Wild Star (Star Quartet 3)

Brent paused a moment, and wiped the sweat from his brow. It occurred to him that this was the real reason he didn’t want Byrony to be pregnant. She could die. He’d buried the memory just as he’d buried the young woman and her baby, so deep that he’d hoped never to remember it again. He shot a look at Byrony, but her head was bowed, her eyes on her folded hands.

Tony began to talk, to everyone’s relief, of David Broderick. “He just gets more and more powerful. To say that California is the land of opportunity is an understatement. Here was Broderick, a New York saloon keeper and a Tammany henchman, and now he’s a United States senator.”

“Careful, Tony,” Horace Newton said. “He’s so powerful, I think he has spies everywhere. I just hope Del doesn’t get it into his head to go against him.”

“Del isn’t stupid,” Tony said. “Our dear mayor, Garrison, keeps Del informed of what is doable and what isn’t.”

There was a scream.

Everyone froze.

“That’s it, love, yell,” Del was saying to his panting wife. “As loud as you want.”

Chauncey was clutching his fingers so tightly they were turning white. “It hurts so much,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said, but he didn’t, of course. He met Saint’s eyes.

“Move aside a minute, Del. I want to talk to your wife.”

At first Chauncey wouldn’t let him go. When she did, he backed up only two steps. Saint sat down beside her. “You’re doing quite well, Chauncey,” he said calmly. “Quite well indeed. The baby’s not at all large, since he’s a bit early. In fact, I think you’ll have your son or daughter by midnight. Incidentally, that was a fine dinner. I noticed you didn’t eat much. Just as well.”

“Midnight?” Delaney nearly shouted. “That’s three hours away.”

“This is also your first child,” Saint continued, lightly stroking Chauncey’s hand. “Not a long time at all, actually. Now, practice breathing as I taught you to. That’s it, pant, and don’t fight the pain.” Saint stood and moved away to wash his hands again in the basin of hot water Lin had brought up. “Now,” he said, moving to the foot of the bed, “let’s see where the little fellow is now.”

Chauncey felt his fingers slip inside her just as a strong contraction made her feel as if she were being torn apart. “Pant, Chauncey.”

Close to an hour later, Agatha came into the sitting room. “I’m here to reassure everyone,” she said, eyeing the faces staring at her. “Chauncey’s just fine. Delaney’s even alive, but barely. A round of whiskey for everyone, Horace. Byrony, come with me a moment. I’d meant to speak to you this evening. Now’s as good a time as any.”

Byrony followed Agatha from the sitting room to the entrance hall. “Is she really all right?”

“Yes, my dear. I promise. Saint is telling her jokes right now. She’s smiling, but poor Delaney is looking ready for execution. Now, I just wanted to tell you that I’m relieved you and Brent are leaving San Francisco for a while. The end of the week?” At Byrony’s mute nod, she continued. “It’s Irene, of course. She didn’t institute the gossip, but on the other hand, she didn’t actively try to stop it. She doesn’t play the martyr well, let me tell you, but Sally Stevenson and that snit daughter of hers don’t care. You may be certain that while you’re gone, Chauncey and I will do our best to obliterate all the nastiness and innuendo. I think that when you return, everything will have blown over. Who knows? Maybe some intelligent person might even strangle Penelope.”

“Thank you, Agatha.”

The older woman smiled gently and patted Byrony’s hand. “Everything will work out, my dear, you’ll see. Now, I’m going to go back upstairs. I’ve never thought it reasonable that a woman in labor should be surrounded by men. Lord, what do they know?”

Chauncey felt Saint’s fingers kneading her belly. “Come here, Del. Feel your child.”

Delaney tentatively placed his palm over his wife’s stomach. He felt the contraction, and winced. “Can’t you ease the pain, Saint?”

Saint shook his head. “Not yet, we don’t want the contractions to slow or stop. We want the baby born as soon as possible. I’ll give her chloroform when it’s time.”

Chauncey screamed, a high, thin wail that made Delaney shudder. “Oh, shit,” he said frantically.

“I think we’re there,” Saint said. “The baby’s coming now, Chauncey. Keep pushing. That’s it. Del, help me, and don’t faint. No time now to give her anything.”

Delaney saw the blond mop of hair. Saint quickly moved aside, and watched with a pleased smile as the baby girl slipped out into her father’s waiting hands.

“Oh, my God.”

“A real beauty, isn’t she?” He kept talking as he quickly clipped the umbilical cord. “Now, Del, give her to Agatha and Lin. Listen to those lungs. She’s not too small at all.”

Delaney Saxton felt as though he’d just run a mile. He stood very still, watching Saint speak to Chauncey as he pressed her belly to remove the afterbirth, watching Agatha and Lin wash his little girl and wrap her in a soft blanket.

The clock downstairs chimed twelve strokes.

“Are you never wrong, Saint?” Chauncey asked.