Epilogue
April, 1406
Jessimond gazed at the portrait hanging on the wall. Rosalyne had painted it as a wedding gift half a score ago. Jessimond smiled at the painting of her and Marcus. She decided it was time to ask her sister-in-law to do another one. Marcus had been handsome ten years ago but now that a tinge of silver touched his temples, she thought him even more attractive.
At that moment, her husband raced through the door and across the room. He fell to his knees and took Jessimond’s hand.
“I’m not too late?” he asked.
“Nay, Husband. I’d say you were right on time.” She bit her lip as another labor pain hit.
He brushed the damp hair from her brow and cradled her cheek with his palm. The look of love in his eyes still caused Jessimond’s heart to flutter, even after a decade together.
“My lord!” the new midwife admonished. “You mustn’t be in here. Lady Jessimond will give birth at any moment.”
A slow smile turned the corners of his mouth up and he said, “I know. I look forward to that moment.”
“But . . . but . . . you cannot be present,” the midwife sputtered. “’Tis not the done way. I will make sure the babe is cleaned up and the baroness presentable. Only then can you see her and the child.”
Marcus leaned in and brushed his lips against Jessimond’s, bringing her warmth and comfort. “My wife is always presentable. In fact, she glows with eternal beauty as each new babe is born. And I assist in those births. I missed out the first time with Margaret. I swore I would never do so again.” He grinned as he gazed at her. “So far, I have seen another daughter and two sons come into this world.”
Jessimond heard the midwife’s gasp. “It’s true. Lord Marcus always attends the births of our children. He has massaged my belly to urge them to come forth and even caught one—nay, two—as they made their appearance in the world. He will stay.”
“I will stay,” reaffirmed Marcus, his eyes never leaving hers.
She sucked in a quick breath and winced, squeezing his hand tightly as her toes curled into the mattress.
“Is the pain bad, my love?”
“No worse than usual.” Jessimond gasped again. “Oh, this one wants out quickly, I fear.” She cried out as the contractions increased. At the same time, the unbearable urge to push overwhelmed her.
“’Tis time,” she managed to say.
Her husband lifted the bedclothes and then met her eyes. “I see the head crowning. Push, Jess. Now. As hard as you can,” he commanded.
She bore down, concentrating on nothing but that sensation. Vaguely, she heard words of encouragement coming from both Marcus and the midwife as she focused all of her energy into bringing this new life into the world. Gritting her teeth as another labor pain came, she rode the wave of agony and then forced the child from her with one last, lengthy push.
Falling back against the pillows, she heard Marcus’ delighted laugh. “We have another son!” he proclaimed.
Jessimond slowed her breathing, relieved the birth had ended. She was marginally aware of the bustling about as the babe was cleaned and bundled and the afterbirth expelled. A servant wiped Jessimond’s face with a clean cloth and helped her to sit up as she was dressed in a new smock and the bedclothes were changed. Sinking back into the pillows behind her, Marcus suddenly loomed over her, their newborn cuddled against his chest. He lowered the babe to her and Jessimond accepted him.
Peering into the face of the newest de Harte, she smiled. “He’s perfect,” she declared.
Her husband slid in beside her, his arm going around her, and they admired the latest addition to their ever-growing family, as those who had assisted with the birth left the room. The welcomed silence would not last but she reveled in it all the same. She had a new child to love in her arms and a husband who was her very life beside her.
Their son began to mewl softly and then his cries increased in volume. Jessimond guided him to her breast and he latched on, greedily sucking the nourishing milk from her.
“We have been blessed beyond measure,” Marcus finally said as the babe stopped nursing. He offered his son a finger. Immediately, the newborn wrapped his own fingers around it.
“He’s a strong one,” Marcus noted. “He’ll need a name to reflect that strength. Have you thought of what you might wish to call him, Wife? If not, I have a suggestion.”
Eager to hear what name he was considering after all the ones they’d mentioned as a possibility, Jessimond said, “Share your thoughts with me, Husband.”
Marcus said, “I want to call him Geoffrey. After your father. He was the strongest and yet most vulnerable man I have known. I would be proud for our son to bear his grandfather’s name and always carry a part of the de Montfort legacy within him.”
Tears sprang to her eyes. Geoffrey de Montfort had recently been laid to rest, living three score and ten years. His death had been sudden and Jessimond was too heavy with child to make the journey to Kinwick for his burial.
“Father would have been proud to know we named our boy after him.”
Marcus brushed a tender kiss against her temple. “He knows, Jess. Geoffrey de Montfort is watching over us all from Heaven above. One life might have been extinguished but another has come to light and will bring us great joy in the years to come.”
Jessimond de Harte believed her husband’s words rang with truth. She would love this new Geoffrey as she had the children who’d come before him and the others that would follow, just as she’d loved her father. She brought the now-sleeping babe close and kissed him and then nestled the littlest de Harte against her side as she wrapped her arms around Marcus.
This man, the greatest love of all, would be by her side—now and until the end of time.
Jessimond kissed him and knew in that moment that life was good. Oh, so very good.
Knights of Honor Series by Alexa Aston