The Scandalous Collection. Кейт Хьюит
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before you deliver, especially as this is a first baby.’
She shook her head as another contraction racked through her body, feeling as if someone had sent a red-hot poker slicing up inside her. ‘No!’ she croaked.
Helplessly, his gaze raked over her ashen face. No, what? ‘Just hang on in there,’ he urged from between gritted teeth. ‘They’ll be here soon.’
‘Hassan,’ she gasped, sweat breaking out on her brow as another contraction came. Her nails dug into him even more. ‘They’re wrong.’
‘Who is?’
‘The hospital. I—’ She gasped as the pain made speech momentarily impossible. ‘I think this baby’s coming now!’
His heart pounded. ‘It can’t be.’
‘Yes, it can.’
‘How can you be sure?’
‘I just am!’
Desperately, he looked out into the starkness of the empty desert which could be seen through the flaps of the tent. How long would the helicopter take, he wondered distractedly, and would it be able to pinpoint their position? ‘I’ll go outside and get a signal. Speak to the doctor—’
‘Hassan, there isn’t time!’ She gripped even tighter as another contraction tightened its vice-like grip around her. ‘Just stay!’ she gasped. ‘Hassan, I need you here with me. I need you. Please.’
He saw the change in her and realised that she was speaking the truth. That their baby was about to be born. Here. Now. And that he was the only person who could help her. He was going to have to deliver the baby. His baby.
He felt a brief roaring in his ears before his head cleared and he suddenly became calm. It was like being in battle, when the sounds of melee all around him suddenly blurred into silence and he could see nothing but the task which lay ahead.
‘I’m here,’ he said softly, injecting calm into his voice as he began to loosen her clothing. ‘I’m here for you and everything is going to be fine. Shh, Ella. Just take it easy. Breathe very slowly. That’s right. Very slowly. Nature knows what to do.’
She looked up at him. ‘I’m scared.’
So was he—more scared than he’d ever been. But Hassan had had a lifetime of experience in hiding the way he felt. Right now, he’d never been so glad of that. Gripping her hands tightly, he looked deep into her eyes. ‘Trust me, Ella,’ he said softly. ‘I am here for you, and believe me when I tell you that it’s going to be okay.’
Ella nodded and, despite the pain and fear, her trust in him at that moment was total and complete.
He found a soft blanket, remembering the first time he’d seen a foal being born and recalling what the stable boy had told him: that mares were like humans, that every birth was different and that most of what happened did so without the need for intervention. Please let that be the case this time, he prayed silently as he brushed her sweat-soaked hair away from her face.
‘Hassan!’
‘I’m here. Keep breathing. Go on, breathe.’
The vice-like contractions were increasing in frequency and intensity. She began to anticipate the next one, wondering if it could possibly be as bad as the one before, only to discover that it was worse. Was this what every woman who’d ever given birth had experienced?
‘I can’t bear it!’ she cried.
‘Yes, you can. You can, Ella. You can do anything you want to do because you’re strong. The strongest woman I ever met.’
At any other time such words would have moved her but now they were nudged onto the periphery of her mind as another great contraction racked through her. Ella bit hard down on her lip as something in her body changed and she looked up into Hassan’s black eyes, saw the question written in them and realised that something very powerful was happening. ‘I think the baby’s coming right now,’ she gritted out. ‘Oh, Hassan! Hassan, please help me!’
He moved just in time to see the slick crown of a head appear. ‘You’re doing fine,’ he said unsteadily. ‘You’re amazing. You’re nearly there.’
Dimly she remembered what she’d been taught: not to push until the need to push was unbearable. Guided by that and governed by an instinct as old as time itself, she held on to that thought. ‘Yes,’ she breathed, her face contorted with effort. ‘Yes.’
He heard the keening sound she made and his heart began to race. Every sense intensified, he moved as if he was on some sort of autopilot. ‘That’s perfect,’ he said roughly. Suddenly, he was aware that he was looking down at the baby’s matted black hair and a great lump rose in his throat. ‘Just one more push, Ella. Do you think you can do that?’
‘Yes! No! I don’t know!’
‘Yes, you can. Ella, you can.’
The moan she made sounded as if it had been torn from some unimaginably deep place inside her and Hassan stretched out his palms to form a miniature cradle just as his baby was born into them.
His baby.
He felt the slippery unfamiliarity of new life in his hands and his heart clenched with terror as nothing else happened. The whole world seemed suspended in that moment of absolute silence before a lusty cry split the air.
His eyes blurred with tears and he looked down to see the wriggling form of a tiny yet perfect human being in his hands, which he quickly wrapped in the soft blanket before laying the child gently on Ella’s stomach.
Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. ‘Is … is everything okay?’
‘She’s perfect, my darling. Perfect. Just like you.’
Ella’s hand was trembling as she reached out to touch her baby, amazement and relief compounded by the realisation that Hassan was crying. And that he had been there for her.
He had been there for her when she most needed him. On every level he had delivered. He could be the man she wanted him to be: emotional and strong and equal.
She gave a ragged breath as she heard helicopter propellers descending from out of the desert sky, and even while she was glad that help was arriving, she wanted to hold on to that private moment for ever. Just the three of them in their own little world. With none of the fears that once they stepped outside that tent, Hassan would go back to being the cool and distant man of the past.
HASSAN shut the door of the studio behind him and began to walk down the wide marble corridor towards the nursery suite. His heart was heavy but he knew he could not put off this moment any longer. It was time to accept and face up to the truth.
He’d been waiting for the right moment. For Ella to properly recover from the birth. For the doctors to give both mother and daughter the thumbs-up. And for this terrible sense of remorse to leave him.
Yet it wouldn’t leave him. It clung to him like glue. Deep down he knew there was only one thing which would make him feel better—ironically, the very thing which would bring his world crashing down about him.
He found Ella standing by the window in the main salon, looking out onto one of the smaller fountains where a plume of water formed a graceful curve. Barefooted beneath her cream silk robe, her hair was hanging loose down her back and she turned round when she heard him enter. Her blue eyes were as bright as usual but he saw darkness in their depths, as if she, too, had recognised that the moment of truth was here.
‘Your father has been on the phone,’ he said heavily.
‘Oh? What did he say?’
He