Redemption (Book Two of the Shipwrecked Series)

by Jenna Stone

  Redemption

  Book Two in the Shipwrecked Series

  By Jenna Stone

  Chapter One

  The noise startled Quinn, making the small hairs rise on the back of his neck. He stalked silently through the forest, experienced feet avoiding the dry brush and sticks of autumn to completely veil his presence.

  He heard it again and froze. His hand moved reflexively to the dagger that he kept in his belt. His breathing was hushed and his ears echoed with the sound of his own heart beat thundering in his chest. He stood apprehensively, listening and waiting for the sound again.

  He waited in silence, muscles frozen in absolute stillness. A muffled scream echoed through the trees followed by an anguished moan. Then silence.

  Quinn’s ears piqued as they made out the sound of heavy, labored breathing. Silently, his arm reached up behind him and his fingers found their intended target. He pulled an arrow from his quiver and fit it deftly into his bow.

  The breathing intensified and he heard a small whimper.

  What in the hell is that?

  Taking a deep breath and drawing back his bow, Quinn moved stealthily through the bushes. He stepped quietly, being careful not to reveal his presence. The muffled scream came again, startling him and he froze, listening. His adrenaline soaked heart hammered in his chest.

  He judged the sound to be coming from next to a large birch tree directly in front of him, not more than ten feet away. Heavy vegetation obscured his view and his eyes fought to focus. He squinted as he tried to peer through the bushes.

  Being an expert hunter, his feet padded silently across the forest floor. He took in a swift breath, holding it as he pushed past the bushes.

  She let loose a blood curdling scream as Quinn confronted her, bow drawn and arrow pulled back, the arrowhead mere inches from her face.

  Quinn’s reaction was delayed. His steely gray eyes were trained on her and he was ready to loose his arrow. His sinewy muscles were tense and ready to respond. Realization flooded over him and he lowered the arrow. He moved slowly as he registered the terror that clouded the woman’s green-brown eyes. He watched as her beautiful face contorted. She closed her eyes in agony, leaning back against the tree and letting loose another muffled scream of pain. This was the very sound that had drawn him here.

  Taken aback, Quinn dropped his bow and arrow, letting them clatter to the forest floor as he understood what was happening.

  She was giving birth.

  Lost in her pain, she was supporting herself against the trunk of a large birch tree, hands clutching her swollen belly. Quinn surveyed the scene before him, unsure of how he should react. The lovely young woman was in the most advanced stage of pregnancy, her bulging belly obscured beneath a short deer-skin shirt. Her olive skin and long unbound black hair gave away her heritage. She was an Indian. Quinn watched helplessly as her slender legs quivered to support her weight. She gritted her teeth and closed her eyes, fighting to crest the wave of this contraction.

  Her hands spanned her belly, ripe and hard as a melon beneath the deer skin. Her chest heaved with the effort of her labor, causing the top of her breasts to rise at the neckline of the shirt. When the contraction passed she let out a slow, shaky breath and used the back of her arm to wipe the sweat from her brow. Her eyes opened again and she regarded Quinn quizzically, struggling to regain control of herself before the next contraction overtook her.

  “I…I’m sorry…I…” Quinn stammered, reaching down to pick up his bow and beginning to back away from her. He certainly did not want to incite the fury of her husband, who was surly just around the corner. Quinn was cautious of Natives, respecting them enough to keep reasonable distance.

  Her full lips curled into a smile and the faintest laugh escaped from her throat. To see such a huge man so unnerved by her situation, retreating into the forest was intriguing. Men seemed to avoid childbirth no matter where they hailed from.

  “Please don’t leave me,” she whispered, eyes imploring him, begging him to stay.

  Quinn’s eyebrows arched in surprise. She spoke English.

  “I…I think I need help,” she gritted out as she felt the beginnings of the next contraction squeezing her womb. She clenched her teeth together and reached out a hand to him, motioning him towards her. A scream tore involuntarily from her throat and she pulled her hand back, holding onto the base of the tree for support as the full force of her contraction overwhelmed her. She focused on breathing, forcing the ragged breaths in and out, in and out.

  “Arrghh!” she gritted, writhing in pain against the base of the tree. Her muscles trembled from the effort that it took to remain standing.

  Quinn stood as still as a statue, frozen in place as he watched her labor. Only once in his life had he felt so helpless. He reached out a hand to touch her on the shoulder and then thought better of it and retracted his hand. He was at a loss for how he could help her, but he knew that he would do anything to take away her pain. If there was anything that Quinn abhorred, it was the sight of a woman in pain.

  His heart clenched as he watched her. She was so slight in stature yet so brave as she worked through the pain of her contraction. Her breathing was ragged, so strained that Quinn worried she might die. He stood helplessly, watching her as the pain slowly receded from her face. Her muscles went slack and relaxed as she welcomed a brief respite from her pain.

  She leaned against the tree, exhausted. Her head fell back against the rough bark, eyes still tightly closed as her breath slowed and steadied.

  Quinn released the breath that he had been holding, relief washing over him as her body stilled.

  “I doona ken how tae help ye,” he admitted softly, still afraid to touch her.

  Her eyes opened now and he saw the fear residing in them. She was strikingly beautiful. Quinn’s eyebrows knit together as he wondered why she had been neglected and forced to face this trial alone in the forest.

  Damn savages. He raged silently to himself. He then wondered if she was indeed a Native. She looked to have Native heritage, but she spoke perfect English.

  “I think the baby is stuck,” she revealed, concern weighing heavily in her voice. Her eyes searched his, begging him to help her. “I don’t want to die!” she shrieked, her resolve crumbling as she threw herself at Quinn.

  He caught her awkwardly and pulled her against his chest. Not knowing what else to do, he stroked her back. She smelled of sunshine and forest. Her soft, earthy scent caught his attention. He fitted his arms around her and stroked her back reassuringly, biting his lip and looking heavenwards, praying for divine intervention.

  She grabbed fistfuls of his linen shirt and melted against his chest, sobbing now as he held her.

  “Please help me. I don’t want to die,” she cried, tears dampening his shirt.

  “Shhh….hush now, lass. Hush… I willna let ye die,” he whispered, stroking her silky black hair and whispering honeyed words that he hoped she found reassuring.

  “Oh God! Here comes another one!” she cried out, bracing herself against Quinn as the first wave of the contraction tightened around her belly.

  Quinn pulled her closer, supporting her weight as her body began to tremor. Pain flooded over her as the contraction took hold.

  Her breathing came raggedly now and she clenched her teeth together, burying her face in Quinn’s shirt as she fought the pain.

  “Breathe, lass…breathe,” Quinn coaxed, holding her securely by the arms.

  She writhed against him, gritting her teeth and working hard to suppress the desire to scream. She groaned and closed her eyes, focusing, concentrating on moving past the pain. She knew
that the contraction would subside, but she sincerely thought that she might die before it did. The contraction intensified and a scream tore from her throat. Her pain was agonizing.

  Holding her helplessly and watching her suffer was torturous for Quinn. He would have given anything to take her pain away, to bear some of the burden for her. She was so slight, so fragile looking that he began to believe she might actually die.

  “Aye, that’s a braw lass. It’s almost over, keep breathing,” he soothed, brushing her hair back from her face as he watched the contraction dissipate.

  Her deep brown eyes flashed up to meet his. He noticed that they were flecked with vibrant green. They were also filled with trust and relief.

  “Thank you,” she whispered, smiling slightly as she regained control and the pain subsided. “I’m so glad that you’re here.”

  Quinn swallowed hard. He was certainly not glad that he was here. What a nightmare this hunting trip had turned into.

  “I think the baby’s stuck and I don’t know how to get it out,” she said, breathing heavily as she looked up at Quinn.

  His arms were still wrapped carefully around her and he hoped that the fear he was feeling inside didn’t play openly across his face. She was looking at him as if he was her savior. She was looking at him as if he knew how to fix this.

  “I...um…” Quinn trailed off, unsure of what to say.

  “You need to check me,” she said, eyes serious and mouth set in a hard line. “I can’t see down there and I need you to look.”

  “What?” Quinn exclaimed, pulling away from her and looking down at her sternly. “Ye want me tae look at ye?” he huffed incredulously. “There?”

  “You’ll have to because I can’t see!” she reasoned, her request making perfect, logical sense to her. “Hurry, we don’t have much time before the next contraction.”

  Quinn groaned and swallowed hard. Realizing that she had a point, he really was the only one who could actually see what was going on, he said a mental prayer for strength and lowered himself to his knees before her. His face flushed with color and he avoided making eye contact with her again, unable to believe what he was about to do.

  Gingerly, he lifted the deerskin shirt and peered between her legs. His eyes bulged as they settled on her most intimate flesh. He could see the crown of the baby’s head, scalp dark in contrast with her olive skin. He cringed as he noticed how tightly her skin was stretched around the baby’s head. She was too small and the baby looked big. With a lump of fear in his throat, Quinn cautiously stood up and met her intense gaze.

  “Well?” she asked impatiently, biting her lip as she waited for his verdict.

  “I can see his head, but I doona think….” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “He’s big!” Quinn babbled, instantly regretting his frank appraisal of the situation as he watched her eyes widen with fear.

  “We have to get him out!” she fretted, a look of panic overtaking her eyes as the next contraction gripped her. “Ohhh….”she cried out, swaying from side-to-side. “Hold me again!” she barked, grabbing fists of Quinn’s shirt and pulling herself towards the solace of his chest.

  Quinn coached her through the contraction, his chest stinging where her nails scored his skin as she fought against her unbearable pain. His mind eased slightly as he felt her tremors of pain dissipate and his skin was released from the grips of her clawing fingers. He regarded her seriously now, gauging what he must do. He knew that if the baby did not come out soon, it would die. He also knew that she was in danger of death, and that the longer the baby remained stuck, the more likely this outcome would be. In the short amount of time that Quinn had spent with the lass, he had felt her strength weakening. She was exhausting herself with the strain of the unrelenting contractions.

  The baby needed to come out soon.

  “I willna let ye die,” Quinn vowed, a fire growing deep inside of him. “I’ll need tae touch ye,” he said cautiously, gauging her reaction.

  “Alright,” she sagged against him, strength fading fast. She was beyond the point of protest.

  Quinn settled her gently to the ground at the base of the tree and she watched him, breathing laboriously, eyes intently focused on him. The trust that he saw in her eyes tugged at his heart.

  Lord, please don’t let her die.

  Taking a small flask of whiskey from his pocket, Quinn hastily poured some onto his hands, hoping that the alcohol would do for cleaning them. He rubbed his hands together and took a deep breath, preparing himself for what he needed to do.

  “I doona ken yer name,” he confessed guiltily, having been so consumed with the moment that he had not thought to ask until now.

  “Sarah,” she said softly. “And you are?”

  “Quinn. Quinn Murray,” he answered.

  He swallowed hard, lifting the hem of her shirt as his eyes flitted to hers, asking for permission. She nodded slightly and closed her eyes, bracing for his touch.

  “I’m sorry lass,” he apologized, knowing that he was about to hurt her.

  His fingers came down gently on her skin, touching her where she was stretched to the limit, her flesh forming a large “O” around the crown of the baby’s head. His eyes closed as he realized that there was absolutely no way that her delicate skin could stretch further. His fingered grazed lightly over the baby’s head, surprised to feel a full head of hair beneath his fingers.

  Quinn’s breath caught in his throat as the gravity of the situation sunk in. If he did nothing, both Sarah and the baby would surely die.

  “I need tae cut ye,” he whispered, setting his mouth in a hard line and looking up at her for her reaction.

  She whimpered and nodded frantically as she felt another contraction begin. Tears welled in her eyes and she reached for him, pulling him down next to her on the ground. Sarah wrapped her arms around his neck and held him, focused on his breathing, trying to match her ragged breaths with his as she fought through the clenching bite of the contraction. She shuddered and buried her face in his neck as her fingernails scored his back through his linen shirt.

  The worst of the contraction passed and Sarah pulled away from him slightly, eyes searching his face.

  “Do it,” she ordered, tears spilling down her cheeks.

  Without speaking, Quinn sat up and unsheathed his dagger. He used the rest of his whiskey to clean the blade of the knife, all the while steeling his reserve, bolstering his resolve to do what needed to be done.

  Lord help me. Help me Mairi. Mairi…

  Sarah positioned herself for him, spreading her legs and bending her knees. Tears rolled steadily down her face and she turned her head to the side, unable to watch.

  Quinn shrugged his linen shirt up over his shoulders and tossed it on a nearby bush, knowing that his sister-in-law Anna would scold him soundly for getting blood on his clean white shirt.

  Quinn settled himself between her legs and looked at the delicate skin surrounding the crown of the baby’s head. He hoped that his actions did not come too late for the innocent babe. Working hard to steady his shaking hand, he lowered the blade of his dagger to her skin and ever so carefully, he sliced her perineum. Crimson blood spilled forth onto the ground and Quinn winced as the pressure from the baby’s head tore Sarah’s delicate skin further, causing her to cry out in agony.

  Sarah screamed now, wrenching Quinn’s heart in his chest. He was rewarded by the baby’s head moving forward, as it was now released from the grips of Sarah’s body.

  It worked! Thank God…it worked.

  Relief flooded over Quinn, but it quickly dissipated as another contraction overtook Sarah. She screamed out in pain, clawing at the ground as her belly hardened with the power of the contraction.

  “Push yer baby out, Sarah,” Quinn coaxed, placing his hand on her bent knee and stroking her soft skin. “Push!” he ordered, suddenly fearful as Sarah did not respond to his coaxing.

  She was exhausted and it took all of her strength just to make it t
hough the contraction. Her head rolled to the side and she screamed.

  “I can’t!”

  “Ye can!” Quinn challenged her. “Ye need tae push or yer baby will die!” Quinn barked, reaching forward and pulling her up so that her hands gripped her knees. He placed his own larger hand over hers and squeezed. “Push!” he ordered.

  Sarah bore down and relented to his order, pushing with all of her might. She let up, took a breath and then bore down again, squeezing here eyes closed and gritting her teeth together.

  “Aye, there ye go lass…good! Push again!” he ordered, smiling now as he saw the baby’s head moving down in reward for her efforts.

  Sarah bore down again and cried out with exertion, gasping to regain her breath. She pulled her shins towards her chest and pushed again, digging her fingernails into the skin of her knees.

  Quinn’s eyes widened in disbelief as her final push sent the baby flying out like a cannonball. Reacting quickly, he caught the slippery bundle, who regarded him quizzically with big brown eyes. Quinn ceased to breathe completely and felt light headed as he held the tiny baby awkwardly in his hands.

  Sarah pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Is he alright?” she asked, panicked that the baby was not crying.

  “Aye,” Quinn said, a stupid smile now covering his face. “Aye, he’s alright Sarah!” he said joyously, hands trembling and he tried not to drop the slippery baby. “Ye did it!” he praised, eyes flashing to meet Sarah’s.

  A radiant smile spread over her face and she reached for her baby. Quinn handed the baby carefully into Sarah’s arms. Relief flooded his body. He sat back on his heels and mentally congratulated himself.

  Thank ye, Lord. Thank ye for watching over me, Mairi.

  “It’s a she!” Sarah exclaimed, beaming now as she studied her daughter.

  “Oh, is she now?” Quinn asked, leaning forward to check. “I’d not thought tae look!” he chuckled as he confirmed that indeed, she was a she.

  Sarah smiled contently now, running her fingers over every inch of her daughter, checking to see that she had all of her fingers, all of her toes.