The Unchaste

Rebirth

CW: I wrote this book because I had this in my mind. I wrote Richard for this chapter. And you might hate me for the description and think you should Or shouldn't read it but...this is it for me. The soul of The Unchaste.

_________

A disembodied scream tore through the heavy hush of afternoon and

stirring from his haze, the injured Lord now stared up at Delilah in startled askance.

A homely, humble-looking cottage, so warm and inviting came to beleaguer Delilah with remorse she had never endured before_ she was frayed between duty and dexterity. The house she chose to admit them both could have been a familial brothel and she could not have cared less. It could have been a cheese harvesting cottage and Delilah would have bore with the stench. It could even have been a cut-rate ale house of a miserly inn, rank with the rancid odor of alcohol and vomiting and kitschy drunkard_ Fine enough!

All would have been adequate, more or less.

What she discovered entering that house was not as good as any.

Childbirth!

The lady of the house had entered her labor that same morning and while Delilah had invaded her house, she was amidst the most excruciating, inhumanly agonizing pain of childbirth.

The screams of the lady was heart-rending.

Guilt for the lady besieged Delilah. Concern for Richard beset her.

Lost between this besiegement and that besetment since, Delilah paced the room fretfully_ watching one woman bear and another man bleed. Aching for both but not enough, either way.

And now that he was awake, Delilah didn't know whether to be relieved or horrified.

"Is there manslaughter in progress somewhere?" He asked drowsily, examining his bandaged shoulder under his shirt. The landlord, Mr. Walker had been a kind man and despite his own distress of a wife undergoing such trauma, he had been attentive enough to direct the nurse into bandaging Lord Richard.

"I made a mistake." Delilah spoke, her palm pressed into her face. "I...in a way..."

Another snarl echoed from the next room and the duke was up and straight, sitting alarmed in his confine. "What is that?"

"Childbirth." Delilah answered clippedly, resenting that_ though he asked, he would never, ever be made to know what that pain was. And she would! If she chose...

"Oh I am sorry, I...." Then he blinked back at her. "Whose childbirth, Miss Eves?"

"Apparently, I introduced our emergency to a wrong household, it seems." Delilah cleared her throat, her eyes wide in guilt. "I...didn't realize that...the landlady is..."

"In the process of giving a birth?"

"Indeed, your Grace."

He shook his head, grimacing. "I am surprised they let you in."

Delilah hesitated. "I might have gone a bit too far with my.... threats."

"And," He frowned. "Pray, what did that threat involve?"

"A pistol." Delilah answered, then snapped. "You are not as light to be carried around as you assume, even when dying."

"It was brave of you to assume I would give up so easily." He left the bed and walked to the door, pulling it ajar. "Come, my lady. Let's own up our thoughtless incursion and plead guilty to our hosts."

"But are you well? Enough to walk?" Delilah asked, following him nevertheless. "You do need to not exert yourself."

"Indeed." He stated, navigating the corridors as if he had known this place forever. "But I am afraid this place requires a more delicate state of manipulation than your life or my death."