the queen’s retinue. This was not important. What was important was that he’d remained in Scotland, married a local girl, and founded a line of de Spensers.
Having some access to Scottish land owners, Alain’s eldest son made a name for himself in estate management—and he founded the family trade.
By the time Rose was born, her people had been living in Scotland for more than two hundred years, and yet she was still singled out for her French surname.
She grew up cooking and cleaning and sewing for her father and brother, knowing the only way she’d ever get rid of her surname was by marrying into another family, but this idea hardly appealed to her. She liked her home, she loved her father and Gregor, and most important, she was poignantly aware that marriage led to pregnancy and pregnancy often led to death.
But she was fascinated with the process by which people arrived into this world—another element her neighbors found odd. She could always be found snooping around when a village baby was about to be born.
Her father made certain that she and Gregor were well versed in their letters and numbers, but Rose showed little interest. She loved herbs and gardens and animals, and she always seemed to know when one of the local women was close to giving birth.
Then one day, when Rose was fourteen, their closest neighbor, Miriam Boyd, came pounding on the front door. She was pregnant and had gone into labor while her husband was away. Gregor ran for the midwife, while Rose took Miriam inside and put her in a bed.
Later, Rose considered this the most important day of her life because on this day, she finally caught Betty’s attention.
Betty was at least sixty years old—ancient in their world—and had been delivering babies since she was seventeen. Rose longed for her notice. Shortly after Betty arrived at the house that day, she could see how capable Rose was and began giving her instructions.
Rose wiped Miriam’s sweating face and held her hand when she screamed, and Betty allowed Rose to remain for the entire birth: a wriggling, blood-covered baby girl. Rose was in awe of Betty’s power, of her knowledge, of her position among the people.
In addition, Rose’s father was so relieved that the birth had gone safely—and Miriam hadn’t died in his house—that he paid the birthing fee himself.
Betty was a woman earning her own living.
Rose followed her outside.
“You have the gift,” Betty said.
“Teach me more.”
And Betty did.
But things changed, as things must, and the following year, Rose’s father developed a sharp pain in his right side one night, which grew agonizing in a matter of hours. Rose and Gregor did everything they could to try to help him, but he died two days later. This loss was hard, and the house fell quiet.
Gregor, who was five years older than Rose, took over his father’s position, managing two separate estates. The nature of her brother’s profession kept him away from home a great deal, but she managed his absences by continuing to increase her skill and knowledge as a midwife—and Betty grew a little weaker each year.
Then Gregor met a fresh-faced young woman called Briana, and the house magically came alive again. Briana was built like a small bird with a long, black mane. She laughed and smiled and sang. Rose welcomed Briana into their home when Gregor married her in 1806, and the couple was expecting a child soon after.
Rose was only seventeen when her nephew, Seamus de Spenser, came screaming out into the world, and she was the first person to touch him with her hands, to hold him and wash him, and to experience something besides the satisfaction of a safe delivery. She looked into his eyes and knew that he was her blood and kin.
Two years later, Seamus’ sister, Kenna, arrived, and Rose delivered her as well. The house had become full . . . and happy once more.
One night, Betty died quietly in her sleep, leaving Rose to take her place.
Years passed.
Life fell into a comfortable routine of meals and work. Gregor still handled two large estates—but he somehow managed to be home more often—and Briana kept the house. Rose earned a reputation as the most skilled midwife between Inverness and Elgin. She even purchased a pony and cart so she could travel farther in her profession. It pained her whenever she lost a woman or a baby, but childbed was a dangerous place, and she did her best to