Their Treasured Bride (Bridgewater Ménage 4)

I laughed at that. "I don't even know how to talk about my feelings, let alone show them."

"As I said, all you have to do is go up to Dash and kiss him. Or Connor. Start with that."

"Really?" It was that simple?

Olivia pushed off the table to stand. "Really," she replied with a groan. "I think I need to lay down because—oh, I think I just wet myself." Water trickled, then pooled on the floor at her feet. "The baby!" she cried, then glanced around. "It's time. This happened to Emma, too. What do I do?"

The baby was coming? I knew nothing about having babies; I'd only just learned how to make one! I stood abruptly and spun in a quick circle as if the answer were somewhere in the room, then stopped, took a deep breath and looked at Olivia's panicked expression. She needed me to be calm and in control, even if I pretended.

I tipped my chin up in the exact way Olivia had mimicked me a few minutes before, and went over to take her hand. "Babies take time to come, or so I've heard. Let's get you out of these wet clothes and into something more comfortable. I'll help you upstairs."

By the time she was in a clean nightgown and propped up in bed, she was calmer. I wasn't calm in the least, but all the years of learning to hide emotions was useful now. I didn't know how to deliver a baby, but I could help keep Olivia calm. I had to remain calm.

With her head leaning back against the headboard, Olivia breathed slowly through her mouth, eyes closed at the beginning of the next round of pains.

"I'm going to go and get help," I told her, turning toward the door.

Olivia's eyes flew open and she reached out and grabbed my hand in a tight grip. "Don't leave me!" she cried, her eyes wild once again.

I patted her arm and shook my head. "No. I'm not leaving, only going downstairs to fire the gun. Isn't that the way to get help?"

She nodded as her face contorted in pain. I tried not to wince as her grip tightened painfully on my hand.

"I'll be right back," I vowed, yanking my hand free and hurrying down the steps. I remembered a rifle on pegs above the kitchen door at our house and when I entered the kitchen, was relieved to see one in the same place here as well. It was too high for me to reach, so I slid over a chair, stood on it and pulled the heavy weapon down.

I had no idea how to fire it. I'd seen a gun used before and knew about the trigger and had to assume the rifle was loaded and ready to use. Pushing the chair out of the way, I opened the door and went out onto the back porch, the cold air making me shiver.

I gripped the weapon, put my finger on the trigger and pulled. The sound of the shot was deafening and the butt of the rifle hit me in the shoulder, knocking me back a few steps. The pain from it was jarring and I cried out. Thinking of Olivia upstairs and the possibility that I'd have to help her deliver her baby by myself, spurred me to lift the weapon again, this time placing it directly against my shoulder. I closed my eyes and fired. The kick wasn't as bad, but the pain in my already bruised shoulder had me hissing out a breath. My ears rang. Unfortunately, when I shut my eyes, I'd moved the gun and I shot a chunk out of the porch railing.

"Damn," I muttered, remembering my brother swearing as he'd been seasick on the boat across the Atlantic.

Two shots. People should come running from two shots. When I heard Olivia scream in pain, I knew I needed to fire the third shot to signal an emergency. This was an emergency. Having a baby with me as the only helper was a bloody emergency. I lifted the weapon quickly, stepped to the edge of the porch and aimed at the sky and fired. Nothing. The weapon was empty.

"Damn," I muttered again. I put the rifle down on the porch floor and dashed into the kitchen, searching by the door for more bullets. I quickly found some in a jar.

Back out on the porch, I had to figure out how to reload the weapon. I was fumbling with that when Olivia yelled for me. "Rebecca!"

The guttural scream that followed

had me dropping the bullets and left the gun on the porch, running through the house and up the stairs.

Olivia had her knees bent up and her hands resting on them. Her face was dripping with sweat and her cheeks were flushed. "I think the baby's coming," she groaned, then let out a long, painful moan as pain ripped through her.

"Now? It's only been ten minutes since you started having your pains," I countered.

"I don't think this baby cares!"

I dashed to the bed, sat down on the side of it and pushed up the long hem of her nightgown. A head wasn't showing between her legs, but I didn't doubt her.

"I've got to push."

She was panting hard now, then crying, and then moaning in pain.

"Olivia, look at me." She didn't, lost in her body's actions. "Olivia!"

My shout had her eyes on me. "Keep looking at me. That's it. Now breathe. Slow, good. Think about your men and how eager they are to see this baby."

"They did this to me," she hissed. "I never want to see them again." A pain gripped her and then she looked at me with pleading eyes. "They're going to miss it!" she wailed, tears streaming down her cheeks.