Free Choosing the Highlander by Jessi Gage Page A

way?
    She didn’t have a husband. That much she’d learned from Aifric between contractions. It seemed Terran had more than a polite interest in her. Maybe, if Aifric made it through this ordeal, she and Terran would find happiness together.
    Though she would never admit it to anyone, she liked to unwind in the evenings with a romance novel from the library. The busyness of the city and the stress of her job made her crave a small dose of softness in the evenings. Maybe the stress of the past two days had made her cling to the romantic notion of an instant attraction. Or maybe the dream she’d had last night was making her sentimental.
    She spoke directly into Aifric’s ear while patting her shoulder. “Wake up, hon. We’ve got to deliver your baby.” Still no response. “She won’t wake up.”
    “Keep trying.” Anselm looked resigned, like he didn’t expect this to go well.
    “Wake, love,” Terran whispered to Aifric. “A little while longer, and you’ll have your bairn in your arms. You can rest then.” He kissed her forehead. “I’d give ye my strength if I could, lass. Would that I could.” His voice cracked. “Wake now. Please. For me.”
    Aifric remained motionless except for her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.
    Terran’s tenderness with a woman he had only met the night before caused Connie’s heart to constrict. It wasn’t just Connie’s secret romantic inclinations making her see something that wasn’t there. Love had bloomed for these two, and it had done so incredibly quickly. Maybe this what the man in her dream had meant by senseless acts of love.  
    It could happen to you too.  
    But it wouldn’t. This kind of love had never been part of her plans. Too unpredictable. Too abstract. Love wasn’t something you could quantify like income and career status. She could never depend on something of indeterminate value.
    Maybe sudden devotion wasn’t for her, but that didn’t mean she was immune to the sweetness of it. She would be damned if she didn’t do everything in her power to give these two the happy ending they deserved.
    She racked her brain for every bit of information she’d ever learned about giving birth. Everyone knew a woman’s cervix had to dilate ten centimeters. Doctors would check by inserting fingers into the birth canal. What they felt for, Connie could guess at; the cervix must feel like a ring, stretched taut with the baby’s head creating a hard plane in the center. Once the opening was large enough to accommodate an infant’s head, there would be pushing. Someone usually helped guide the baby out. The cord had to be cut. She could do those things. Provided nothing went wrong.
    Time to roll up your sleeves and get to work, Con.
    She’d never shied from hard work, and wasn’t about to start now. She certainly wasn’t going to leave Aifric to the ineptness of a monk who stammered every time Connie suggested looking between the girl’s legs and a man who was so besotted he couldn’t stand to see her in pain.
    “I’ll check her cervix,” Connie said, more to herself than to the men. They both gave her blank stares. “To see if she’s close.” The explanation didn’t seem to help their understanding. She sighed. “I’m going to place my hand at the entrance to her womb and see if she has—” would they know the word dilated? “Stretched enough to allow the baby to pass.”
    Anselm’s face turned red. “I’ll just fetch some more hot water.”
    Terran said, “Do it.”
    She took a bracing breath and rolled up the sleeves of her borrowed dress so she could dip her hand in a bowl of warm water, the only thing available for washing. Wincing, because she had never viewed another woman so intimately, she lifted the blankets. There was instantly no question that Aifric’s cervix had dilated to ten centimeters because a bluish scalp with matted black hair pressed at a perfect tight circle of flesh like a cereal bowl coming through a hole