A Scandalous Marriage by Cathy Maxwell Page A

out of the bed. She arched her back, her hair flying loose and free around her.
    Old Edith leaned forward. Her Scot accent gave her voice authority as she said, “Now listen, missy, and listen well. If you want this baby, you stay right here.”
    Leah appeared stricken with remorse. She fell back against Devon. “I want the baby. You don’t know how much I want my baby.”
    “I know, I know,” Old Edith answered. “Now sit up best you can. Bend your legs.”
    Leah was crying again, the silent tears streaming down her face. She did as Old Edith said, bracing her back against Devon’s chest.
    “Be ready, lass. Be brave.”
    Leah nodded. Another contraction ripped through her. She dug her heels into the bed. Old Edith was whispering, “Come on, come on, you bairn,” as if encouraging a racehorse to reach the line.
    The pain subsided.

    “Relax, lass. Save your strength. Your bairn is not ready yet… but it will be soon.”
    Leah collapsed. Old Edith stood, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to reheat the water in this bucket. Soon,” she promised Leah. “It’ll be soon.” She left the room.
    “You’re doing fine,” Devon whispered.
    Leah nodded, but her breathing was too fast, too shallow.
    “Slow down,” he warned. “Take deep breaths. Try and relax.” He pressed his lips against the skin of her neck. She was going to make it. She could not die—
    “I love you.”
    Devon went very still, not sure if she’d spoken, or if he’d imagined those words out of his deepest desires.
    She looked up at him. “I’ve always loved you.”
    At one time, he’d ached to hear her say those words. Now his gladness mingled with jealousy, searing hot jealousy.
    “I didn’t mean it when I said I hated you,” she whispered. “I was angry. Confused.”
    He didn’t know if he wanted to talk about this. Not now. “We both were,” he said curtly.
    The next contraction started building again. She tried to talk in spite of it. “You weren’t. I should have gone… with you.”
    Devon glanced into the other room, where Old Edith puttered with cloths and kettles. He wished she would get back into the bedroom.
    This contraction didn’t seem to grip her like the others. She drew a deep breath. “Mother wanted me to marry Lord Tiebauld, but I couldn’t if I had a baby in me.”
    “Leah.” It had been common knowledge that the Carrolltons had decided on Lord Tiebauld. When the news had reached Devon in Scotland, he’d gotten mind-numbing drunk for a week.
    And it still hadn’t relieved his sense of loss.
    “Mother wanted to take my baby from me, Devon. She wanted to kill it before it could be born.”
    “Don’t think about it,” Devon said quickly. Her confessions roused too many contradictory emotions.
    “Think about the baby.”
    “Yes, the baby,” she repeated dreamily. “And Whitney’s. I always remember Whitney’s when times are bad.”
    Suddenly, she stiffened. “I have to push.”
    Her words sent Devon shouting for Old Edith. For the next hour, Leah pushed until she was beyond the point of exhaustion.
    At last, Old Edith said, “Save your strength, lass. Relax a bit.” She walked into the other room.
    Devon hated the midwife for her calmness. He followed. “Why did you tell her to stop pushing the baby out?”
    “Because the baby is not coming out,” Old Edith said. She took a sip of the tea she had continued to drink as the evening had worn on.
    Devon wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly. He grabbed the cup from her and sampled a taste. “This tea has enough rum in it to intoxicate a sailor.” He dashed the contents into the hearth. The flames hissed and flared.
    “I need a bit,” the midwife whined. “It’s hard losing a mother. Hard to watch them die.”
    Her words tore through him. “She isn’t dying. You saw her in there. She’s making a valiant effort. We’re not going to lose her!”
    “We are,” she assured him in a low voice. “I’ve seen it too often. For a