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She was exhausted. She wanted to lay with him, whether or not he knew she was there. Talking to him the whole while, she removed her clothes bit by bit until her glorious and naked pregnant form was revealed. Before she realized it, she was singing softly to him as she crawled beneath the sheets, the first touch of their flesh bringing tears anew, but this time they were tears of contentment. God, it had been so long.

She lay with him the entire afternoon, singing softly with his head pulled against her breast. She took his limp hand and placed it on her massive belly, telling him of the baby’s habits. She laughed when she told him he kicked like a mule and liked to keep her awake during the night with his kicking and punching.

All afternoon and into the night she sang, exhausting herself all the more but desperate beyond words to let him know how much she loved him, how much his child loved him. Surely he would hear her and it would give him the will to fight.

When Kieran came in well after dark to light the tallow candle, she smiled wanly at him from where she lay, cuddled against William’s pale form. It struck Kieran as particularly pathetic and he left the room with tears in his eyes.

Jordan slept intermittently through the night, waking to talk to him, to feel his head, to smooth his brow. When the baby kicked painfully, she grabbed his hand to lay it on the spot so that he could feel the new life within her, the life they had created with their love.

She fell asleep again and awoke shortly before dawn. William hadn’t moved; his breathing still deep and regular. There had been no change since her arrival and it was suddenly too much for her to take; her bravery fled and she buried her face in the top of his head, sobbing deep, wracking sobs that came from her very soul. She had thought he would wake when he heard her voice, but he hadn’t.

Mayhap she had been wrong. Mayhap he was going to die no matter what she did. She would not let him go. He could not leave her, not when she loved him more than her own life. Her grief turned to anger and she began pounding on his back, yelling at him, yelling at God for being so cruel and then begging Him for mercy in the same breath. She would have gladly traded her own life for William’s.

“Damn ye, William,” she wept, slapping his cheek. “Ye canna leave me. Ye dragged me back from the pits of hell to return to ye and now I forbid ye to leave me. I willna let ye!”

She dissolved into a flood of hysterics, washing his hair with her tears. She kissed the inky locks, tasting her own salty wetness, rubbing her hands against his skin.

“I love ye, English,” she whispered so desperately. “Dunna leave me. Dunna leave yer son.”

Exhausted beyond her limit, she fell into a deep, heavy sleep, his face buried in valley between her breasts.

*

Something was tickling her. She twitched, scratched at her nose, but it was persistent. Then it was as if the whole bed moved and she startled herself awake, seized with horrid fear that William had died and that they were trying remove him from the bed.

Her eyes flew open. William was still on the bed, but he had moved. He was lying on his side, facing her. Her heart soared with euphoria and when she lifted her eyes to his face, she was stunned to see that he was gazing back at her with one sleepy-looking eye.

“You are the most enormous pregnant woman I have ever seen,” his voice was raspy and faint.

“William.” she shrieked, trying to sit up but not doing a very good job. He reached out weakly to steady her.

“Nay, love, be calm and come here.” He was as frail as a newborn babe. “I would feel that swollen belly against me.”

She fell against him, crying hysterically as his hands weakly caressed her. He smiled faintly into her hair, inhaling her scent.

“I am with you, love, I swear it,” he whispered.

She was crying so hard she could not speak for several minutes. When she was finally coherent enough to talk, it was with gasps and stammers.

“They said ye were dying,” she sobbed. “I had to come and be with ye.”

He sighed deeply. “I promised you that I would return. I love you too much to leave you, Jordan.” She continued to cry softly as he attempted to shush her. “Come now, love; you are going to get yourself all worked up.” He stroked her face. “I shall be fine now that you are here. All I need is rest. And you.”

She tried to obey, forcing herself to calm, but God’s truth, she was absolutely wild with relief. Sniffling and rubbing her eyes, she propped herself up on her elbow to look at him.

“Oh, English,” she breathed, running her fingers across his face. “I thought I had lost ye. How do ye feel?”

He closed his eye for a moment, relishing her touch. “Very, very weak,” he murmured. “But in spite of that, I am hungry.”

She smiled. “Then I shall have Kieran fetch ye some food,” she said. “The man has been beside himself with worry for ye.”

He reached up and feebly took a strand of her hair between his fingers. His gaze was swallowing her whole.

“Who was it that slapped me and told me I could not die?” he asked. “Was it you, perchance?”

She bent over and kissed his nose, his cheek, the patch of linen over his eye. “It ’twas. Do ye intend to slap me back when ye’re able?”

He closed his eye at her reverent touch, her kisses. “That will not be first on my list of priorities. I simply wanted to thank you. It is twice now that I owe you my life.”