Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,14

grandbairns soon!”

The man’s smile was a little shaky, but he kissed her brow and murmured something in his wife’s ear, and Graham had to look away to ease the longing in his chest. It was so sweet, so pure…and he was jealous of that love, damn him!

Finn walked backward toward the door. “Ye’re certain I cannae stay?”

“I’m certain ye dinnae want to stay,” Graham explained, walking with him, turning his brother’s attention to the door. “If ye’re here, ye’ll no’ only see the woman ye love in agony, but ‘twill distract Fiona and Merewyn.”

“But—”

Graham held the door and clasped his brother’s shoulder. “I swear, I’ll send for ye if aught changes.”

“If there’s a problem…?”

“Ye’ll ken it. And ye’ll ken it as soon as the bairn arrives too.”

Finn nodded once, shakily, before glancing at his wife over Graham’s shoulder and ducking out the door.

“I dinnae ken what ye think when ye say ye’ll send for him,” Merewyn said dryly once the door was shut. “I’m the midwife around here.”

Nodding, Graham crossed the room to wash his hands again, to keep the invisible demon seeds—as Rocque called them—at bay. “But ye’re pregnant. No’ just pregnant, but absurdly pregnant.”

“I can do my job,” she bit out.

“Ye cannae see yer feet, so dinnae pretend ye can lift a patient or support Fiona. Ye’re here for the midwifery and lady bits. I’m here for the physical things.”

Mayhap his matter-of-fact tone helped, because when he turned back, the pretty little midwife’s lips were quirked up on one side. With her hands on her hips, she sighed and rolled her eyes.

“Fine, but I’m in charge.”

Graham might’ve smiled, had he been the smiling type. Instead, he nodded. “I never doubted.”

Skye—Fiona’s twin and Duncan’s wife—arrived then, pushing her way into the room without pause and hurrying to her twin sister’s side. Graham admitted the two of them were identical, and were it not for the whole “one was about to have a baby” thing, he’d likely confuse them.

“Are ye certain ye want to be here?” Merewyn snapped at the newcomer, who looked affronted.

“I’ve held more men at swordpoint than ye’ve had meals, Merewyn Oliphant. I’ll no’ whimper and faint at the mere sight of some blood.”

The midwife snorted and rolled her eyes. “ ’Tis no’ your bravery I’m concerned about, but yer intestinal fortitude.”

Skye’s scowl softened as she squeezed her sister’s hand. “Och, well, I cannae stand the thought of Fee in pain, but I’d rather have my eyes scratched out by a harpy than abandon her now.”

“Allison isnae so bad anymore,” joked Fiona weakly.

Graham didn’t know who Allison was, but Skye chuckled. “Aye, she’s changed her tune a bit since Stewart took a firm hand with her, eh?” She rested beside her sister, clearly trying to distract her from the upcoming birth with banter and stories. “Remember when we went back to visit for Yule, and she was fussing over wee John? The lad will grow up big and strong, and she’s made a fine mother, for all her bitching and moaning.”

“Aye,” Fiona agreed with a grimace. “ ’Tis just a pity about those eyebrows.”

“She’s a good mother, and so will ye be,” whispered Skye with certainty.

Whether or not her sister agreed, she nodded her thanks and smiled at Skye, and then Merewyn was ready for business.

‘Twas obvious the midwife was concerned about Fiona’s privacy, so when she helped the laboring woman strip down to her chemise, Graham made a point of turning away. He wanted to be there for Merewyn’s sake—whom he also considered a patient—and wasn’t about to irritate her enough to send him away.

As Fiona’s labor reached the screaming stage, Moira arrived with hot and cold water and more towels, which soon became very useful. Fiona crouched on the birthing stool the midwife had moved into the castle and was clutching her twin’s hand. Skye—looking ill at her sister’s pain—talked almost non-stop about their childhood, mutual friends, and plans for the bairn. It seemed to help distract Fiona, so neither Merewyn nor Graham shushed her.

Moira was busy with the linens, and Merewyn was feeling Fiona’s belly, when the knock came at the door. Graham was closest, so he opened it to see Davina standing there, holding a tray with some bread and cheese and last year’s apples.

Surprise at seeing him skidded across her features, but she quickly schooled them. “I—I thought ye might need more nourishment.” She lifted the tray a bit. “Cook wanted to send this up, and as I’m the only non-pregnant lady