Page 58 of The Trouble with a Dare

“You can’t carry me, I’m too heavy,” she grumbled as he got her standing.

“Don’t be a silly goose. You don’t weigh more than one of those ewes and I haul them about often enough.”

“Will you stop comparing me to a blasted sheep! Oh!”

She clutched at his lapels as another contraction made her tense and cry out.

“I’ve got you,” he said, holding on to her. “Just breathe, love. As soon as it’s over, I’ll take you back.”

He waited until the pain had subsided, rubbing her back as best he could through the thick cloak. She looked up at him then, her bottom lip trembling.

“I-I’m frightened,” she admitted, the trembling admission making his heart clench.

He put his hands to her flushed face, cradling it as he made her look at him. “There’s nothing to be frightened of. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Do you trust me, Grace?”

She nodded, gazing at him with absolute certainty. Equal parts pride and terror filled his heart, but he could not let her see his own fears.

“I do. I love you, Sterling. Please stay with me.”

“Of course I’ll stay with you! Where else would I be, eh? I’m not some namby-pamby pampered aristo who faints at the sight of blood, you know.”

She gave a breathless chuckle and rested her head against his chest. “I know, and I’ve never been so relieved about anything.”

“You’re a bit earlier than we thought. I’ll send for him, but I doubt that doctor will get here in time.”

Grace returned a look of amusement. “Much you care about that.”

He shrugged and ducked his head to kiss her. “Mrs Gladwish and I will take good care of you, I promise.”

“I know,” she said softly.

“Right, then. Up you come.” As gently as he could, he lifted her into his arms and hurried to the gate, just as his mother arrived. “Open the gate!”

“Oh! Oh, Grace!” his mother cried in alarm, her face ashen. “Is she…? Oh, lord… the baby…!”

“She’s going to be fine, Ma. Just open the blasted gate will you?” Sterling said, impatient now, and rather surprised at his mother taking a fit.

“Sterling!” Grace scolded him, holding out her hand to his mother, who gripped it. To Sterling’s consternation, there were tears streaming down her face. Grace smiled at her, almost serene now after her previous show of temper. “It’s all right, Martha. I’m quite well, really, but the baby is coming. Don’t get upset, dear. We’re going to be perfectly fine. Sterling says so, and so it must be. Yes?”

His mother did not look the least bit convinced but swallowed and gave a shaky nod.

“Martha,” Grace said, sternly now. “We’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” his mother said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve and finally pulling herself back together. “Yes, of course you will. For heaven’s sake, stop dithering, Sterling, and get the poor child back to the house and into the warm.”

“I wasn’t—” Sterling protested, before deciding it wasn’t worth his breath and hurrying back down the lane.

“Sterling, did you see the sheep?” she asked then.

Sterling looked down at her and nodded. “Aye, not one of mine.”

“No, but it was in with yours, and it’s infected, that’s why I was in the field. I thought I must get it out at once. It’s got sheep scab.”

He looked at her in alarm, frowning. “Sheep scab? Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Well, it looked dreadfully morose, and it kept rubbing itself on the fence, over and over.”

Sterling gazed at her in astonishment. “You fell and hurt yourself because you were herding a sheep that wasn’t mine?” he asked, annoyed that she’d put herself and the baby at risk for such a thing.