A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,76

it is some distance.” Her voice was fretful. “I do hope they come quickly. Is there anything to be done in the meantime? Any way I can help?”

I did not hear his response, for I was distracted by something far more momentous. A small fluttering sensation in my abdomen. Though I could hardly grow stiller, already lying unmoving as I was, I held my breath, silently willing the child inside me to move again. When they did—delivering a swift kick, which stretched my skin—the tears I had refused to let fall earlier overflowed my bleary eyes and spilled down my cheeks. I pressed my left hand to the spot where the baby continued to assault my insides, weeping softly in such profound relief that I didn’t care how much their tiny kicks and punches were hurting my tender ribs.

That was how Gage found me moments later. His eyes widened with panic as he hurried over to the bed. “Kiera, what is it? What’s happened?”

“The baby moved,” I blubbered between sobbing breaths.

Comprehension dawned and he sank down on the mattress beside me a trifle less gently than before, for I felt the twinge in my shoulder, and reached his hand out to slip it beneath mine where it rested over my abdomen. When he felt the movement as my skin swelled with the babe’s swiping motion, his gaze lifted and locked with mine.

Struggling as I was to stop weeping, the sight of his eyes shimmering with unshed tears threatened to completely undo me. However, he mastered himself. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his throat as he swallowed hard. Then he lifted my hand to his lips and pressed a fervent kiss into the palm, followed by another and another. When finally he lowered it, I curled my fingers around the moistness his breath had left behind and carried it up to my heart.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Early the next morning, I reclined in my bed, propped up by a mound of pillows as Alana, Philip, Trevor, and Gage gathered around me. The sun had barely crested the horizon, but from my vantage I could see the brilliant winter blue sky out the large bay window. It was a weather breeder—a morning so fine and serene that it seemed impossible that a storm should follow. But I had witnessed my fair share of such deceptive weather in the Highlands and the Borders. By midday, the sun would be choked behind clouds and the wind howling down from the heights.

Alana perched on the bed by my side, fussing over the bandage wrapped around my right shoulder and the sling fashioned from my cornflower blue scarf cradling my arm. When the surgeon had arrived the night before, he’d explained it was partially dislocated. Gage had helped to hold me upright as I endured the excruciating pain of his resetting it into place. But once the deed was done, the immediate relief was so palpable I nearly collapsed. He explained that the joint would be tender for some days following, and that I would have to keep it immobile, but it should heal without any complications. The pain in my ribs would last longer, but fortunately none appeared to be broken.

After feeling the baby kick, the news that I should be able to resume painting in a week, a fortnight at most, made me dissolve into tears yet again. The surgeon had chuckled good-naturedly as I attempted to apologize for my display of emotion, and assured me his wife had been the same way when she was carrying their bairns.

The physician who arrived soon after was less sympathetic. Between lectures on the proper way to care for myself when with child—much of which contradicted the advice given to Alana by Dr. Fenwick, the physician accoucheur in Edinburgh I also intended to use for my confinement—he managed to perform a very rudimentary examination. In truth, the baby’s movements were far more reassuring and indicative than anything he had done. He also left a bottle of laudanum for any continued pain, with strict instructions on the dosage I should take.

Upon his departure, Bree—who had been present for these final directives—promptly derided the man a fool. “I wouldna give even a horse such an amount. No’ unless I wanted to knock ’im flat. A quarter o’ that dose should do the trick.” She nodded her head decisively. “An’ we’ll increase it if need be.”

She had been right. Perhaps a slightly larger dose would have dampened the pain completely,