He’d realized that he would need to go carefully with these folk, who met few strangers, especially if Rowena were the one he was searching for. She would have been taught caution from an early age, from what Sir Jack had told him. Christian shrugged. “I would simply know of the one who saved my life. Perhaps I mean to reward her kindness in a way most fitting.”
Hagar had looked at him closely, and he’d held her gaze without wavering, determined to make her see that he meant no harm. Finally she said, “Rowena will expect no reward and will likely take none. Though she’s deserving of more than she’ll ever receive. Her mother brought her here when she was four, just as she told ye. Mary, her mother, was mistrusted at the start, with her English ways and all. But even though she didna welcome prying about her own life, she was kind and helpful enough to others. And Rowena…” Hagar’s fond gaze went to the door, through which the girl had just left. “She was a love from the outset. Our own cottage is just along the path through the wood, and my lad, who is of an age with her, wouldna stay away. He was hers from the start. As she grew, her care for me, Sean, all of the villagers was clear. It surprised none of us when she took to the ways of healing. Only eighteen winters she has seen, but her skill is far beyond those years, for it comes from true care for others.”
Christian attempted to disguise his eagerness, as he realized that along with the age of the child, the mother’s English background were surely too similar to be coincidence. “What can you tell me of the mother?”
Hagar shrugged with regret. “She died. ’Twas slow and painful, and there was naught Rowena or any of us could do to change it, though we tried.”
“You know nothing of them before they came to Ashcroft?”
She clamped her lips together tightly, looking away. “I have told ye all ye need to know. Aught else is for the lass to say, or nay.”
Christian was less than pleased. He wanted to explain that he had only Rowena’s best interest at heart, that he felt she might be an heiress, but he had sworn to speak of the matter to no one. At the same time he chafed at this impasse, for he had heard enough to know that unlikely as it might be, he might have stumbled upon the very woman he was searching for.
It was Rowena herself he needed to question. Yet if she were Rosalind, her nursemaid mother would have taught her to be wary of revealing any information about herself. Her well-being, her very life, depended upon secrecy, for if Kelsey were ever to learn that the child lived he would surely make good on his previous effort to dispose of her. It seemed that even Hagar, who appeared to be quite close to the girl, knew very little of her before her arrival here. Though it did appear that she was hiding something, she clearly had no intention of saying more.
He had found no opportunity to speak privately with Rowena, due to Hagar’s almost constant presence. In the short bits of time the older woman was gone from the cottage on some business of her own, the lovely Rowena engaged herself in some important task, or simply left the cottage. Just as she had not more than an hour ago, when Hagar had gone to prepare a meal for her son.
Christian longed to challenge Rowena, but caution warned him not to create tension between himself and the girl.
Under no circumstances could he risk ruining a possible opportunity to see right done for The Dragon’s daughter. Christian gave another groan of frustration and closed his eyes, telling himself that she could not run from him indefinitely. He must have an opportunity to begin to gain her trust before he could even hope to get her to confide in him.
Even if it meant more delay in fulfilling his long-neglected duty to his father.
So plagued was he by these thoughts that he felt little relief in knowing that in spite of the fact that he had been dreadfully ill, his strength was returning apace. That it had been Rowena’s doing only made him all the more hopeful that she was the one he sought. For he would expect the uncommon in the daughter of a man such as The Dragon had been.
These thoughts continued to torment Christian as he looked toward the open door of the cottage only moments later. He frowned, uncertain as to what might have drawn his gaze there. It took only a glance to realize that the woman who leaned heavily against the sill was in dire circumstances.
The hands she clasped around the great mound of her belly were white-knuckled, and her face was twisted in a grimace of agony. Her pain had marred her face to the point where it was difficult to gauge her age with any degree of accuracy, but the wildly helpless and confused expression in her wide blue eyes told him that she must be very young.
He was on his feet and hurrying toward her before he even thought to move. She practically fell into his arms as she cried, “Is the healer here?”
He felt her surprisingly slight weight as he held her upright. “If you mean Rowena, she has gone to gather herbs from the forest.”
Sudden and desperate sobs erupted, as the girl seemed to lose what little hold she’d had on herself. “But she mun not be gone. She was me only hope. The babe is coming and I’ve no one to help me.”
He had suspected the part about the babe. As calmly as he could, Christian said, “I can fetch other help should Rowena not come back in time.” He had no notion as to how long Rowena might be in returning. It could be any moment or hours, for all he knew. But the village was purported to be quite nearby. Hagar had said she lived only a short distance up the path through the forest.
With a desperate strength that shocked him, the pregnant woman grabbed Christian’s hand, her eyes boring into his with inescapable entreaty. “You canna leave me. ’Tis too late. There is nay time. The babe comes.”
Christian felt a shaft of panic, accompanied by disbelief. “Would this be your first babe?” When she gave a brief nod he added, “I have heard there’s no way to measure the length of the first birthing with any certainty. Surely there is more time left than you imagine.”
Those blue eyes held his and there was no mistaking the certainty in them. “I ken the truth. The babe has been many hours coming, but none would help me in my own village, as the babe’s father is wed to another. I walked for many hours, even crossed a swollen river, ere a man on the road told me that there was a woman here who might…”
She doubled over, leaning her full weight against him once more as her whole body tensed and the breath left her lungs in a moan of misery.
Not knowing what else to do, Christian scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. Once he got her there he realized she was clutching his tunic so tightly that he could not move away. Thus he was forced to remain leaning over her until the spasm that gripped her had passed and she released him.
Though what he should do after she finally did let go her tight hold on his woolen tunic, he did not know.
As a boy Christian had loved the animals around his father’s lands. His mother had shared that love, encouraging him to assist her as she tended the horses, sheep and cattle about the demesne through illnesses and births. His beautiful and much beloved mother…
After she had died and his father had become so morose, Christian’s love of animals had helped to sustain him. Later, at Dragonwick, his life as a squire was so ordered, his growing friendship with Simon and Jarrod so enthralling that there had been little time for such things. As a knight in the Holy Land he had been even further removed from animal husbandry. Yet he had not forgotten.
With animals, keeping up a strong, steady presence was often all he need do.
Something told him that this situation would require more participation on his part. And that was precisely why he was determined to find some way to get assistance.
Hopefully, he told himself that the girl might be wrong in her assessment that the babe was coming now. He could think of only one way to determine that.
Gently, he put his hand on her leg, as he looked at her exhausted face. “I will need to look….”
Eagerly she nodded, pulling at