Charmed (18 page)

“Growling, spitting, snarling.” He touched his lips to hers, relieved when she didn’t bite him. “You’re not going to turn me into a slug or a two-headed newt, are you?”

She laughed, groaned, and let out the last puff of air. “I can come up with something much more inventive. I need to sit up more. Ana?”

“Nash, get in the bed behind her. Support her back. It’s going to go quickly now.” Arching her own back, which echoed the aches in Morgana’s, she checked one last time to see if all was ready. There were blankets warmed by the fire, heated water, the clamps and scissors already sterilized, the glow of crystals pulsing with power.

Bryna stood by her daughter’s side, her eyes bright with understanding and concern. Images of her own hours in that same bed fighting to bring life into the world raced through her head. That same bed, she thought, blinking at the mist in her eyes, where her child now labored through the last moments, the last pangs.

“No pushing until I tell you. Pant. Pant,” Ana repeated as she felt the contraction build within herself—a sweet and terrible pang that brought fresh sweat to her skin. Morgana stiffened, fought off the need to tense, and struggled to do as she was told. “Good, good. Nearly there, darling, I promise. Have you picked out names?”

“I like Curly and Moe,” Nash said, panting right along with Morgana until she managed to jab him weakly with an elbow. “Okay, okay, Ozzie and Harriet, but only if we have one of each.”

“Don’t make me laugh now, you idiot.” But she did laugh, and the pain eased back. “I want to push. I have to push.”

“If it’s two girls,” he continued, with an edge of desperation, “we’re going with Lucy and Ethel.” He pressed his cheek against hers.

“Two boys and it’s Boris and Bela.” Morgana’s laughter took on a slightly hysterical note as she reached back to link her arms around Nash’s neck. “God, Ana, I have to—”

“Bear down,” Ana snapped out. “Go ahead, push.”

Caught between laughter and tears, Morgana threw her head back and fought to bring life into the room. “Oh, God!” Outside, lightning shot across a cloudless sky and thunder cracked its celestial whip.

“Nice going, champ,” Nash began, but then his mind seemed to go blank as glass. “Look! Oh, Lord, would you look at that!”

At the foot of the bed, Ana gently, competently turned the tiny, dark head. “Hold back now, honey. I know it’s hard, but hold back just for a minute. Pant. That’s it, that’s the way. Next time’s the charm.”

“It’s got hair,” Nash said weakly. His face was as wet with sweat and tears as Morgana’s. “Just look at that. What is it?”

“I haven’t got that end out yet.” Ana sent a glittering smile to her cousin. “Okay, this is for the grand prize. Bear down, honey, and let’s see if we’ve got Ozzie or Harriet.”

With laughter, Morgana delivered her child into Ana’s waiting hands. As the first wild, indignant cry of life echoed in the room, Nash buried his face in his wife’s tangled hair.

“Morgana. Sweet Lord, Morgana. Ours.”

“Ours.” The pain was already forgotten. Eyes glowing, Morgana held out her arms so that Ana could place the tiny, wriggling bundle into them. In the language of her blood, she murmured to the babe, as her hands moved gently to welcome.

“What is it?” With a trembling hand, Nash reached down to touch the tiny head. “I forgot to look.”

“You have a son,” Ana told him.

*  *  *

At the first lusty wail, conversation in the parlor downstairs cut off like a switch. All eyes shifted to the stairs. There was silence, stillness. Touched, Boone looked at his own child, who slept peacefully on the sofa, her head nestled in Padrick’s comfortable lap.

He felt a tremor beneath his feet, saw the wine slosh back and forth in his glass. Before he could speak, Douglas was removing his top hat and slapping Matthew on the back.

“A new Donovan,” he said, and snatched up a glass to lift in toast. “A new legacy.”

A little teary-eyed, Camilla walked over to kiss her brother-in-law’s cheek. “Blessed be.”

Boone was about to add his congratulations when Sebastian crossed the room. He lit a white candle, then a gold one. Taking up a bottle of unopened wine, he broke the seal, then poured pale gold liquid into an ornate silver chalice.

“A star dawns in the night. Life from life, blood through blood to shine its light. Through love he was given the gift of birth, and from breath to death will walk the earth. The other gift comes through blood and bone, and is for him to take and own. Charm of the moon, power of the sun. Never forgetting an it harm none.”

Sebastian passed the cup to Matthew, who sipped first. Fascinated, Boone watched the Donovans pass the chalice of wine from one to another. An Irish tradition? he wondered. It was certainly more moving, more charming, than passing out cigars.

When he was handed the cup, he was both honored and baffled. Even as he began to sip, another wail sounded, announcing another life.

“Two stars,” Matthew said in a voice thickened with pride. “Two gifts.”

Then the solemn mood was broken as Padrick conjured up a party streamer and a rain of confetti. As he
blew a celebratory toot, his wife laughed bawdily.

“Happy New Year,” she said, gesturing toward the clock that had just begun to strike twelve. “It’s the best All Hallows’ Eve since Padrick made the pigs fly.” She grinned at Boone. “He’s such a prankster.”

“Pigs,” Boone began, but the group turned as one as Bryna entered the room. She moved directly to her husband, who folded her tightly within his arms.

“They’re all well.” She brushed at happy tears. “All well and beautiful. We have a grandson and a granddaughter, my love. And our daughter invites us all upstairs to welcome them.”

Not wanting to intrude, Boone hung back as the group piled out of the room. Sebastian stopped in the doorway, arched a brow. “Aren’t you coming?”

“I think the family …”

“You were accepted,” Sebastian said shortly, not certain he agreed with the rest of the Donovans. He hadn’t forgotten how deeply Ana had once been hurt.

“An odd way to phrase it.” Boone kept his voice mild to counteract a sudden flare of temper. “Particularly since you feel differently.”

“Regardless.” Sebastian inclined his head in what Boone interpreted as both challenge and warning. But when Sebastian glanced toward the sofa, he softened. “I imagine Jessie would be disappointed if you didn’t wake her and bring her up for a look.”

“But you’d rather I didn’t.”

“Ana would rather you did,” Sebastian countered. “And that’s more to the point.” He moved to the doorway again, then stopped. “You’ll hurt her. Anastasia sheds no tears, but she’ll shed them for you. Because I love her, I’ll have to forgive you for that.”

“I don’t see—”

“No.” Sebastian nodded curtly. “But I do. Bring the child, Sawyer, and join us. It’s a night for kindness, and small miracles.”

Uncertain why Sebastian’s words angered him so much, Boone stared at the empty doorway. He damn well
didn’t have to prove himself to some overprotective, interfering cousin. When Jessie shifted and blinked owlishly, he pushed Sebastian out of his mind.

“Daddy?”

“Right here, frog face.” He bent and lifted his child into his arms. “Guess what?”

She rubbed her eyes. “I’m sleepy.”

“We’ll go home soon, but I think there’s something you’d like to see first.” While she yawned and dropped her heavy head on his shoulder, he carried her upstairs.

They were all gathered around, making a great deal more noise than Boone imagined was the norm even for a home delivery room. Nash was sitting on the edge of the bed beside Morgana, holding a tiny bundle and grinning like a fool.

“He looks like me, don’t you think?” he was asking of no one in particular. “The nose. He’s got my nose.”

“That’s Allysia,” Morgana informed him, rubbing a cheek over her son’s downy head. “I’ve got Donovan.”

“Right. Well,
she’s
got my nose.” He peeked over at his son. “He’s got my chin.”

“The Donovan chin,” Douglas corrected. “Plain as a pikestaff.”

“Hah.” Maureen was jockeying for position. “They’re both Corrigans through and through. Our side of the family has always had strong genes.”

While they argued over that, Jessie shook off sleep and stretched forward. “Is it the babies? Did they get born? Can I see?

“Let the child in.” Padrick elbowed his brother out of the way. “Let her have a look.”

Jessie kept one arm hooked around her father’s neck as she leaned forward. “Oh!” Her tired eyes went bright as Ana took a babe in each arm to hold them up for Jessie to see. “They look just like little fairies.” Very delicately, she touched a fingertip to one cheek, then the other.

“That’s just what they are.” Padrick kissed Jessie’s nose. “A brand-new fairy prince and princess.”

“But they don’t have wings,” Jessie said, giggling.

“Some fairies don’t need wings.” Padrick winked at his daughter. “Because they have wings on their
hearts.”

“These fairies need some rest and some quiet.” Ana turned to tuck the babies into Morgana’s waiting arms. “And so does their mama.”

“I feel wonderful.”

“Nevertheless …” Ana shot a warning look over her shoulder that had the Donovans reluctantly filing out.

“Boone,” Morgana called out. “Would you wait for Ana, drive her home? She’s exhausted.”

“I’m perfectly fine. He should—”

“Of course I will.” He settled the yawning Jessie on his shoulder. “We’ll be downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

It took another fifteen minutes before Ana was assured that Nash had all her instructions. Morgana was already drifting off to sleep when Ana closed the door and left the new family alone.

She was exhausted, and the powers of the crystals in her pouch were nearly depleted. For almost twelve hours, she had gone through the labor of childbirth with her cousin, as closely linked as it was possible to be. Her body was heavy with fatigue, her mind drugged with it. It was a common result of a strong empathic link.

She staggered once at the top of the stairs, righted herself, then gripped her bloodstone amulet to draw on the last of its strength.

By the time she reached the parlor, she was feeling a little steadier. There was Boone, half dozing in a chair by the fire, with Jessie cuddled against his chest. His eyes opened. His lips curved.

“Hey, champ. I have to admit I thought this whole setup was a little loony, but you did a hell of a job up there.”

“It’s always stunning to bring life into the world. You didn’t have to stay all this time.”

“I wanted to.” He kissed Jessie’s head. “So did she. She’ll be the hit of school on Monday with this story.”

“It’s been a long night for her, and one she won’t forget.” Ana rubbed her eyes, almost as Jessie had before falling asleep again. “Where is everyone?”

“In the kitchen, raiding the refrigerator and getting drunk. I decided to pass, since I already had more than
my share of wine.” He offered a sheepish grin. “A little while ago I could have sworn the house was shaking, so I switched to coffee.” He gestured toward the cup on the table beside him.

“And now you’ll be up half the night. I’ll just run and tell them I’m going, if you’d like to go put Jessie in the car.”

Outside, Boone took a deep gulp of the cool night air. Ana was right—he was wide-awake. He’d have to work a couple of hours until the coffee wore off, and he’d more than likely pay for it tomorrow. But it had been worth it. He glanced over his shoulder to where the light glowed in Morgana’s bedroom. It had been well worth it.

He slipped Jessie’s wings over her shoulders, then laid her on the backseat.

“Beautiful night,” Ana murmured from behind him. “I think every star must be out.”

“Two new stars.” Bemused, Boone opened the door for her. “That’s what Matthew said. It was really lovely. Sebastian made a toast about life and gifts and stars, and they all passed around a cup of wine. Is that an Irish thing?”

“In a way.” She leaned her head back against the seat as he started the car. Within seconds, she was asleep.

When Boone pulled up in his driveway, he wondered how he was going to manage to carry both of them to bed. He shifted, easing his door open, but Ana was already blinking awake.

“Just let me carry her inside, and I’ll give you a hand.”

“No, I’m fine.” Bleary-eyed, Ana stepped out of the car. “I’ll help you with her.” She laughed as she gathered up the store of stuffed animals. “Da always goes overboard. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Are you kidding? He was great with her. Come on, baby.” He lifted her and, in the way of children, she remained utterly lax. “She was taken with your mother, too, and the rest, but your father was definitely the hero. I expect she’ll be bugging me to go to Ireland now, so she can visit him in his castle.”

“He’d love it.” She took the silver wings and followed him into the house.

“Just set those anywhere. Do you want a brandy?”

“No, really.” She dropped the animals on the couch, put the wings beside them, then rolled her aching
shoulders. “I wouldn’t mind some tea. I can brew some while you settle her in.”

“Fine. I won’t be long.”

A low growling emerged from under Jessie’s bed when Boone carried her in. “Great watchdog. It’s just us, you blockhead.”

Desperately relieved, Daisy bounded out, tail wagging. She waited until Boone had removed Jessie’s shoes and costume, then leapt onto the bed to settle at Jessie’s feet.

“You wake me up at six and I’ll staple those doggie lips closed.”

Daisy thumped her tail and shut her eyes.

“I don’t know why we couldn’t have gotten a smart dog while we were at it,” Boone was saying as he walked into the kitchen. “It wouldn’t have been …” and then his words trailed off.

The kettle was on and beginning to steam. Cups were set out, and the pot was waiting. Ana had her head pillowed on her arms at the kitchen table, and was deep in sleep.

Under the bright light, her lashes cast shadows on her cheeks. Boone hoped it was the harshness of the light that made her look so delicately pale. Her hair spilled over her shoulder. Her lips were soft, just parted.