* * * * *
Ritcherd lost track of the time as clouds continued to gather overhead. He was startled when Mort hollered at him, “Hey, Buckley! Cap’n Garret needs t’ see ye in th’ cabin—right now, ’e said.”
Ritcherd went quickly below deck. “Is there a problem?” he asked, entering the cabin.
“Yeah. I’d say there’s a problem!” Garret said, standing abruptly from behind the desk. “Fortunately for us, we’ve got ears in the right places.”
“What? Tell me!”
“The redcoats will be in this port before morning.”
Ritcherd didn’t need anything more explained.
“We’re a suspicious-looking bunch, and I’m not taking any chances. We’re sailing with the tide.”
“Are we ready?”
“We will be.”
“What about the storm?”
“I think the worst of it will be over before high tide. I’m not concerned.”
“Well then, there’s no problem.”
“But there is. You’ve got to go and get that woman who’ll be sailing with us.”
“Why me?” Ritcherd asked, and Garret couldn’t suppress a smile. For whatever reason Kyrah had not shown herself by now, her time was nearly up. He figured it would be three days in a couple of hours—and he’d bitten his tongue long enough. But rather than telling Ritcherd something that would be difficult to explain, he simply had to send him on a needed errand with a perfectly logical explanation.
“Because the men are preparing the ship,” Garret said. “I need them. Face it, Buckley, as a sailor you’re useless. And you need to hurry. Curly went to get a horse from that livery on the corner. He’ll be back in a few minutes. So get on it and go tell her we’re sailing, and we’ll send someone with a carriage to get her in two hours.”
“Yes sir,” he saluted elaborately, grateful for a distraction. “How do I find her?”
Garret told him where she lived, and Ritcherd left to carry out his orders. Curly had a horse waiting for him on the pier, and he rode quickly through the rain. He had no trouble finding the modest house on the outskirts of town. He knocked loudly at the door, waited a minute, then knocked again.
“What?” a woman growled as the door flew open. She appeared to be about his own age, and was dressed like a tavern maid. Her blonde hair looked like it had seen a long day, and her expression was bordering on frantic.
“Forgive me,” he said. “My name is Captain Buckley. I was told to let you know that the Phoenix will be sailing with the tide. We’ll send a carriage for you in a couple of hours.”
“I’m not sailing anywhere,” she retorted, seeming distracted by subtle noises coming from somewhere in the house.
“But . . . I was told that—”
“Oh, I know. Garret sent you. But . . .” A sharp cry came from the other room and the woman hurried away, calling over her shoulder. “Come in and close the door. It’s freezing out there.”
“Who’s there, Daisy?” Kyrah demanded once the pain had subsided. “What’s going on?”
“Captain Garret sent someone to get you. They’re sailing with the tide.”
“No,” Kyrah groaned. “Oh please, God, no! Not now!”
“Hush, girl,” Daisy insisted. “You need to be thinking about getting this baby here. Something else will turn up. Now calm down or you’re just going to be hurting all the more.”
Kyrah nodded, knowing Daisy was right. But her mind was in a panic. She had to sail with them. But she just couldn’t! Oh, why didn’t anything in her life work out the way she planned? Another pain came on and Daisy stayed by her side until it subsided, then she pressed a gentle hand to Kyrah’s face, saying firmly, “You stay calm. I’ll get rid of the bloke and be right back.”
As soon as Daisy left the room, Kyrah knew she had to at least send a message for Ritcherd. She had to let him know what had happened. He’d come so far to find her. She couldn’t expect Garret to have to tell him everything. She only prayed that he would at least tell Ritcherd before they sailed. Still, she couldn’t count on that. And she couldn’t leave him to wonder, or there might never be a chance for them again. After enduring another pain, she managed to sit up, wishing she could have been on board the ship before her labor had begun. She set her eye on some paper on the bureau while she could hear Daisy arguing with the man at the door, even if she couldn’t make out what was being said.
“But Garret told me she needed passage urgently,” Ritcherd insisted, his frustration mounting. “And we can’t wait.”
“I know that,” Daisy said with increasing impatience. “But she can’t go right now.”
“Why not?” Ritcherd demanded. He couldn’t believe this. “Is she ill? Is she—”
“She’s having a baby, if you must know.”
Ritcherd was so stunned he didn’t know what to say. But he did know that Garret would not be pleased with the news Ritcherd had to give him.
“Can’t she have it on the ship?” Ritcherd finally managed to say.
“And who’s going to deliver it? You?” Daisy snapped. “She needs me to get that baby here, and I’m not going anywhere. Besides, she can’t be moved until that baby gets here.”
“Well, how long is it going to take?” Ritcherd asked.
“How should I know?” Daisy was beyond control now. “Just tell Garret we’ll find another way. Thank you and good evening.”
“But . . .” Ritcherd stammered. “Garret will . . .”
“Get over it,” she shouted, opening the door. “Good night, Captain Buckley.”
While Kyrah was enduring another pain, she heard Daisy shouting. Her urgent desire to send a message to the ship became meaningless. “Ritcherd, wait!” she called just as the door slammed, and she doubted that he had heard her. Mustering all the strength she had, she came to her feet and moved into the hallway, knowing she had to get to the door before another contraction came.
“What on earth are you doing?” Daisy insisted. Kyrah tried to push past her but ended up going to her knees, holding tightly to Daisy’s arm as the pain hit.
Ritcherd hesitated on the porch, wondering if he was going mad. Had he heard what he thought he just heard? His name? Kyrah’s voice? A baby? In a matter of seconds he recalled everything he knew about the woman who had arranged passage with Garret—which was practically nothing. He had brushed past her in the tavern, concluding that she couldn’t be Kyrah because of her size. But she was . . . pregnant! “Could it be?” he murmured into the night air. Had they been gone so long? Or maybe he was mistaken. But he would never know if he didn’t turn around and go back into that house. His hand was trembling as he reached for the knob, and it didn’t even occur to him to knock. Once inside, he held his breath as he absorbed the scene before him. She was kneeling in the hall, curled over so far that he couldn’t even see her face. Still, there was no mistaking that it was her. The hair, the shoulders, the voice.
“Don’t let him go, Daisy,” she cried, the pain intensifying her words. “You have to go after him. Don’t let him go.”
“I’m not leaving you alone,” Daisy retorted. “Now just—”
“No!” Kyrah screamed. “You have to get him! You . . .” Another pain overtook her, making it impossible to speak.
Ritcherd suddenly froze as he recalled his mistaken encounter with a woman on the pier that afternoon. Was he hearing things? Seeing things? He wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it, until he saw her face.
Kyrah and Daisy both felt the cool air at the same time and realized the door was open. Daisy straightened up but remained on her knees. The door closed just as Kyrah felt the pain recede, and she lifted her eyes enough to see the pair of boots planted directly in front of her.
“Ritcherd,” she murmured, lifting her gaze upward.
Ritcherd could hardly breathe when her features came into view. He reached out to take her face into his trembling hands. When the feel of her skin verified that he hadn’t
lost his mind, something between a sob and laughter erupted from his throat.
“Oh, Ritcherd,” Kyrah cried, pressing her hands over his. He sank to his knees as much from weakness as his need to be close to her.
Kyrah felt the world freeze around her; even the pain seemed to relent, or perhaps time just stood still long enough for her to absorb his presence. She couldn’t believe it! But it was him! He was real! As their eyes met, she could almost literally feel his love. He’d come for her! Just knowing that one fact made every question that had haunted her fall into perspective. There was no room or reason to doubt his sincerity or his commitment. He had crossed an ocean and searched for months in order to end up here, now. That was all she needed to know.
She found her voice enough to say, “You came for me. You did.”
“I did,” he laughed, and she laughed with him.
“How . . . did you find me?”
His eyes burned through her as he said, “I walked through hell in bare feet. And I’d do it again.”
Ritcherd pressed a kiss to her brow, wondering where to begin to tell her all he was feeling. He’d barely looked into her eyes again when she doubled over and groaned with such anguish that it scared him.
“What is it?” he demanded, holding her against him. “What’s wrong?”
“Any fool can see she’s having a baby,” Daisy snapped as she came to her feet.
Ritcherd looked up at the blonde woman who had answered the door. Mimicking her tone of voice, he asked, “And who might you be?”
“I’m the one who’s going to deliver this baby. And I know who you are. It’s about time you showed up. Now help me get her back to bed before she hurts herself.”
As the pain receded once again, Kyrah clutched tightly onto Ritcherd’s arms, almost fearing he might disappear. She closed her eyes briefly, thanking God for sending him to her now. Her prayers had truly been heard and answered.
Ritcherd carefully scooped Kyrah into his arms and followed Daisy to the bed, where he laid her down. Their eyes met, and his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. He couldn’t believe it! He could hardly accept the reality that they were actually together. How could he possibly digest the fact that she was having a baby? He sat on the edge of the bed to face her, well aware of her fingers digging into his arms as the pain came and went once more. In the brief absence of pain, their eyes met. He saw moisture appear in hers only a moment before his own vision blurred with mist. But he took hold of her face and had no trouble finding her lips with his. He didn’t care if she was married. He didn’t care if she was in labor. He could only feel the evidence that she was here, and she was real. And the response he felt in her kiss gave him the hope that there might still be a life for them—together.
“Kyrah,” he murmured against her lips and kissed her again. There was so much he wanted to say, so much he wanted to ask her, but only one thing mattered for now, and he said it with all of the desperation and conviction that he had felt through his eternity of searching for her. “I love you,” he said and kissed her again. “I love you.”
She laughed with indescribable relief before she was overtaken by the pain again and he held her until it relented. She touched his face and started to cry so hard that she could hardly speak. “Oh, Ritcherd,” she managed, “I’m so sorry . . . I . . . was so . . .”
“Shhh,” he whispered and pressed his fingers over her lips. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. Let’s just get you through this, all right?”
Kyrah nodded, then groaned as she endured another contraction. Ritcherd held her close, wishing he could somehow take the pain from her. When she relaxed again, he felt her hand in his hair and heard her words near his ear. “I love you, Ritcherd. I love you.”
Ritcherd buried his face into her hair and wept. That was all he needed to know. The relief and hope he felt was comparable to the anguish and despair they had replaced. He cried without restraint while she held to him, withstanding one pain after another.
Ritcherd became so distraught with watching her suffer that he couldn’t help the sharp tone when he said to Daisy, “Where’s the doctor? Is he—”
“I told you,” she said firmly, “I’m going to deliver this baby.”
“But she needs a doctor,” Ritcherd protested.
“I won’t have that doctor anywhere near me,” Kyrah growled between pains.
“He’s a crook,” Daisy said. “And a perverted one, at that.”
Ritcherd attempted to swallow his frustration. He felt somewhat better when Daisy explained, “You mustn’t worry, Captain. I’ve done this before. And the pain is all quite normal. I’ll do everything I can to see that she gets through this all right.”
“Thank you,” Ritcherd said, “for everything. For . . . being here for her.”
“It’s been my pleasure, actually.”
As the pain continued to get worse, Ritcherd asked Daisy, “How much longer?”
“It’s going to be a while, if you must know. First babies generally take their time. But I’m not in any hurry, so—”
“Good heavens,” Ritcherd murmured, realizing he’d lost track of the time. “I’ve got to go back and—”
“Don’t leave me,” Kyrah cried, holding to him tightly.
“I won’t be long,” he said, touching her face gently. “I just have to get a few of my things, and tell them I’m staying.”
Kyrah looked as if she wanted to protest, but she couldn’t speak. Daisy wiped a damp cloth over Kyrah’s face and said gently, “He’ll be back before the baby comes. I promise.” She added to Ritcherd, “You hurry, now. Don’t make a liar out of me.”
“I’ll hurry,” he said.
“And tell Garret to . . . well, to be careful,” Daisy added.
“I will,” Ritcherd said, just now making the connection in his mind. Daisy had to be Garret’s friend, who had made arrangements for Kyrah to sail with them. If he weren’t so distracted, he would have hugged her.
Attempting to soothe Kyrah, he pressed a kiss to her brow, lingering there as if he could absorb her presence to get him through the minutes until he returned. As he eased away she grabbed his arm, saying with a strained voice, “Tell Garret . . . thank you . . . for me. He . . . he didn’t tell you . . . it was me . . . because he . . .” She groaned and clenched her teeth while Ritcherd tried to take in what he’d just learned. Garret knew?
“Get out of here,” Daisy said, nudging him, “or you might not make it back in time. There’s no way of knowing how fast it will go.”
Ritcherd galloped through the rain toward the Phoenix while his anger took hold. All of the desperation and frenzy he’d been feeling rushed to a point right between his eyes, pounding there with a fury that made him wonder how this man, who had become his most trusted friend, could have purposely withheld something like this from him. He shook off the rain as he went below deck and entered the cabin to find Garret seated at the desk.
“It’s about time you got back,” he said as Ritcherd slammed the door. Coming to his feet, he added, “I was about to send somebody to—”
Ritcherd drew back his left hand and hit Garret square in the jaw. Before he recovered, Ritcherd took him by the shirt and slammed him against the door. “Why didn’t you tell me it was her? How could you stand back and watch me tear myself to pieces when you knew it was her!”
Garret touched his lip and calmly looked at the blood on his fingers. In a gravelly voice he said, “You have a nasty temper, Captain Buchanan.”
Ritcherd dropped his hands and took a step back, but his eyes made it clear he wanted an answer. With no warning, Garret threw an equivalent blow to Ritcherd’s face, then grabbed him by the shirt, turned and slammed him against the door. “Because she made me promise not to tell you—and I gave my promise reluctantly. She was tearing herself to pieces, wondering how to tell you she was married to another man and about to have a baby. And I do not break a promise to a lady, no matter how much it was tearing me t
o pieces to watch you suffer.”
Garret stepped back and tugged at his waistcoat to straighten it, as if the issue was closed.
“I’m sorry,” Ritcherd said.
“As you should be,” Garret retorted. Then his voice softened. “And I’m sorry, too—sorry that I couldn’t keep my promise to her and keep you from suffering at the same time. I told her I would give her three days, and that’s when I sent you to get her.”
Ritcherd took a minute to digest what Garret was saying. The events of the past two hours flooded through him. “I need to sit down,” he said and moved unsteadily to a chair. “Forgive me, Garret. I just . . . I don’t know what to think.” He looked up to meet Garret’s compassionate gaze. “After all this time . . . I’ve found her. But . . . she’s married. How am I supposed to deal with that?”
Garret sat down. “I’ve gotten every impression that, for whatever reason she got into this marriage, she’s eager to put it behind her. I believe she loves you and she’s hoping to start over.”
Ritcherd took a deep breath, attempting to inhale Garret’s calm perspective. “Yes,” he admitted, “I believe that, too.”
“Then the two of you will find a way—together.”
Ritcherd nodded, then became distant again as his thoughts wandered.
“So, what else is wrong?” Garret asked.
Ritcherd chuckled without humor and shook his head. “She’s about to have a baby—any time now.” Again he met Garret’s gaze. While he was aware that he needed to return quickly to Kyrah, he felt the need to take a few minutes and gather his wits, or he’d never be able to help her through what lay ahead. And he had no idea how long it would be before he could talk with Garret again. He’d gained a deep respect for Garret’s insight and wisdom. And if he’d ever needed insight and wisdom, he needed it now. But he felt so thoroughly overwhelmed that he couldn’t even put his thoughts together enough to know what else to say.
When Ritcherd remained silent, Garret drawled, “So . . . she’s going to have a baby, and that would mean . . .” He motioned for Ritcherd to finish the statement.
“It would mean that . . . that . . .” Ritcherd stammered his thoughts into the open. “I don’t know what. She couldn’t have been married that long. Was she raped? Did she find somebody else and—”
“Now, wait a minute,” Garret said, holding up his hands. “The only way you’re going to find the answers to those questions is to ask her. But in my humble opinion, the answer is obvious.”
Ritcherd thought for a minute, but he had to admit, “If it was obvious, I wouldn’t have to ask.”
“How long have we been gone, Ritcherd?”
“I don’t know. It seems like forever.”
Garret stood and picked up the large leather-bound book that always lay open on his desk. He set the book on the table in front of Ritcherd.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“You’re the owner of the Phoenix. Perhaps you should be more familiar with the ship’s log. Take note of the dates.”
Garret turned back several pages and pointed to a date at the top of the page. Ritcherd read aloud, “14 September 1779.” Garret’s finger moved down the page and Ritcherd followed with his eyes, reading silently: Ship purchased by Ritcherd Buchanan, now officially christened the Phoenix; set sail at morning tide.
Ritcherd looked up at Garret in question. He just turned back to the page where it had been open and pointed at today’s date at the top. 28 May 1780. Ritcherd’s heart beat faster. He was certain they’d been gone longer than that. As if Garret had read his mind, he said, “Count the months, Ritcherd. Use your fingers if you have to.” Garret chuckled. “It would seem your indiscretions have been manifested . . . you scoundrel, you.”
“Merciful heaven,” Ritcherd breathed. Had he lost track of time so completely? Yes, he had! And he’d been so ashamed and distraught over what had happened between him and Kyrah that he’d completely forced it out of his mind. But Garret was right—again. He had been a scoundrel. And his indiscretions had been manifested. He tried to comprehend what Kyrah had been through as a result, and a tangible pain developed in his chest. He pressed a hand there and groaned, but it only worsened.
“Yes,” Garret said in a gentle voice, “heaven is merciful, Ritcherd. You’ve found her, and we all have much to be grateful for.”
“Yes, we do,” Ritcherd agreed distantly while he tried to absorb the reality that he was about to become a father.
Garret startled him when he said, “Now that we have that cleared up, we’ll have to chat later. We’ve got to sail. Where is she?”
“Good heavens!” Ritcherd muttered under his breath. “I’ve got to go back.”
“You didn’t bring her?” Garret shouted.
“She’s in labor,” Ritcherd muttered, throwing a few of his things into a bag. “She can’t be moved right now.”
“You left her alone?” he snapped in a voice that was unusually agitated.
“No! Of course not! Daisy’s with her. But I have to get back. That’s what I came to tell you. I’m staying with her. Come back for us as soon as you can get safely into port.”
“I will,” Garret said. Ritcherd figured he had what he needed and turned to face Garret. “I promise,” Garret added.
Ritcherd quickly embraced him. “Thank you,” he said. Their eyes met briefly, then Ritcherd opened the door. “I have to go.”
“Take Patrick with you,” Garret called.
Ritcherd stopped and turned. “Why?”
“He’s delivered more than a few babies in his day,” Garret said, as if Ritcherd should have already known.
“Patrick?” Ritcherd laughed. “A doctor?”
“Aye, Cap’n Buckley,” Garret said with a sarcastic chuckle. More seriously, he went on, “He’s the ship’s surgeon and must be with us when we sail in case he’s needed. We never know what we’ll come up against. But he has time to check her and make certain everything’s all right.”
“Thank you,” he said again and turned to leave.
“Ritcherd,” Garret said and stopped him. “I’ll be praying for you—both of you.”
Ritcherd smiled. “And I’ll be doing the same for you. We’ll see you soon.”
Patrick was ready to go in less than a minute. He mounted the horse behind Ritcherd and they reached their destination quickly. Ritcherd entered the house without knocking and dropped his things in the hall while he and Patrick shook off the rain and removed their wet coats and hats.
“Kyrah,” Ritcherd said softly as he returned to her side. He sighed just to see her, to touch her, and to feel the evidence once again of being with her. With his new discovery, there was so much he wanted to say. But this wasn’t the time.
She opened her eyes, and the exhaustion was evident in her expression. “Ritcherd,” she murmured and took his hand. “You came back.”
Through his brief absence and the ensuing pain, Kyrah had almost begun to wonder if Ritcherd’s appearance had been an hallucination.
“Of course I came back,” Ritcherd said. While Daisy was skeptically appraising the man in the doorway to the bedroom, he explained more to Kyrah. “The doctor from the Phoenix is here. He can’t stay, but he’ll make certain everything’s all right.” Kyrah nodded and looked past Ritcherd’s shoulder as Patrick came closer.
Kyrah might have felt apprehensive if she hadn’t realized by now that Captain Garret and his men tended to look much worse than they were.
“How are you feeling?” Patrick asked tenderly, taking Kyrah’s hand into his. Ritcherd was amazed—though he shouldn’t have been—to hear a complete absence of Patrick’s accent. It was immediately evident that Patrick was a well-educated man.
“Awful.”
“It will probably get worse,” he said with a compassionate chuckle. “But I want you to remember that it’s all very natural. The pain doesn’t mean something’s wrong. That’s just the way it works. Can you remember that?”
Kyrah nodde
d, then groaned as another pain struck her and Patrick waited patiently for it to subside. “I want you to roll onto your side,” he said gently. “Until you get nearer to having the baby, this position might ease the pain a bit. Captain Buckley,” he added, turning to him, “if you press firmly here,” he pushed Ritcherd’s hand against the lower part of Kyrah’s back, “during the pains, it might ease the pressure for her a bit.”
Another pain hit and Patrick pressed as he’d shown Ritcherd to. When it was over, Kyrah turned to the doctor and smiled feebly. “That feels a little better. Thank you.”
Patrick checked Kyrah and reported that everything seemed normal, with no apparent problems. He told them she could start pushing soon, then he talked quietly with Daisy while Ritcherd stayed close to Kyrah.
“Any more questions?” he asked, glancing at all three of them. When no one said anything, he said, “Well, I must be off then, or they’ll sail without me.”
“Thank you, Patrick,” Ritcherd said.
“Wish I could stay,” he replied. “Babies are the best part of being a physician—but you don’t get much opportunity for that on board a privateer.” He chuckled. “I’ve got all the children between the ages of two and eight in a little village in Yorkshire to my credit. Someday I’m going back to see how they’re doing.”
Patrick wished them luck and left quickly. Ritcherd had to admit he felt a little better about the situation. But he still had trouble comprehending that Patrick—the great fencer—was really a doctor.
“Has he gone?” Kyrah asked when the pain briefly relented.
“Yes. The Phoenix will be sailing soon. He has to be on board.”
“They’re leaving without you?” she asked with concern.
“They’ll come back for us. It’s my ship,” he smirked. “They have to.”
In the midst of Kyrah’s weak smile, her head lolled to the side and she moaned, but she didn’t seem as uncomfortable as she had before they’d taken Patrick’s suggestions. Daisy motioned toward the kitchen, letting Ritcherd know she would be close by if he needed her. He nodded and watched her leave the room.
Kyrah sighed deeply, feeling a slight reprieve from the intensity of the contractions. She took hold of Ritcherd’s hand, marveling at the reality that they were together. She touched his face and watched him turn and press a kiss to her palm. She fingered the gold ring in his ear, and they exchanged a smile.
“You had to become a pirate to find me?” she asked.
“Something like that,” he said, then she squeezed her eyes shut and groaned, tightening her hand in his.
“Is it gone now?” Ritcherd asked when she relaxed. She nodded, and their eyes met as if they could somehow bridge the time they’d been apart.
“Ritcherd,” she said, “there’s something I have to tell you.”
She endured another pain before he said, “It can wait, Kyrah. Whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.”
“But it does,” she said, determined to have the worst out in the open and have it over with. She knew she would never be able to get through this while she was dreading having to tell him what she’d done.
The pain came and went before she continued. “There’s no way . . . to tell you except . . . to just tell you.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, unable to look at him. “I’m married, Ritcherd.”
She waited to hear his shock and disgust, his demand for an explanation. But she only heard him sigh and whisper, “I know.”
Kyrah opened her eyes. “You know? Garret told you?”
Ritcherd waited for the pain to subside again. “An old man at the pier told me,” he said.
Kyrah wanted to ask exactly how that had come about, but this wasn’t the time for getting into a detailed conversation. Knowing her time between pains was brief, she got to the point. “I’m so sorry, Ritcherd.” She couldn’t hold back the emotion. Seeing the question in his eyes, she attempted to explain through her tears, “I was all alone . . . and so afraid. I didn’t know if . . .” She squeezed his hand tightly and waited for the pain to subside. “I didn’t know if . . .” she continued, “if you would come . . . or if you could find me . . . even if you did. But I was wrong, Ritcherd. I made a mistake. I don’t know if you’ll even want me now that—”
“I love you, Kyrah.” He took hold of her shoulders and his voice became fierce, however quiet. “I want to share my life with you more than anything else in this world. But more than anything, I want you to be happy.” She saw his chin quiver and he bit his lip for a moment. While she endured another pain, he gained control of his emotion. “Tell me to go away and leave you in peace, Kyrah, and I will. I don’t want to . . . but . . . if that’s what you want . . . I will.”
Ritcherd heard the words come back to him and wondered where he’d found the strength to say them without falling apart. Perhaps the strength had come from the evidence that she still loved him. But he wondered if that would make any difference. The knowledge that this was his baby only deepened his fears. He swallowed the lump in his throat and added carefully, “Just tell me what you want me to do, Kyrah—anything, and I’ll do it.” He waited patiently for her to be able to speak again. But when the pain subsided, she said nothing.
Ritcherd took hold of her chin and forced her to look at him. Drawing what little inner strength he had left, he asked, “Do you love him, Kyrah?”
Kyrah shook her head frantically. Fresh emotion choked her voice and she barely managed to say, “You . . . misunderstand me.”
“There is no room for misunderstanding here, Kyrah. We’ve been through too much, we’ve come too far.” She groaned with pain, and he could tell it was getting worse again. Recalling how they had come across a difficult bridge in the past, he took both her hands into his, kneeling on the floor beside her. He looked into her eyes and said firmly, “We can talk when you get this baby here, Kyrah. Right now, there are only three things I need to know. Tell me what you want. Tell me what you need. And tell me how you feel.”
Kyrah laughed through her tears as the memory of his saying that very thing somehow gave her the hope and strength she needed. It was easy to say, “I need your help, Ritcherd. I need to get away from here . . . as quickly as possible. When the Phoenix comes back, we’re coming with you.”
“We?” he asked.
“Me and . . . the baby,” she said, and he smiled. At least she wasn’t talking about her husband.
He waited for her to continue. “And when we get to England,” she said, “I need you to get some legal help for me.”
Ritcherd felt confused. Did she mean straightening out the reasons for the deportation? Was there some aspect of the trouble she’d been in that he didn’t know about? “Of course,” he said. “But . . . why?”
“I need to get a divorce, Ritcherd . . . as quickly as possible.”
It took a minute for him to grasp what she meant. While she withstood another pain, he laughed to avoid sobbing. When she focused on him again, he said, “Are you trying to tell me that . . . you want . . .”
“I was getting to that,” she said. “I want to marry you, Ritcherd . . . if you can live with a divorced gambler’s daughter.”
A sob broke through his laughter. He pulled her close and buried his face into her hair. “Oh, Kyrah,” he murmured, “I love you. I love you.” He drew back to look into her eyes. “Nothing else matters as long as we’re together. Do you hear me?” She nodded, and he held her through another pain. “I know we have some difficulties ahead of us, but we will see them through together. Do you understand?”
She nodded again and touched his face. “I’m so sorry, Ritcherd. I was such a fool. I never should have—”
“Shhh,” he whispered, pressing his fingers over her lips. “It is I who am sorry; sorry that I got you into this mess. I have so many regrets that I don’t know where to begin. But . . . we’ll have all those weeks at sea together, and we can talk to our heart’s content.”
She laughed softly until it became a g
roan. “I love you, Ritcherd,” she finally said. “That’s how I feel. I love you more than life. And I will never—never—allow anything or anyone to ever come between us again. Never!”
Ritcherd inhaled deeply, as if he could drink in her determination. Something in her had changed. He could never put it to words, but she was stronger, finer, more beautiful than ever. In a word, she was breathtaking.
“We must be together, Ritcherd,” she added with a finality that seemed to end the need for any further discussion.
“We will be,” he said. “As God is my witness, Kyrah, we will be together.”
Ritcherd remained on his knees with her hand in his, praying as much as doing his best to ease her discomfort. The storm faded and night settled in as deeply as her ongoing pain. Ritcherd stayed next to her every minute. He whispered words of reassurance and encouragement, doing everything he could to make her comfortable, wishing there was something he could do to really make a difference. He felt so thoroughly helpless, which made him increasingly grateful for Daisy’s calm presence as she moved in an out of the room, staying closer as Kyrah’s labor worsened. As the hours passed, he wondered what exactly Patrick had meant when he’d said she could start pushing soon. He wanted to know his definition of soon.
“Ritcherd,” Kyrah said feebly and surprised him. She’d hardly said anything at all for more than an hour. She reached out and touched his face as he bent close to her. “Are you really here, or am I just hallucinating?”
“I’m really here.” He smiled and pressed a kiss to her brow, but he didn’t have time to say any more. While he’d believed that this couldn’t possibly get any worse, suddenly it was. Rather than coming and going, the pain became constant. Ritcherd kept his focus on Kyrah, while Daisy instructed Kyrah on what she needed to do, now that the baby was ready to come. Kyrah groaned and pushed, digging her fingers into Ritcherd’s arms while she nearly went mad from the pain. She raged and protested, swearing that she couldn’t possibly do this, and she cursed Ritcherd for causing her so much trouble and grief.
She went through the ordeal of pushing more times than he could count before Daisy finally said, “It’s almost here, honey. You can do it!”
Ritcherd’s heart beat madly with fear and anticipation. She pushed again, and he heard Daisy gasp. Following a tense minute while Kyrah attempted to catch her breath and Ritcherd didn’t dare turn around, a loud wail filled the air.
“It’s a girl, Kyrah,” Daisy reported, and he felt a lump of emotion catch in his throat.
Kyrah gasped with a laugh of relief as Daisy set the wiggling infant into her arms. Then she cried. Ritcherd blinked the mist out of his own eyes and had to say, “She’s beautiful, Kyrah.” He marveled at the baby’s perfection while it wailed and waved its tiny arms about. She was alive. And real. It was a miracle!
After scrutinizing the baby, Kyrah looked up at Ritcherd and smiled affectionately. “I love you,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
Ritcherd felt the lump in his throat intensify. All he could do was nod and press a kiss to her brow.
“I’m so cold,” she said and shivered visibly.
Daisy handed Ritcherd a blanket and he tucked it carefully around her. Kyrah smiled weakly at him as he pressed a kiss to her cheek. She glanced again at the baby and fell almost immediately to sleep.
Daisy took the baby into the kitchen to clean her up. Ritcherd sat in a chair near the bed and leaned back with a sigh. Watching Kyrah sleeping peacefully at last, he silently thanked God for finding her when he did. Despite the ordeal she had just suffered, he felt almost weak from her beauty. Leaning forward in the chair, he brushed the back of his fingers over her face that still held traces of sweat, then he moved his hand meekly through her tangled hair sprawled over the pillows.
“I love you, Kyrah,” he whispered, “and I will never let you go again. Never!”
THE END
We hope you enjoyed The Captain of Her Heart. For your enjoyment, we have included a sample chapter of Captive Hearts, Volume II of the series beginning on the next page. A list of all books by Anita Stansfield can be found on the About the Author section following the sample chapter.
Captive Hearts
Volume II of the Buchanan Saga
by Anita Stansfield
The Captain of Her Heart Page 53
