Hint of Desire (2 page)

The woman was barefoot
.

“Madam, who are you
? Why are you here?” The questions came out rather more abruptly than he had intended. The thought struck him again; she was barefoot.

Her wide blue eyes turned and flashed, but the woman did not respond
.

“Answer me.”

His tone was peremptory. This time her eyes didn’t even turn in his direction as she continued to hobble forward.

Arthur didn’t care if she was daft
. He expected some respect, an answer at the very least. Striding towards her, he pushed the undergrowth aside. He grabbed her arm, drawing her towards him. Good God, she was small!  Lifting her proved no more difficult than moving a child.

As he pulled the woman toward him, twigs caught at the lace that edged her gown, drawing it tight across her body
. It outlined a hugely distended belly that moved of its own accord. He dropped her arm and stepped back, shocked, as her legs collapsed beneath her. And before he could move, she fell to the ground, her clear blue eyes rising to meet his.

He stood frozen
. She doubled over, her arms wrapping about her knees as another shrill cry left her cracked lips. Pain consumed her dirty and distorted face. He fell to his knees beside her as she arched forward in agony. Thin fingers reached out and gripped his wrists.

He searched his mind, in vain
. He, who was prepared for everything, was unprepared to help this peculiar woman deliver her child into his lap. Pushing her hands away, he regained his feet. As he watched, another ripple moved across the woman’s body, causing her to writhe again in anguish. Her unfocused eyes stared up at him, unseeing, but still beseeching.

Assume command — be calm — remain wholly detached
.
His father’s maxim flashed through Arthur’s mind as he edged back toward his mount.

“Stay here
. I’ll fetch a midwife.”

He would get help, find a more suitable person to aid her
. He backed towards his horse, but his eyes remained fixed on the slight, swollen figure.

Her gaze lowered to the ground again, breaking the bond between them
. Arthur turned away to swing onto the saddle. Risking one last glance at the woman, he saw her push herself to her elbows and place her knees beneath her. The pain passed, and she lurched to her feet. Step by step she started to stumble onward, further into the trees.

Swearing to himself, Arthur swung off the saddle and went after her
. “Stop. You need to stay here so I can get help.”

Blindly, she continued onward
.

Grasping her arm, he swung her towards him
. “You must be still. I have to fetch help.”

The edge of desperation that had crept into his voice displeased Arthur as much as the uncontrolled situation itself.

Dropping beside her, Arthur tried to shelter her fall. “Be still. Let me get help.” His own helplessness brought anger in its wake. “Bloody hell, don’t you talk?”

For the first time her eyes locked onto his face and held
. From deep within their clear blue depths Arthur saw sanity fight its way forward. She seemed to focus on the long deep scar that marked his left cheek, from the bridge of his nose almost to the corner of his jaw. Her fine-boned hand, marked with dirt and broken nails, lifted to trail along the puckered flesh in a soft, seeking caress entirely inappropriate to the circumstance.

Finally, her eyes met his in a moment of complete awareness
. A slow, surprising smile softened her face as she whispered in a low, ladylike accent, “I’d always wondered what happened to you.”

No. She had to run. Hide. Blackness and pain swirled together in Lily’s mind. Childhood dreams merged with the horror of the previous night. She knew she had to get away. She couldn’t stay. She had to find sanctuary.

Her body twisted violently as she sought a path that would lead away from the pain and misery that engulfed her
.
Spinning before her, like a deck of cards caught up in the wind, she saw Worthington smiling, laughing, cruelty emanating from every pore of his being. She saw that other face, saw the crop rise, the arm caught upraised, the momentary expectation of agony, before it fell, slicing through the air. She witnessed the speed with which it broke though flesh, cutting, scarring – as painful as a blade, but not as fast.

Her eyes blurred, then refocused on the deep blue eyes above
. She reached out a hand to trace the familiar face, when another pain ripped through her body, drawing her into a tight ball. She heard the concerned words, felt the firm but gentle hands laying her on the ground. She tried to rise again. She had to get away. She was not safe here.

Strong hands held her down, and the slow easy rhythm of the low voice washed over her
. “Shh . . . shh. Try to calm yourself. Please.”

As the pain passed, Lily allowed herself to relax for a moment
. The moss-covered ground felt soft beneath her back. Her head sagged back and she let her eyelids close and her mind drift far back to gentler, kinder times.

Her mother’s smile curled over well-loved features as she felt the gentle touch run over her face, brushing the loosened curls from her brow
. Lily turned her face towards the caress and relaxed. She could smell roses and see the sun shining through her mother’s burnished locks. She settled into the softness of her mother’s great bed. She was safe.

The next pain caught her by surprise — tearing through her moment of sanctuary
. A cry left her lips as anguish seared her nerves. She twisted and turned, trying to escape the agony that surged within.

Again the calm voice called to her, restoring her to the present
. “Try to be calm. Just wait and it will pass.”

Her mind could find no coherent thought
. “No, you don’t understand. It can’t happen now. It’s too soon. Have to get away. Can’t . . . be found. Please let me go.”

Staring up into those clear, cool eyes, she fought to find the words that would release her, that would let her continue her flight
. “Please, I can’t stay.”

For a moment she thought she saw a flash of anger and frustration before a stiff calm swept again across the gentleman’s familiar face
. He didn’t want this any more than she did.

Then the next spasm swept through her, and coherent thought escaped her
. She heard him call to her, direct her, but found no meaning in his words as she fought the agony that sundered her in two, and the panic that held her frozen.

Lily barely noticed the tentative hands sliding up her legs beneath her gown
. Even as the rippling pain passed and she felt her legs pressed apart and cool morning air touching regions never before exposed to the light of day, she felt no shame.

But she had to get away
. She couldn’t stay here. She had no conception how far from Marclyffe she had traveled during the night, but she wasn’t far enough. She couldn’t risk being found, couldn’t risk her baby being found.

Her baby
. It was too soon. It couldn’t be born now. Even by the most generous count, it couldn’t have been more than eight months. Her whole body ached. She wanted to rest. Her head fell back. She clamped her eyes closed as she attempted to shut out the moment.

Only the next pang – following much too quickly after the last - drew her back
. The spasm overwhelmed her, and her back arched in torment as she expelled pain and panic in one long scream.

Opening her eyes as the yell tore out of her, she saw those same features hovering over her
. “Hush, easy, my girl. You’re almost there. Just a little longer.”

She screamed
. Freshly sharpened blades were fighting their way out from inside her. Her hands turned into scrabbling claws as she fought to escape the misery. One hand connected, and she felt his flesh tear beneath her nails before she found her hands caught together and restrained by his more massive grip. For the briefest moment, the corners of his lips tightened before, with a deep exhalation, he regained his calm.

Lily’s senses heightened in a way she had never before experienced
. Calm returned, and she found she could focus on the finest vein of a leaf, or the feeling of the wind blowing softly across her legs.

Her legs
.

They lay draped across his jacket
. When had that happened? She looked up at him, in shock, as she realized that her gown lay drawn up to her waist. Her lower body lay exposed. It was worse than that – her legs were spread and he stared at her. Words could not even form in Lily’s mind.

Yet before she could focus on this newest horror, another surge of agony ripped through her, harder and stronger than before
. She found herself curling forward towards her belly, pushing, straining, screaming, as unbelievable pressure forced itself through her.

“That’s right, girl
. Push. Oh, that’s good, girl. Push again.” His calm voice braced her as the pain continued, almost endless. “That’s a good girl. Take a deep breath. Yes, you can do it. That’s a good girl.”

The deep, calm tone droned on as she pushed with all her might
. She leaned back, helpless to do anything but push as the pressure built beyond the point of endurance. Every muscle and fiber focused on but one task.

At last, the pain abated, and she crumpled backwards
. He knelt between her legs while she lay flat on the cool ground. Even this new indignity hardly mattered. Exhaustion set in. It seemed impossible to move again.

Then the next urge hit and she found the strength to push and fight again, as her body clenched in its struggle
.

Pain
. Pressure. Push. Fight. Rest.

Pain
. Pressure. Push. Fight.

Through it all, the calm, toneless voice continued:  “You can do it
. That’s my girl. You’re almost done. Such a good girl. You can do it. Don’t stop now. Good girl, yes.”

Even through her haze, she felt a rising irritation at his tone
. He was trying to help, but as each pain shot through her, his platitudes began to grate. It sounded as though he had begun to worry. But that couldn’t be — he’d been so calm through everything. He’d stared at her . . . without a thought. Everything was proceeding normally . . . normally. She could hardly even tell if it still hurt. She floated above the pain.

“Yes, girl, you’ve got to push
. Come, push. That’s my girl, you can do it. Just push. Push.”

Suddenly, she felt that strange opening of clarity that had descended upon her before
. Her eyes locked on his face, taking in the faint lines of strain around his eyes and the shimmer of sweat above his eyebrows.

“Come on, girl, you can do it
. Push. Just push.”

A surge of anger thrust her back into herself. Yet that anger spurred her on; she concentrated on pushing against the sharp razors that threatened to split her open
.

And, even as she pushed, she spat out, “I
. Am not. A horse. Stop. Addressing me. Like one.”

She saw his head jerk up for a moment before her pain reached its crest, and then concentrated all her attention on another massive push.

Then it ended. Her body collapsed into itself as she let herself go. She lay back, breathing deeply, as the after-effects rippled through her. She felt the stranger moving between her legs, taking care of something, but she felt too tired to care.

“You did it
. You did it.” The still calm voice now became suffused with a note of relaxation, even elation.

“Not a horse.
” Her reply was hardly more than a mumble.

“What?
”

Lily’s words seemed to penetrate for the first time
. He stared down at her in confusion. Undoubtedly he thought she’d lost her mind.

“You’re talking to me as if I were your horse
. I am not.” Even through her exhaustion, Lily heard the bitterness that edged her words.

“Oh.
” A reddish tinge touched the otherwise unperturbed face. “I beg your pardon. I’ve, well . . . I’ve only done this with horses before.”

A faint wail drew forth from the small, unwashed body held tight between his large hands
. They both froze, startled, as if for the first time becoming aware of what had happened.

Lily felt the first deep wave of shock rise within her
. Pushing up with her hands, she tried to force herself to a sitting posture. She had a baby. She had become so lost in the maze of pain and terror that her release from it had overshadowed everything else. She had not realized what it meant. She had a baby.

He moved to help her sit up, but seemed awkward and unsure how to juggle the infant he held clasped with both hands
. Maneuvering by herself, Lily planted her back against a damp, moss-covered tree. Reaching with her arms, she asked for her child. “Please, let me see her . . . him?