“I’m not sure, Pa. It may only be a fire farther away on the docks. If the wind is blowing in the right direction, we usually get some of the smoke here. Something happened like this last year.”
“Let’s look around downstairs to make sure,” Brandon suggested. “But first, we’d better light some sconces here in the hallway just in case we have to race back and get the women up.”
In a few moments, they made a cautious descent to the lower floor and prowled through each room, searching for some indication of a fire before moving on to the next. The house was wreathed in silence, but nothing seemed amiss despite their growing awareness of smoke. Going off in a different direction than his son, Brandon wandered down the corridor toward the kitchen. Upon entering the room, he found the back door standing open and a manly form crumpled across the threshold.
“Beau,” he called quietly. “Come take a look at this.”
Turning the unconscious man over, Brandon muttered a curse as he noted the bloody gash across the young houseman’s brow. He glanced around as Beau joined him. “Whoever did this certainly meant for this poor fellow to be out for a while.”
Beau raised his gaze and squinted against the light of his lantern as he peered past the covered terrace buttressing the house and probed the shadows of the garden. Noticing a flickering glow being cast into the area from the south side, he stepped over Cooper’s prostrate form and crept to the end of the porch, keeping a watchful eye out for anyone lurking in the gloom. When he reached the end of the terrace, he finally discovered where the smoke was coming from. The fence along the street side had been set ablaze some time earlier. What remained of the barrier wouldn’t have been enough to warm their backsides even for a few moments on a cold winter’s night.
“Cooper was on watch tonight, Pa,” Beau stated in sudden alarm as he ran back to his father, who was wrapping a cold, wet compress around the servant’s head. “The culprit probably set the fence on fire to lure Cooper out and hit him as soon as he stepped out. Someone may already be in the house.”
“You’d better check upstairs to make sure the women are all right and get them up,” Brandon urged, lifting the houseman and draping him over a broad shoulder. “I’ll take Cooper to his quarters and wake the rest of the servants.”
As his father left, Beau ran down the corridor toward the central hall. He was about to leap up the stairs when he noticed the north garden area flickering with light. Snatching the pistol from his belt, he raced to the window, threw it open, and leaned out in time to see a large, darkly garbed man sprinting around the front corner of the house. Flames were already leaping up from a burning mound of dry kindling that had been piled up beneath the edge of the house. A torch had been dropped alongside, no doubt after the arsonist had heard the window open.
Beau dashed back to the kitchen door and yelled out to his father, “Pa! Wilson’s trying to burn us out! He has already started another fire on the north side of the house. Tell the servants to hurry and put it out! If you see Wilson coming around the back of the house, yell! I’m going out the front now to see if I can catch him.”
“Kill the bastard!”
“I plan to,” Beau muttered, whirling back into the house. He set aside the lamp and ran to the front door, but to his horror he found the portal standing open. Barely an instant later a sudden scream from upstairs sent shards of ice-cold dread shooting through him. Pivoting sharply about, he raced across the hall and leapt up the stairs three at a time. He was less than midway in his ascent when he saw Cerynise and his mother above the landing, but they were not alone. A masked man in black garb, lean and of more than average height, had seized Cerynise from behind and had an arm clamped tightly around her, effectively keeping hers pinned to her sides. In his right hand the brigand held a pistol directed toward Beau.
Heather displayed a fair amount of outraged zeal as she pummeled the intruder with her fists and kicked him sharply with a satin mule. She proved too much of a distraction for the rogue, for the man turned on her with a snarl, lifting the hand that held the pistol. He tapped the butt of it against her chin and promptly sent her slithering unconscious to the floor.
Beau’s ire soared to unparalleled heights as he bounded up the stairs, but the brigand whirled to face him once again, this time pressing the bore of his weapon against Cerynise’s temple. Beau froze in sudden alarm, causing the man to chortle gleefully. Emboldened by the control he held over the seafaring captain, he motioned Beau to retreat, briefly flicking the hand that held Cerynise. Beau had no choice but to slowly, obediently retrace his steps down the stairs. The black-swathed villain cautiously followed, using Cerynise as his living shield.
Beau was nearing the middle curve in the stairs when the assailant paused above him. The eyeholes in the mask gleamed with reflected light as he swept his gaze about, taking close account of his surroundings. Though only a fourth of the way down, he could see part of the front door that was standing open.
In a deep, gravelly voice that seemed oddly exaggerated, the assailant mocked Beau. “I could kill your wife now, you know, and save myself the trouble of coming back later, but of course, if I do that, I’d lose a chance to escape, for I cannot hope to kill you both. As much as it displeases me to leave here without completing my errand, I guess I’ll just have to wait until a more opportune time to finish the bitch off.”
Without further warning, he yanked his arm from Cerynise and thrust her forward, snatching a scream from her as he sent her hurtling down the stairs toward her husband. Beau threw himself forward to catch her, but the impact of their collision knocked him backward, causing him to lose his balance. Even as he sought to hold Cerynise on top of him and cushion her fall with his own body, Beau saw their foe leap over the balustrade to the floor below and rush off toward the front portal. The slamming of the door attested to the brigand’s success in fleeing the scene of his crime.
“Damnation!” Brandon roared as he came charging into the hallway and espied the tangled forms of his son and daughter-in-law thumping down the last few steps. They came to rest on the marble floor, prompting him to ask in concern, “Are you two all right?”
“I’m not sure,” Cerynise answered, trying to subdue a wince as she pushed herself upright.
Having descended headfirst and on his back down the stairs, Beau was sure he had bruises he wasn’t even aware of yet, but there was no time to think of himself. Twisting around to look up at his father, he urged, “Pa, you’d better see about Mama. That bilge scum hit her with a pistol hard enough to knock her out.”
Rage tore through Brandon as he flew up the stairs, but when he caught sight of his wife lying unconscious on the landing, his fury soared. At that moment he was certain he could have committed outright murder on her attacker. Gently he picked her up and carried her into their bedroom, where he laid her on the bed. After wetting a cloth, he pressed it to the darkly swelling bruise on her jaw. To his relief, Heather’s eyes soon fluttered open. Becoming cognizant of his concern, she tried to reassure him with a smile but caught herself and groaned as she gingerly tested her jaw. “Oooh, it hurts.”
“Aye, madam, and so it should,” her husband whispered, stroking his fingers affectionately through the tumbled curls snuggled against her cheek. “You have a very dark bruise on your chin where that toad hit you.”
Everything came flooding back to Heather in an instant, and she had to be physically restrained from leaving the bed. “Cerynise!” she cried anxiously. “That man was trying to kill her!”
“Rest easy, madam. He wasn’t successful,” Brandon informed her. “Right now, your daughter-in-law is downstairs with Beau.”
“Unharmed?”
“She appeared to be when I left them, but she was trying to untangle herself from your son at the bottom of the stairs, and they gave me no explanation how that came about.”
“I’d better go see about her,” Heather said, making another attempt to leave the bed, but the room promptly dipped and began to whi
rl around her, drawing a disconcerted groan from her. “Perhaps I won’t after all.”
At that precise moment, the object of Heather’s concern was sitting beside Beau on the marble floor. Cerynise was clearly distressed but not for any reason her mother-in-law might have suspected after such a fright. Gingerly she smiled back at her husband before confiding in some embarrassment, “Beau, I hate to worry you any more than you are right now, but it seems that I’m all wet. I think the fall might have broken my water.”
Startled, he looked down at the pool of liquid she sat in and the small spots of bloody discoloration of her robe. “That’s not all, madam. You’re bleeding.”
She spread a hand over her belly and felt its tautness. Even before she had become cognizant of the heated reprimand that Heather had been diligently laying upon the intruder, Cerynise had awakened to a growing discomfort in her back and a sticky seepage between her legs. There was, of course, only one conclusion which could be rationally drawn. “I think our baby was making plans on being born today even before that horrible man came into our house.”
“Great stars in heaven, madam!” Beau swore, scrambling to his feet. “I’d better fetch Hatti and send someone for the doctor.”
Cerynise looked up at him pleadingly. “Do you suppose you could help me to our bed first? This marble is terribly uncomfortable.”
“Should’ve thought of that first,” Beau mumbled in some chagrin as he scooped her up in his arms. “Not very gallant of me to leave a lady in distress.”
She giggled and looped her arms around his neck. “That’s all right. I forgive you. After all, you’re my knight in shining armor. But I must say, if you take too many more tumbles with me, you’re going to be crippled before your time.”
“As long as I grow old with you, madam,” he replied softly, “then I’ll be satisfied.”
Once in their bedroom Cerynise bade him to stand her to her feet beside their bed and help strip away her soiled robe and nightgown. “I know I’m not very nice to look at without my clothes now,” she said sheepishly, clutching her arms before her naked body as he brought back a clean gown from her chest-on-chest. “But hopefully it won’t be too long before I get my shape back and we can make love together again.”
“I think you’re beautiful now, madam,” Beau whispered, touching a kiss to her brow. He recognized the glow of love in her eyes and felt immensely blessed by his good fortune. Shaking out her nightgown, he lifted it above her head as she raised her arms. “After all, you’re carrying our child, and that makes you more than lovely to me.”
“Does it matter to you what we have?” she questioned through the garment as she slipped her hands through the sleeves.
“As long as the babe is healthy and well formed, I’ll be delighted no matter what gender it is.”
Cerynise’s head came free, and she grinned up at him as he pulled her long hair out of the gown, allowing it to fall in tumbling waves down her back. “Have I yet told you this morning that I love you?”
Beau glanced toward the windows. “Considering it’s still dark outside, I guess you haven’t.”
Wrapping her arms around his lean waist, she pressed a kiss upon his naked chest. “Then I’m telling you now, sir. Your wife loves you immensely.”
Beau laid his arms around her shoulders. “Well, madam, your husband adores you, so there.”
Suddenly Cerynise turned aside and doubled over in pain. She clutched his fingers in a desperate grip as he supported her with an arm wrapped around her back. After a moment she gasped, “I think you’d better spread the linens that Hatti prepared on the bed.”
“Wouldn’t you like to lie down first?” he asked worriedly
“Not until the linens are laid out. I don’t want to soil the mattress.”
It was simpler to placate her than to argue, Beau decided, and made haste to perform her wishes. In another moment she was lying back upon the pillows.
“I’d better go fetch Hatti now,” he told her and hurried out. He paused briefly at his parents’ door to announce that Cerynise had gone into labor before making his descent.
“Hatti, where are you?” he called after reaching her quarters and finding them empty.
“Right here, Mistah Beau,” the black woman answered from the yard. Stepping to a place where he could see her, she looked at him curiously. “What yo’ be wantin’ me for?”
“The baby’s coming!” he declared.
Hatti nodded knowingly. “I ’spected ’twas time, the way Miss Cerynise’s burden done lowered in her belly these past few days.”
“She’s upstairs in our bedroom.”
“I’ll be along directly, Mistah Beau,” the woman reassured him, waving away his concern. “As soon as I get washed an’ dressed, then I’ll be up. There ain’t nothin’ gonna happen in betwixt time.”
“I’d better send someone to fetch the doctor.”
“If’n I was yo’, Mistah Beau, I’d wait a spell for that, seein’s as how this be Miz Cerynise’s first chile. It may be hours before the babe comes…”
“Hours?” Beau felt the color drain from his own face, and suddenly his knees seemed far too weak to support him. “That long?”
“I’ll know directly,” she replied, taking pity on him.
Beau unwillingly turned his attention to other matters. The servants were extinguishing what remained of the fire on the side of the house. The damage was insignificant and could be easily repaired. For that, he was thankful, but the charred fence along the street would have to be torn down completely and rebuilt immediately to keep the backyard reasonably safe for Cerynise.
The wind had died away, and morning had softened the sky to a cloudy, sultry gray when Beau resettled himself in a chair in the master bedroom and raised his head in an effort to stretch the kinks out of his neck. Cerynise was still in labor, and at present, Heather was sitting beside her on the bed, holding her hand. His mother had refused to listen to any more of his pleas that she should go to her room and rest. Beau had finally, reluctantly, acquiesced to the fact that she would stay. Brandon had recognized his wife’s unswerving determination from the very beginning and had known better than to argue. If he had learned anything in their lengthy marriage together, it was that Heather Birmingham could be quite willful at times. Obviously this was one of those occurrences.
“I think you should get some sleep,” Heather murmured sympathetically, turning that same kind of consideration upon her son, who was trying desperately to cope with his growing anxiety. Several moments passed before her words finally penetrated, but Beau shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.
Cerynise’s eyes settled lovingly upon her husband, and he returned her gaze in frank adoration. After a glance between them, Heather decided the couple needed some time to be alone together. Bestowing a smile upon her daughter-in-law, she patted her hand and moved away from the bed with an excuse. “I’m going down to see how that nice young man, Cooper, is doing, and then I’m going to have Philippe cook us up some breakfast. Until then, I think the two of you could stand some privacy.”
Hatti agreed wholeheartedly and, with a chuckle, waddled toward the door. “Yell or somethin’ if’n ya’ll needs us.”
Beau waited until the door had closed behind the two women before he crossed the room and stretched out on the bed beside his wife. Pressing close, he rested his head near hers on the same pillow. “Does it hurt much?”
Cerynise threaded her fingers through the long, lean ones that reached out to her and brought them to her lips for a kiss. “The pain comes and goes,” she murmured, lifting soft, liquid eyes to his. “Otherwise, I’m doing fine, according to Hatti.”
“Are you afraid?” he asked, gently sweeping his hand over the mound of her stomach.
“Not with you beside me.”
His hand paused. “And when I have to leave?”
“I don’t want you to.” Her fingers lightly caressed the back of his hand. “I can stand anything as long as you’
re with me.”
It was some time later when Beau heard Hatti’s footsteps approaching the bedroom door. Immediately he pressed a kiss upon his wife’s brow and swung his long legs over the side of the bed. As he collected clean clothes from his armoire, he tossed Cerynise a grin before he promised, “I’ll be back as soon as I get washed and dressed. Then I’ll stay with you through it all.”
Her eyes filling with tears of relief, Cerynise nodded. She hardly took a breath before a long, slow tightening across her belly alerted her once again. Even so, she braved a smile, sending her husband on his way.
In the ensuing hours the pressure intensified, and by noon the contractions had reached a degree that Cerynise could no longer conceal her discomfort from her husband. Though no cry slipped past her clenched teeth, it was impossible for Beau to ignore the marked tensing of her body and the sharp grimaces that accompanied the contractions. While Bridget stood nearby fanning her mistress, he stayed beside the bed, his face taut with concern as his wife squeezed his fingers in a tenacious grip. Seeking to give her relief in the only way he could, he bathed her face gently with a wet cloth and brushed sweat-dampened tendrils from her brow and cheeks as he offered words of encouragement.
The heat of August could not be easily subdued. Not a breath of air stirred, and as the afternoon progressed, the second-story bedroom became stifling. Yet, for the sake of modesty, Cerynise tried to keep herself covered with a sheet. It was Beau who kept dragging the linen away to wash her arms, legs and feet with cool water. With the wafting breezes Bridget created with the fan, Cerynise had to admit that, when her arms and legs were lightly dampened, it brought her greater relief from the sweltering warmth.
Dr. Wilhelm was fetched about two in the afternoon, and upon his arrival, it became evident that he was used to taking charge and imposing his mandates in similar situations. Quite blatantly he told Beau that he was dismissed henceforth from the bedroom. The look of panic that swept over his wife’s face wrenched Beau’s heart, and he began to argue for a right to stay.