They were both whispering now. He was trying to be considerate of her feelings. She was trying to get over her embarrassment. The man was a complete stranger, and, oh, God, she wished he were old and ugly. He wasn't though. He was young and extremely handsome. She knew she would probably die of mortification if she let him help her bring her baby into the world, because she would have to take her clothes off and he would see…
"Isabel, you about finished hiding from me? You've got to be practical about this. Come on," he coaxed. "Look at me."
It took her a full minute to summon up enough courage to do as he asked. Her face was burning with shame.
"You're going to be practical," he repeated as he lifted her up into his arms.
"What are you doing?"
"Carrying you back to the house. Put your arms around me."
They were eye to eye now. He stared at her freckles. She stared at the ceiling.
"This is awkward," she whispered.
"I don't think the baby cares if his mother feels awkward or not."
He carried her out of the stall, paused long enough to take the rifle away from her and prop it against the post, and then continued on toward the door.
"Be careful," Isabel told him. "The rifle's loaded. It could have gone off when…"
"I unloaded it."
She was so surprised she looked him in the eye. "When?"
"Before I gave it back to you. You aren't going to start fretting again, are you?"
"No, but you're going to have to put me down for a minute. I have to take care of Pegasus first."
"Are you talking about the stallion?"
"Yes."
"You're in no condition to get near him."
"You don't understand. He cut his left hind leg, and I need to clean it before it becomes infected. It won't take long."
"I'll take care of him."
"Do you know what to do?"
"Oh, yes. I'm very good with horses."
He felt her relax in his arms. " Douglas?"
"Yes?"
"You're good with women too. I was wondering…"
"Yes?"
"About the delivery. Have you ever helped a woman give birth?"
He decided to ease her worry by hedging his answer. "I've had a little experience." With horses, he silently added.
"Will you know what to do if something goes wrong?"
"Nothing's going to go wrong." The authority in his voice didn't leave any room for doubts. "I know you're scared and feeling alone…"
"I'm not alone… Oh, God, you're not going to leave me, are you?"
"Don't get excited. I'm not going anywhere."
She let out a little sigh and tucked her head under his chin as soon as he stepped outside the barn. The rain was still coming down hard, and he was sorry he didn't have anything to wrap around her. The log cabin she called home was approximately fifty yards away, and by the time he had carried her to the door, she was as drenched as he was.
A single lantern provided the only light inside the cabin. The atmosphere was warm and inviting, but what he noticed most of all was the scent of roses that filled the air. To the right of the entrance was an oblong table covered with a yellow-and-white-checked gingham tablecloth, and in its center sat a crystal vase filled with at least a dozen white roses in full bloom. It was obvious she had tried to bring beauty and joy into the stark reality of her life, and the simple, feminine gesture made him ache for her.
The cabin was spotless. A stone fireplace faced the door, and on the mantel was a cluster of silver frames with photographs. A rocking chair with a yellow-and-white-checked cushion had been placed to the left of the hearth and a tall-backed wooden chair with spindly legs sat on the opposite side. Two knitting needles protruded from a burgundy ball of yarn on the footrest, and long strands coiled down to the colorful braided rag rug.
"You've got a real nice place," he said.
"Thank you. I wish my kitchen were larger. I put up the drape to separate it from the main room. It's always such a clutter. I was going to clean it up after I finished in the barn."
"Don't worry about it."
"Did you notice the roses? Aren't they beautiful? They grow wild near the tree line behind the field. Parker planted more on the side of the house, but they haven't taken root yet."
Douglas 's practical nature reasserted itself. "You shouldn't have gone out by yourself. You could have fallen."
"It gave me pleasure to bring them inside, and I'm certain the exercise was good for me. I hate being cooped up all day. Please let me stand. I'm feeling fine now."
He did as she requested but continued to hold on to her arm until he was sure she was steady. "What can I do to help?"
"Would you start a fire? I put the wood in the hearth, but I didn't want to light it until I got back from the barn."
"You carried wood inside?"
"It is my fault the baby's coming early, isn't it? I carried wood down from the hills early this morning. I went back up again this afternoon to collect more. It gets so cold and damp at night… I wasn't thinking, and now my baby's going to-"
He interrupted before she could get all worked up again. "Calm down, Isabel. Lots of women do chores right up to the delivery. I was just concerned about the possibility of falling. That's all."
"Then why did you say…"
"Falling," he said again. "That's all I was thinking about. You didn't fall, so no harm was done. Now, stop worrying."
She nodded and started across the room. He grabbed hold of her arm, told her to lean on him, and slowed the pace to a crawl.
"It's going to take me an hour to get to the bedroom if you keep treating me like an invalid."
He moved ahead and opened the door. It was pitch black inside.
"Don't move until I get the lantern. I don't want you to-"
"Fall? You seem terribly worried about that possibility."
"No offense, but you're so big in the middle you can't possibly see your own feet. Of course I'm worried you'll fall."
She actually laughed, and she hadn't done that in such a long time.
"You need to get out of your wet clothes," he reminded her.
"There's a pair of candles on the dresser to your right."
He was happy to have something to do. He felt awkward and totally out of his element. He didn't I realize his hands were shaking until he tried to light [the candles. It took him three attempts before he succeeded. When he turned around, she was already folding back a colorful quilt on the bed.
"You're drenched. You really need to get out of your wet clothes before you do anything else," he said.
"What about you? Do you have a change of clothes?" she asked.
"In my saddlebags. If you don't need help, I'll start the fire; then I'll go back to the barn and take care of the horses. Have yours been fed?"
"Yes," she answered. "Be careful with Pegasus. He doesn't like strangers." She stared down at the floor with her hands folded together. As Douglas turned to leave, she called out to him, "You're coming back, aren't you?"
She was fretting again. The last thing she needed to worry about now was being left alone. He had a feeling they were in for one hell of a night, and he wanted her to conserve her strength for the more important task ahead.
"You're going to have to trust me."
"Yes… I'll try."
She still looked scared. He leaned against the doorframe and tried to think of something to say that would convince her he wasn't going to abandon her.
"It's getting late," she said.
He straightened away from the door and went to her. "Will you do me a favor?"
"Yes."
He pulled the gold watch out of his pocket, unclipped the chain, and handed it to her. The chain dangled down between her fingers.
"This is the most valuable thing I own. My Mama Rose gave it to me, and I don't want anything to happen to it. Pegasus might get in a lucky kick, or I