And here we are again! It was quite odd not posting something midweek, but alas, this was not complete by then. Thanks again to all of you who reviewed, it's nice to know you do not mind longer "chapters"! This is a bit shorter than last week, but I hope you enjoy all the same.

ii

Erik was not an unreasonable man, and through the aid of his wife and ambling daughter, he was beginning to learn both patience and cool temperedness.

And so he had waited.

He had watched his pupil kiss his daughter's tiny hand, and watched him encourage her in her first toddling steps, and he swore before both his and Christine's God that if her first word had been Armand the boy would not last the night.

Erik then profusely apologized in his prayer that night when her first utterance was in fact Pa.

Catherine was now three years of age, and was all piercing blue eyes and soft brown curls that resolutely refused to be tamed by her mother's braiding.

And upon Armand's arrival that morning, she had run to him with a kiss.

Christine had laughed and assured him she was only mimicking how her parents greeted one another when separated for any length of time, and Erik rather shortly reminded her that they were in fact married.

Thankfully his wife had remained silent on the subject ever since.

Marie and Jacques had become more attentive parents throughout the years, and once the newness of reunion had worn off, they parted with Armand more for the quality of education than simply to be rid of him—much to Christine and Erik's approval.

But as his lessons had continued, so had the insertion of him into their little family unit, and Catherine had learned quickly that when the boy appeared, new diversions were amply provided for her entertainment.

On this day however, Erik had taken Christine aside and specifically requested she distract their daughter by any means necessary.

"Erik, you cannot be serious. He is far too young for such a talk!" In the past years Christine had begun to steadily lose her own girlish attributes in favor of more womanly features, and Erik could not honestly say the change was wholly unwelcome.

As his daughter began to abandon babyhood in favor of girlhood, the distinction between mother and daughter was a coveted happening.

Always loath of change, Erik would have been perfectly happy for his daughter to remain young forever—and in truth, at only three she could hardly be considered old. But he found she aged at a slow enough pace for him to adequately adjust to the changes with as little fuss as possible.

Until now.

"I am quite serious, Christine. Cat can hardly be expected to be held accountable for her actions, but at ten, he may be. And shall."

Christine rolled her eyes dramatically. "This should be a task for his father."

Erik sniffed indignantly. "Perhaps so, but I have been his teacher for many years, and I believe that gives me adequate cause for the task."

His wife came very close to him—far closer than he would have generally allowed in front of the children playing a few yards away. "Do not frighten him, husband. He is a wonderful playmate for our daughter, and you must admit your own fondness for him." Her eyes grew fierce as she looked into his eyes. "And I rather think of him as my own son, so be kind!"

At one point her tone may have offended him, but he saw the slightly pained expression that was soon to follow, and by the grace of God he had been offered understanding.

Christine had not yet become pregnant again, and though they frequented the activities which should induce such occurrences, they had yet to produce even the inkling of another child.

And while he accepted their state as a potential blessing, Christine had taken it especially hard.

In her attempt to remain content with those all too willing to accept the love she offered so readily, Christine had begun to think of Armand as her own—a subject which Marie would always find tremendously amusing. Having given birth to another boy nearly a year ago, she freely allowed the arrangement.

Erik placed a comforting hand on her cheek and kissed the other softly. "I shall be mindful of your feelings as always, my love."

She smiled at him, and he felt the same thrill echo through his heart—the same as he had felt when she had first bestowed such a gift upon him. "Come along Catherine, I believe Fille should like some attention!"

"But, Mama, the pretty bug!"

Christine frowned at her daughter's reticence. "Your friend shall surely be somewhere around the yard when we are finished. But for now come with me."

The little girl abandoned her post dutifully watching a ladybug safely maneuver itself across a rose petal in favor of obliging her mother's call, and Erik enjoyed the view of mother and daughter walking across the lawn toward the stable.

Armand made to follow them, but halted when his teacher's voice brokered no argument. "We have something to discuss, Armand. Join me in the study."

Erik rarely spoke to him harshly, but when he donned his strictest persona, the boy knew well to listen and obey.

It did not take long to enter the study, as Erik used his far lengthier legs to their full advantage so he could be seated behind his desk when the boy appeared. Intimidation was not exactly necessary, but he found it aided in the seriousness of the discussion.

Armand entered the room with the posture of one fully ready to receive whatever punishment an unhappy mentor saw fit to enact. "Sir, I'm sorry if I did something wrong."

Erik sighed. While he wanted his understanding of the subject—and perhaps at the end some small apology for having made the entire discussion necessary—he never liked the way the boy's shoulders would sag under the weight of whatever chastisement he was ready to bear.

It was entirely too familiar—and that was not to be borne.

"Sit down, Armand, you are not in trouble."

The boy sat, running a hand through his still shaggy hair as he did so—a habit taken from himself, Erik noted ruefully.

"I am not about to murder you, therefore you are permitted to relax." He could not help it. Though he honestly was attempting to aid the boy in being receptive to this conversation, he did have to smile as he considered the lasso still positioned in the desk drawer.

A locked drawer now that Catherine had the ability to open such things.

Armand did seem to lose a bit of tension, but his posture was still uncomfortable. "Why did you wish to see me?"

This was proving to be more difficult than he anticipated. All wide eyes and innocent expression, it was far easier to be upset with the idea of the boy's intentions than the boy himself.

Perhaps Christine was right. There was no need to be unkind, only firm in his declarations.

"What do you know of courtship?"

Whatever Armand had been expecting, this was most assuredly not it. "Courtship? With wooing and flowers and chocolates? Mama likes it when Papa courts her, but I find it rather sickening."

Erik smiled to himself. This was not so very difficult after all. "Armand, my daughter is very attached to you, and she has very little contact with others beside my wife and me for examples. Her affections for you are perfectly natural, but I must ask that you refrain from allowing her to throw herself at you before she understands her actions."

Armand looked at him blankly. "Affections? You mean when she kisses me?"

Ah yes—the precise precipitation of this little interlude. "Correct. And while she is entirely innocent in her gestures, I do not want you to become confused. Whatever relationships are formed when she is older—much older—may be handled accordingly. But for now, you must behave as a gentleman."

He could tell he was confusing the boy, and he forced himself to be mindful of how young he was. "Do not kiss her back."

Armand let out an, "Oh," and nodded readily. "Yes, sir."

Erik allowed himself a moment's time to feel relief at the boy's acquiescence. Perhaps he had overreacted to the situation. She was still practically an infant, and it was quite clear this boy was as innocent as she in terms of carnal pursuits.

But he remembered how innocently Christine had parted with her own first kiss to the hands of Raoul—a man she most assuredly did not marry—and he hoped for better with his daughter.

And Armand could assist him in ensuring her maintenance of purity until such time she was of sound mind and heart and could part with such things accordingly.

When she was married and not a moment before.

He was not an ogre. For all his protective posturing, he had every intention of allowing a man worthy of his daughter seek out her hand in matrimony, and no matter how begrudgingly he could admit that Armand could very well be the beginnings of such a man.

Christine loved him, as did his daughter, and he had his own fondness for his pupil that he supposed rivaled that of any natural born child.

But he shook his head of such thoughts.

His daughter was merely three, and he was allowed to keep and protect her until such a time of necessity when he should allow her to leave him.

To the house next door.

Having remained vacant for so long, Erik took it as a sign that perhaps additional plans should be made regarding the future. When Christine did not immediately become pregnant upon ceasing to nurse, the idea of a pressing need for additional space dwindled, and thoughts of this becoming their permanent residence took further hold.

So he purchased the adjoining home.

Still outside the property which would afford privacy when the time came, he saw it as the perfect dowry for his little Cat whenever she should have need of it.

And it should also guarantee him frequent visitation.

If Christine knew what he had done, she had never mentioned it to him.

"Was there anything else, Monsieur Erik?" The boy looked antsy, and it was clear he was looking forward to spending of the remainder of the day out of doors instead of buried in the book room as they had spent the winter.

"No, you may go. But be mindful what I said!" He nodded enthusiastically and scampered from the room, and Christine's voice seemed to echo through the halls even as he slipped slightly on the way to the doorway.

"No running in the cottage! When you have your own home you may do as you please!"

It always gave Erik particular pleasure when she made reference to their home, as he never wished for her to feel that anything he owned was not also partly hers. He may make certain fiscal decisions unilaterally, but it was never with the intent she feel inferior.

When the wife in question entered the house, Catherine not in hand, he raised a questioning eyebrow. "Armand is taking her to look at the pollywogs."

Erik rolled his eyes. "Of course he is. Remind me why I showed him the blasted things to begin with."

Christine laughed pleasantly and waited patiently for Erik to move his desk chair back slightly so she could make use of his lap. "Because you are a wonderful instructor, and it was important to show him all sorts of scientific..."

For all his requesting she remind him, he did not seem particularly interested in the response as his lips were firmly covering hers as his hands wound around her waist. "That was rhetorical, wife."

She hummed pleasantly before resting her head upon his shoulder. "How did it go with Armand? You did not mention more intimate things did you?" Christine sounded rather scandalized by the prospect.

Erik chuckled. "Your mind may rest easy, Christine. I simply requested he keep his lips to himself for the time being." Oh how desperately he wished to add always, but he forced himself to be realistic.

If Christine's father had lived—had been honored by continuing to dwell in the presence of this angel—Erik would most assuredly have been denied the blessing of her love.

And if any young man should be so privileged as to recognize what a treasure was his daughter, he would not deny him.

For that would be the greatest hypocrisy of his entire life.

That did not however mean he had to like it.

-X-

Her lovely husband.

They had been spending the warm summer day allowing Catherine and Armand to roam through the small meadows beyond the cottage, and she had even managed to convince Erik that a picnic would not be as intolerable as he supposed.

He begrudgingly agreed.

And though days like today should only fill her with the warmth of domestic happiness, she still felt the stirrings of discord when the familiar longing for another small babe entered her mind.

But why had it not happened?

When she had first become concerned for her ability to conceive, she had refused to speak to her husband on the matter. He had been so distressed by the news of Catherine's impending birth that she dared not bring up the subject of yearning for another—not when his own feelings were so very clear.

But she was growing sulky and despondent, and no matter how he coaxed and skillfully manipulated, she could not bear to give words to her greatest dread.

She feared she was infertile.

Of course there were other women who surely did not so readily conceive after a mere three years, but that did not stop the feeling of sorrow at the possibility.

And so she spent many months in prayer.

She did not shirk her responsibilities as a wife and mother—she was not so disheartened by the absence of another as to find discontentment with who she had been blessed with, but when she made yet another trek to the church in order to seek the solace of the sanctuary, Father Martin intervened.

"Christine, these things are never as simple as they seem. But I can assure you, the more you fret and conceal your feelings from your husband, the worse things shall be for the both of you in your marriage."

He was right of course. She couldnot keep this from him. It was unfair to both him and their daughter if her emotions could be so entirely sullied because of this strange urge to bring forth another child.

And so it was with such determination she returned home to explain to her husband.

Such treks in solitude were not uncommon, though Erik never allowed her to go farther unaccompanied than the church—a condition that suited her quite well. It took them both many months to not only trust each other again in terms of safety and presence, but even longer to once more have assurance in humanity that not everyone was intent on their separation.

Such fears still appeared even now.

Catherine was napping when she returned, and Erik was in the music room, quietly tinkering at the piano—fingers deftly moving over the keys though no sound was produced.

She was certain he could hear the music perfectly well in any case.

He did not turn to look at her when she entered, but he spoke to her all the same. "Is your soul really in so great a peril that you required yet another visit to our favorite priest?"

His tone was sarcastic, and she realized her lack of communication as to her true reasons for her visits was affecting him more than he had previously let on.

And the way he kept playing—the way he would not even turn to look at her—even though it was all her fault and it was perfectly reasonable he feel hurt and angry at her lack of faith, she found the unwanted tears already pooling in her eyes. "Oh Erik, I am sorry!"

It was not fair to him when she cried, and she did try admirably to stop the flow of tears as they quickly wet her cheeks and she felt the sobs bubble forth. She did not mean to hurt him!

He looked more bewildered than pained as she buried her face in his knees as he had turned to face her on the piano bench. "Christine, what has happened? Are you hurt?"

The more she tried to force the words from her throat the tighter it became, and the more concerned Erik seemed to become. "My wife, you must tell your husband what has happened or he shall assume the worst!"

He pulled her from the floor—never liking her to be on the structure for any length of time no matter how she explained the rugs were at times far more comfortable than any piece of furniture—and moved to the chair a short distance away. "At least tell me if you are injured."

She shook her head through her tears, and she heard him release a sigh of relief. "Then I shall attempt to wait patiently for you to compose yourself until you are able to explain."

His words may have returned to their aloof phrasing she was used to when he was feeling particularly hurt, but his hands as they caressed her hair aided in her comfort enough that her sobs subsided and she was able to whisper into his coat the nature of her torment.

"I would like so very much to have another child. And I know how much that would frighten you, but we are not precisely attempting not to have one, and Father Martin says I must have faith and to allow these things to take their natural course but…" Her tears were threatening to return, as Erik remained frozen beneath her.

"You seek solace for not once more being with child? It truly troubles you so?"

The very last thing she wished was for his agitation—for him to turn this into a misguided determination she was unsatisfied with him and the child he had already provided.

And she told him so. "But that is not it at all, Erik, I swear it."

He was quiet for a long moment, though his hands did resume their attention to her hair. "Why have you not spoken of this before?"

She sniffled once more, though she tried to save his coat from the brunt of the abuse. "I have spoken of it."

His tone turned slightly sharper. "You mentioned your surprise that no more had been conceived once your menses returned, but you did not supply that it was of great importance to you that such would occur!"

Christine thought it far more truthful that he had chosen not to infer her meaning by bringing up her surprise in the first place. But perhaps that was unfair. He could not be expected to read her mind—it was her duty as his wife to explain what was lying heavily upon her heart.

And she had failed.

"I am so sorry, husband."

Erik hummed in response, even as his hand stroked her cheek.

But instead of gazing at her tenderly as was his custom with gesture, he was looking plaintively at the wetness on his fingertips. "While I understand your distress, it has been quite some time since you have had such a strong outburst as this. One would almost say it was similar to when you were with child."

She scowled at him and made to exit his embrace. "Do not tease me, Erik. I am infertile. If I were meant to become pregnant once more, surely I would have done so!"

Erik rolled his eyes, which only furthered her ire at his lack of seriousness. She truly was about to depart and leave him to his own sarcasm regarding such a devastating topic when his hands cupped her face—not enough to hurt but firmly enough she dared not move. "You are not infertile, Christine. For all we know the fault could lie with me."

She blinked at him in surprise. "What do you mean?"

If a wife did not produce children it was surely her own fault—it was surely not the fault of a man's seed if it failed to take hold.

Erik did not seem uncomfortable by the topic, but spoke succinctly and without hesitation. "You take far too much blame upon yourself. I am not as young as you, my dear, surely you have noticed. The quality may be damaged with age."

Never had she considered such a thing. He certainly had no difficulty being with her intimately, but she knew so very little of such things.

But the possibility that it was not somehow her fault for their lack of additional children gave her comfort.

For she would never blame him.

His fingers once more grew gentle as they skimmed her cheeks and he kissed her softly. "But I do not believe you have cause to worry."

"How do you mean?" At his look she had a sinking feeling where his mind was headed. "Erik, I am not with child."

A lone eyebrow rose. "How are you certain? If I remember correctly our actions early this morning would indicate you have not begun your menses. Has something changed in the past few hours?"

She huffed in annoyance. "I would know."

He chuckled at her. "Would you? My loveliest Christine, you are not a physician, and I believe you were set to begin four days ago."

Erik was right of course, though it was slightly unsettling he kept such knowledge at the forefront of his mind.

How she longed for the return of her more regular cycle she had been graced with before her last pregnancy! Every variance was an oddity, and she could tell Erik clearly when she had missed it and be proven correct in her assumption.

Not anymore.

Some months she skipped it entirely, and just when she began to hope for the swelling of her breasts to indicate a child, such dreams were dashed by the splash of red.

And she could cry and tell Erik it was nothing—simply aches from the cramping of her womb once more.

Now she resented his postulation that now should be any different.

But this was Erik suggesting it, not herself. Her husband with his vast knowledge of more things than she could possibly fathom was asking her to consider the possibility that she was already with child—and if there was anything she had learned since their marriage it was to trust Erik's genius above her own.

So for a moment she determined to allow the fantasy to take hold.

"What would be your opinion if such were true?"

He looked away from her then, and for a moment she feared her original fears were justified—the very reason she had not confided in him to begin with.

Her heart ached when he answered.

"I will not deny that the prospect terrifies me. Our daughter was a blessing in her perfection, but another…" He stopped then, as though the words were too painful to bear.

This time it was her hands that caressed his marred features, and she tilted him to face her once more. "God has blessed us to be sure. And I have told you before, Erik. I would love any child that was given us."

At one time she might have wondered if his fear was that he could not—that if something proved wrong with a child, he would be incapable of seeing beyond such flaws.

But not now.

The years had changed him, and though he would harbor the same doubts he had nursed before, surely he had faith now that his bane was not necessarily guaranteed to his offspring.

His hand drifted to her abdomen and settled upon her womb. "You have such belief, my wife. For a time it was enough for both of us." The fingers of his hand gently palpated the area, and her eyes fluttered closed at the movement. "Perhaps that shall not be necessary in this case."

How she wished that to be true.

She did not want another if it would cause him to once more doubt her love—but this was only fantasy was it not? They conversed as though it were reality, but there was little evidence to suggest such was truth.

So she took his hand away from its position upon her and kissed it once before settling it in her lap.

He could treat her as if she was with child when it had been proven such was the case.

For now it was too painful to consider his tenderness was directed to an empty womb.

But Erik would have none of it, and his eyes turned fierce as asked the pertinent question. "Why did you keep this from me? Did you believe me so incapable of compassion for you?"

She let out a shuddering breath as she remembered how alone she felt in her pain, and looked at him with pleading eyes. "I did not wish to cause you to worry for my happiness when it was not truly in jeopardy. But I realize now that it was unfair of me to deny you my confidence. And for that I am so terribly sorry."

Erik sighed heavily, but when he placed a kiss upon her temple she knew he had forgiven her. "I cannot say I will be without trepidation of your pregnancy, Christine. I shall always worry for both you and the child, but I can assure you I am not displeased by the prospect." He frowned suddenly. "Though it does prove problematic as we have no additional rooms."

From the way he spoke, she was becoming convinced he believed her to be with child, and resolutely ignored her feeling that such was not the case and allowed him to fill her head with ideas of nurseries and additional playthings for their new child.

And then informed her they would be seeing a physician the next day.

Christine nearly protested the decision, determined they could wait longer and see if her bleeding came as she suspected it would, but when she caught Erik smiling ever so softly toward the piano, she stopped herself.

She would have faith.

So the next morning when they arrived at the village midwife and she calmly congratulated them both on the imminent arrival of their second child, Christine promptly burst into tears.

All the while Erik held her hand, and she pretended not to hear his whispered words. "My silly wife, did your husband not tell you?"

And though she had the sudden desire to hit him, she simply clung to his hand instead.

-X-

Thirty eight weeks later, and Christine and Erik found themselves in the same position, only her tears had melted from relief and rapture to the agonized cries of one attempting to bring forth another babe into the world.

Had it truly been so agonizing the last time? She hardly remembered the pain being so intense, but the midwife assured her it was simply because the baby was nearly full term, and the labor quickened from being her second.

Now she wondered why she had so desperately prayed for a repeat of such torment.

This pregnancy had not felt like the last. Perhaps that was simply because of her change in relationship to her husband, but the baby from the beginning had felt more at peace.

Catherine had roiled and writhed in the womb, and while Christine appreciated the evidence of her liveliness, her second babe was far more docile. Not to the point of concern, though she did certainly have plenty of those.

"He is simply a quiet soul, Madam, you should not fear. It would only be if you felt no movement at all that I should worry."

Christine was grateful for the forthcoming nature of this midwife, as well as her ability to frequent the woman. No longer was she taken through back allies at night, but made regular visits and was always greeted with a smile.

Though she was still uncomfortable when the more intimate procedures were performed.

Erik had taken a very different view of this pregnancy as well, though she did still catch him staring at her whenever the baby's slight turning should awaken her in the night.

She never saw any drawings of her rapidly changing body, and almost felt a pang of loss at the thought. It was with fondness she thought of the compilation of his thoughts and dealings with her first pregnancy, but she accepted it as a maturation of his own faith. He did not need to reconcile each change as accurately as he did before because he was confident the fundamental nature of her would remain the same.

And she was glad for it.

Explaining to Catherine had been more difficult than they had anticipated. While Christine was concerned that their daughter should feel as though the attentions of her parents would soon become divided, she was far more interested in discovering how her mama had become pregnant to begin with.

She allowed Erik to take the lead with that particular conversation.

Christine was always amazed how comfortable he was when she was not. They seemed to fill in for each other's weaknesses, and while her mouth refused to open at the prospect of explaining any such thing to her small daughter, Erik smiled and lifted Cat into his arms.

"Because your papa loves mama very much, and God blessed them. But you do not have to worry about any such thing for a long while yet, alright, mon Cat? It will not happen to you."

Catherine kissed his cheek as she always did when he held her, and whispered her response. "May I have my cookie now?"

And that was the end of that.

She asked whether it would be a boy like Armand's brother, and Erik patiently explained time and again that it was impossible to tell such things before it was born.

One night, just when she was beginning to show and Erik was stroking the swell softly, she asked him his opinion on the matter.

"You said once that the idea of a boy terrified you, as a girl would far more likely resemble me. Do you still feel that way?"

He was distracting her from her enquiry, she knew. Just as he had when word had reached them of her first pregnancy, he had been loath to permit any sort of relations between them that he perceived could put her at risk.

While he had relented a few times, the occurrence was becoming rare, and her flesh was all too ready to respond when his hands abandoned her womb in favor of more aching places.

How she had missed him!

In truth, it had only been three weeks since their last encounter, but she found that once her nausea had dissipated and her cravings began, it was a far different craving than she had expected that had awoken.

Christine should remind him of her question. It was never a good sign when he refused a query, but as his fingers gently pressed against her breast, ever so softly and mindful of the tissue that so often was sore these days, she found herself not caring in the slightest what her question might have been.

She would simply blame the hormones in the morning.

"Is the door locked?"

While Erik had become increasingly mindful of any impending dangers that Catherine could stumble upon in their little cottage, that also included a more complex lock than was previously established.

He claimed his daughter was far too intelligent to be impeded by such a primitive structure.

Christine thought he was simply frightened of Catherine walking in on their activities.

Erik sighed into her neck. "Some would think I was being reticent in my husbandly duties if you had enough faculties to think of the status of the door." He nibbled slightly and her breathing hitched. "Yes, wife, the door is secure."

Perhaps this was not such an impromptu joining after all.

They had been lying on their sides—her back against his chest as he cradled her in his arms, and she could feel him already prepared to enter her as they were, but she tugged on his arms insistently until he was on top of her.

"Please, for soon we cannot indulge this way."

He chuckled softly as he kissed her, and though there had been little inducement, she was still ready for him when he entered her.

Perhaps not every bit of pregnancy was tedious.

Erik was careful with her, but no less attentive when he finally allowed himself to forget for a moment his fears for the safety of her delicate condition, and as he joined with her, it felt right, not at all like the terrible moment when she realized she was in labor too soon.

How she loved him.

Even after their completion and he had returned to his mindless caress upon her bared middle, she felt the delightful warmth she always felt after being with him.

"I think perhaps a boy might be preferable. It would not be such a terrible thing to have an aid in keeping Catherine from undesirable characters."

Erik's tone was teasing, and she quite rightly supposed he was making reference to Armand—not some shady character bent on stealing his daughter's virtue.

She rolled her eyes at him in response.

His hands bade her look at him, and his eyes were serious. "But I shall love any child you bequeath me, Christine. That I swear to you."

She almost cursed him for making her cry again with his sweet words, but she could not deny they were precisely what she needed to hear. Not for a moment did she doubt her own ability to love, it was only his acceptance that concerned her.

And he had sworn his affections would remain true, no matter their child.

Sleep did not elude her that night.

"Christine, you must push if you have any intention of birthing this child tonight!"

She sobbed in the effort.

The words of the midwife tormented her as she had promised the second birth was always easier than the first, and it was with absolute certainty she wished to refute such a claim.

Each contraction of her womb was too fast, and she was so very tired, and she had not the comfort of cool autumn air but the early summer was continuing to stifle her even as the midwife's assistant heated even more water.

If ever she was in such a position again, she would beg Erik to allow her to return to the care of the whore's midwife—she at least had much better sense.

"No more blasted water, it is stifling as it is!"

The apprentice looked frightened as Erik growled at her, but Christine only felt another outpouring of emotion as Erik spoke the very words that were choked by her tears.

She wanted this to be over!

"Madam, you must take a full breath and push with the exhale. It will only be over if you do so!"

Was this woman blind as well as sadistic? She could not do this.

And then her husband was brushing away her dampened curls that clung furiously to her overheated flesh, and his cool hands felt like the sweetest comfort she could possibly imagine. "Erik, please I cannot!"

The midwife had not wanted him to be allowed in the birthing room, but as he began whispering in her ear, Christine was entirely certain she could not have found the strength to continue had he been forced to leave her alone. "Of course you can, my love. You have done it before, and you are so very strong, Christine. I have complete faith in you." His voice turned low and conspiratorial. "And our child needs you, Christine. Please remember that."

And so he gripped her hand and filled her mind with words of adoration and encouragement as the midwife bade her push, and though it did not occur as quickly as they should have liked, soon she felt the final give as the crying babe was released.

A boy.

They knew nothing of boys. While Armand frequented their home, their entire lives centered around the female race in their little cottage.

And now there was a boy.

So different from his sister as he was placed upon her breast, all wrinkles and yellowy skin even though he had just emerged from the womb.

But he was so very beautiful.

And as Erik continued to look at his son, he whispered to his wife. "You must name him."

Christine kept looking between father and son, and though by no means was their little baby deformed like his father, the resemblance was clear for all to see.

And though in future she would blame the overwhelming rapture of seeing a baby alive and whole which would explain her choice in name, at that moment she could only picture Erik naming their little feline after her because they shared the same blue eyes.

"Hello, my little Erik."

When she looked at the squinting eyes of her lovely little boy, they entirely matched his father's more annoyed expression. And she smiled at them both adoringly.

She tried not to be upset when the apprentice severed the cord and took him away to be cleaned, and she reminded herself to be grateful for the care he received.

It took a few more moments before the midwife was finished with the actual birthing process and was able to clean up Christine and tell her to rest, and by that time little Erik was being deposited into her husband's arms.

"What do you think, Erik? Is he not perfect?"

All long limbs and torso, she understood why he was so much more difficult to deliver than her petite little girl.

Erik was looking at him strangely, almost as if waiting for something within his own mind to allow him peace of mind before he gave his opinion on their new addition, and she reminded herself of his promise to love their child—no matter what.

That included resolutely fighting his own demons that would threaten to pollute such a moment as this.

Finally when the newborn had quieted and his own bleary eyes opened a minuscule amount, Erik smiled.

"I believe your mama is getting back at me for a rash name choice, little son, but I shall be happy to share my name with you. Perhaps you will be blessed enough to find your own Christine."

And then Erik was leaning over her once more and whispering in her ear. "Thank you, my wife." He kissed her heated temple softly. "But you are terribly naughty in your naming abilities."

She merely smiled sleepily in response.

But before she could close her eyes in sleep, Erik was placing their son upon her breast. "I know you are exhausted, Christine, but he will fuss if you do not feed him."

Christine was suddenly grateful she was practiced in this at least and was not forced to wait for the midwife to return and remind her of the basics. It was a natural occurrence, and her breasts seemed only too happy to oblige her son as he feebly moved his long fingers in search of nourishment.

Erik cleared his throat quietly. "Would you be terribly upset if I retrieved Catherine?"

Their daughter had been left with Marie on the way to the midwife—something that was also not quite traditional. The woman had made it quite clear it was part of her duties to come to the home when it was time for the birth, but Christine had been adamant that she had no desire to sully their marriage bed with such pain.

And the last few hours only confirmed her assertions.

So as such the arrangement was made that Catherine would be delivered to Marie's awaiting household when the time came, and Erik and Christine would hurry into town for the delivery.

But apparently Erik did not wish to wait for their journey home to retrieve her.

And as she looked at her now suckling son, the only thing that would complete the moment was the downy curls of her daughter. "Go to our daughter, Erik. Then we may go home."

He kissed her soundly, obviously quite grateful for her agreement with his own desires and departed, leaving mother and son to bond in the small room of the midwife's home.

Her little Erik was beautiful. Not at all in the same way Catherine had been, with her small countenance and pink features, but in his own special way that could entirely have been biased by her mothering love.

She touched his cheek gently, and the tiniest slit of one eye opened, and it was not the same blue as her daughter's. Christine had the slight suspicion that they would become more of her husband's hue than her own.

That was one definite trait Catherine had inherited from Erik. While her eyes were blue, they were quite pale, and nearly translucent in certain lights which gave her an almost ethereal quality that could be unsettling. If not for the fact she was the child's mother of course.

Perhaps little Erik's would be his father's yellow. Or perhaps hazel.

Or perhaps it did not really matter.

She had fallen asleep when the padding footsteps of a nightgown clad Catherine entered the room, and she smiled tiredly as her daughter cautiously came forward—clutching her father's hand as she did so.

"Is that my brother?"

Erik's hand brushed over her curls before settling her on the side of the bed so she could better see the bundle sleeping on Christine's chest. "Yes, it is. Remember to be gentle like I told you." His tone was firm as he reminded the outstretched hand to treat him softly before she grasped his tiny fist in her own delicate palm.

She was content to hold it for a moment, before turning back to her papa and whispering her determination. "He looks like my doll," her voice full of wonder.

"Just do not drop him like you do your dolls," Erik responded dryly.

Christine shot him a reproachful look before deciding she did not have enough energy to chastise him properly.

Her family was all together, whole and healthy, and Erik could see to getting them all home.

She would just close her eyes for a moment…

And it was with her husband's chuckle whispering in her ear that she fell asleep.

Sooo… looks like they have a new addition! I shall be honest, I never thought they would have another child after Cat but… these things do happen!

I got summoned for Jury Duty, so let us hope that does not impede my writing schedule for my plan is to post the last of the Appendixes next Saturday. A sort of… happy ¾ birthday to myself. So fingers crossed I remain jury free!