f will pray, she thought. And I will ask my aunt to pray along with her entire abbey. Their prayers will surely keep me safe. A baby. Rafe and I are having a baby! Rafe! She had to find her husband and tell him this marvelous news before he heard it elsewhere, for Rhonwyn had no doubt that the entire manor would know before long. Turning, she ran back across the meadow, the sheep scattering before her, her cloak flying in the breeze. "Rafe! Rafe! Rafe!"
He heard his name being called. Called with great urgency. It was Rhonwyn's voice! My God! Was it the Welsh? He dashed from the stables where he had been discussing several matters with the leathersmith and saw her racing toward him. He caught her in his arms, looking anxiously into her face. "What is it, Rhonwyn?"
"I am with child!" she cried, and then burst into tears.
His arms tightened about her. A huge, delighted grin split his handsome face. "A baby? We are having a baby, wife?"
She nodded, sniffling happily. "Aye, husband, we are."
"Since I took you for my wife," he said, "I did not think I could be any happier, but you have proved me wrong, Rhonwyn. My heart is so full that it is in danger of bursting with the joy your news has given me. How I love you, Rhonwyn, my wife. How I love you!" He kissed her hard upon the lips, and then kissed away the tears on her cheeks.
"But what if it is a girl and not a son?" she fretted.
"We shall call her Anghard, and she will look just like her beautiful mother," he replied gallantly "I don't care if it's a girl, wife. My two bastards are daughters. When they are grown, they shall serve their half sister, eh?"
"You would give a daughter a Welsh name?" She was surprised.
"Her mother is a Welsh princess," he replied.
"Her mother was raised up in a fortress of men and treated no differently than any young lad. Princess indeed!" Rhonwyn laughed. Her palms rested flat against his chest. "I am nought but a simple lass," she told him teasingly.
He smiled down at her, his silver blue eyes warm with his love. "Nay, dearling, you are no simple lass, and well you know it, but I love you nonetheless. Now, when is this child of ours due?"
"Maybel says the beginning of June," Rhonwyn told him.
"No more swordplay with Oth and Dewi, wife," he said sternly.
"Yes, my lord," she replied.
"And no more hunting until after the child is born," he continued.
"Yes, my lord."
"I'm glad to see that being with child has at last rendered you a sensible woman," he mocked her, then ducked as she pulled away from him and hit his shoulder with her fist.
"I have always been sensible," she said indignantly.
Rafe de Beaulieu laughed heartily and happily, taking the little hand that assaulted him and kissing it. He was going to have a legitimate heir at last! "You, Rhonwyn my wife, are wonderful!" he told her with another smile, and then picked her up and carried her to the house while she laughed.
He had never lived with a breeding woman, and the experience was certainly unique, to say the least. Rhonwyn at first raced between great euphoria, when everything was simply perfect, and deep sorrow, when she would, for no visible reason, weep great sobs and tears. The tiniest thing could set her off, and it was usually when they made love, for Maybel had explained how they might without injuring the child. But most times she would shed tears as he entered her ripening body-tears of happiness, she always assured him, but it was extremely unnerving.
Finally in January she became peaceful and serene. Her breasts and her belly swelled with the evidence of the new life she was carrying and would nurture come the summer. She loved to have him stroke her expanding belly with his hands, for it seemed to soothe her greatly. He rubbed her back and elicited purrs of contentment. Her breasts, however, were so sensitive that she could not bear to have them touched for too long a time. It frustrated him, for he loved those sweet orbs, but he respected her wishes. A breeding woman must be catered to, his sister assured him, and to his surprise, his brother-in-law agreed.
There had been no deep snow at Candlemas, and so Kate and Edward had come for a visit. Almost at once the two women seated themselves by the fire, talking and laughing together.
Edward smiled a superior smile. "They get like that when they are with child," he said. "Congratulations. I did not think you would get a child on her, Rafe."
"She is not the woman you were wed to, cousin," Rafe replied. "Her caliph taught her to revel in and appreciate passion."
"How can you bear that another man knew her?" Edward demanded in a tight voice.
"It is as if she were a widow," Rafe responded. "Why are you so angry with her, Edward? She was faithful to you, and she is faithful to me. What more can a man want?"
"She was not faithful to me," Edward de Beaulieu said angrily. "She lay with this infidel and was shameless in admitting it."
"She was a captive, Edward. Would you have had her die rather than yield herself to this other man? You gave her up without even knowing if she were really dead. Within two months of her disappearance you wrote and asked to have Kate for your wife. At least Rhonwyn was faithful in her heart to you, Edward. You were certainly not faithful in your heart to her. You hurried home, wed my sister, and got her with child as quickly as you could. Rhonwyn plotted to avoid giving the caliph a child and planned her escape so she might return to you. Do not be angry because you lost the opportunity to know what she is really like. I shall tell you, cousin. She is warm and passionate and loving to me… as my sister is to you."
The spring finally came, and with it Rhonwyn's moods turned again. This time she was waspish and shrewish as her body swelled, and it became difficult to both sit and walk.
"I am no better than an old sow," she grumbled.
"You are beautiful," he assured her.
"A beautiful fat sow about to litter," she groused.
"It will be all right, wife," he tried to soothe her.
She glared at him pityingly. "What on earth can a man know about having a baby inside of him, squirming and kicking? I can barely stand. 1 want to pee constantly. My navel has turned itself inside out, and you think it's going to be all right, Rafe? That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard any man say!"
He didn't know whether to laugh or scold her. Either one, he realized, would meet with the sharp edge of her tongue. He wisely remained silent.
And then on the first of June Rhonwyn went into labor, Maybel and Enit by her side. "If you ever do this to me again," his wife shrieked at him, "I will kill you! Ahhhh! Ohhhh! God, I hate you!"
Rafe de Beaulieu fled the solar and wisely retreated outside, away from what was very obviously woman's work. From the open windows he could hear Rhonwyn cursing with her efforts. Finally as the sun was near to setting, and the day was prepared to melt into a long summer's twilight, Rafe de Beaulieu heard the cry of a child. The sound was strong and angry. He raced into the house and up the staircase, bursting into the solar to find Rhonwyn smiling and cradling an infant.
"You have a son, my lord," she told him cheerfully. She held out the baby, still bloody with the birth, and his father took him into his hands. "Welcome, Justin de Beaulieu," Rafe said softly, and then looking at Rhonwyn, he said, "Thank you, wife."