Rebellious Love Read online

  Even so, she took the precaution of carefully scrubbing her hands and purifying the tools in fire before returning to the bed. Sorrow gripped her as she stared down at the tormented face of her daughter-in-law. Silently she prayed that Verony would understand and forgive her.

  Arianna eased the covers back. Her face tightened with pity as she moved Verony's legs apart. Ruth gripped her arms. Lady Emelie moved to the foot of the bed, her hand taut on the forceps. She paused just a moment, to go over carefully in her mind exactly what must be done.

  Her hesitation lasted barely the length of a single breath, but in that instant Verony's eyes shot open. A low moan of protest broke from her, distracting the women who had thought her far beyond consciousness.

  Verony's anguished mind, lying dazed and exhausted beneath a red haze of pain, still managed to grasp the meaning of what Lady Emelie held.

  Her cracked lips parted. Breath rushed through her throat raw with screaming. "N-nooo . . . !"

  Downstairs, Curran heard her. For the first time in hours, a tiny glimmer of hope darted through him. Verony was alive and at least semiconscious. Hard upon that relief came the knowledge that she was aware of her suffering. His self-control snapped.

  He had waited too long, letting himself believe that others would be able to help her. They could hot, and he could no longer bear for her to endure alone. Evading the well-meaning restraint of his father and brothers, he dashed up the steps.

  The scene that confronted him as he burst into the room needed no explanation. He saw his wife, her belly still grotesquely swollen with the child, trying frantically to rise. Arianna and Miriam were struggling to stop her. Emelie stood uncertainly at the foot of the bed, white-faced and trembling. Ruth had an arm around her shoulders. Her other hand held the forceps Emelie had dropped in shock when Verony began to fight what must surely be inevitable.

  "There is no other way," the countess said quickly when she saw her son. "If the child remains within her, she will die."

  Curran did not reply. All his attention was focused on Verony. Pain twisted through him, made all the more acute by guilt over his part in her suffering. Arianna and Miriam stepped aside as he sat down on the bed, drawing his wife into his arms.

  "P-please . . ." she murmured piteously, "don't let them . . . The baby . . . has to have a chance. . . . Don't let them . . ."

  Curran looked at his mother questioningly. He did not blame her for what she intended to do. He understood full well that she would not have even considered it if it hadn't been absolutely necessary. But of all the people gathered in the room, he alone understood what Verony would go through if the child was killed to save her. Knowing the almost limitless extent of her love and compassion, he doubted she would be able to survive such sorrow.

  "Is there any other way?" he asked softly.

  Lady Emelie hesitated. All the signs indicated that Verony would die unless the baby was removed quickly. But she knew enough of human nature to understand that women such as her daughter-in-law were capable of extraordinary feats of courage and strength, especially if supported by a man she cherished.

  "Ruth and I have both tried to bring the baby out," she explained. "But it is twisted in such a way that neither of us could manage. Verony's strength is almost gone. She can no longer bear down with the contractions to help force the child from her. She has lost a great deal of blood, and each moment this continues increases the chances that she will hemorrhage. One way or another, it must end."

  Curran nodded slowly. He touched a gentle hand to his wife's face, feeling the cold clamminess of her skin. Her eyes, pools of suffering bright with the acceptance of her own mortality, locked with his. "D-don't listen to them . . . The baby must live. . . . Nothing else matters. ..."

  He swallowed hard, fighting down the aimless rage her words provoked. It would do no good to rail against the merciless fate that sought to take her from him. Nor would he argue with Verony herself. Profoundly touched by her selflessness, he still disagreed with it totally. Her life was vastly more important to him than that of the child who might or might not survive.

  Only the torment of her pain-filled features stopped him from telling Lady Emelie to go ahead. In the severest test of his courage that he had ever faced, Curran reached a decision. He placed Verony's hand gently back beside her and moved to the foot of the bed.

  "Let me try."

  His mother wavered. She wanted desperately to believe that he might be able to help, but she doubted he could do more than increase Verony's torment and his own. "Your hands are too large ..."

  "Perhaps. But I will still try." Looking up, he held his wife's gaze with his own. "And Verony will help me. We'll bring this child forth together." He did not add that it no longer mattered to him whether the

  baby came out dead or alive. All that counted was that she trust him enough to cease all resistance and let him do what had to be done.

  Through the burning cloud of her pain, Verony understood him. She knew this was the child's last chance, and perhaps hers as well. Some hard kernel of denial dissolved within her. She could feel her mind and spirit becoming fluid, barriers melting, merging slowly, effortlessly into the mind and spirit of the man who held all her attention.

  The room, the other women, the pain itself all faded from her consciousness. There was only Curran, his strength and determination all that now stood between her and death.

  His hands were carefully washed and oiled when he next approached the bed. Clean towels were laid beneath her. The women stood back, knowing they had no part in this final struggle for life.

  At first, he believed his mother was correct. He could not reach inside her to find the child. But after a long painful moment, the bones of her body seemed to relax. He could feel them giving way before his gentle, careful probing even as his own hand seemed to reshape to fit her.

  In the instant that he touched the child, Curran almost recoiled. His eyes closed in horror. What monster had he spawned? There were multiple arms and legs, all tangled together. His discovery must have shown on his face, for his mother made a quick motion, causing Arianna to step forward, blocking Verony's view.

  The mass of limbs and torso finally gave way to a small, smooth head. Closing his fingers around it, Curran pressed his other hand against Verony's abdomen. He pushed hard even as she summoned the last of her strength in a final, desperate effort to expel the child.

  He was sweating profusely when a patch of dark, wet fuzz finally appeared. "It's coming," Lady Emelie breathed. "Careful now . . ." Ruth moved forward with a blanket to receive what they all feared would be a twisted parody of a human child.

  Slowly, cautiously, Curran drew out the head. It was followed quickly by wide shoulders framed by sturdy arms ... a long, glistening torso . . . and two robust legs ending in dimpled feet.

  His mouth dropped open in blank amazement as he stared at his perfectly formed son who was already squalling noisily. The child looked, at least at a quick glance, to be completely normal. Certainly he was nothing like the atrocity his father had touched. What then could he possibly have felt inside his wife's overburdened womb?

  The answer was not long in coming. A low mew of protest rippled from the almost unconscious Verony as yet another contraction wracked her body. With the path to the world at last unblocked, nothing could hold back the tiny but vigorous girl born just minutes after her brother.

  Curran had little awareness of what happened next. He swayed slightly, prompting Lady Emelie to shove a stool under him from which he watched dazedly as the women sprang into action. Freed of the weight of impending tragedy, they lost no time staunching the small amount of blood that followed the afterbirth and getting Verony clean and comfortable as the babies were carefully washed and tucked into a nest of blankets.

  "We'll have to fetch another from the storerooms," Lady Emelie murmured bemusedly, staring down at the crowded cradle, "but I don't suppose it will hurt them to share awhile longer since they've been doing j
ust that these last nine months."

  Arianna shook her head in wonderment. "Verony did seem to be getting awfully big. But I never guessed ..."

  "Neither did I," the befuddled countess admitted. "There was only a single heartbeat, and though I thought the child unusually vigorous, it never occured to me there were actually two of them!"

  Ruth gazed down at the infants in the cradle. The boy was larger by far, but it was the girl who had her eyes opened and gave every appearance of already sizing up the strange place in which she found herself. "They shared a single birth sac," she pointed out, "and their hearts probably beat in unison, making you believe there was only one."

  "But there wasn't," Curran muttered, coming out of his stupor sufficiently to stare at his children. "I can't believe it. . . twins ..."

  Rising shakily, he went to stand beside Verony. She was deeply asleep, her red-gold hair spread over the pillow and her lovely face already regaining something of its normal color. Infinite tenderness and gratitude filled him as he gently lifted her hand, pressing a long kiss into her palm.

  A low sigh escaped him. Still holding her hand, he sat down beside her. Despite the great fatigue following hard on the release of his terrible fear, he remained there throughout the day. No thought of rest could distract him from the slow rise and fall of her breath, surely the most precious sight in all the world.

  CHAPTER 16

  "No sense seeing how tired you can get," Hilda said gruffly. Taking Verony's arm, she headed back toward her room. "You're a bad enough patient without letting you get cranky."

  "I'm not any sort of patient. I'm a perfectly healthy woman who's sick and tired of staying in bed." Digging in her heels, Verony tried to hang back. Being allowed out of bed less than two hours a day was hardly enough to ease her restlessness.

  Ignoring her young mistress's futile efforts, Hilda continued on determinedly. "If you'd seen how you looked three weeks ago ..." She broke off abruptly. The memory of Verony's brush with death was still too acute to speak of it. Not even for the excellent purpose of getting her to rest more would Hilda dwell on those terrifying hours.

  Resorting finally to the only method that seemed to have any effect, she warned: "If you don't get back into bed right now, I won't bring the twins in."

  Verony relented. Muttering to herself about the penalties of letting longtime servants get the upper hand, she removed her yellow-and-green robes, pleased to see that the tunic and surcoat once again fit perfectly. Her figure was almost completely restored, the only change being her larger breasts swollen with milk.

  A smile curved her generous mouth as she looked forward to nursing her children. When Arianna opened the door, Verony was sitting up in bed, her arms held out eagerly.

  "Here they are," her sister-in-law teased, "the world's most beautiful babies. Fresh from a nice bath and ready for their mother."

  It was Catherine's turn to go first. Cradling her daughter to her, Verony gazed down adoringly at feather-soft hair dark as Curran's own. She laughed softly as the babe stared back at her solemnly. Her eyes were the same light blue as all infants', but already they showed signs of darkening to her mother's indigo.

  She nursed avidly, despite Verony's joking reminder to leave something for her brother. It never ceased to amaze her that both twins had equally eager appetites. Ruefully, she admitted that Gawain's willingness to wait patiently for his sister to finish must be a virtue inherited from his father.

  "Curran sent yet another messenger this morning," Arianna said as the babies were exchanged.

  Hilda took Catherine into her lap to burp her, but not before chiding: "That man has to be reassured practically every hour that you and the babies are fine. Otherwise he's liable to come storming back here to see for himself." She chuckled softly, making it clear she approved totally of such husbandly devotion.

  Verony sighed regretfully. She wished with all her heart that Curran would come back, but never would she voice that yearning. He had important duties to perform that were vital to her own and her children's future, as well as everyone else's. Not for the world would she want to try to hang on him at such a critical moment.

  Has anything new been heard from the king?" she asked.

  Arianna shook her head. "The earl, Mark and Stephen Langton are still at Windsor, trying to persuade him that he must meet with all the barons. With Curran holding the tower, it's hoped that John will be more reasonable."

  Verony touched a gentle hand to her son's red-gold hair. She and Curran had shared such a short time together after the children's birth. Exhausted by all that had happened, she had slept through most of the following days, waking only occasionally to find her husband sitting beside her. If he ever left her, even briefly, she did not know. Each time her eyes opened he was there to touch her soothingly, murmuring gentle words of comfort and reassurance that penetrated even her weariness and pain.

  There was no opportunity to speak of the extraordinary experience they had shared. Try though she did, Verony could not form the words to tell him how she felt or to discover his own thoughts. She had yet to learn how the full flowering of her love, freed at last from all doubt and mistrust, would be received.

  Curran had delayed leaving her as long as possible. But in the end, the-decision to take the tower could not be put off. Seizing the most important symbol of royal power was dangerous in the extreme. Yet no alternative remained. The riots that burned the Jewish Quarter and other parts of the city showed clearly that public authority was breaking down. Unless someone intervened quickly, the civil war the d'Arcy's so wanted to prevent would be inevitable.

  In a desperate gamble, they sent their forces against the huge stone keep. Only the good sense of the men inside, who saw little reason to remain loyal to a deceitful, cowardly king, made possible an almost bloodless victory.

  With the tower secure, the Earl Garrett lost no time heading for Windsor, in company with his eldest son and the archbishop. He left Curran to hold the most important stronghold in England, secure in the knowledge that his confidence was not misplaced.

  Though only a mile now separated them, Verony and her husband had not seen each other since shortly after the children's birth. The political situation was far too uncertain for him to risk leaving the tower even briefly, nor would he permit her to enter its dank and potentially treacherous walls.

  The messages they exchanged at least once a day were of necessity brief. Curran spoke of his concern for her and the twins. Verony assured him that all was well. She longed to say more, but could not. Part of her even welcomed the delay in confronting Curran, when she would learn if her love was still welcome. If it was not, if her final release from doubt and mistrust was not in time to preserve his own feelings for her, she had no idea how she would endure.

  Still not as strong as she wanted to believe, Verony fell asleep again after nursing the twins. Arianna and Hilda tiptoed out, carrying the children. A soft breeze blew in through the shuttered windows. Verony's body, after being so long swollen, looked unusually slender and delicate beneath the thin covers. Her hair, unbraided and brushed to a silken sheen, drifted over the pillows. The dark shadows were fading from beneath her eyes, and her features no longer looked strained.

  Although she viewed her appearance as no more than restored to what it had been before the twin's birth, in fact she was far lovelier. There was a new gentleness to het curved mouth and a radiant inner light to her translucent skin. Her body, once more slim and supple, was also riper and more rounded. Her breasts, engorged with milk and set off by dark, velvety nipples, fairly ached for Curran's touch.

  Murmuring uneasily, she turned in the bed. Sounds from the bailey drew her slowly from her dreams. Someone had just arrived. There was eager talk, exclamations of surprise and pleasure, much hurrying to and fro.

  Out of bed and across the room in a single, swift movement, Verony thrust the shutters opened. She leaned out eagerly, only to be disappointed. There was no sign of Curran, as she had hop
ed. Instead she saw only another messenger.

  But whatever news he brought sparked a far from usual response. Listening to him, Lady Emelie positively glowed. Always beautiful, she looked at that moment restored to the loveliness of a young girl. Hugging Arianna, who looked equally happy, she summoned servants and hurried off about some task.

  Unwilling to wait until someone decided she should be told what was happening, Verony dressed rapidly and sped downstairs. Carts were already pulling up in the courtyard, being loaded with household goods, bedding, even the large tents the family used when it traveled in good weather.

  Lady Emelie was in the kitchens, supervising servants hastily packing baskets of supplies. She greeted Verony eagerly. "Wonderful news! The king has agreed to a meeting with the barons. Garrett is on his way there now with Mark and Stephen. Curran has left Sir Lyle in charge at the tower and has gone to secure the meeting site. The rest of us are to join them there."

  "I hope that includes, me," Verony said instantly.

  The countess smiled drily. "Are you strong enough?"

  "Yes!"

  "And eager to see Curran?"

  "O-of course ..." Her voice trailed off. Something of her pain and uncertainty must have shown in her eyes for Lady Emelie embraced her gently.

  "Then you shall go, provided you agree to be sensible and ride in one of the wagons."

  Verony hesitated. She was determined not to be left behind, but she hated the idea of being stuck in a lumbering cart instead of cantering along on her palfrey.

  "You don't want to be all tired out when you get there, do you?" the countess demanded provocatively.

  A faint blush suffused Verony's cheeks. If only she could look forward to a passionately loving reunion with her husband. Curran might indeed be glad to see her. Or he might take her sudden arrival as further proof of her headstrong insistence on independence.