Ruthless Game (GhostWalkers #9)(27)
Author: Christine Feehan

“I know. But we’re in this together, and we make a great team. You were smart and provided all the right books for us. You’ve read them and I’ve skimmed them. Shouldn’t you be in bed?”

Still clinging to him, she lifted her head and met his eyes, a small, wan smile on her face. “According to the books, once my water breaks, I have to deliver, and it should speed up the procedure. Staying on my feet as long as possible should help cut down the time. I don’t want to be doing this one moment longer than I have to.”

“I’ll get the floor and then while you’re resting in between—um—you know—I’ll make something to keep the baby warm once he’s born.”

Rose didn’t let go of his solid strength. There was something about Kane, something steady and absolute and calming. He wouldn’t desert her. Her mouth was dry, her heart pounding, and she’d never been so scared in her life, but she wasn’t alone.

At first, she had to admit, she had idiot girl feelings, not wanting to look like an elephant in front of him and certainly not wanting him to see her in such a vulnerable messy situation. Okay, maybe she still did have a little of that vanity, but it was only a tiny impractical part of her; the rest of her was so happy he was with her she wanted to weep forever. “I don’t want the baby to die, Kane,” she admitted in a low voice. “Do you think I aggravated the situation by climbing on the chair?”

His fingers were soothing on the nape of her neck. It seemed every time he touched her, he brought her calm. She could fall in love with him for that alone.

“Of course not. I think you’ve been having the real thing all along, and we’re just getting to the good part. We’ll do this, Rose. You have to believe that.”

She looked up at him. Looked into his eyes, searching for—yes—there it was. This man would stand with her no matter how bad it got. She let out her breath, relaxing just a little. “I believe in you, Kane.”

“All right, let’s get this room prepared. We’ll need towels and water and especially something to keep the baby warm. Are you always so organized?” He took the old T-shirt she was using to clean the floor and crouched low to finish the job, sending her a little grin over his shoulder.

That grin made her stomach flutter. A slow, answering smile touched her mouth. “I really am glad you’re with me,” she said and had to turn away from those beautiful eyes. He was far too good-looking to ever really look at a woman like her—if the doctor hadn’t paired them.

He wrapped a hand around her bare calf, preventing her from moving away. He rubbed gently over her calf, down to the elegant rose tattoo circling her ankle and back up her calf. “What is it, Rose? Why look so sad? We’re about to have a baby.”

She closed her eyes briefly, savoring his words, the sound of his voice. What man would react like that? She’d trapped him, taken his honor, and yet he still treated her as if she mattered, as if she was someone special to him when he should despise her. She opened her mouth to tell him, but a swelling pain went from front to back, increasing in strength, holding her in its grip. She dropped one hand to his shoulder to steady herself and breathed through it, trying to imagine surfing a large wave.

Kane’s hand on her calf anchored her and kept her centered as she did her slow, even breathing. When the contraction eased, she took a deep breath and let it out and looked down at the man she was counting on to see her through this. He looked calm and steady. Her stomach settled and her heart took up a rhythmic beat.

Kane stood up, leaned down to brush a kiss on top of her head, and went out to collect the things they would need. How the hell had this happened? Rose should be safe in a hospital. He was no medic. He could sew up his own battle wounds, but this? He shook his head. This was one of those do-or-die situations, and he had no real choice. The baby was coming, and it was up to him to see Rose through it.

When she looked at him with her amazing dark eyes and told him she believed in him, he was a total goner. If he hadn’t been wrapped around her little finger before, he certainly was now. He had to make this happen, and make it as non-traumatic as possible—for both of them. He prepared the room as quickly as possible, bringing in the birthing kit with sanitized instruments as well as towels and blankets. He boiled water to sterilize it just to be safe, and then set about making a small incubator.

Rose had two more strong contractions while he was constructing the small, crude incubator, really just a box with a blanket protecting the sides and bottom, and a soft light to keep the temperature constant. Rose walked around the house with him for most of the night, stopping to breathe when the contractions came. They came more frequently and were of longer duration. Kane began to really pay attention to how long each lasted. At first he didn’t say much, just wrapped his fingers around her calf and breathed with her, but she was tiring, and the contractions reached a point where she could no longer stand. At times he traced the rose petals on her ankle, until he was familiar with each one of them.

He helped her onto the bed, where they’d laid one of the two plastic-backed sheets from the birthing kit, and arranged her in a semi-sitting position, trying to mimic the drawings in the book. Her breathing changed significantly, and after two contractions nearly on top of each other, obviously very strong, she looked up at him with wide, frightened eyes.

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Kane.”

He knew she was ashamed of the admission. Rose had remained stoic, which he was grateful for, but now she was on the edge of panic.

Kane pushed aside his own attack of nerves and brushed the damp hair from her face. “Remember what the book said, sweetheart. You must be in transition. This is the most difficult phase, but it won’t last long. You have to change your breathing to stay on top of the—er …”

“Contractions,” she snapped. “Say it. Contractions. It isn’t a dirty word.”

Definitely transition. The book mentioned a woman in that particular stage might consider doing harm to her man. He should have searched the bed for weapons. He nodded his head and forced the word out. “Contractions. Of course. My mind went blank there for a moment.”

“I’m sorry.” She let her breath out; her eyes went wide, her gaze clinging to his.

He took the initiative this time, breathing in short “push out” breaths. She matched his breathing, never once looking away from him. The moment the contraction was over, he wiped her face with a cool cloth. “You’re doing great, Rose. You’re very close now.” He hoped he wasn’t full of bullshit and that his guesswork was right. He sent up a silent prayer, not that he was a praying man all that often, but certainly enough that it should count for something.