Saving Sabine

Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty – One

That Sunday, after the church service, Connor and Sabine were sitting in the garden near the iron gates with a maid twenty feet from them. They weren’t doing anything in particular, just sitting in the grass playing with the fallen autumnal leaves.

“Do you think marrying will make us any different?” Sabine questioned curiously. “I don’t want anything to change, I like this.” Grabbing his hand, she squeezed it between the two of hers and enjoyed the familiar roughness of his skin. Working at the blacksmith’s had given him callouses but she didn’t mind.

“I can think of one change tha’ I’ll enjoy,” Connor replied brazenly, winking at Sabine, making her blush.

Sabine knew exactly what he was talking about. Her mother had pulled her aside a few weeks earlier and had informed her of the mechanics of the wedding night, much to her humiliation. “Be serious,” she instructed, her cheeks still red.

“I’m being perfectly serious,” he teased. He pulled her into his lap and kissed her temple, easing her embarrassment a little. “Ye needn’t fret, Sabine. We’ll still be as happy as anything, even when we’re pulling our hair out trying to control the bairns.”

“Bairns,” Sabine repeated. She noted how it sounded strange with an English accent. “Just how many are you planning on?”

“Well, my mama had six lads an’ a lass, I think I’d like my own miniature clan,” he grinned devilishly, his face crinkling. His comment stopped her. Could she really control six sons and a daughter? With Connor’s genes she would surely bear sons. “Why? How many were ye planning on?” he continued.

“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “My mama only bore two children … from memory they were quite difficult births. I can recall my father wearing holes in the floor when she was giving birth to my brothers. He was as pale as a sheet whenever I checked on him. My mother died in the same room. Though, that won’t count for me as she is not my mother by birth.”

The story she had told made Connor quite anxious. His shoulders were ridged and his grin had disappeared. “Ye mother died in childbirth,” he whispered. Placing his hands on her hips, he seemed to groan slightly. “Ye are so narrow, Sabine. Ye hips are not for childbearing. I won’ do it to ye. I won’ let ye die because of me.”

“Connor,” Sabine said firmly. “It is a risk every woman takes when she bears a child. One might die, one might live. If it is our time then we will die, but more often than not we get to live. I want to take the risk and have a ‘lad’ or ‘lass’ as you put it. I won’t have you coddling me.” Leaning her head upwards, she gave him a soft kiss on the jaw. “I’m stronger than I look, I promise.”

Connor only relaxed a little. “Ye will be the death of me, lass,” he assured her. His brown eyes met her blue ones and they warmed. “Just so long as I go before ye, I will be happy.”

Before Sabine could reply, she heard the sounds of thundering hooves drawing nearer. Righting herself from Connor’s lap, Sabine turned her torso to see who was arriving.