Freedom in Marriage: A Southern Historical Romance ✅

Chapter Eleven

**This has not been edited or proofread.**

Easton

The past two weeks with my wife have been absolute bliss. We quickly settled into our day-to-day lives together. I was always out of bed before her, and normally by the time she got out of bed, I was getting ready to head into town and make an appearance at the lumber mill. Mother took over with the girls once she got out of bed, though when it came to reading and learning, Catherine took over.

Emma was standing on the porch when I rode up to the house, wringing her little hands together. I frowned and quickly dismounted from the horse, passing the reins off to the worker standing there. "Emma? What is it?" I asked, quickly rushing up the steps. It wasn't like my little sister to get nervous, but something was definitely clearly bothering her.

"Catherine is really sick," she told me. "She's throwing up."

I pressed a kiss to the top of her head and rushed around her. My feet thumped up the stairs as I quickly made my way to our room. She was laying in bed, and one of the housemaids had obviously helped her out of her dress she'd had on earlier and into a nightgown. Her hair was tumbling loose about her shoulders, and her eyes were closed, her face a bit pale.

"Catherine? Sweetheart?" I asked softly.

She moaned before turning her head slowly to face me. "Easton?" she mumbled.

"Hey," I said softly. I eased onto the mattress beside her and cupped her cheek, rubbing my thumb over her soft, smooth skin. "Emma says you're throwing up."

She nodded. "Yeah," she mumbled. "Started during lunch."

I stood to my feet and toed off my shoes and slipped off my jacket before sliding in the bed beside her. Gently, I tugged her against me, circling my arms around her once she was settled against my chest. "Get some rest, sweetheart," I murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "I'm here if you need me."

She splayed her fingers over my chest, letting her eyes slide shut again. I got comfortable and crossed my feet at the ankles, shutting my own eyes. I wasn't much of one for sleeping during the daytime, but I could definitely doze off.

~*~*~

Catherine threw up two more times before she began to get some color back in her face. When she was feeling well enough to move, I had someone draw her up a bath, and I spent a little while bathing her and doing my best to take care of her.

But the next morning, she woke up even before I normally made it out of bed, throwing up again. This wasn't normal. No one should be throwing up like this.

"Lay back," I gently ordered. Once she was comfortable, I strode out of our bedroom and went down the hall to Ethan's room, knocking on his door. He swung it open, his shirt in his hand. "Yeah?" he asked, frowning at me.

"I need you to get the doctor," I told him. "Catherine is ill. I thought it passed yesterday evening, but she's throwing up again."

He nodded, worry sliding through his gaze. "Yeah. I'll head out in just a minute," he promised.

"Thanks, brother," I said quietly, clapping him on the shoulder. Then, I headed back up the hall to our bedroom, pushing open the door. Catherine was asleep again, so I just settled into a chair next to the bed, not wanting to chance accidentally disturbing her by trying to slide into bed.

I just prayed she didn't get sick again. I hated seeing her ill and not being able to do anything about it.

I hated it with every fiber of my being.

~*~*~

Praying didn't work. Catherine got sick two more times before my brother returned home with the doctor. I was dressed for the day, and when Catherine tried to get dressed, I put my foot down and forced her back into bed, assuring her the doctor would not care if she wasn't dressed.

"Thanks for coming, doc," I greeted, standing to shake his hand.

He smiled at me. "Good to see you again, Easton. I just wish it was under better circumstances." He moved around me to the bed. "I hear you're ill, hun. Can you tell me how you're feeling?"

"I'm not nauseous a lot. Just normally a few minutes before I throw up. And I'm not running a fever."

He hummed. "Have you bled yet this month?" She shook her head. "How many weeks has it been since you bled?"

Her cheeks colored, but she answered, "Um, almost five."

"Well, hun, I don't think you're ill, per se. You're with child."

Her wide eyes snapped to mine, but before either of us could react to the news, she gagged and threw up all over herself before I could put the bucket in front of her. Then, she burst into tears, sobbing. I thanked the doctor, and Ethan ushered him out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

"I want my brother," Catherine cried as I began to strip her out of her nightgown.

My heart ached for her. I hated that she was so ill, we couldn't even be happy about this child. And I knew she would've been. She'd been talking about giving me a son or daughter for the past week, so excited over the idea.

But instead, her being pregnant just made her sick.

"I'll send for him, sweetheart. I promise. Just let me get you dressed, okay? Then, I'll take you downstairs while someone changes our bed sheets."

She sniffled and nodded. Once she was in clean clothes—another nightgown—I wrapped her up in her robe before lifting her into my arms, carrying her down the stairs to the sitting room. Ethan came into the house, concern glimmering in his eyes.

"Go fetch her brother," I told him.

Ethan nodded once and left back out the front door. I settled onto the couch and cradled her in my lap, wishing like hell I could do something to make her feel better.

~*~*~

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