Cruel Surrender by Terri Anne Browning

Ciana

A loud cursecaused me to jerk awake. Groaning, I attempted to turn over, only to have my excruciatingly large belly to stop me. “Bain?” I mumbled sleepily, because I knew the voice I’d heard was his.

From the way the early October sun was streaming through the window, I could see that the bed beside me was empty. My husband had rubbed my back until I’d fallen asleep right after breakfast, just as he tended to do every day. With how far into my pregnancy I was, my belly was so big, it was hard to even go to the bathroom on my own, so he was never far from my side.

Pushing the multiple body pillows out of my way that I needed just to sleep comfortably, I slowly maneuvered myself to the edge of the bed and used the bedpost to stand. As soon as I was on my feet, I nearly groaned again as the full weight of the babies settled painfully on my hips. I’d gained over fifty pounds in the last several months according to the last time I’d seen Dr. Rose just the day before, and at least ninety percent of that was in my belly.

Another loud curse had me walking out of the master bedroom and across the hall to the guest room. We had decided a few weeks before that this was going to be the nursery, and together, we’d picked out all the furniture online. But I’d been procrastinating when it came to setting up the room.

Mostly, because every time I thought about doing it, I wished my mom were there to help me, and it made me cry. Between her, Zia Victoria, and Tetka, I knew they would have thrown me a hell of a baby shower. Any time I happened to have a question about something baby-related, I immediately wanted to call her and ask her about her three pregnancy experiences. But I would stop myself before I could wrap my fingers around my phone.

What could I possibly say if she actually answered? How could I face her, even over the phone, when I’d picked the enemy over my family?

The door to the nursery was open, and when I entered the room, my mouth nearly dropped to the floor.

All three cribs had been set up, side by side by side, just as I’d told Bain I wanted them. A changing table and diaper station had been put together and organized with all the supplies we’d purchased from an everything-baby website. The rocking chair I’d ordered with the comfy ottoman was by the window, a soft pink throw decoratively draped across the back of the chair.

Movement to my right pulled my gaze, and I covered my mouth at the sight before me.

Bain, dressed in nothing but a pair of sweatpants, his hair pulled back in a ponytail to keep it out of his way, was on his knees, putting together one of the cradle-swing combos that I’d been told by at least a hundred different new moms was their lifesaver when I’d worked at New Hope.

“Why won’t you go into place?” he snarled at the piece of baby furniture, so focused on what he was doing he hadn’t even seen his gigantic, pregnant wife waddle into the room. “The other two went fucking together just fine, damn it.”

The other two went fooking togetherjust fine, damn it.

His frustration made his accent even thicker and, by default, sexier. I loved the sound of his voice and could happily sit just listening to him talk.

Fighting a giggle, I waddled closer.

“Is it defective?” he muttered to himself, wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. “No way I’m letting my girls in something that is goddamn defective.”

“We can send it back,” I said.

Bain’s head snapped up. When he saw me, the frustration cleared from his face, and his eyes softened. “You should be resting, mo chroí.”

“I was, but someone kept shouting curses, and I got curious what was going on.”

“I didn’t mean to wake you. I guess I didn’t realize I was being so loud.” He shoved at the cradle-swing, and I heard a distinct click. “Sonofabitch. Did it just…” Bending over it, he started cursing again. “It fucking did!”

“What?” I asked, no longer able to contain my laughter.

He grabbed the screwdriver on the floor. “It finally went into place. This damn thing has been giving me trouble for over half an hour.” When he was done, he lifted his head and winked at me. “I knew my wife was my good luck charm.”

Blushing, I glanced around at the room again. “You did a great job. Thank you for putting everything together.”

“With your C-section only two weeks away, I was feeling the urgency to get it done.” Standing, he dusted off his hands and walked over to kiss me. “You like the way I arranged the cribs? If you want to move them, I can.”

“No, no, I love everything just the way it is.” I leaned into his side. “Are you done now?”

He grunted. “Except for putting away the many, many clothes, yes.”

“Could you…help me…”

I didn’t know why I was still so embarrassed to ask for help when it came to using the bathroom. He’d seen and done things that I’d nearly died of mortification from. Being a nurse, I knew they were basic bodily functions, but it was still embarrassing to have someone who looked like him seeing me be anything but perfect. But he hadn’t even hesitated to help. Not once had there been any disgust on his face, or annoyance that he had to assist me with such intimate tasks.

“Absolutely, mo chroí.” Bain’s eyes filled with adoration as he scooped me into his arms, lifting me as if I didn’t weigh the equivalent of a cow, making me feel like I wasn’t as big as a house with how huge my stomach and ass were.

Once I was back in bed, he grabbed one of my feet and started squeezing the slightly swollen toes. “How are you feeling? Are you hungry?”

“I feel like if you stop what you’re doing, I’m going to find that old bat and hit you with it,” I said with a blissful moan.

He used his thumb in the arch of my foot the way he knew made my eyes roll back in my head. “I am your faithful servant, my beautiful wife.”

“Oh God,” I whimpered, closing my eyes in contentment. “I love when you do that.”

“This?” he purred in that sexy Irish brogue, digging just a little deeper and hitting the spot that felt so good, it was almost orgasmic. “What about this?”

“That’s amazing. Fuck, I love you, moye solntse.”

His hands instantly stilled on my foot, making my eyes pop open as I realized what I’d just blurted out. Bain sat there, his eyes glittering with emotion, his breathing heavy. “Ciana?” he rasped.

I licked my suddenly dry lips, but I didn’t recant the words. What was the use? I did love him, and it was exhausting trying to pretend I didn’t.

He’d done things I probably shouldn’t forgive, but I guess I’d forgotten that my family weren’t saints. How could I condemn Bain but forgive anything my papa or even Ryan did? Bain hadn’t been a part of what had happened to Nova, and while it was difficult for me to move past him shooting my brothers, I knew if anyone ever stood between my papa getting to Mama, he would shoot first and deal with the consequences later.

Bain grasped both my hands. I felt the trembling in his fingers as they clutched at mine. “Please.” His voice cracked. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

He made a strangled sound, the glitter in his eyes turning to tears. “You love me?”

“I… Yes,” I admitted softly. “I love—” A sharp pain twisting across my entire abdomen made me cry out. Two sharp kicks followed it, one on each side of my belly, and then I felt the gush of something hot and sticky between my legs.