Page 37 of His Stubborn Mate

But as little as I knew about birth, I knew that would cause more damage than not, so I gently pulled her hands away.

“The bairn is coming now, love,” I murmured, trying to keep my voice steady. “Remember what to do?”

She’d told me about the need to bear down, about the blood and what would emerge with the bairn. Gods below, I wish I’d never needed to know that information, but in the long hours it had helped us both to ask and answer questions, to focus on something other than the pain and fear.

I had to bodily lift Cataline to place her arse against the fallen log she’d been sitting against earlier. We’d identified it as the place where she wanted to perch, and now I settled in front of her on my heels, hiking up her soaked skirts and planting her feet so her knees were spread, ignoring the cold winter night’s air and praying she could as well.

Her eyes were closed as she clutched my shoulders, her head thrown back and her hair slipping wildly from its normally tidy braid.

“Your hands?” she panted, and my lips twitched at the command in her tone, despite the terror running through my veins.

“I’ve washed them thrice, as ye demanded.”

Repeatedly.

“I have the cauldron of hot water, and I’ve torn up the remains of my plaid to make the rags, as instructed.”

What else?

“I have the bairn’s swaddling ready.”

Another contraction had hit, and I doubted she was listening.

“‘Tis time, love.”

Gently, I moved Cataline’s hold to my head, so I could bend down to examine her, and regretted it as her fingers yanked at my hair. What lay between her legs that night was not something any warrior expected to see in his life, and the meal I’d eaten long ago heaved in my stomach.

But if my firebrand could birth this bairn in the cold darkness of a winter’s night, then I could fooking well hold down my dinner.

“He’s almost here, dkaar,” I murmured, swiping my finger across what I now understood to be a tiny crown, trying to push its way out of her. “He has a full head of black hair, just like ye.”

“Just like you,” she moaned, yanking harder, panting as she tightened her muscles. “Oh, God, I need…”

Whatever she’d been about to say was obliterated by her scream of pain—the first of the night—which had me jerking my gaze up in terror.

Calm, calm, stay calm.

“That’s it, dkaar. Ye’re doing perfectly, love. Just…”

I positioned my hands beneath her as she shifted forward, dragging her arse off the log in order to balance, crouched.

“Just push, Cataline,” I managed to choke as she held onto me with her face screwed up in agony and pushed with all her might.

‘Twas not enough, judging by the fact that she collapsed backward with a heaving, exhausted gasp as the contraction passed.

“Maar—Maardok.” Her eyes flashed open, clouded with pain. “I think your babe is killing me.”

Mine.

After tonight, after bringing him or her into this world, this bairn was mine, by the gods!

I tried to force a smile. “Dinnae fash, love, ye’re too strong to let a weak bairn defeat ye, aye?”

I was pleased that enough of her obstinacy remained for her to roll her eyes and push herself back to her crouching position. I settled before her once more.

“Ready?” I murmured.

She was already panting, eyes tightly closed.