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William had told her from the onset that he had been forbidden to touch her and she had been devastated, yet it had been a learning experience for both of them. They discovered that they could derive almost as much pleasure from simply holding one another as they could from the sexual act, although at times it had been a definite test of willpower and on several occasions William found himself pacing the halls after his wife had gone to sleep. He was afraid if he returned to then bed, all of his control would leave him.

He was also well aware that at times like these, men often turned to other women for release. But his desire was not for the pleasure obtained as the result of the act, but simply for the feel of his wife. To seek out another woman was not even an option for him. His wife never brought the subject up and he attributed it to her trust in him.

But just as their firstborn children turned a year old in March, so was their third child expected. ’Twas a cold night on the first of April when Jordan first felt the pangs of labor begin.

As with the twins, she waited over an hour before rousing her husband, thinking that indeed it would be some time before this babe made an appearance. However, as also with the twins, the pains quickly grew intense and it was no time at all before her membranes ruptured, soaking her and the bedclothes.

After a particularly hard pain, she nudged her husband. “English?”

He drew in a deep breath and opened his eye, rolling toward her. “What is…?” he had instinctively reached out to touch her and drew his hand back in alarm. “Good God! You are all wet!”

She smiled faintly as he bolted from the bed and pulled his breeches on hastily, not bothering to sit when he pulled his boots on. He was seized with urgency, for he knew the twins had come quickly and he had no desire to deliver his own child.

His wife suddenly cried out with the force of her next pain and her knees came up. He looked stricken. “I shall go get the wet nurse to keep you….”

She cut him off with a loud grunt. “Nay! Dunna leave me!”

He fell to his knees beside the bed. “Jordan, I must go get Byron.”

Another terribly hard contraction seized her and she groaned and grunted loudly, scaring him out of his wits. “Ye canna! There’s no time.”

William knew he went pale. He tore off the bedclothes and yanked her shift up, revealing the blood stained bedclothes. Her belly was as hard as stone and he could literally see the contractions bringing her stomach to a rigid peak.

“God, Jordan, how long have you been having these pains?” he demanded, trying to keep his wits about him.

“An hour or longer, I dunna know,” she whispered, licking her dry lips.

His brows drew together. “An hour or so? Lord, Jordan, you should have told me….”

She broke him off with another strangled cry and he saw her whole body straining to bring forth the babe within her. She was right; he could not leave her. But it did not prevent him from opening the bedchamber door and bellowing to the wet nurse to send for Byron.

Jordan was panting with her effort, sweat already soaking her. Keep your wits, man, he silently scolded himself. You know what to do, you have done it before. Water, clean linen, a sharp dagger, twine,…. Jordan cried out again and his knees went to water. Aye, he’d done it before…but not on his own wife.

But he was all she had at the moment, so he prepared himself. Sitting on the bed, he pushed his wife’s shaking legs apart and put his fingers into her, feeling the baby’s head almost immediately. Speaking softly to her, he went over to the water basin and dipped a cloth in it, returning to swab her clammy brow. Her eyes were closed, but opened when she felt him.

To his surprise, she smiled. “Sorry to do this to ye, English.”

He smiled back. “Nay, you are not. You have planned this all along, you little vixen.”

She started to chuckle but it was cut off by another contraction that nearly brought her off the bed. He held on to her, nearly feeling the pain himself, whispering softly into her ear as it subsided.

Back on the bed, Jordan licked her lips again. “Oh, English, I am so thirsty,” she whispered. “Can I have some water?”

“Nay, love,” he was never more sorry to deny her. “It could make you ill.”

She opened an eye to look at him. “How would ye know that?”

He shrugged, swabbing her arms with cool water. “I know a little about birthing babes,” he admitted. “I have had to do it twice before.”

“Ye have?” it was as much emotion, other than pain, that she had yet to show. “Who? When?”

“Peasant babies, love,” he kissed her forehead. “Nothing important.”

“Every babe is important,” she admonished him. “Then ye are well-versed in this. I feel better knowing that.” Her last words trailed off into a hard, grunting cry.

The bedchamber door flew open and Paris stood in the doorway. His face was etched with intense concern.

“I was in the hall and the wet nurse told me,” he said as he flew into the room, passing a trained eye over Jordan. William had only done this twice. Paris had done it a dozen times. At one time he had considered becoming a physic. “Move away, William.”