Beneath a Midnight Moon

Kylene gazed into the darkness, her lips pressed together to still the cry that rose in her throat.



She was in his arms and nothing could hurt her. She repeated the litany until the spasm passed. How long, she wondered, how many hours had passed since the first twinge awoke her? How long had it been since that first mild twinge turned into claws that threatened to tear her apart?



She gasped as another pain knifed through her, sharper than any of the others.



"Kylene?" Hardane awoke immediately. "What's wrong?"



In the grip of a strong contraction, she could only grasp his arm.



"Kylene?"



"It . . . it hurts."



"I know," he said. And he did know. He could feel it, the pain that started low in her back, gathering in intensity as it swept forward.



"When did it start?" he asked.



"I don't know."



She groaned softly, certain she was going to die. She felt Hardane's hands gently turning her on her side, felt his strong fingers begin to knead the tension from her back and shoulders.



When the contraction was over, he slid out of bed and lit a fire in the hearth. Then, giving a tug on the bell pull, he summoned Hadj, instructing her to fill a pot with water, to bring Kylene a cup of watered wine.



When that was done, he returned to Kylene. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he took her hand in his, felt her body tense as another contraction ripped through her.



There was a knock at the door, and then Hadj entered the room. She placed the pot of water on the hearth to warm, then handed Hardane a small cup of wine.



"Shall I stay, my lord?" she asked, trying not to stare at Kylene, who was writhing on the bed.



"No. Send Teliford after Druidia."



"Yes, my lord."



Kylene clutched at his arm. "You won't leave me?"



"No, lady."



He brushed a wisp of hair from her brow, felt the shudders that racked her body as the pains grew stronger. Connected by the bond between them, his own body tensed as her pain communicated itself to him.



"Don't be afraid, Kylene," he murmured, wondering how she could endure such pain. "Everything will be all right, I promise you."



She gazed into his eyes, touched by the love and concern she saw there. She moaned as another pain knifed through her, saw her own agony mirrored in the depths of his eyes, felt the tremor that shook his body as her own convulsed.



For the next hour, he massaged her back, held her hands when the contractions grew unbearable. His voice soothed her fears; his touch spoke of love and caring.



Hadj arrived with the news that Druidia had gone to Chadray.



"Then summon the physician."



"No!" Kylene shook her head. "I don't want anyone but you. Please, Hardane. He frightens me."



"Are you sure, lady? I've never delivered a baby."



"I'm sure."



Hardane glanced at Hadj, who shrugged.



"It won't be long now, I'm thinking," Hadj remarked. "I'll go fetch some fresh linens."



Hardane nodded. Of all the times for his mother to be gone, he mused bleakly. He'd never needed her more than now.



The next hour was the longest of his life. He felt her every pain, his heart echoed her every cry, as Kylene labored to bring his sons into the world.



Her fingernails raked his arms, leaving long bloody furrows, but he hardly felt the pain, so minor was it when compared to what she was suffering.



Like most men, he had never given much thought to the process of birth. A man spilled his seed in mindless pleasure, but it was reaped in a river of pain and blood. It was beyond comprehension that his mother had endured such agony eight times.



It was near dawn when the first infant, tiny and red-faced, slid into his hands. Hardane's eyes were damp with unshed tears as he cut the cord and handed the child to Hadj, who tied a bit of red ribbon around one tiny wrist, identifying it as the firstborn. A short time later, his second son entered the world, its tiny fists flailing the air.



As he gathered the afterbirth into a pail to be buried later, Hardane felt a sense of awe, of reverence, not only for the miracle of birth, but for the woman who had walked through the shadow of death to bring new life into the world.



With brisk efficiency, Hadj changed the bed linens, then bathed and swaddled the infants.



When that was done, she offered Kylene a glass of warm goat's milk and gave Hardane a cup of strong wine. Then, with a last glance at the new parents, she left the room.



Kylene smiled wearily as Hardane sat on the edge of the bed, a baby in each arm. Her heart swelled with such love and tenderness it couldn't be contained. Tears welled in her eyes and trickled down her cheeks as she gazed at her husband and sons.



"They're beautiful, Kylene," Hardane murmured. "You're beautiful."



She held out her arms and he handed her one of the twins, watching as she carefully inspected the baby from the top of its head to the soles of its feet, marveling over the thatch of thick black hair, counting each tiny finger and toe.



When she'd made sure the baby was perfect, she took the other one and did the same thing. They were identical. Perfect in every way.



"What shall we name them?" Hardane asked, thinking he'd never seen anything more lovely than Kylene as she sat against the pillows, a child nuzzling her breast.



"I thought we'd name the firstborn Kray, after your father."



"He would have liked that," Hardane murmured. "And the other?"



"After my father?"



"Kray and Carrick." Hardane nodded his approval, then grinned as the child in his arms began to cry. "I think this one's hungry, too."



"Here, give him to me."



It took some maneuvering, but in a few moments she had a child at each breast.



Kylene grinned up at her husband, happier than she'd ever been in her life.



"Perhaps we'll have a daughter next year," she mused.



Hardane looked stricken, and then he shook his head. "Nay, lady, I don't think I could endure such agony again."



Kylene grinned at him. "If birthing were left to the men, the race would have ended long ago."



It was true, he thought. He'd rather face an army with only his bare hands to defend himself than vicariously suffer the pangs of childbirth again.



"I love you, my lord wolf," Kylene said quietly.



"And I love you, lady, more than you can imagine," he replied, and knew he'd ask nothing more of life than to share it with this woman who had filled his heart and soul with love and laughter.