hand in his, Trent brought his wife’s beloved fingers to his lips and kissed them. All around them, the servants went about tiding the area, and filing from the room. “Winnie, I—”
She pressed her other hand to his lips, silencing him. “I want you to meet your daughter.”
His heart missed any number of beats. Through the joy of his wife’s announcement, he couldn’t make sense of time or anything but one thought:
“I have a daughter.”
As if on cue, the midwife came forward, with a babe so small, swaddled in a blanket that merely emphasized the sheer tininess of his daughter. The old woman, held the babe out.
“What do I do?”
“You hold her, dear husband?” Winnie whispered; her eyes fluttering closed, and he jumped up. “I’m not dead, Trent. I’m merely tired.”
And with that, he could breathe once more, and some of the tension left him. Then the midwife tucked the bundle that was his daughter in the right nook of his arm.
“Oh, my god,” he whispered; it was a prayer, and a ‘thank-you’ that he sent skyward.
Through a sheen of tears, he looked over at his mother-in-law’s approach.
And Trent blinked.
Several times.
But the sight remained unchanged. “What is that?” he croaked.
His mother-in-law smiled widely. “It is your other daughter.”
“My…?”
Winnie’s faint laugh filtered around the room; wrapping him in a warmth that filled every corner of him.
Dazed, he looked up, as James entered the room. Several paces behind, the earl came lurching after him.
Joining the gathering at Winnie’s bedside, James had eyes for just the babe in Trent’s arms. All the anger had been drained from James’s face, leaving in its stead, a quiet wonderment. “She’s magnificent.”
“What of her sister?” the countess chided, as she came forward and placed the other babe in Winnie’s arms. “Mustn’t be praising one without praising the other.”
“The…” And then James’ increasingly confused eyes went over to the girl held by his mother.
Winnie’s father rubbed at bleary eyes. “Too many spiiirits for certain. I’m seeeeing two babes.”
“You’d be wrong, my lord,” the doctor said in crisp tones from where he stood beside a nursemaid.
Trent, along with the crowded room of servants and guests looked over to the midwife now cradling a third bundle.
“A third?”
Trent’s own question, was lost to the cacophony of those with the same query on their lips.
“And a boy,” the doctor boomed, and the babe in the old woman’s arms let out a bleating cry.
“What…?” Trent whispered.
The midwife came rushing over, and deposited another child in Trent’s arms. “We’ve already summoned more wet-nurses from the village,” she said. “The babes, though wee, I’ve seen smaller.”
And as the room buzzed with activity from the overjoyed guests, with his arms full with two of his and Winnie’s children, Trent leaned close, and dropped a kiss at Winnie’s temple. “You’re certain you’re—”
“I’m well, husband,” Winnie murmured. “I’m hardly the first woman to have more than one babe.”
Trent glanced down at the slumbering babes in his arms. “But three?” Covered as they were, he couldn’t make out more than pink cheeks, and button noses, and utter perfection.
A tired smile played about Winnie’s lips. “Two ladies and a future rogue.”
Two ladies…and a future rogue?
And in that moment, his future, their future, flashed to Trent’s mind: his daughters grown women, having their Come Out. While their son, wrought havoc upon the ton. Through the panic hammering away at his senses, he registered Winnie’s soft fingers, covering his.
He glanced down.
Winnie smiled; this one wider and infused with more of her usual strength and confidence. “It is going to be all right, Trent.”
Some of the fear dissipated and Trent rested his chin atop his wife’s damp crimson curls. Given who they were as people, it was a certainty their children would be mischievous and spirited. There’d never be a dull moment for the remainder of his and Winnie’s life.
Once more, Winnie was right. Trent smiled.
It was going to be better than all right.
The End
Also Available by Christi Caldwell
The Spitfire
Her dream is to open a music hall. Only one thing stands in her way—the man she loves. The final Wicked Wallflowers novel from USA Today bestselling author Christi Caldwell.
Leaving behind her life as a courtesan and madam, Clara Winters is moving far from the sinful life to which she was accustomed in the gaming hell the Devil’s Den. Her more reputable and fulfilling endeavor is a music hall for the masses. One night, when she sees a man injured on the streets of East London, she rushes to his aid and brings him home. It’s then that she discovers he’s Henry March, Earl of Waterson, and a member of Parliament. No good can come from playing nursemaid to a nobleman.
When Henry rouses to meet his savior in blonde curls, he is dazzled. This smart and loving spitfire challenges his every notion of the lower classes—and every moment together is a thrill. But after Henry returns to his well-ordered existence, he strikes a political compromise that has unintended consequences. Will his vision for London mean dashing the dreams of his lovely guardian angel?
Out September 17th! Order Today
Author’s Note
As a twin mom myself, I’m always curious about the idea of women throughout history giving birth to multiples. In writing the epilogue for Winnie and Trent, I did research on the topic to explore how rare the occurrences were. What I found was nothing less than fascinating. There are countless documentations of pregnancies that resulted in multiple births throughout history. Some of the most notable: twins Alexander Helios and Cleopatra. Also, James II of Scotland and Alexander Stewart, Duke of Rothesay.
Even more interesting, I found
the case of the Smith quadruplets in County Cork, Ireland in 1790.
Was it common to have these complex pregnancies result in live births? The honest answer is no. However, there is evidence to show that though rare, it did happen, and as such, for Winnie and Trent, I chose a future for them with their two ladies and a rogue!
I hope you enjoyed Her Christmas Rogue.
And thank you so much for reading!
Hugs,
Christi
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Her Christmas Rogue Page 12
