When the Music Ends (The Winter Rose Chronicles) (31 page)

            And
then he began to move, pressing inside her, pulling back and returning, making
her body tighten with the pleasure of his taking. It was so good. Erin was in heaven as Sean loved her slowly, deeply, filling her. She moaned a little,
softly, and then moaned again. Her peak was approaching rapidly. Sean could
feel her clenching as her orgasm neared. He didn’t want her to come too
fast, so he deliberately slowed his pace even more. But it was already too
late. Erin was so aroused, so close, that even this lesser stimulation was
overpowering. One delicate thrust pressed too deep, delving fully into her and
she went up in flames, pressing her face into the pillow to muffle her ecstatic
sobs as she squirmed and spasmed.

            Erin’s orgasm was so hot, so beautiful, that Sean couldn’t hold out against it.
He thrust deep once, twice, and let go, giving her his own glorious peak. After
a few moments, he slipped gently out of her and lowered her to the mattress on
her side, joining her, face to face and pulling her as close as her belly would
allow.

            "Thank
you, Sean," she said sweetly, "that was just what I needed. What a
wonderful husband you are."

            "It’s
my pleasure, baby, believe me. I love you so much Erin."

            "I
love you too."

            They
kissed tenderly. So the world wasn’t perfect, Erin thought. It was full
of bad mothers and tragic situations. Knowing that she was completely loved by
this amazing sexy man, had been loved by him for so many years, meant a lot. If
she could get and keep him, she must be a very good girl after all. Erin smiled. Life was pretty good, when you were a Murphy.

August 2006

            Sean
Murphy knelt in his swimming trunks a kiddie pool full of hot water on the
newly refinished floor of their living room. No longer a filthy disaster area,
the room now glowed with life and charm, all polished oak floors and wood framed
windows, and crown molding. The walls were painted a soft white. He and Erin
had picked out a sofa and loveseat in forest green brocade, which they had
arranged at right angles facing the red brick fireplace. He hoped the tarp he
had laid down would catch any splashes.

He also wondered just how the hell he had ended up in such a predicament.
He had pictured Erin giving birth at a hospital, with pain medication, but her artist’s
soul would accept nothing less than a home delivery, especially as she had experienced
no complications. Actually, the labor had been fine, if slow, starting early in
the morning with a few twinges, and progressing throughout the day. The
contractions had intensified, but never really gotten so bad she couldn’t
handle them; that was until about ten minutes ago. The midwife, a very sweet
woman named Sara with decades of experience, had decided that rather than
waiting a further three hours for Erin to dilate the last centimeter, she would
break her water. Then all hell had broken loose. The pain had suddenly gotten
very intense, so Sara and her assistant Abby had helped Erin into the birthing
tub so the hot water could help her cope. Now Abby was ladling water over
Erin’s back as the contraction surged, and Sean supported her, his hands
on her waist, hers around his neck, her head on his shoulder while she moaned
and squirmed, trying to find a less intense position.

            Sean
hated this. She was in so much pain, and there was nothing he could do for her.
Only delivery would cure this.

            "Can’t
we do anything?" he asked the midwife.

            "No,
this is just part of it. No one can handle nine centimeter contractions well.
We just have to help her endure. It won’t be long."

            The
contraction faded and Erin started to sob.

            "I
can’t do this," she wept.

            "You’re
doing it," Abby said firmly, "you’re doing great. Just a few
more minutes, Erin, and you’ll be able to start pushing. Your baby will
be here before you know it."

            "Breathe,
Erin," he told her, stroking her back gently, "Remember to
breathe."

            Erin took several slow deep breaths, trying to calm herself, to relax before the next
contraction could begin. There was no time. Her belly tightened painfully again
and she moaned loudly. In the middle of the contraction, the sound Erin was making changed from a groan to a growl. Sean could feel her arms tensing.

            "Are
you pushing Erin?" Sara asked sharply.

            "I
have to," Erin panted.

            "Abby,
quick, check her. We don’t want her to push unless she’s fully
dilated.

            As
the contraction faded, Abby gently checked Erin for dilation.

            "She’s
complete, Sara, and the baby is already descending."

            "Good.
That should make her feel a little better."

            "What’s
happening?" Sean wanted to know.

            "We’re
starting the pushing phase. This is usually easier on the mom, because it gives
her something to do. Can you keep holding her?"

            "I
can hold her forever," Sean said.

            "Good.
Let’s have her turn though, so she’s facing me. You can hold her
from behind now. Just hook your arms under hers."

            Sean
nodded and helped his wife change positions just in time for another
contraction. This time, she did seem more in control as she bore down, trying
to bring their son into the world.

            "Good
Erin. Push. You’re doing so well. He’s really coming down."

            "It
burns," Erin hissed through gritted teeth.

            "I
know it does. That’s your baby being delivered. Push into the burn Erin. Don’t fight against it."

            Erin pushed and then exhaled loudly, her head falling back against Sean’s shoulder.

            "It
hurts," she wailed.

            "I
know it hurts. Don’t stop."

            Another
contraction, another push. Sean supported his wife in the water; thankful for
the muscles he had developed working construction for so many years. This was
hard.

            Another
push, another. "Is anything happening?"

            "Yes,
Sean. It won’t be long. The baby is much lower now. The head is crowning.
Erin, do you want to feel?"

            "No.
I don’t want to feel that."

            "Okay.
Sean?"

            "No
thanks. Let’s just get this done okay?"

            "Okay.
Push, Erin. One more should get the head out."

            Erin’s push turned to a soft cry as the head emerged. She panted softly.

            "Wonderful,
Erin. The head is out. Just give me a little push, honey, and you’ll get
to meet your son." Erin pushed one last time and the baby slithered into
the midwife’s hands.

            "I
want to sit down," Erin told Sean, and he lowered her into the water, so
she could position herself more comfortably. Sean sat behind her, pulling her
back against his chest. He put his arms around her. She leaned her head on his shoulder.

            Sara
lifted the baby out of the water, and clamped the umbilical cord, and suctioned
out his mouth. He made a little squeak and then began to howl.

            "Sean,
Erin, meet your son," she said gently, placing the baby in Erin’s arms. Erin looked down into the little face. The little boy stopped crying and
looked up at his mother, his eyes squinty in the light, his little lip sticking
out. Sean looked over his wife’s shoulder.

            "Oh
Sean," Erin breathed, "just look at him. Have you ever seen
anything so beautiful in your life?"

            "Only
one thing."

            "What’s
that?"

            "You."
He kissed her temple. She smiled. There was a flash as Sara took a photo of the
little family.

            "That
was a good one," she said to Abby as the assistant began setting up
equipment to weigh and clean the baby. Sara handed Sean a pair of scissors so he
could cut the umbilical cord. Then she took the little boy from Erin and handed him to his father so she could help Erin out of the water for a
post-delivery checkup.

            Sean
climbed out of the tub, cradling his son in his arms and walked across the tarp
over to the loveseat where Abby was waiting to look over the little boy.

            "Congratulations
Dad," she told Sean. "What’s his name?"

            "Jordan. Jordan Matthew Murphy."

            "He’s
precious."

            "Yes,
he is." He handed the baby to the midwife’s assistant and turned to
his wife. Erin was lying on the couch, draped in a towel, as Sara examined her,
ensuring that she was okay. Sean remembered the last time, the miscarriage.
What a tragedy that had been, and they had almost compounded it by losing each
other not long after. But now, everything was perfect. Erin was his wife, and
their son was born alive and healthy.

Abby scrubbed the baby vigorously with a soft cloth and he began to
wail again. The assistant wrapped his son in a blanket and he carried him over
to Erin, who scooted up on the sofa and eagerly held out her arms, cradling
Jordan, and looking down into his face with adoration. Sean smiled, placing his
hand on his wife’s shoulder. The circle was complete. A new branch of the
Murphy family was beginning, passing on the legacy of love to the next
generation.

           
Keeping
Katerina (Kindle)

The 1840s: A time of increasing social awareness, particularly for
progressive cotton mill owner Adrian Bennett and his son and business partner
Christopher. But one social issue Christopher has never considered much is
violence against women. A Robert Browning poem and a chance encounter with
Katerina Valentino change everything.

Katerina is in fear for her life from her father's constant
beatings. That is, until Christopher becomes entranced by the delicate
dark-haired beauty, and decides that he must rescue her from her father--by
marrying her. But Katerina's years of abuse have left her physically and
emotionally scarred. And those scars threaten the newlyweds' hope for
happiness. Is Christopher's tender affection enough to help Katerina heal her
broken spirit?