Cleve, on the point of coming into her, stiffened, looked at her in bewilderment, then came into her, deep and full, and she laughed, pulling him closer, drawing him deeper. “I wondered what you’d do,” she whispered into his ear, then nibbled his earlobe, kissed his jaw, then his mouth and tasted the sweet mead on his breath from their feast, and said, “I love you, Cleve. I’m not barren.”
He withdrew from her, came between her thighs and brought his mouth to her. When she screamed, bowing upward, he laughed. “My babe will hear his mother shrieking,” he said, then came into her again, feeling her tighten about him, feeling her quiver from the tremors of pleasure still holding her.
“You will forget about controlling me,” he said, coming up over her, leaning his head down to kiss her as he spoke each word. “You believed I would become so befuddled at your news that I would fall off the bed and you would give me a smug smile. Ah, don’t move like that, Chessa, else I’ll—”
He said no mor
e. He loved her again, only this time, it was different, for his babe nestled in her womb and he wanted to show her how pleased he was, how much he loved her, how he would cherish her for the rest of his life. When she moaned softly into his mouth, he took that moan deep within himself. When he could speak again, he said, “I love you, Chessa. I never thought you were barren.”
She sent her elbow into his ribs, then brought his mouth down to hers. “Do you really love me, Cleve? It’s not that I haven’t believed you before when you’ve brought yourself to say it, but you’re still a man, and I don’t think men like to speak of such things. It makes them feel silly.”
“Who told you that? Surely not Mirana or Laren?”
“Nay, it’s just what I’ve observed.”
“And you’re such an old woman, just like Old Alna, cackling, her gums showing, preaching about all men’s failings, even her beloved Rorik’s.”
“Well, perhaps a bit. But you’ve only told me a few times, a very few times. Usually you just rant at me and yell at me and lust after me, which is something else that men want to do all the time.”
“That,” he said, kissing her deeply, “is true. When will our babe be born?”
“In March.”
“That’s when Kiri was born,” he said, and rolled off her, bringing her against his side.
“What happened?”
He told her about Sarla then, how he’d believed he’d loved her, how she’d betrayed him, but he’d forced her to remain at Malverne until Kiri was born. “I remember how she cursed me as she was birthing Kiri.”
“Why?”
“It hurts, Chessa.”
“Are you certain? Sira said it was nothing. She said she grunted a few times and another boy came out of her body.”
Cleve winced at the hopefulness in her voice. What did he, a man, know about birthing babes? He said, kissing her ear, “Why don’t you ask Argana about it?”
“Did it take a long time for Kiri to be born?”
He started to lie then knew it wasn’t fair. “A very long time,” he said, “but I know that it is different with every woman.”
“And many women die.”
“You won’t and I forbid you to speak of it. I’ll be with you and it will be fine.”
“My father never went near to Sira when she was birthing each of the boys.”
“Merrik was with Laren with both boys. Is there some sort of rule in Ireland that a husband must leave?”
“I didn’t think that men wanted to be close to their wives whilst they were birthing a babe. My father always left the palace and went hunting.”
“I won’t go hunting.”
She kissed his chest. “I remember that Sira wouldn’t let my father near her when her time grew near because she was fat and ugly, I heard her say to one of her women. Of course she’d never say anything to me. The truth is I never thought she was ugly even when her belly was huge.”
He caressed her flanks, then slid his hand between them to her belly. “I won’t leave you,” he said. “I won’t ever leave you.”
“You swear it?”