By Winter's Light: A Cynster Novel (Cynster Special Book 2) (11 page)

Still supported by Daniel, Claire looked up—into his face. Into his hazel eyes. Some part of her mind noted—again, avidly—his clean-cut features, the chiseled planes, the perfectly squared jaw below lips created by some celestial artist.

But it was his eyes that held her, that trapped her gaze and her awareness in warmth and something more.

She fell in—into the hazel, into the mind and personality behind—and saw.

Clearly.

He employed no shields, no screens, no guile.

What she saw was the truth—his truth.

And seeing that clearly—being afforded that precious insight—the reckless soul that yearned deep within her broke free and stated unequivocally:
I want you.

* * *

The afternoon was waning, and the air beneath the trees in the forests had turned cold. Bone-chillingly cold. A portent Lucilla and Marcus had read with ease.

They’d promptly insisted that a storm was closing in and that the riding party had to head back to the manor immediately.

To give the others their due, after taking a long look at her and her twin’s expressions, Sebastian, Michael, and Christopher had agreed without argument, even though they’d yet to sight any deer.

That had been fifteen minutes ago. They’d turned on the bridle path they’d been following northward—they’d been riding to the west of Carrick lands by then—and backtracked to the junction with the path running eastward through the forest that lay along the manor’s northern boundary; that path was their fastest, most direct route back to the manor.

Lucilla kept her mount close behind Prudence’s; her cousin was riding behind Michael and Sebastian, while Marcus brought up the rear, riding behind Lucilla. Falling as he always did into the role of leader, Sebastian had set Christopher, arguably their best rider in terms of picking out the safest route, in the lead, with the younger boys strung out behind him and ahead of Michael.

The storm was going to be a tempestuous one; even without being able to see the sky, Lucilla knew that—and she was certain Marcus did, too. She might be the Lady’s future representative in these lands and therefore afforded greater insight, but Marcus was Lady-touched, too; he, like Lucilla, was attuned to the forces that ruled this land.

They were perhaps a third of the way home, following the bridle path that ran more or less along the northern ridgeline, when a thrashing in the bushes downslope on the side away from the manor lands brought Lucilla’s head up—and had Sebastian swerving his heavy hunter to a stamping halt, facing the unknown threat.

Both Lucilla and Marcus likewise veered to come around, flanking Sebastian.

Prudence, having sunk into being one with her mount as she usually did when riding, yelped, swore, and diverted around Sebastian, then expertly wheeled to come back and take station beside Lucilla, with Michael—who had called a warning to the others before swinging his mount around—at her heels.

The five cousins reined their skittish horses in. They were sitting their stamping, shifting mounts, eyes trained on the source of the noise, when a man in rough homespun came crashing through the bushes beneath the trees.

The man looked up and saw them. He halted, his wide eyes skating over their line, but then his gaze landed on Lucilla and his fraught expression dissolved into one of abject relief. “Oh, thank God, and the Lady, too.”

Whether from relief or exertion, the man—a crofter, by his clothing—swayed. Abruptly he crouched, head down, breathing hard.

For an instant, no one moved, then Lucilla nudged her horse forward.

Sebastian’s hand rose as if to hold her back, but then he let his hand fall and instead set his horse to pace beside hers.

Without looking, Lucilla knew Marcus was following at her back.

Reining in when she was closer, but not too close to the affected man—his chest was working like a bellows—she gave him a moment more, then said, “You were seeking me.” No question about that. “Why?”

The man was exhausted, but he got to his feet even though he weaved. He raised his head, met Lucilla’s gaze and gasped, “Lady—I—my Lottie—we need your help.”

Now they were closer, Lucilla could see how deathly pale the man was, could see in his eyes the fear and near-blind panic that still gripped him.

“What ails your wife?” She kept her tone even, letting compassion flow beneath it.

The man’s gaze turned pleading; he looked at her with his heart in his eyes. “She’s not ill, Lady—she’s having a baby.”

Lucilla blinked. Scanning the man again, estimating his age as in the early twenties, she asked, “Is it her first?”

The man nodded. “Aye—and she’s having a time of it.” He wiped a shaking hand across his lips. “She says the babe’s coming early. We’d planned to go to the laird’s after Hogmanay—it would have been all right with the midwife there. But now…”

Abruptly the man went down on one knee, pressed his palms together and raised them to Lucilla in supplication. “Please, Lady—please help.”

“Yes, of course.” Lucilla couldn’t imagine doing anything else. “How far is your cottage?”

The man rose to his feet, hope washing some of the stark panic from his face. He pointed down the slope, north and a little west. “It’s a little ways along that way. I heard your party on the main track and prayed…I ran as fast as I could.”

“Lucilla?” Sebastian caught her eye. “The storm.”

She nodded. “Yes. You and the others should get back, but I have to help…” She glanced at the man. “What’s your name?”

“Jeb, m’lady—Jeb Fields.”

Jeb was tall, thin, and gangly; his very long legs could have covered a fair distance in the ten minutes or more he must have run.

Sebastian glanced around as all the younger boys and Christopher came back along the track. Sebastian briefly met Michael’s eyes, then exchanged a glance with Marcus, then Sebastian sighed and nudged his mount forward. “We all stay together until we see what the situation is.” Freeing one boot from his stirrup, Sebastian halted his mount alongside Jeb; leaning from the saddle, he held out his hand. “We’ll get there faster if we ride. Come up, and you can show me the way.”

To Lucilla’s mind, it spoke volumes of Jeb’s panic, of how completely his worry for his wife dominated his mind, that he didn’t even blink, just grasped the hand of the Marquess of Earith and swung up behind Sebastian.

Gathering his reins, the instant Jeb had settled, Sebastian asked, “Which way?”

Jeb pointed over Sebastian’s shoulder back along the bridle path. “There’s a little track leading off just around that curve. On horseback, that’s the fastest way.”

Without further ado, Sebastian set his horse trotting.

Lucilla wheeled her mount and followed. The others fell in behind.

* * *

One didn’t argue with Lucilla when she was on her Lady’s business. Sebastian had learned that truth a long time ago; in such circumstances, arguing was always wasted effort, and, worse, he would lose.

He never liked to lose, so he’d learned not to argue.

He didn’t have to like it. And he liked this particular situation even less when he caught his first glimpse of their destination through the thinning trees.

The crofter’s cottage was little more than a rude hut built of split logs and roofed with shingles. The cottage stood in a clearing at the top of a narrow valley opening to the north; the front of the cottage faced west, into the clearing, while the rear was protected by the thick forest that bordered the clearing on three sides. A thin trail of smoke rose from the single chimney.

Jeb had directed them onto the track, then had proceeded to fill Sebastian’s ears with a litany of panicked gibberish; the man was so clearly unhinged by worry over his wife and imminent child that despite the irritation, Sebastian felt sorry for the poor sod. Sorry enough to push the pace. Even so, it was a good ten minutes after they’d left the ridge when he drew rein before the cottage door.

Jeb tumbled off Sebastian’s horse and ran to hold Lucilla’s mount.

Unnecessary, but Lucilla thanked Jeb with a nod; she slipped her boots free of the stirrups and slid to the ground before Sebastian or any of her other male kin could help her.

Prudence was on the ground a second later. Grabbing her saddlebags, Lucilla shot her cousin a summoning glance. Reaching for her own saddlebags, Prudence waved her on. “I’m right behind you.”

Leaving Sebastian doing what he did best and organizing everyone else—admittedly, in this instance, with Marcus’s input—juggling her saddlebags, Lucilla swept up the skirts of her riding habit and marched through the snow to the cottage door. With the clearing being on the north face of the ridge and at higher elevation than the manor, the covering was already a solid six inches deep.

There’d be more after the storm hit.

Having handed her mount’s reins to Marcus, Jeb came racing up to open the door.

When he lifted the latch, thrust the simple wooden door wide, and awkwardly half bowed, Lucilla waved at him to precede her. “Tell Lottie I’m here.” She had no idea what she would find in the cottage, what state Lottie would be in, much less what she might need to do, but barging in unannounced on a pregnant woman in extremis was not a good move on any number of counts.

Jeb bobbed his head and stepped inside.

Lucilla paused on the threshold; eyes adjusting to the low level of light—indeed, gloom—inside the cottage, she saw a rectangular deal table, and beyond it a crude but solid stone fireplace built into the wall directly opposite the main door. Although the fire in the grate was presently feeble, the hearth was swept, and split logs were neatly stacked to either side. A quick scan of the implements in the hearth and the pots, pans, and bowls arrayed on the surrounding shelves confirmed that she would have all she might need in that regard; Jeb and Lottie Fields might be poor crofters, but they possessed at least the necessities of life.

Hearing low voices from the shadows to her left, Lucilla could tell from the female tones that Lottie was still very much aware—and that she, too, was eaten with fear for her babe and herself. Lucilla stepped into the cottage and turned to face the young couple.

Lottie proved to be as pale as Jeb, but not quite as thin. She lay on a bed comprised of a rough timber frame supporting a decently plump, straw-filled pallet placed with its head against the cottage’s front wall. Panting, her hugely distended belly covered by several thin blankets, Lottie lay propped up by two pillows. Her wide, shadowed eyes locked on Lucilla’s face, then Lottie let out a sigh of relief—that hitched into a whimper as her eyes closed and her face contorted with pain.

“Let me see.” Setting her saddlebags on the table, Lucilla went quickly to the nearer side of the pallet. Aware that Prudence had followed her inside, Lucilla said, “I need better light.” She glanced at Jeb, and caught his still wide eyes. “Do you have any lamps? Or even candles?”

They had one good lamp and a handful of tallow candles. Prudence helped Jeb to clean and fill the lamp, then trim the wick and light it.

Meanwhile, Lucilla knelt beside the pallet and took one of Lottie’s limp hands in hers. “How long have the pains been coming?”

Lottie glanced briefly at Jeb; reassured he was occupied, she lowered her voice to a whisper. “Since yesterday. I didn’t want to say and worry him—I thought maybe they’d pass. But they haven’t.”

Lucilla smiled and poured comfort into her expression. “I’ll know more in a moment, but have the pains been steadily building since then?” When, biting her lip, Lottie nodded, Lucilla calmly continued, “Then I suspect that there’s nothing actually wrong—it’s just that your baby is ready to make his or her appearance and isn’t about to wait.”

Lottie’s fine brown lashes swept down, then rose; her pale blue eyes searched Lucilla’s face, then some of the tension tightening her features eased. Her fingers curled and gripped Lucilla’s hand. “I do so hope it’s just that, and praise be Jeb found you and you came.”

Light suddenly bloomed and came nearer; Lucilla glanced around as Jeb carried the lamp toward them.

At the same time, faint shadows slanted in through the open door.

Leaving the table, Prudence made for the door. Catching hold of the panel, she spoke to whoever stood outside. “We don’t need you at the moment—stay outside.” With that, she shut the door.

Stifling a grin, Lucilla turned back to her patient. Jeb had halted at the foot of the pallet. Lucilla waved him to the spot opposite where she knelt. “Stand there and hold the lamp directly over Lottie.”

While Jeb moved to obey, Lucilla smiled at Lottie and reached to free the rough blankets. “I’ll be able to tell what’s happening if I look. Is that all right?”

Lips compressed, Lottie nodded. She held still, tense and nervous, as Lucilla swiftly examined her, but she responded readily to Lucilla’s directions and instructions.

Several minutes later, having seen enough to confirm her suspicions, Lucilla resettled the blankets, then sat back on her heels and met Jeb’s anxious gaze, then Lottie’s. Lucilla smiled as confidently as she could. “It’s as I thought—the baby’s coming.” She glanced at Jeb. “Quite aside from the storm that’s blowing in, it’s too late to even think about moving Lottie down to your laird’s house. This baby is going to be born here.”

Lottie reached out and gripped Lucilla’s hand. “Will you stay?”

Lucilla met Lottie’s eyes and returned the pressure of her fingers. “Yes, of course. That’s why I’m here.”

The latter words had spilled from her lips without conscious thought, but, hearing them, she knew they were true. The Lady had sent Jeb to find her and lead her here—here was where she was supposed to be, bringing this child into the world.

“I’ve assisted at many births—it’s part of my training.” Lucilla squeezed Lottie’s hand and set it back on the blanket-covered mound. “So yes, I’ll be staying, and although the baby’s appearance is some way off, we’ll use the time to get ready.” Rising, she looked down at Lottie. “Rest. Doze if you can, in between pangs. Meanwhile, Jeb and I and my cousin will sort things out.”

Lottie’s smile was wan but real. “Thank you, Lady.” Her eyes drifted shut.