A great numbing coldness invaded Alex’s limbs. He had killed Charlotte. It was his fault. Unlike Patrick, he needed no explanations for what had happened. He had frightened his wife so much that she thought he would wrench the baby from her arms. So she gave up. Alex’s heart lurched in his chest. He hadn’t felt this agony since his mother died in childbirth. His mother would hate him if she knew what he had done to his own wife.

Something burning, hot, fell on his wrist. Alex realized it was his own tears. He hadn’t cried since his mother … He couldn’t lose her. He couldn’t lose Charlotte.

“Charlotte!” His voice emerged desperately from his strangled chest. “Charlotte, come back.” There was no response from the white figure on the bed, only a faint twisting as her body shook from another contraction.

“No!” Alex howled in agony. “No, God, no!” He bent over, putting his lips to Charlotte’s ear, holding her hands as tightly as he could.

“I love you, Charlotte, I love you. Oh, God, please hear me. Please, please, don’t go, don’t go without hearing me. I found out how much I loved you in Italy. I was afraid … I was afraid that you didn’t love me, or that you were like Maria. Oh, God, Charlotte, please wake up!”

But there was nothing. Tears fell down Alex’s face and he leaned forward, pressing his face against Charlotte’s warm cheek. The silky warmth bolstered him, strengthened him. She wasn’t dead yet!

He took a deep breath. Bring her back, Patrick had said. Bring her back and help her push. He put his hands on her swollen tummy, and the faint flicker of life he felt sent fire through his veins. Their child was there as well, fighting for life.

Alex bent over again, putting his hands on Charlotte’s cheeks. His voice was low and insistent this time. “Charlotte, you must wake up. You must come back. The baby will die if you don’t come back, Charlotte. Our baby will die.” He paused and looked down at her. Had her eyelids flickered? Alex put his mouth so close to her face that his breath warmed her skin. He kissed her, breathing warmth into her, pouring his strength into her. “Charlotte,” he said again. “You must wake up or our baby will die. Don’t let our baby die, Charlotte!”

Charlotte heard him, but only as if his voice were a long way off, in a dream. It was Alex, she knew that. And he wasn’t shouting at her; he was pleading, almost begging. And then she understood what he was saying and with the last bit of her energy she opened her eyes. Almost instantly a contraction gripped her and she moaned, eyes closing, willing herself to fall back into the sweet, blessed darkness without pain. Long eyelashes drifted down over her white cheeks.