Brenton walks into their bedroom after pacing the passage for hours. Her screams were killing him, and when Rosemary came out of the room to call him after everything went quiet; he was convinced Vanora had died.
She was lying back on the pillows, with a small bundle wrapped in a blanket in her arms, and smiled at him.
“Come and meet your son, my love.”
He was almost too scared to walk up to them, but sat down on the bed and she turned the little bundle his way. The baby looked at him with big blue eyes, his little hands waving around.
“How are you feeling?” Brenton felt concern rush over him.
“I am tired, but Rosemary and the ladies have taken good care of me. You don’t need to worry.”
“Are you sure? I’ve heard of so many women dying in childbirth.”
“She’s perfectly healthy.” Rose
