Rare and Precious Things (The Blackstone Affair #4)(61)
Author: Raine Miller

He’d been worried last night after the mega-amazing sex session too, which I thought was unwarranted. I felt fine, and from all that I’d read in the literature about pregnancy and birth, sex was perfectly safe for couples as long as there weren’t complications, and you felt up to the task. Well, I certainly did. And Ethan always was “up” for it. I think we were both really desperate for the intimacy and closeness after our scare with his accident. Nothing prioritized life faster, or more effectively, than the near death of a loved one.

We’d come too close to losing each other. I shuddered at the thought and went back to shading fluffy white clouds over a sparkling blue-green sea.

SIR hovered on his haunches, ready to spring the second I let his favorite rag bone fly. “Go get it, boy.” I let it go, putting my high school shot-put skills to use. He tore off to find it in the natural plantings at the edge of the lawn, happily rooting around and enjoying himself. I sat on one of the garden walls and waited for him to come back.

Feeling a little bit of backache earlier, I’d hoped an easy walk with the dog would help, but it hadn’t. The dull pain was still there, and I wanted a hot drink. I pulled my sweater shawl closer to ward off the chill. It was wintertime after all and I was grateful for the dry day, but checking out the dark clouds above, it looked like it would be raining in another hour or so.

I called Sir back over to me, and stood up to go back inside the house. The weirdest sensation of heat hit me between my legs. It lasted for about two seconds before it didn’t feel warm anymore. I was wet down there. A lot wet. Like I’d pissed my pants, but I knew I definitely had not.

I freaked for a moment, afraid it could be blood, but when I touched the area of my leggings, my hand came away clear and wet, not bloody. I put my fingers up to my nose and smelled it. Not pee, just wet… Water…

Shit!

I figured there was a very good chance my water had just broken.

Double shit!

RUNNING Blackstone Security from Somerset was really working out quite well. I’d put in the same communications system I had in the London flat, and conducted my business in the same way as before. Neil was running the executive offices in town, and keeping the cogs running smoothly to the point I don’t think I was even missed. I’d have to give some serious thought to what my role would be in London for the future. The idea of staying here at Stonewell for more than just weekends was an appealing one. I knew Brynne loved the country, and had even been in contact with her art advisor at University of London about organizing some evaluative study of the paintings at Hallborough. After the discovery of the Sir Frisk painting belonging to Mallerton, she’d been thoroughly charged up with discovering what other secrets might be hiding in the old house. She told me there was plenty of work there to keep her busy for years, if the proposal was funded.

The sound of a barking dog assaulted my thoughts. Incessant, non-stop, frantic barking. This wasn’t like Sir at all. He was usually fairly quiet, which was a trait I liked about him. He was a good dog, but what I was hearing sounded like he was agitated. I wondered if somebody was outside on the property.

I stood up from my desk and used the crutches to head over to the window. My study overlooked the back gardens and then the coastal sea beyond it.

I could make out Sir, barking frantically in the direction of the house with his head pointing up at the sky.

He was beside Brynne.

She was sitting on the garden wall holding herself between her legs.

Her light grey leggings were stained dark at the insides of her thighs—

Fuck. NO! NO! NO!

“FRED, what’s going on? Tell me something useful!” I had my brother-in-law by the collar and pulled up to my face, feeling like my heart would explode in another minute or two.

“Stop manhandling the doctor so he can deliver your baby,” he said calmly, pushing me off him. “Go with Mary Ellen. She’ll get you scrubbed for theatre. You’re about to be a father, you big nob.”

“Caesarean section? Really, Fred?” I croaked.

“’Fraid so, brother. The baby is in a breech position and we can’t risk a foot-first birth for Brynne. She’s not built for it.” He slapped me on the back hard. “She’s going to be fine. Stop worrying me and go get ready.” Fred left me in the hall and disappeared into a door marked for staff only.

I gulped and followed Mary Ellen, hoping I didn’t pass out before I got to wherever she was leading me.

“Where have they taken my wife?” I asked.

“She’s being prepared for the surgical theatre right now and getting her epidural. Dr. Greymont will walk you through the process as he does the procedure. You’ll be able to watch the whole thing, and talk to your wife throughout.” She smiled kindly. “Congratulations, Dad.”

“Really.”

Was that myself speaking? It didn’t sound like my voice to my own ears. Why did I keep saying really like a moronic half-wit? I think I was in too great a shock to process much of the events of the last two hours. After Sir had alerted me to Brynne’s situation in the garden, I’d called 999. While we waited for the ambulance to show up, I called Dr. B’s service in London, as well as Fred, in a complete panic about what to do and where to go. Then the motherfucking horror ride, with Brynne in the back of an ambulance all the way to Bridgwater Hospital—over thirteen, long, rolling, country miles. So much for planning. No posh London hospital, or society doc, would be delivering our baby after all. The worst part had been not being able to carry Brynne inside the house to wait. I had to hobble around like a f**king gimp with no idea of what was happening to her as they whisked her away for evaluation. The baby wasn’t due for another three weeks at least…

“Mr. Blackstone?”

“What?” I turned to the voice and blinked.

“You need to remove your clothes and put these on, even the hat. Then you’ll wash your hands and forearms according to wall plaque directions, and when you’re all set, you’ll meet me just through there.” Nurse Mary Ellen pointed to where I was to end up. “I’ll take you into the theatre and you’ll be reunited with your wife, and you’ll watch your baby being born.” She looked happy.

“Oh…real—all right.” Again, surely the bloke who was speaking in such a pathetically weak voice was some other person, and couldn’t possibly be me.

Mary Ellen grinned some more. “Deep breath, Mr. Blackstone.”