Connor clapped him on the back, but there was no denying the emotion on his face. ‘You’ll survive it, brother. Only a few hours longer.’
‘A few hours?’ He stared hard at Connor, not knowing what he meant.
‘Aye. Usually the first takes a bit longer, but—’
‘She’s going to give birth today? Why in the name of Belenus didn’t anyone say anything to me?’ He wanted to knock the knowing grin right off Connor’s face.
‘Perhaps because you’d overreact? Didn’t you notice that Aileen hasn’t left Morren’s side today?’
‘She was talking with her and grinding medicines,’ he argued. ‘Neither of them said anything about the babe coming.’
He broke away from Connor, running towards the hut he shared with Morren.
She was sitting up, her face tight as she breathed slowly. ‘That’s it,’ Aileen soothed.
When Morren opened her eyes, she sent him a slight smile. ‘Hello, Trahern.’
‘Were you planning to tell me,’ he demanded, ‘or were you going to simply suffer in silence?’
‘I wouldn’t say that the last pain was particularly silent,’ she admitted. ‘But I didn’t want you to be afraid. It’s going well, actually.’
He glared at Aileen, who shrugged. ‘She’s right. I would say that the babe will be here by this evening—’ She was interrupted when Morren closed her eyes again, her palms digging into the coverlet. Her breathing quickened, and he didn’t miss the pain upon her face.
‘Connor,’ Aileen said, ‘take Trahern away.’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’ He moved to rub his wife’s shoulders, trying to offer comfort.
‘Don’t touch me!’ Morren snapped.
In spite of herself, Aileen laughed. ‘Don’t take it personally, Trahern, but when you’re about to give birth, the last thing you want is a man touching you.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Morren apologised. But a wave of pain passed over her, and she squeezed his hand so tightly, he thought she might crack his fingers in half.
‘I won’t do this to you again, a mhuirnín,’ he promised. ‘You have my word, you’ll never have to suffer this pain any more.’
When she opened her eyes again, she sent him a furious glare. ‘If I bear a healthy child, so help me, you will not withhold yourself from me again. You will share my bed whenever I want you to.’
Connor and Aileen were laughing at him, and he sent them a blistering look. ‘Morren, I don’t think—’
Another pain washed over her, and she swore at him. ‘Aye, this was your fault, and when I’ve recovered from it, I am going to have my way with you. Stop being such a saint, and be a damned husband!’ Her last words rose up with another pain, and Aileen went to examine her.
‘It’s not going to be as long as we thought,’ the healer said. ‘Trahern, help to support her.’
The next few hours were the worst he’d ever endured. When Morren pushed, crying out, he told her how much he loved her. With each wrenching pain, he relived those moments when he’d delivered her stillborn son. He remembered how badly she’d bled, and how he’d held her all night, telling her stories.
He whispered the story of Lugh once again, and of Dagda. The tales flowed through him, as he fought with her for this fragile newborn life.
And when Morren gave birth to their son, there were no words at all. Only the most all-encompassing joy he’d ever known. Aileen placed the newborn child upon Morren’s bare stomach, and he marvelled at the tiny perfection.
‘He’s wonderful,’ Morren wept. ‘And he’s ours.’ Happiness filled her up, and he touched the child’s downy head, his fingers brushing against hers.
Thankfulness replaced the fear in his heart. As he kissed Morren softly, he marvelled that any man could be this happy.
The harvest came, and autumn darkened the foliage across the land. Morren walked up the forest hillside, back to the hunter’s cottage. Trahern took their son Iain into his arms, when she arrived at the small earthen mound that he’d covered with stones. She’d planted heather upon the earth, and the flowers had bloomed throughout the summer.
Kneeling beside the small grave, she voiced a prayer for her lost child. For long moments, she thought of him, wondering if he would have been like young Iain. Would his eyes have been the same quiet grey, his mouth as soft as a rosebud?
Bittersweet tears filled her eyes as she rose to her feet. ‘I miss him, though I never knew him.’
‘He led me to you,’ Trahern said, pulling her into his arms. ‘The greatest gift he could have given.’
With a sleeping Iain between them, she kissed him, and his mouth covered hers with the intensity of a man who loved her more than life.
‘Let’s go inside,’ she said. ‘Iain can sleep, and I’m going to show you how much I love you.’ She opened the door for him, and waited while he arranged a place for the babe. When he turned around, she let her overdress and léine fall to the floor, opening her arms to him.
Trahern closed the distance, removing his own clothing. Skin to skin, he held her, pulling her onto the bed. Without words his hands spoke of all his feelings, telling her how much he loved her.
And when their bodies joined at last, she gave a breathless sigh. ‘I love you, Trahern.’
He moved slowly within her, as if in reverence. ‘You’re mine, Morren. As I am yours, for now and always.’
She took his face between her palms, her heart spilling over for this man.
‘Always,’ she promised.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6609-8
SURRENDER TO AN IRISH WARRIOR
Copyright © 2010 by Michelle Willingham
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Surrender to an Irish Warrior Page 26
