Last Bridge Home by Iris Johansen Page B

coil the hunger inside him? He had always had absolute control over his body. Until now. “Give me two hours.”
    A frown darkened Gunner’s face. “Be careful; another blizzard is moving in.”
    He would welcome a blizzard. It would give him something to fight beside the rigid pain in his loins. “I’ll watch out for it.” He looked back over his shoulder. “You just keep an eye on Elizabeth. No more romping in the snow.”
    “I wouldn’t think of it.” Gunner’s lips were twitching as he reached Elizabeth’s door “I’msure the lady has … er … ‘romped’ quite enough for today.”
    Elizabeth awoke after midnight to find a dampness between her thighs. Panic rose within her.
    “No!” Her cry was a cross between a whim per and a frustrated groan. She struggled to a sitting position, her gaze going to the wall of windows across the room. The snow hurling itself against the glass seemed to be a solid blanket rather than individual snowflakes, and the wind was moaning like a lost child. “Not now, Andrew!”
    She managed to get up from the bed. A nagging ache in her lower abdomen only in creased her panic. “No wonder you were so lazy today. You were saving all your energy for this, you rascal.” She crossed the room, opened the door, and went out into the hall. “Jon, Gunner, get up. We have to go to the hospital.”
    Gunner’s door opened immediately. His blond hair was tousled, and he was hurriedly tying the belt of a wine-colored robe. “The baby?”
    “My water broke. We have to get to the hospital. Where’s Jon?”
    “I don’t think he’s gone to his room yet. He was still in the library when I came upstairs.”
    “What’s wrong?” Jon asked. He was mounting the steps two at a time, and she turned to him in relief. Jon was here. Everything would be fine now. She tried to smile. “Andrew decided he was tired of waiting. We have to get to the hospital right away.”
    “Andrew!” Jon was beside her in seconds, scooping her up and heading back down the hall toward her room. “Get clean sheets and towels from the hall closet downstairs.”
    “Right.” Gunner was already barreling down the stairs.
    “Jon, put me down. You don’t understand.” Elizabeth was struggling helplessly in Jon’s arms as he carried her across the room and set her down on the bed. “We have to hurry. It will take us hours to get to the hospital in this storm.”
    “Listen, Beth.” Jon’s expression was grave as he met her eyes. “We can’t risk it. Just look at that storm.” He nodded toward the windows. “The roads are bound to be closed. We couldn’t get through without a snowplow.”
    “We could try. Andrew—”
    “Andrew will be far safer here than in the truck. What if we got stranded out there? You might have to give birth in the truck and then we’d have the problem of getting a newbornbaby safely through the storm to shelter.” His hand cupped her chin, and his voice was velvet with gentleness. “I won’t risk either you or the child. You’ll give birth to Andrew here where I can make sure you’re both warm and secure.”
    Her gaze went to the storm raging outside the windows again. He was right. She knew he was right, but it didn’t stem the panic and frustration she was experiencing. Why now? She had wanted to give birth to Andrew surrounded by doctors and nurses in an antiseptic, sterile environment. She wanted her son to have every chance at survival.
    “I’m frightened,” she whispered. “Nothing must happen to my baby, Jon. I couldn’t bear it.”
    “Nothing’s going to happen to either of you,” he said gently. “
I
couldn’t bear it.” His index finger pressed her nose teasingly. “So I’m going to make sure mother and child are going to do fabulously well.”
    He was so confident her spirits began to rise buoyantly in response. “And how do you in tend to accomplish this feat? Neither you nor Gunner are doctors.” She made a face. “Or maybe you are. For all I