Married To The Mad Vampire Lord

"There." She smiled down at the basket with the pride of a queen admiring a cradle lined with gold and gems. "Our son's bed is ready!"

He placed the washbasin on the floor, never taking his eyes off her. Then he stepped around it and gently cupped her face beneath the jaw.

"Rest now while I go bring the rising water for your bath."

She looked up at him, her hazel eyes glowing with trust. "Thank you, for everything. For this little dream house, and for being here with me."

Rohan shook his head, wanting to tell her not to thank him for what she truly deserved. But he swallowed the words for now, knowing there were things he needed to take care of quickly.

Returning to the bedroom minutes later with more water, Rohan found Belle standing in the washbasin, her body glistening with soap. She stood in half-profile to him, revealing the elegant curve of her back and the side of one breast.

The sight stirred something deep in him. Her body, softly rounded by pregnancy, seemed to carry a beauty that was wholly feminine, sacred in its purpose.

She passed the washcloth slowly down her belly and between her thighs, cleansing the path for the life soon to arrive. Rohan stood watching, breath held, unashamed, without the faintest urge to turn away.

Then suddenly, she was seized by a fresh wave of pain and dropped into a half-crouch. Her fist clenched the washcloth, sending soap bubbles plopping into the water.

Rohan moved as if shot from an arrow, crossing the room in a flash to wrap an arm around her slick, trembling body, steadying her through the storm of it. As the pain began to ease, he helped her down until she was perched on the rim of the tub, panting hard.

He felt useless, torn up inside, aching to do more than simply hold her. If he could've taken the next pain on himself, he would have.

When it passed, she slumped a little. "That was a strong one. Stronger than the first."

"Here. Kneel down."

She obeyed, and he rinsed her back, arms, and breasts, grateful to be doing something, anything, concrete. Then he helped her step over the edge of the tub, holding her steady as he dried her with a clean towel.

"Thank you, I can finish." She took the towel from him.

While he carried the basin away, she changed into a clean white nightgown and moved to gather what they would need. From beneath the bed, she retrieved a white cloth sack and drew out several large, folded dried leaves. Holding them carefully, she followed Rohan into the kitchen.

She paused in the doorway, watching as he spilled her bathwater outside the back door, then rinsed the basin and wiped it clean with a rag. As if sensing her presence, he turned and saw her standing there behind him.

"I don't think you should be out here," he chided softly.

She sighed. "You must not work yourself with worry, Rohan. Please. For my sake?"

"That's not an easy thing to do."

"I know." She saw the strain on his face and loved him all the more for trying to be strong. "But I need to talk to you. About what's to come next and what you have to do."

"I know it all." He set down the basin. "I've read that book so many times, I swear I could recite the pages. But reading it and doing it are two very different things."

She reached for his hand and gave it a soft, sure squeeze. "You'll do fine. I trust you."

She calmly took a pan and placed the dried leaves inside, covering them with water. Then, she set it to simmer on the rear stove burner.

Rohan watched, his stomach tightening with every passing minute. He recognized those leaves, he had gotten them for her just yesterday. Comfrey. He had read about it; it was often used after childbirth in case of a tear, as it was believed to help draw the skin back together and aid in healing.

He swallowed hard.

"Rohan," she called quietly, and when he looked at her, she went on to say, "Promise me that you won't waste time on me until you've seen to the baby."

He couldn't promise. But he saw in her eyes that she wanted his words, she trusted him. He was forced to nod and she smiled.

"Thank you."

Rohan watched the leaves simmer in the pan. If she tears. The words haunted him. He forced his mind to stay focused on the rest of her instructions when she began to speak to him again.

"Use only the clean rags I set out on the desk; they're sterilized. Everything you need is there: the scissors, the two pieces of string to tie the cord, and some oil to put on the baby's skin under the cotton bandage. That's for after his bath.

"Make sure there's plenty of warm water ready for bathing him. When you bathe him, don't use our regular soap, use the special one I bought for him. And be very careful to always support his head. The moment he comes out of me, even before the rest of his body, hold his head gently. Keep holding it during the bath too.

"But most important of all, Rohan, he comes first before me. No matter what happens, your first job is to get him warm, dry, and dressed right away. We can't abandon him even for a second."

"I know, I know!" he said, sharper than intended. He wished she would stop talking about it. He'd read the manual until the pages blurred, but the pictures it painted terrified him.

"Now hold my hand and walk with me," she said gently.

"Walk?" He looked taken aback.

"Yes, it'll help move things along faster."

If he could choose, he'd delay it forever to never have to face this day where she would be in so much pain. The thought made guilt twist in his gut. Still, he offered his arm, and they began to pace the narrow rooms.

He had never felt more protective than in those next hours, walking slowly beside her, pausing with every contraction. She was fearless. She had more strength than he did.

He tried his best to match her strength, knowing he had to be her anchor. So he teased when she needed cheering. Soothed her when she clenched through the pain. Talked to her about ordinary things when her face grew drawn.

After an hour of their walk around, Belle said softly, "I think I'd like to lie down now. Bring the leather straps, love… they'll help keep my legs steady when it's time."

In the bedroom, she let out a long breath and rolled onto the clean white sheet. "Tie them to the footrail, as far apart as my knees."

His stomach flipped. Saliva flooded his mouth. His hands felt stiff and useless. But he did as told, knotting the leather straps to the bed frame. When he stepped back and saw them, loops of raw leather waiting for her legs, they looked like something out of a medieval dungeon.

He hated them.

Then the next contraction came, and it hit them both.

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A/N

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