The Knight and the Dove (55 page)

“I am not good with words,” he tried to explain, but Megan gave him no quarter.

“I need to hear only three.”

Bracken glanced around swiftly and suddenly grabbed Megan’s arm and pulled her into a dim corner of the passageway. He took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes.

“I love you, Megan.”

The round redhead sighed with unbelievable pleasure. “And I love you, Bracken of Hawkings Crest,” she whispered.

He bent and kissed her, and Megan’s eyes closed in bliss. He was right, he did “tell” her everyday that his love was constant, but there was something very special in hearing the words.

The baby suddenly kicked between them, and Bracken’s hands immediately dropped to Megan’s stomach. He had felt the movements often, but the look of delight in his eyes never waned.

“Perhaps it will be sooner than we think,” Megan whispered. “I am so large that maybe my dates have been wrong.”

“Perhaps. We will pray for God’s timing and be patient.”

Megan loved it when Bracken spoke of God with such submission. When his arms came around her, she lay her head on his chest and sighed with contentment.

You have given me so much, heavenly Father—more than I ever dreamed. Please bless this child in my womb. Help us to show You to him.

Bracken’s thoughts were much the same, and for a time the world ceased to exist. Duke and duchess would have stood holding one another for quite some time, but there was a sudden commotion coming from the great hall. Several servants passed, and someone said the names Lady Joyce and Lord Stephen.

“Oh, Bracken.” Megan grabbed his arm in excitement.

The duke needed no other encouragement. He took Megan’s small hand in his, and they made their way out to the great hall to greet his family.

Thirty-Nine

“I
WAS UPSTAIRS WITH
M
EGAN WHEN
Vincent pursued Marigold. She ran through the castle and then out to the front steps. He never laid a hand on her. She fell down those high, stone steps and broke her neck.”

“She was so evil,” Giles commented softly, a frown knitting his young brow.

“Yes,” Joyce agreed, her heart going out to Bracken and Megan.

“What has happened to Roland Kirkpatrick?” Stephen wished to know.

“He is in the Tower awaiting his sentence. I do not believe things will go well for him.”

The family was gathered around the hearth in the war room, and for a moment they were silent. Bracken had been relaying the events of the past months. Megan had written concerning some of them, but Joyce was naturally interested in the details.

“Tell us the rest, Bracken,” she entreated after a time.

“We took the journey home very slowly. When we arrived, I felt certain that all would be well. This was not the case. Megan lay sleeping for days, and at times she grew so still that I feared I would lose her.”

Bracken reached for Megan’s hand, and continued with his eyes on his mother.

“I have never known such fear. In the past I have made vows to God, but always on my terms. This time I only asked God to spare Megan because I knew she could tell me how to find Him. The hole in my heart went on without end. I have never known such desperation.
I wanted for the first time to have a relationship with God’s Son, and I had no idea how to go about it.”

“And then Louisa came,” Joyce filled in, her heart in her eyes. Bracken smiled as well at the remembrance.

“Yes. I asked how she had heard of Megan’s illness, but of course she hadn’t. I know now that God sent her when I needed her most.”

“And what did she tell you?” Stephen asked. He still believed as Bracken once had, that God had no real place in his life. Keeping this in mind, Bracken answered gently.

“She was not easy with me. She told me that there would be no bargains, no guarantees. Louisa said my submitting to God would not spare Megan. God could still decide that her time on this earth was over.”

“And yet you still believed?” Stephen seemed fascinated.

“Yes. It sounds cold, but I knew that not even Megan’s spared life would fill the emptiness I felt within. I had run from God for years. It’s a wonder He did not give up. I knew that it was long past time for me to surrender.”

Bracken turned then and looked at Megan, his hand still holding hers. “God has given me my wife and my child, but of more importance is what He did for my spirit.”

Megan smiled tenderly into his eyes. She had longed and prayed for this without really thinking how precious it would be. The change in him was so dramatic. Their life was not perfect, but when God spoke through the Holy Scriptures about new life, Megan had only to look at her husband to know just what He meant.

The warm fellowship of the group was interrupted when Stephen suddenly stood. Megan had been so intent on Bracken that she had not noticed his discomfort. Without looking at anyone, Stephen wordlessly walked from the room. No one spoke for a time, but then Bracken broke the silence.

“He will come,” the older brother spoke with confidence.

“Yes,” Giles agreed, a smile on his face. “He fights as you did, Bracken, but as with you, it is just a matter of time.”

Bracken reached and clapped Giles on the shoulder. “It’s good to have you here, Giles. Maybe Mother would agree to your staying for a time.”

The younger man’s eyes lit up, and he turned to Joyce.

“Mother?”

“I don’t see why not.” She smiled at him. “It will be quiet with Kristine at Danella’s—she is expecting again—but I shall survive.”

“It’s settled then,” Bracken announced and stood. “Let us go and see how you’re doing with your archery.”

Bracken’s hand dropped for a moment onto Megan’s shoulder, and then the women watched them move away. The conversation waned after that, but neither woman cared. Feeling tired of a sudden, Megan was content to doze. Joyce, after her long journey, wanted to sit quietly and pray.

Megan’s first pain hit her in the kitchens. A month had passed. Stephen had moved on, but Joyce was still at Hawkings Crest, and Giles was also in attendance. No one noticed the duchess’ sudden look of shock or the way she held onto the edge of the table with a white-fingered grip. After a time, she stood erect and rubbed the dampness from her upper lip.

The next contraction was over 20 minutes later, but it lasted much longer and Megan was thankful that she’d taken herself off to be alone in her parlor. She panted for a time afterward and debated calling for someone. The thought of lying in bed, as she was sure everyone would insist she do, was not to be tolerated.

Feeling fairly well, Megan forced herself to rise and go about her business. In no time at all, she grew fairly adept at turning away from the people around her or sitting down when she felt a pain coming on. She was not one given to moaning or crying out, but some cramps taxed her to the limit of her self-control.

Hours had passed when Bracken sought her out. He was slightly preoccupied, so although Megan had just had a contraction that flushed her face and beaded her brow with moisture, he didn’t notice anything amiss.

“I am going hunting. The hour is not early, but with the light snow from this morning, the timing is good.”

“I’d rather you didn’t, Bracken,” Megan said unexpectedly.

The duke blinked at her. “What did you say?” His voice told of his incredulity.

Megan sighed. “I’m sorry, Bracken; I just wish you could be home right now.”

He studied her intently for a moment, first her eyes and then her swollen stomach.

“Your pains have started,” he stated seriously, his voice low.

“Yes,” Megan admitted.

“ ’Tis too soon,” he said, as if to reason with her would make them go away.

“They have come,” Megan told him logically.

“When?”

“Hours ago.”

Bracken bent promptly and lifted her in his arms. Megan protested and tried to gain his attention, but they were at the bottom of the stairs before he listened to her.

“Please, Bracken.”

“Please what?” He stopped and stared down at the round bundle in his arms.

“I do not wish to go to bed. The pains started around 20 minutes apart. Now, hours have passed, and they are still some ten minutes apart. I cannot lie in bed for hours, Bracken, or I will lose my sanity.”

The indecision was clear in his eyes. Good sense told him to take her right to bed, but eyes humbly entreated him and told him to listen to her words. He stood for long minutes and then slowly lowered Megan so she could stand.

“I will abide by your wishes—” he began just as a pain hit her. Bracken forced himself to stand helplessly by as Megan held onto his arm with strength that only severe pain can bring. She panted as it subsided, and Bracken felt breathless himself when he spoke.

“Please let me take you up, Megan.”

The small woman emphatically shook her head. “I tell you true, Bracken, it will be hours yet. Let me stay active.”

His great chest rose in a heartfelt sigh. “As you wish. I will be at your side at all times, and I will have Helga ready our room, but for the time I will do as you ask.”

More hours passed, and still Megan felt no real urgency. To Bracken’s chagrin, his mother agreed with Megan’s handling of the situation. Joyce stayed close herself but she did not urge Megan to alter her plans.

The evening was growing long when Megan’s demeanor changed.
She sat quietly through two more very close contractions before speaking to her husband.

“I wish to go upstairs now, Bracken.”

The young duke heard her, but for a moment he could not react. He had watched the intense pain these last spasms had brought, and for a moment he was paralyzed with anguish for her. She had shown the qualities of a knight the way she suffered without complaint, but watching her, there was no disguising the misery.

“Bracken,” Giles said, shaking his brother’s arm. “Help her.” Still the older man did not move.

“Bracken,” Joyce now tried. “Megan is ready to go upstairs.”

Joyce and Giles shared a look and then glanced at Megan. They found her looking oddly at her husband. She stared at him for the space of several minutes and then spoke gently.

“I need your help, Bracken. I know that the day has been long, but if you could only get me to our bedchamber, I will give you your son.”