“Anything.” He just wanted her to be comfortable and safe. And for their child to be safe.
Picking up an extra blanket, he spread it on the wood floor of the cart. He guided her from the bench and eased her onto the blanket. She took the blanket that was already draped around her and settled it across her midsection. “Would you sit behind me so I can lean on you?” she asked.
Lionel moved quickly to position himself so she could be more comfortable. He put his legs on either side of her so she was nestled firmly into his embrace and could recline against his chest. Then he pulled the blanket up to her neck. “How’s this?”
“As good as it’s going to get, I’m afraid.” The last word ended on a sharp intake of air.
He felt her body tighten and knew a pain was shooting through her. He recalled the births of their first two children all too well. “Just breathe, my love.” He slid his hands beneath the blanket and gently massaged her biceps.
The pain seemed to last longer than any of the others, which he knew was not a good sign. Well, it was a good sign as far as the babe coming soon, but he wanted to make sure they got back to Stour’s Edge and had time to organize everything for the birth. He still couldn’t believe it was already happening. He turned his head and urged the groom to drive faster.
When the pain subsided, she melted against him, her body feeling like jelly. Lionel kissed her temple.
“Why is this babe coming early?” Emmaline ran her hands over her belly in large, circular strokes.
He heard the worry in her voice and worked to keep any from his. “She’s impatient. Clearly, she saw how much fun we were having on the Yule log hunt and wanted to join in.”
“She? You always assume I’m having a girl.”
“And so far I’ve been right fifty percent of the time. I like my odds.”
“The hunt was fun until Leah and Jasper went missing. I hope they’ve been found.”
“I’m sure they have,” Lionel said, bringing his hands to her shoulders and then sliding them back down to her elbows.
Her body clenched again, and Lionel held his breath. He looked toward the manor house, willing it to come into sight. Come on.
The cart hit another rut, the deepest one yet. Lionel and Emmaline flew up off the floor and crashed back hard. Emmaline cried out as the cart pitched. The rear corner dove toward the earth, and it was obvious to Lionel that they’d lost a wheel.
“Bloody hell!” He held tightly to his wife as the pain worked through her. He turned his head and watched as the groom leapt from the front seat and dashed around to the back of the cart.
The groom’s gaze met Lionel’s, and it was all Lionel needed to see. He looked again in the direction of Stour’s Edge. They were at least a mile away. How could he carry a laboring woman that far? He could do it—he would do it. But she’d be in agony.
“The other cart will be along shortly,” the groom said.
Emmaline relaxed in his arms. It was due to the pain subsiding, Lionel knew, but he was sure the groom’s proclamation helped.
Lionel couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of the other cart. A great relief rushed over him. “Of course. We’ll just wait. I’ll hold on to you, my love.”
“I feel as if we’re sliding toward the ground,” Emmaline said.
He realized it was more than just a feeling. They were slipping in the direction of the lost wheel. He looked to the groom. “Will you help me remove her from the cart?”
The groom nodded and sprang to action. He reached for Emmaline’s hand. Once he had her in his grip, he used his other hand to brace her upper arm and shoulder. Lionel pushed back from her and slid around her other side. Keeping hold of her, he guided her down the cart then scrambled from the vehicle. Once he was on the ground, he bent and picked her up. The groom let her go, and Lionel hefted her in his arms.
“Grab the blanket and spread it on the ground,” he bade the groom.
The groom took the blanket and settled it off the track near a tree. Lionel set Emmaline down so she could lean against the trunk. “The other cart will be here shortly.”
She grimaced as her belly tightened once more. “We’re out of time.”
“No, we’re only a mile from the house. We’ll get there before the babe comes.”
Her gaze met his. “Lionel, you aren’t understanding me. The babe is coming now.”
He blinked at her. “She can’t.”
She tipped her head to the side, her eyes nearly closing until they were mere slits. “I’ve done this before. I think I know when my babe is about to be born.”
Of course she did. As much as he wanted his child born under a roof, he knew that children did whatever they damn well pleased.
“What do you want me to do?” Fear and anxiety gripped him so hard he could barely breathe.
“The blanket, please.” She had to work to get the words out as she endured a lasting pain. Lines grooved into her forehead, and her lips paled.
Lionel grabbed it from where it had fallen when he’d swept her into his arms. “What do I do with it?”
“Bunch it... up.” She exhaled long and loud. “Put it behind me.”
The bark had to be hard against her back. Blast, he should have realized that. He did his best to make a giant pillow of sorts then leaned her forward to place it behind her. Gently, he guided her backward so that she was propped up.
She readjusted her position, moving her backside down and parting her legs as she planted her feet on the ground. “You’re going to have to guide him out.”
He noted that she referred to the babe as a he but decided this was not the time to engage in an argument. Dropping to his knees, he lifted the hems of her skirts, pushing them up to her knees. Right away, he saw the top of the babe’s head. He’d seen this before, but there’d been a doctor present! And Emmaline had been inside! On a bed!
Lionel swallowed and eased forward so he was between her calves. He steeled himself for what would come next. There would be liquid and yelling and, he prayed, a babe’s cry.
“I need a hand!” Emmaline growled.
“I’m helping,” Lionel said.
She pulled her skirts back until her thighs were completely exposed.
“To hold!” she yelled.
Lionel looked at the groom, who’d stood back and frankly looked as if he wanted to disappear into the ground. “Come hold her hand, please.” Silently, he pleaded with the man to swallow his discomfort and be a source of help and comfort.
Thankfully, the groom hastened to Emmaline’s side. He was careful to avert his gaze from her exposed lower half as he took her hand. Emmaline instantly squeezed it so hard his fingers turned white.
“Sorry about that,” Lionel murmured, knowing from experience how fierce his wife’s grip was.
Emmaline cried out and bore down, her face turning red. Liquid rushed from her as the babe’s head came free. Lionel clasped the warm, wet scalp as emotion barreled into his throat. He held it back. Later he would give in, but now he needed to focus completely.
“The head is free,” he said.
There was a moment of respite as Emmaline drew deep breaths, and the groom’s hand regained its flow of blood. Then she groaned as she pushed again, this time freeing the babe’s shoulders.