“‘I wanted…’ he whispered. ‘I wanted you. Had to have ye. But once I was inside ye, I wanted…’
He sighed then, deep, and moved deeper.
‘I thought I’d die of it, then and there. And I wanted to. Wanted to go—while I was inside ye.’ His voice had changed, still soft but somehow distant, detached—and I knew he’d moved away from the present moment, gone back to the cold stone dark and the panic, the fear and overwhelming need.
‘I wanted to spill myself into ye and let that be the last I ever knew, but then I started, and I kent it wasna meant to be that way—that I’d live, but that I would keep myself inside ye forever. That I was givin’ ye a child.’”