Dream of Me/Believe in Me

overriding all else, even the instinct for her own survival. Again, her womb contracted. Again, pain devoured her.
    After all the hours of anguish, for the first time, Cymbra screamed.
    In the hall, Wolf heard. Shock roared through him. He leaped from the table on which the draft of the Norse-Saxon alliance lay and raced for the stairs. Two men-at-arms foolishly stepped into his path. He tossed them aside like so much chaff before the wind and took the steps two at a time. Behind him, still seated, Hawk reached for his goblet and took a long swallow, trying to ignore the fact that his hand shook.
    On the upper level of the keep, Wolf paused for a moment, uncertain which way to turn. Another scream told him. He raced down the corridor and thrust open the door at the far end just in time to see—
    “Cymbral”
    In the grip of the most intense contraction yet, Cymbra was stunned to see her husband suddenly appear. After all the months of longing for him, he seemed like an apparition. One armed for war, to be sure, but still wonderfully welcome.
    Trembling, she held out her arms to him. “Wolf …”
    He was at her side in an instant, one quick, shocked glance enough to tell him what was happening.
    “Help her to sit up a little, lord,” Miriam directed calmly. Wolf had the great good sense to do as he was bid even as his mind reeled from the stunning discovery. Cymbra clung to him desperately. He bent over her, ahuge, powerful presence seeking with all his might to add his strength to hers.
    “Push!” Miriam ordered. Cymbra did … and again … and once more …
    A baby's lusty squall announced her success.
    Moments later, Miriam smiled broadly. She straightened from the foot of the bed, cleaned the infant swiftly, and held him out to his stunned father. “You have a son, lord.”
    Wolf's knees felt so weak that he thought it wise to sit down before accepting the precious burden. He looked from the baby lying in his arms to the woman on the bed, and felt such all-encompassing love that for a long moment he could not move, or speak, or indeed even breathe.
    Finally, he said the only thing he truly could when confronted with such a miracle. Gazing into the eyes of the woman he loved more than life itself, he whispered, “Thank you.”
    Cymbra blinked back tears. Weary though she was, she was also exultant. Raising herself a little on the pillows, she touched her husband's face with gentle awe. “Thank you,” she murmured.
    Miriam turned away from the tender scene, giving the three their privacy. She ushered the other women from the room and went downstairs to inform the Lord Hawk that he was uncle to a fine little Viking.
    That same uncle waited a discreet time before knocking on the door of Cymbra's chamber. She was asleep and did not stir but Wolf came to admit him. He had removed his sword and armor and wore only a simple tunic. His son was nestled asleep in the crook of his arm.
    “How is Cymbra?” Hawk asked.
    “Good,” Wolf said, all his infinite relief in that single word. Softly, he added, “She has great strength.”
    The two men were silent for a moment, dwelling on the unknowable mystery of women. At length, Hawksmiled. He peered at the baby, who yawned broadly but did not open his eyes. “Sturdy little fellow.”
    Wolf grinned with pride. “A good combination, Saxon and Norse.”
    Hawk nodded. “You might tell your friends outside that. I think they're getting a little restless.”
    Only then did Wolf realize that he had been inside the Saxon stronghold for hours. He was amazed that Dragon had been able to hold the men in check so long. Quickly, he wrapped the baby in a warm blanket and followed Hawk down the steps.
    The Viking array stirred when the gates of Hawkforte were thrown open. Men looked up, blinking in the fading light of day. The sun was going down in glory. Already, a few stars could be seen.
    The Norse Wolf stood in full view of his men and of all those who were gathered on the walls of Hawkforte. He stretched his powerful arms high above his head, holding his child to the heavens, and shouted for all to hear.
    “I have a son!”
    High up in the tower room, the full-throated roar of warriors proclaiming their approval drifted through Cymbra's dreams. She turned over against the cool linen of the pillows and smiled contentedly.

Chapter TWENTY-SIX

    T HE SCREAM WOKE WOLF JUST AFTER DAWN . He was out of bed, sword in hand, before he realized he confronted not the demented enemy