Page 57 of The Trouble with a Dare

Not so good was the reaction of the rest of the flock, who had seen their companion’s bid for freedom and followed. Grace gave a shriek and ran, lunging for the gate and slamming it shut, only to gasp with shock as her stomach turned to rock and a slow wave of pain surged through her, growing in strength as it rolled over her. Grace stood, bent over, clutching at her stomach and breathing hard.

The sheep had returned to eating now their bit of excitement was over and took no notice of her at all. Just a practise contraction, she assured herself. She had been getting them regularly for some time now, and Sterling had told her it was quite normal and nothing to worry about. Apparently, such symptoms were not exclusive to human females, and he’d noticed such things in many other beasts. She was uncertain if that was comforting or not, but she felt a deep affinity for the fat, placid ewes, chomping peacefully on the chopped sugar beet scattered about the field. Grace watched them as she waited for the contraction to lessen, taking care to notice if any other sheep were scratching. As far as she could see, none of the others were affected, though it might be too early to tell.

The pain passed after a time and Grace gave a breath of relief. She took one last walk through the field, studying the sheep to see if any other interlopers had got into the flock, but all the rest had the faded blue mark she recognised as property of Thistley Farm. With relief, she determined to get back to the house as quickly as she could, just in case that hadn’t been a practise after all, for it had been stronger than anything else she’d experienced so far.

Carefully, Grace made her way towards the gate, but halfway there, her foot slipped on the icy grass. She cursed as she went down, thankfully not falling hard, but twisting her ankle as she went.

“Confound it,” she muttered crossly, more irritated than hurt, or so she believed, until she tried to stand. The combination of icy ground, her unwieldy belly, and the pain that shafted up her ankle had her laying back on the frozen grass wheezing with effort. “How utterly stupid,” she said to the sheep, who were all eyeing her with wary interest.

Well, she could not lay on the frozen ground all day, that was for certain, so she hoisted herself up on her elbows, determined to have another go, and then gasped as she felt a rush of hot liquid between her legs.

“Oh, no,” she said, really alarmed now. “Oh, no, no, no.”

But there was no denying it or making it go away, and absolutely no doubt at all about what had just happened. Her waters had broken.

Sterling hurried back to the house late in the afternoon. It was too early for dinner just yet, but he had a niggling sensation in his gut that would not quiet and so he’d come back to check on Grace. As he opened the back door, he found the house in uproar, with his mother yelling at the maids and sending them scattering out of doors.

“Thank God,” his mother said, hurrying towards him. “I was about to send for you.”

“What is it?” he said in alarm, his heart immediately hammering in his chest. “Grace? Is she—”

“I don’t know. It’s probably nothing, only I saw her go out for a walk near an hour ago and just popped in to check on her only to discover she’s not yet back. The girls have gone to check the barns.”

“Christ!” Sterling said, turning to head out again.

“Wait! I’ll come too,” his mother said, her expression tense. “I know which way she went. Don’t get yourself in a tizzy, she’s just restless. It means her time is close, but she might have gone farther afield than was sensible. We’ll find her, son, don’t worry.”

Sterling nodded, a little surprised she should try to comfort him, though she looked far too anxious herself to make the words reassuring.

“This way,” she said, and the two of them hurried along the lane.

“Grace!” Sterling called, bellowing across the fields, and making the sheep scatter with alarm. His mother echoed the call as they went. Sterling halted as a lone sheep came pelting around the corner in the middle of the lane.

“What the—”

Noting the red dot, he frowned. It wasn’t one of his, but belonged to a farmer from the village. The wretched fellow never kept his fences in good order. The stupid beast must have wandered three miles or more to get here. He clapped his hands at the sheep so it would run down to the farm where one of the men would deal with getting it back to where it came from, before hurrying on. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw his mother was flagging.

“She went that way, so you run ahead,” she said, puffing and pointing to where the lane forked in two. “I’ll follow you.”

Sterling nodded and took off, calling for his wife with his guts in a knot. He’d not gone too far along the lower lane before he heard a call in response.

“Sterling!” and then a primal, animal cry that made his heart clench.

“Grace!” he yelled and vaulted the gate. There she was, thank the lord, on all fours and surrounded by sheep, puffing and panting. He ran to her and sank to his knees beside her, smoothing back the hair that had fallen into her eyes. “Christ, love, are you all right?”

She treated him to a look of such impatience that he wanted to laugh with relief. If she was cross and irritated, then everything was fine.

“Oh, yes,” she said, her tone dripping sarcasm. “Merry as a grig. I wanted nothing more than to give birth in the middle of a flock of sheep on the frozen ground.”

“Well, you’ve got your wish, then. Shall I leave you be?” he asked mildly.

She glared at him in outrage. “Sterling Oak, you great oaf, get me out of here!”

“There, there, love,” he soothed, reaching for her. “Let’s get you on your feet so I can pick you up.”

“I’ve hurt my ankle,” she said in frustration.

“You’re not walking anywhere, so don’t fret.”