Warning that if birth, breastfeeding, or the idea of motherhood grosses you out, you might not want to read the second part of the chapter because it contains more than you might ever want to know about the afterbirth process. Don't say you weren't warned!
NDBRs: There were changes throughout.
Shringaar8
Darika almost wished she had complied and boarded the ship back to Europe and then home to Persia. Her feet ached, her back had never felt worse, and she was tired of the crowded streets. She longed for a cup of chai and a leisurely afternoon with the rest of the gossiping horde, otherwise known as her father's and brother's wives.
She didn't miss the people within the palace but rather the ability to avoid them. If anything could be said of her mother it was that she'd enjoyed her privacy as well, and before her death, she'd shown Darika the secret passageways built by a mastermind.
"The man who designed my palace was an artist in the truest sense," she had said as they traveled through the walls. "It is a shame he perished at such a tender age."
Perhaps she didn't wish to return after all. Something about the secret tunnels had always bothered her, given her a sense of deep foreboding. She found no pleasure in sneaking about to peer into the sultan's chambers or those of his wives, felt no desire to watch others bathe unaware. The only place she wished to be was in the gardens, in the peace of the fruit trees and flowers that perfumed the air. She missed the tranquility of birds singing and water cascading from massive fountains. How odd it had seemed that the man who had envisioned a palace of tunnels and deceit had also conjured a tranquil labyrinth of foliage.
A young woman sailed past Darika, muttering, "Doctor, I need a doctor."
Alin pulled her close to keep her from being trampled by the frantic lady, and for a moment her face was buried in his hard chest. All she could think of was that he could use a bit of cologne to mask the smell of his sweat.
"Wasn't that…" Alin started. He pulled Darika back and looked her in the eye. "It was, wasn't it?"
"Excuse me?"
"That woman who nearly killed you. Did you see her face? I think it was Mr. Levesque's housekeeper."
"How could I have seen her?" She paused, her eyes widening. "Really?"
He grunted and his pace quickened. Despite her protests, he nearly dragged her down the street.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"Come on, then. Looks like you've returned in time for a bit of excitement."
She trotted beside him, beads of sweat forming on her forehead in a most unladylike manner. By the time they arrived at his doorstep they'd look like two unwashed beggars.
"Why on earth would he need a doctor? Goodness, you don't suppose something has happened to him, do you? Did he look ill to you? Pale? Gaunt? Unhealthy in any way at all?"
"His wife just gave birth," he reminded her.
"His daughter," she gasped. A chill ran down her spine and she couldn't help but think my baby sister.
-o-
Blood stained Erik's hand, warm and sticky and fresh from his wife. Her night dress was stained between her legs, though he couldn't remember if it had been the doctor or Corinna who had said that bleeding was normal. He didn't know what to believe as Corinna hadn't thought a fever was anything to concern herself with, and now this…
As gently as he could, he'd placed her back on the bed, laying a towel beneath her hips to soak up the blood, and covered her with a blanket. She'd groaned when her knees had come apart, and her only sign of life had given him relief.
Once he washed his hands in the useless water basin, he ran his hands up and down her arms, helping to keep the blood moving in her veins. A faint but steady pulse beat in her throat, giving him hope that she could hold on a little longer. If she could hear him, if she could know how desperate he was for her to survive, he knew she'd fight to stay alive.
Sori wailed, demanding to be fed. He held her to his chest, jostling her in the way all new parents did in order to appease an otherwise angry, frustrated child. While he ran his fingers through Corinna's hair with one hand, he tried to offer Sori the other but feared he'd drop her on the floor.
Breast milk stained Corinna's gown as her body reacted to her child's hungry cries. He looked from the miserable baby in his arms to his dying wife and frowned. He'd watched her nurse before, but he had no idea how she managed to offer herself to their daughter.
"For God's sake," he muttered. How difficult could it be? It looked as though she merely opened her blouse and guided Sori's face toward her nipple. That was how he remembered it, though he hadn't closely examined the process. Despite being related to both of them, the act was an intimate bond between mother and child, not a spectacle for a new father.
Corinna's head jerked ever so slightly, her brows knit in obvious frustration clouded by sleep. She wouldn't want Sori to starve to death or miss a feeding. She'd want their daughter to be happy and content, but she had no say in the matter. It was up to him.
Placing the baby beside Corinna, he took a breath and unbuttoned her night dress until he exposed her breast, which was rock hard and leaking a steady stream of milk in response to Sori's cries.
He paused, unsure of what he was about to do, but Sorinji convinced him that she needed her mother more than he needed to protect his pride and manly doubts. With as much gentleness as he could offer, he turned Corinna onto her side so that she faced Sori, who was giving her best performance yet. He shushed the little girl and tucked a pillow behind her until he had her positioned and ready to feed.
Nervously he smashed her face to her mother's body just as he'd thought he'd seen Corinna do, and her mouth miraculously opened and she began to suck, tiny grunts of desperation emerging between lusty swallows. Somehow, between all the screaming and wrenching of her small, helpless body, she'd managed to latch on. With the way she grunted and snorted, he had a feeling she wouldn't leave her mother's side voluntarily for quite some time.
He gave a sigh of relief that she was quiet and he was able to think, but soon enough he could only think of how much his back ached as he knelt over his wife and held Sori in place.
"Hold on," he whispered. "Sweetheart," he added, his heart swelling with pride. In the five days since he'd held her and kissed her, he hadn't found an appropriate endearment for her, but this felt right. She was the sweetest person occupying his heart, aside from her mother, who refused to be called dear or darling. For a woman who cried over flowers, she couldn't stand nicknames.
Awkwardly he crawled over Corinna, one hand on Sori as he lay beside the baby and kept her from slipping. He kissed the back of the baby's silky head, smelled her breath sweet with the scent of milk, and closed his eyes briefly.
"You're amazing, Corinna," he whispered. He watched Sori's lips move, her tiny hand curled and placed lovingly on her mother's chest. "Simply amazing to be able to care for her without opening your eyes or even realizing your strength. But you know, don't you? You know that you keep her alive."
His throat tightened before he could tell her that she kept him alive as well. His lips pursed, his eyes forced to close by the burn of tears and the swell of the sheer relief he felt.
When he could breathe again, he looked at her still face, watched the pulse in her neck and the flit of her eyes beneath closed eyelids. He'd done it, he'd bridged the cavernous gap between mother and child. While Corinna clung to life, he'd helped Sori survive as well, which he hadn't thought himself capable of doing.
For the first time all morning he'd felt as though he could help her through this. For the first time in many years, he felt a sense that someone could depend on him, and he'd be damned if he let his wife or newborn daughter down.
-o-
In her haste, the housekeeper had apparently left the front door ajar. Darika, determined to do something, bowed her head and prepared to enter, but Alin grabbed her by the arm and reeled her back.
"I will not allow you to walk into someone's house uninvited."
She lifted her chin. "I'm not a stranger."
"You're not welcome, either."
His words stung but she refused to be easily deterred from her mission. "There is no one available to welcome me, and, if the situation deems it necessary, I will see myself inside."
"What are you doing?"
"Offering my assistance."
"And what, pray tell, do you have to offer?"
She stared at him, willed him to challenge her. "Womanly services."
He arched a brow. "Explain."
"You're a man. You'd never understand."
He looked nonplussed but didn't argue, which made her believe that he also wanted to see what had happened.
"We should help him," she said as she walked through the doorway and into the foyer. A giant, bushy fern tickled her elbow as she walked further into the house.
"How?"
"It depends on what's wrong, doesn't it?"
Signs of the life he lived greeted her. There was a wooden bucket near the door which contained four umbrellas. A coat rack housed a man's hat and a coat that looked as though it had never been worn. A slender table held a blue vase filled with fresh lilies. Beside it was a stack of letters bound with twine, the top one smudged with a watermark from a forgotten watering can.
She loved it here, but somehow the enclosed space didn't seem to fit him. Why she felt this way she didn't know, though she assumed it was a daughter's intuition.
"Wait here," she told Alin over her shoulder.
He frowned at her. "I'm not allowing you out of my sight."
She grabbed hold of the banister and glanced at him from over her shoulder. "As you wish."
When she turned toward the upstairs, Erik stood on the landing, the infant in his arms. He looked anything but pleased to see her.