A Lord For Haughmond Part 31

"What ails you, Sibyl?" Katherine called, moving toward the group.

Anne whirled to face her. "Hold, Katherine, come no closer!"

Looking past her sister's shoulder she saw the cause for alarm. Wrapped within a heavy woolen mantle, Lady Adela, the herbalist, stood by the door. She eyed Katherine with a dark and haughty gaze.

Aunt Matilda's warning came back with a vengeance. 'Twas not childbirth that did kill our Constance. 'Twas Sir Geoffrey and his mistress.

Katherine's mouth went dry. Lady Adela's presence meant but one thing. Her husband intended to poison her child.

Whirling, with her hand clutching her throat in terror, barely able to breathe, she made for the stairs. Halfway up she stumbled.

Twisting to protect Rhys's child, clasping her swollen belly with desperate hands, she fell.

With loud shrieks, Anne and Sibyl came running.

At the bottom of the stairs she sat up, expecting pain. But none came. Her thudding heart beat and her frantic panting filled her ears. Her womb tightened. But 'twas naught more than she had experienced in the weeks past. Her child kicked most vigorously. He was not harmed.

With Sibyl's help she tried to rise. 'Twas then she sensed hot liquid betwixt her legs. 'Twas then pain ripped through her so sharp and hard she collapsed back onto the floor.

'Twas then she screamed.

When Dafydd returned with his father and the other knights from their daily hunt, he found the hall deserted.

Where was Sibyl? The lookout had announced their arrival. She always greeted them with br.i.m.m.i.n.g horns of ale. His men would expect a liberal libation to quench their well-earned thirst.

He looked around the hall. Naught appeared out of the ordinary. Yet unease twisted through his gut, the same as happened just before battle.

Then his gaze landed on the woman sitting by the hearth. Her dark beauty and grace were frightening familiar.

"Adela!" With a broad smile, Sir Geoffrey strode past him, taking the herbalist's hands within his, kissing both her cheeks. "You arrived promptly."

His fear rising with each heartbeat, Dafydd turned and ran toward the kitchen, clasping his rattling scabbard against his thigh.

"Sibyl!" The name split the air just as the servant came scurrying through the recessed doorway and nigh collided with him. She backed away, her fright overwhelming and pulsing toward him.

Fear burgeoned within his breast. "Where is your mistress?"

"In her chamber, my lord. She fell."

"G.o.d's- " The large tapestries on the walls seemed to reel above his head. He turned and bolted across the hall. "Anne!"

"Lady Anne is with her, my lord," Sibyl called after him.

Taking the stairs three at a time, he came up hard against the barred chamber door.

"Open the door, Katherine," he shouted, pounding on the portal.

"Leave us be," came Anne's frantic voice.

Another sound followed. A moan? His chest tightened. "Katherine? Are you well? Anne, open this door!"

The only response was a sharp cry that sent chills down his spine and terror through his heart. Racing to the stairs he shouted for the guards. Four men-at-arms came charging up with Sir Geoffrey in their wake. Another command brought the steady pounding of axes. Soon the heavy door was split in twain.

Forcing his way through the splintered opening, he stumbled to a halt. Katherine lay on the bed with her eyes closed and gasping for breath. Her dark hair lay in disarray about her shoulders. Perspiration beaded her forehead, while her face twisted in agony.

Betwixt them stood Anne, wielding a sharp lance.

"She's hurt!" Dafydd peered at his wife anxiously. "See you she's in pain." He stumbled forward.

"Hold," warned Anne, swiping the air with the lance. "You won't harm this child."

"The child comes?" The walls spun again. He shook his head. Behind him, the broken pieces of the door crashed to the floor as Will and the castle soldiers surged forward with drawn swords.

Another cry rose from the bed, anguished and frightened. Anne's gaze shifted to her sister. He lunged, grabbed the lance and wrenched it free.

"Don't touch her," Anne cried and threw herself in his path.

He wrapped his arm around her waist and swung her out of his way. "Your sister needs your strength, not your hysterics."

"She needs my protection," Anne responded, running after him "Not from me."

"Rhys?" Katherine whispered. Her eyelids fluttered open.

From behind, Sir Geoffrey bellowed, "See how your wife insults you."

"Empty this chamber." Dafydd did not wait to see his command followed, focusing instead on Katherine, noting her fingers digging into her swollen belly, the grimace on her lips, the damp hair plastered to her face. He plucked hair from her mouth and brushed her face clear then reached for her nearest hand and held it tightly. She frowned as he leaned closer.

"Have you sent for the midwife?" He had to look sharply at Anne before she answered with a shake of her head and a defiant glare.

"That old crone is not to be trusted."

Again he flung a shouted order over his shoulder. "Will-Will, fetch Muriel!"

His friend's rea.s.suring answer came quickly, "I'll see it done."

"I can be of service," said Sir Geoffrey, stepping forward, speaking over the noise of the departing soldiers.

"Will!"

"Fear not, Dafydd, Lady Adela shall remain in the hall."

Heaving a sigh of relief, Dafydd leaned over the bed, barely aware of the sound of retreating boots. "Katherine, hear me?" Desperate, he searched her twisted face.

A moan was his only answer.

Anne, on her sister's far side, held her arm and scowled at him with a distrustful glare.

His grip tightened. He felt the daintiness of delicate bones, felt the clammy skin, felt her trembling. He felt, thereto, the unnerving helplessness within himself.

'Twas mere moments when Will returned with the midwife, yet it seemed hours.

"'Twas sure I was that yer lady's time had come. But they prevented me from attendin' her." The old woman slowly limped toward the bed, burdened down with an armful of linens that neigh hid her sagging chin.

She settled them on a leather chest and turned to Sir Geoffrey, motioning with her head. "Out! 'Tis no place for a man." Beneath her dark glower, he retreated into the corridor. She turned to Anne. "Has the water broken?"

When Anne stared blankly at her, the midwife lifted the coverlet and examined Katherine and the bed. She nodded with a frown. "Quickly, my lord, we must needs find another chamber-one that offers privacy." She clutched the pile of linens tightly to her flat breast and limped away, stepping gingerly through the gaping doorway.

Gathering Katherine in his arms, Dafydd feared he would stumble. The feel of her body next to his, her warmth radiating into his hands, the delicate scent of lavender wafting up from her hair, smote him fully in the gut. 'Twas torture most cruel to hold her as she had never allowed.

With fixed stoicism he bore her to the next chamber and settled her within the new bed. Her eyes opened and met his. Never had he seen such fear.

"'Tis time ye were gone, m'lord," the midwife murmured beside his elbow.

Indeed, yet he lingered, hovering beside Katherine.

Muriel tugged on the sleeve of his jerkin. "I know my duty, m'lord. Your wife is in good hands. Take her sister with ye."

Nodding, he glanced at Anne, expecting a fight. But she surprised him. She kissed Katherine's cheek and murmured quiet words of encouragement then turned and left the chamber.

Dafydd could not muster an equal dignity. He had to be pushed, with Muriel's knotty hand against his back. Barely could he put one foot in front of the other. And when the door was bolted behind him, all he could do was to test it, pushing against it with all his bottled up fears to make sure it would safeguard Katherine and her babe.

Returning to the hall, he glimpsed Lady Adela and Sir Geoffrey seated by the hearth. She held a goblet of wine in her slender hand. Her unbound hair, the color of midnight, was held in place with a lace trimmed gold circlet. Though draped on the back of the chair, her black woolen cloak fell in waves around her, giving her the sinister appearance of a devil's woman.

He stalked across the chamber. "Begone with you!"

"Be you not so rude, Dafydd. The lady is come at my bidding." With a dark frown, Sir Geoffrey rose to his full height. "She can help with the birth."

"Nay, my wife fears her." He grappled with his emotions. 'Twas a great effort, even in the face of his father's rising animosity.

"Adela to be feared? How so?"

He tried to shrug, almost succeeding. "'Tis irrational, I realize. But women are, ofttimes." He must not succ.u.mb to his father's intimidation. "'Twould be best that Lady Adela returns to Myton Castle. I will not have my wife fretting."

Sir Geoffrey scowled all the more. "You indulge the wh.o.r.e's whims."

Dafydd clenched his fists, tried to mitigate his anger. "'Tis not the time for argument. Take your herbalist and go, Father."

"'Tis no hardship." Lady Adela rose to stand beside Sir Geoffrey. She bestowed him with a scintillating smile. Her eyes, bottomless and opaque, betrayed a predatory intelligence.

They stood like an impenetrable fortress, his father and Adela, a blended strength of understanding. Terrifying!

The herbalist wisely had kept her distance the day he had visited Myton. He had not realized her fort.i.tude. But their combined cunning was obvious, a keen vision that missed naught.

"My humble apologies, lady." He bowed politely, hiding his newfound insight. "Your offer of a.s.sistance is appreciated, but it must be declined."

Smiling, Lady Adela extended her hand. "Another time, mayhap." Her voice was smooth and enticing.

Dafydd bent a swift kiss upon the back of her hand. Her fingers lingered on his, her touch gentle but firm.

'Twas a relief when the two left the hall. Moments later he was dismayed to see Sir Geoffrey returning. "I thought you escorted Lady Adela to Myton?" he asked, keeping his voice friendly.

"My place is here," Sir Geoffrey replied with a sly smile. "Should there be difficulties, I remain to advise you."

"What difficulties are there that I can not meet?" Dafydd said, fear splintering his voice. He flung himself into the nearest chair, for his knees grew suddenly weak. "I fight for the king and he is pleased with me. What advice need I?"

"One never knows, Dafydd." With stealthy grace, Sir Geoffrey moved closer. "You have no cause for anger. I thought a father's support would be appreciated in this time of uncertainty."

He let loose a sigh. "My apology. Worry does override my good judgment."

"Yea, 'tis worrisome if your wife should drop a son."

Dafydd checked his anger. "My worry is for my wife. I would not have her in peril."

A moaning wail descended into the hall.

Leaping up, he reached the bottom of the stairs in a flash and peered up past the torchlight flickering from the curving wall of the stairwell.

His hands grew damp and he felt a trail of sweat coursing down his back. His leather hauberk felt stifling. A scream ruptured the silence. He clutched the hilt of his sword.

"'Tis not so long yet," called Sir Geoffrey from his chair. "It could be hours before she delivers his child, if she is able. She may labor long. 'Twas a struggle for her mother."

Sick with the thought of Katherine's pain, he stared at the stones of the floor.

"'Tis better she perishes after what she has done to us."

Dafydd swung around to glare at his father. One more word from the man, one more slur against Katherine and he would gladly tear Sir Geoffrey apart.

All his silent admonitions would come to naught if he did not get a grip on his emotions. He must not be drawn into a confrontation. Not at Haughmond. Not where Katherine would be blamed.

But his father's cutting innuendoes went beyond bearing. He paced about the hall, swinging wide of the hearth.

Another shriek filled the upper corridor. At the base of the stairs he froze then held his breath in the long silence that followed.

And in that silence came a new sound-a babe's first cry.

He stood rooted to the floor, counting, calculating the time. Finally he remembered to exhale. It was too soon for Muriel to summon him. He tried to breathe normally.

He could not breathe at all.

He glanced in his father's direction, realized Sir Geoffrey watched him like an angry hawk eyeing its prey.

He hunched his shoulders. G.o.d almighty, Katherine needed him more than ever.

A servant hurried down the stairs. "The midwife bids you come, my lord."

Unable to contain his impatience, he sprinted up the stairs.