At the head of the bed, Gemma had dropped to her knees by Jennie and felt her friend's wrist for a pulse. Then Jennie's neck, as Gemma's hand began shaking. Then Gemma put her ear to Jennie's heart, then held her fingertips to Jennie's parted lips, feeling for her breath.

Lysander had seen death stalk men on the battlefield. He knew that death had now found Jennie Gosling.

Gemma had lost the battle to save the life of her dearest friend. The stillness of one less beating heart in the room muffled even the high-pitched cry from the baby.

Gosling sat where he'd been for hours, his tall bulk curled around his wife's head and shoulders. His shirt was soaked wet with the sweat of them both, trying to bring their child safely into the world. He laid a big calloused hand over his wife's face and gently closed her eyes. Then he looked at Gemma. "Best bring in the children."

Gemma roused from her grief enough to gasp and protest. "The children?"

Gosling nodded. "Go on, clear up the mess if you want, but the bairns deserve a chance to say goodbye."

Cabot left Button's side and swiftly set about ridding the room of the evidence of childbirth. Lysander had a thought and ran to the study to fetch the quilt Gemma had brought down, on what seemed a night a thousand years past.

In the time it took for Poll to run for Bing and the children in the kitchen, the room had been turned from a bloodied battleground-lost to a peaceful bedchamber once more.

"Now then, my own," Mr. Gosling rumbled to his children. "Come kiss your sweet mother goodbye." They did so solemnly with a blankness in their eyes that made Lysander look away. "Now go say hello to your wee — " Gosling stopped and looked at Gemma. She flinched from the depth of pain held there, deeper than any well on earth.

"It's a boy," Attie answered instead. She sat down cross-legged on the rug before the fire and held out the infant like a present to the three eldest Gosling children. The tallest, the same straw-haired girl Lysander had seen clutching her prize piglet, took the baby from Attie with an equal level of practice.

"Another brother," the girl said.

Attie shrugged in commiseration. "I comprehend completely."

Lysander felt an upwelling of love and pride for his outrageous little sister. She was as brave as any soldier.

With a single choked rasp of a sob, Shepherd Gosling kissed his wife on the lips. "My flower," he whispered hoarsely. "My always."

He dropped his forehead to hers and ran work-hardened fingers delicately through her shimmering hair lying upon the pillow.

Lysander's chest hurt at the big man's tenderness.

Then Gosling straightened and laid a last touch to Jennie's pale fingertips before he joined his children by the fire. He took his youngest son into his arms. The baby stopped crying at once.