“We, hell,” Morgana said between her teeth. “I’d like to see you—”
“Breathe.” Ana’s voice was gentle as she placed crystals over Morgana’s belly. They hovered in the air, gleaming with an unearthly light that Mel tried to take in stride.
After all, she reminded herself, she’d been married to a witch for two months.
“It’s all right, babe.” Nash pressed his lips to her hand, wishing desperately for the pain to pass. “It’s almost over.”
“Don’t go.” She gripped his hand hard as the contraction began to ease. “Don’t go.”
“I’m right here. You’re wonderful.” As Ana had instructed him, he cooled Morgana’s face with a damp cloth. “I love you, gorgeous.”
“You’d better.” She managed a smile and let out a long, cleansing breath. Knowing she had a ways to go, she closed her eyes. “How am I doing, Ana?”
“Great. A couple more hours.”
“A couple—” Nash bit off the words and fixed on a smile that was sick around the edges. “Terrific.”
Mel cleared her throat, and Ana glanced over. “I’m sorry. We got a little distracted.”
“No problem. I just thought you’d want to know Boone’s here—with Jessie.”
“Oh.” Ana mopped her own brow with her shirtsleeve. “I’d forgotten. I’ll be right down. Would you send Aunt Bryna up?
“Sure. Hey, Morgana, we’re all with you.”
Morgana’s smile was just a tad wicked. “Great. Want to change places?”
“I’ll pass this time, thanks.” She was edging toward the door. “I’ll just get out of your way.”
“You’re not going to be gone long.” Struggling against panic, Nash rubbed the small of Morgana’s back and looked pleadingly at Ana.
“Only a minute or two. And Aunt Bryna’s very skilled. Besides, we need some brandy.”
“Brandy? She’s not supposed to drink.”
“For you,” Ana said gently as she slipped out of the room.
The first thing Ana noted when she reached the parlor was that Jessie was being very well entertained. Ana’s mother was laughing her lusty, full-bodied laugh as Jessie recounted her class’s escapades at the school Halloween party. Since Jessie was already cuddling two stuffed animals, Ana deduced that her father had already been up to his tricks.
She certainly hoped he’d been discreet.
“Things are well upstairs?” Bryna said quietly as they passed in the doorway.
“Perfect. You’ll be a grandmother before midnight.”
“Bless you, Anastasia.” Bryna kissed her cheek. “And I do like your young man.”
“He’s not—” But her aunt was already hurrying upstairs.
And there was Boone, standing by the fireplace, where the flames crackled cheerily, drinking what was surely one of her father’s concoctions and listening, with an expression of fascinated bemusement, to one of her uncle Douglas’s stories.
“So, naturally, we took the poor soul in for the night. Storm being what it was. And what did he do but go screeching out in the morning, shouting about banshees and ghosts and the like. Touched,” Douglas said sadly, tapping a finger to his head, where an orange silk hat now resided. “A sad and sorry tale.”
“Perhaps it had something to do with you clanging about in that suit of armor,” Matthew Donovan commented, warming a brandy in his long-fingered hands.
“No, no, a suit of armor doesn’t resemble a banshee in the least. I imagine it was Maureen’s cat screeching that did it.”
“My cats do not screech,” she said, insulted. “They’re quite well behaved.”
“I have a dog,” Jessie piped up. “But I like cats, too.”
“Is that so?” Always willing to oblige, Padrick plucked a yellow-striped stuffed kitten from between her fairy wings. “How about this one?”
“Oh!” Jessie buried her face in its fur, then delighted Padrick by climbing onto his lap and kissing his rosy cheek.
“Da.” Ana leaned over the sofa to press her lips to his balding head. “You never change.”
“Ana!” Jessie bounced on Padrick’s lap and tried to hold up her entire menagerie at once. “Your daddy’s the funniest person in the world!”
“I like him myself.” She tilted her head curiously. “But who are you?”
“I’m Jessie.” Giggling, she climbed down to turn in a circle.
“No, really?”
“Honest. Daddy made me a fairy princess for Halloween.”
“You certainly sound like Jessie.” Ana crouched down. “Give me a kiss and let’s see.”
Jessie pressed her painted lips to Ana’s, flushing with pleasure at her costume’s success. “Didn’t you know me? Really?”
“You fooled me completely. I was certain you were a real fairy princess.”
“Your daddy said you were his fairy princess ’cause your mama was a queen.”
Maureen let out another peal of laughter, and winked at her husband. “My little frog.”
“I’m sorry I can’t stay and talk,” Ana told Jessie.
“I know. You’re helping get Morgana’s babies out. Do they come out together or one at a time?”
“One at a time, I hope.” She laughed, tousling Jessie’s hair, and looked over at Boone. “You know, you’re welcome to stay as long as you like. There’s plenty of food.”
“Don’t worry about us. How’s Morgana?”
“Very well. Actually, I came down to get some brandy for Nash. His nerves are about shot.”
With an understanding nod, Matthew picked up a decanter and a snifter. “He has my sympathy.” When he passed them to her, she felt a jolt of his power and knew that, however calm his exterior, his mind and his heart were upstairs with his daughter.
“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of her, Uncle Matthew.”
“No one better. You are the best I’ve known, Anastasia.” His eyes held hers as he flicked a finger over the bloodstone she wore around her neck. “And I’ve known many.” Then a smile touched his lips. “Boone, perhaps you’d walk Anastasia back up.”
“Be glad to.” Boone took the decanter from Ana before they started out.
“Your family,” Boone began, shaking his head at the foot of the stairs, unaware that she’d stiffened.
“Yes?”
“Incredible. Absolutely incredible. It isn’t every day I find myself plopped into the center of a group of strangers, with a woman about to give birth to twins upstairs, a wolf—because I swear that dog is no dog—gnawing what looks like a mastodon bone under the kitchen table, and mechanical bats flying overhead. Oh, I forgot the ghosts in the foyer.”
“Well, it is Halloween.”
“I don’t think that has much to do with it.” He stopped at the top of the stairs. “I can’t remember ever being more entertained. They’re fabulous, Ana. Your father does these magic tricks—terrific magic tricks. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out how he pulled it off.”
“No, you wouldn’t. He’s, ah … very accomplished.”
“He could make a living at it. I’ve got to tell you, I wouldn’t have missed this party for the world.” He cupped his free hand around her neck. “The only thing missing is you.”
“I was worried you’d feel awkward.”
“No. Though it does kind of scotch my plans to lure you into some shadowy corner and make you shiver with some bloodcurdling story so you’d climb all over me for protection.”
“I don’t spook easily.” Smiling, she twined her arms around him. “I grew up on bloodcurdling.”
“And uncles clanging around in suits of armor,” he murmured as he brushed his lips over hers.
“Oh, that’s the least of it.” She leaned against him, changing the angle of the kiss. “We used to play in the dungeons. And I spent an entire night in the haunted tower on one of Sebastian’s dares.”
“Courageous.”
“No, stubborn. And stupid. I’ve never been more uncomfortable in my life.”
She was drifting into the kiss, losing herself. “At least until Morgana conjured up a blanket and pillow.”
“Conjured?” he repeated, amused by the term.
“Sent up,” she corrected, and poured herself into the embrace so that he would think of nothing but her.
When the door opened beside them, they looked around like guilty children. Bryna lifted her brows, summed up the situation and smiled.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I think Boone is just what we need right now.”
He took a firmer grip on the brandy bottle. “In there?”
She laughed. “No. If you’d just stay there, and let me send Nash out for a moment or two. He could use a little man talk.”
“Only for a minute,” Ana cautioned. “Morgana needs him inside.”
Before Boone could agree or refuse, she slipped away. Resigned, he poured a snifter, took a good swallow himself, then refilled it when Nash stepped out.
He pressed the snifter on Nash. “Have a shot.”
“I didn’t think it would take so long.” After a long breath, he sipped the brandy. “Or that it would hurt her so much. If we get through this, I swear, I’m never going to touch her again.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I mean it.” Despite the fact he knew it was an expectant-father cliché, he began to pace.
“Nash, I don’t mean to interfere, but wouldn’t you feel better—safer—if Morgana was in a hospital, with a doctor and all that handy medical business?”
“A hospital? No.” Nash rubbed a hand over his face. “Morgana was born in that same bed. She wouldn’t have it any other way with the twins. I guess I wouldn’t, either.”
“Well, a doctor, then.”
“Ana’s the best.” Remembering that relaxed him slightly. “Believe me, Morgana couldn’t be in better hands than hers.”
“I know midwives are supposed to be excellent, and more natural, I imagine.” He moved his shoulders. If Nash was content with the situation, it wasn’t up to him to worry about it. “I guess she’s done it before.”
“No, this is Morgana’s first time.”
“I meant Ana,” Boone said on a chuckle. “Delivering babies.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure. She knows what she’s doing. It’s not that. In fact, I think I’d go crazy if she wasn’t here. But—” He took another swallow, paced a little more. “I mean, this has been going on for hours. I don’t know how she can stand it. I don’t know why any woman stands it. Just seems to me she could do something about it. Damn it, she’s a witch.”
Manfully masking another chuckle, Boone gave Nash an encouraging pat on the back. “Nash, it’s not a good time to call her names. Women get a little nasty when they’re in labor. They’re entitled.”
“No, I mean—” He broke off, realizing he was going over the edge. “I’ve got to pull myself together.”
“Yep.”
“I know it’s going to be all right. Ana wouldn’t let anything happen. But it’s so hard to watch her hurting.”
“When you love someone, it’s the hardest thing in the world. But you get through it. And, in this case, you’re getting something fantastic out of it.”
“I never thought I could feel this way, about anybody. She’s everything.”
“I know what you mean.”
Feeling better, Nash passed the snifter back to Boone. “Is that how it is with Ana?”
“I think it might be. I know she’s special.”
“Yeah, she is.” Nash hesitated, and when he spoke again he chose his words with care. Loyalty, split two ways, was the heaviest of burdens. “You’d be able to understand her, Boone, with your imagination, your way of looking beyond what’s considered reality. She is a very special lady, with qualities that make her different from anyone you’ve ever known. If you love her, and you want her to be a part of your life and Jessie’s, don’t let those qualities block you.”
Boone’s brows drew together. “I don’t think I’m following you.”
“Just remember I said it. Thanks for the drink.” He took a steadying breath, then went back in to his wife.
Chapter 9
“Breathe. Come on, baby, breathe!”
“I am breathing.” Morgana grunted out the words between pants and couldn’t quite manage to glare at Nash. “What the hell do you call this if it’s not breathing?”
Nash figured he was past his own crisis point. She’d already called him every name in the book, and had invented several more. Ana said they were nearly there, and he was clinging to that as desperately as Morgana was clinging to his hand. So he merely smiled at his sweaty wife and mopped her brow with a cool cloth.
“Growling, spitting, snarling.” He touched his lips to hers, relieved when she didn’t bite him. “You’re not going to turn me into a slug or a two-headed newt, are you?”
She laughed, groaned, and let out the last puff of air. “I can come up with something much more inventive. I need to sit up more. Ana?”
“Nash, get in the bed behind her. Support her back. It’s going to go quickly now.” Arching her own back, which echoed the aches in Morgana’s, she checked one last time to see if all was ready. There were blankets warmed by the fire, heated water, the clamps and scissors already sterilized, the glow of crystals pulsing with power.
Bryna stood by her daughter’s side, her eyes bright with understanding and concern. Images of her own hours in that same bed fighting to bring life into the world raced through her head. That same bed, she thought, blinking at the mist in her eyes, where her child now labored through the last moments, the last pangs.
“No pushing until I tell you. Pant. Pant,” Ana repeated as she felt the contraction build within herself—a sweet and terrible pang that brought fresh sweat to her skin. Morgana stiffened, fought off the need to tense, and struggled to do as she was told. “Good, good. Nearly there, darling, I promise. Have you picked out names?”
“I like Curly and Moe,” Nash said, panting right along with Morgana until she managed to jab him weakly with an elbow. “Okay, okay, Ozzie and Harriet, but only if we have one of each.”
“Don’t make me laugh now, you idiot.” But she did laugh, and the pain eased back. “I want to push. I have to push.”
“If it’s two girls,” he continued, with an edge of desperation, “we’re going with Lucy and Ethel.” He pressed his cheek against hers.
“Two boys and it’s Boris and Bela.” Morgana’s laughter took on a slightly hysterical note as she reached back to link her arms around Nash’s neck. “God, Ana, I have to—”
“Bear down,” Ana snapped out. “Go ahead, push.”
Caught between laughter and tears, Morgana threw her head back and fought to bring life into the room. “Oh, God!” Outside, lightning shot across a cloudless sky and thunder cracked its celestial whip.
“Nice going, champ,” Nash began, but then his mind seemed to go blank as glass. “Look! Oh, Lord, would you look at that!”
At the foot of the bed, Ana gently, competently turned the tiny, dark head. “Hold back now, honey. I know it’s hard, but hold back just for a minute. Pant. That’s it, that’s the way. Next time’s the charm.”
“It’s got hair,” Nash said weakly. His face was as wet with sweat and tears as Morgana’s. “Just look at that. What is it?”
“I haven’t got that end out yet.” Ana sent a glittering smile to her cousin. “Okay, this is for the grand prize. Bear down, honey, and let’s see if we’ve got Ozzie or Harriet.”
With laughter, Morgana delivered her child into Ana’s waiting hands. As the first wild, indignant cry of life echoed in the room, Nash buried his face in his wife’s tangled hair.
“Morgana. Sweet Lord, Morgana. Ours.”
“Ours.” The pain was already forgotten. Eyes glowing, Morgana held out her arms so that Ana could place the tiny, wriggling bundle into them. In the language of her blood, she murmured to the babe, as her hands moved gently to welcome.
“What is it?” With a t
rembling hand, Nash reached down to touch the tiny head. “I forgot to look.”
“You have a son,” Ana told him.
* * *
At the first lusty wail, conversation in the parlor downstairs cut off like a switch. All eyes shifted to the stairs. There was silence, stillness. Touched, Boone looked at his own child, who slept peacefully on the sofa, her head nestled in Padrick’s comfortable lap.
He felt a tremor beneath his feet, saw the wine slosh back and forth in his glass. Before he could speak, Douglas was removing his top hat and slapping Matthew on the back.
“A new Donovan,” he said, and snatched up a glass to lift in toast. “A new legacy.”
A little teary-eyed, Camilla walked over to kiss her brother-in-law’s cheek. “Blessed be.”
Boone was about to add his congratulations when Sebastian crossed the room. He lit a white candle, then a gold one. Taking up a bottle of unopened wine, he broke the seal, then poured pale gold liquid into an ornate silver chalice.
“A star dawns in the night. Life from life, blood through blood to shine its light. Through love he was given the gift of birth, and from breath to death will walk the earth. The other gift comes through blood and bone, and is for him to take and own. Charm of the moon, power of the sun. Never forgetting an it harm none.”
Sebastian passed the cup to Matthew, who sipped first. Fascinated, Boone watched the Donovans pass the chalice of wine from one to another. An Irish tradition? he wondered. It was certainly more moving, more charming, than passing out cigars.
When he was handed the cup, he was both honored and baffled. Even as he began to sip, another wail sounded, announcing another life.
“Two stars,” Matthew said in a voice thickened with pride. “Two gifts.”
Then the solemn mood was broken as Padrick conjured up a party streamer and a rain of confetti. As he blew a celebratory toot, his wife laughed bawdily.
“Happy New Year,” she said, gesturing toward the clock that had just begun to strike twelve. “It’s the best All Hallows’ Eve since Padrick made the pigs fly.” She grinned at Boone. “He’s such a prankster.”
“Pigs,” Boone began, but the group turned as one as Bryna entered the room. She moved directly to her husband, who folded her tightly within his arms.
“They’re all well.” She brushed at happy tears. “All well and beautiful. We have a grandson and a granddaughter, my love. And our daughter invites us all upstairs to welcome them.”
Not wanting to intrude, Boone hung back as the group piled out of the room. Sebastian stopped in the doorway, arched a brow. “Aren’t you coming?”
“I think the family …”
“You were accepted,” Sebastian said shortly, not certain he agreed with the rest of the Donovans. He hadn’t forgotten how deeply Ana had once been hurt.
“An odd way to phrase it.” Boone kept his voice mild to counteract a sudden flare of temper. “Particularly since you feel differently.”
“Regardless.” Sebastian inclined his head in what Boone interpreted as both challenge and warning. But when Sebastian glanced toward the sofa, he softened. “I imagine Jessie would be disappointed if you didn’t wake her and bring her up for a look.”
“But you’d rather I didn’t.”
“Ana would rather you did,” Sebastian countered. “And that’s more to the point.” He moved to the doorway again, then stopped. “You’ll hurt her. Anastasia sheds no tears, but she’ll shed them for you. Because I love her, I’ll have to forgive you for that.”