Midnight Eyes by Brophy, Sarah (well read books .TXT) 📕

of strength, gave Imogen a surprisingly powerful push before slumping to the floor, dead.

Imogen’s scream was piercing as she felt herself start to fall. It was so sickeningly familiar that her body was already anticipating the pain of flesh hitting unforgiving stone.

“No!” Robert roared and he sprang over Roger’s body to try and catch her. He saw her falling as if in slow motion and flinched when he heard her fragile body make its first contact, feeling it as if it was his own pain. He leaped down the steps, trying to get to her, but her fall was broken only when she stopped with a sickening thud on the first landing.

She lay eerily still when Robert reached her and fell to his knees beside her. He lifted a shaky hand and gently swept her hair from her face, gritting his teeth helplessly as he looked into her pale face.

“Imogen, oh, God, Imogen,” Robert pleaded brokenly, not even noticing the tears that fell unchecked down his cheeks. He hauled her battered body against his chest and began rocking as he pleaded with her to wake up, pleaded with her to live because he loved her more than life itself.

Her silence was like a dagger in his heart.

He looked into her bruised and bloodied face, flinching inside at the deathly paleness of her translucent skin; its stillness taunting him.

“Please, Imogen,” he whispered huskily. “Please stay with me.”

Her silence echoed in his heart like a death knell.

“For God’s sake, man, sit down. Your pacing is giving me a headache,” Matthew said gruffly, but wasn’t surprised when Robert ignored him, keeping up his fevered walking from one side of the room to the other.

“Two days!” Robert burst out in disgust. “For two days she has been laying there like death and all that fool healer you got can say is that we have to give her time.”

“And the woman is right,” Gareth said reasonably and returned Robert’s glare with a sad, understanding smile.

Robert let out an angry curse and returned to his pacing, his raging thoughts whirling around his head. It seemed an eternity to Robert since he had arrived back at the Keep in the middle of the night with a broken Imogen in his arms, not caring for a moment that his anguish was clear for all to see.

He had been like a madman after he laid Imogen onto her bed—stalking around the room and roaring at anyone who dared to suggest that he should leave the local healer to do her job. In the end, after he yelled at the woman that he would kill her if anything happened to Imogen, he had been forcibly banished from the room. It had taken three of his men to drag him away from Imogen, and the healer had bolted the door to prevent his return, only Mary being allowed in and out of the sickroom.

They managed to drag him no farther than the end of the passageway before he struggled free and roared at them all to leave him alone.

And there he had remained, not leaving for anything, refusing to eat or sleep. Instead he incessantly paced or sat with his head in his hands as despair consumed him. Gareth and Matthew silently passed the vigil with Robert but were unable to comfort their friend. Neither man said that all would be well, preferring silence to lies.

For two days the Keep held its breath and waited—while Robert paced, Matthew cleaned armor and Gareth sat throwing dice.

Those were the longest days any of them had ever passed, but Robert almost wished them back when the weary healer finally stepped out of Imogen’s room just as the sun was setting on the second day. He stared at her blankly for a moment, then walked reluctantly up to her, his heart in his throat.

The harried woman barely had time to get out that Lady Imogen had just awoken before she was being shoved aside.

Robert strode into the room but stopped short when he saw Imogen lying small and still, engulfed in furs. He swallowed the lump in his throat and let his eyes devour her for a moment. Her eyes opened slowly and turned to meet his with an unerring accuracy. She smiled and the beauty of it looked out of place on her pale, bruised face.

“The healer said that you were awake,” Robert growled awkwardly, then flushed at the foolishness of the statement.

Her smile grew larger. “Aye, more awake than I have been in my life,” she whispered.

Robert’s brow furrowed. “So you are all right?”

“Better than best.” She lifted her hand slowly and covered her stomach, a satisfied smile curving her lips. “It is amazing, but our little one’s heart is still beating. It didn’t seem to mind being thrown around too much.”

Robert didn’t realize that he had moved forward until he dropped to his knees beside the bed. He lifted a trembling hand to cover hers, his eyes wide with astonishment as he felt the firm, round mound for the first time. “When Gareth told me, it didn’t seem real.” His hand caressed her gently, wonder dawning on his face. “We are going to have a baby,” he murmured in awe, hardly believing that moments ago he had been afraid that he had lost her and now here he was holding his hand atop the life they had created.

She pouted. “I should slap Gareth. I wanted to be the one to tell you.” Then her face cleared quickly and the radiance returned. “But I still have one secret that Gareth can’t spoil. I didn’t even tell the healer.”

Robert dragged his eyes away from where his large hand covered hers and looked at her questioningly.

She bit her bottom lip, unsure of what to say. She reached out her other hand slowly and ran it through his hair. “I had wondered what color your hair was after you left, but I had never asked, so I couldn’t imagine,” she smiled shakily, “but I should have