Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,31
still sneezing and sniffling. ‘Tis been a fortnight since the symptoms appeared.”
Rocque blinked. “Och, I’ve felt fine for over a sennight now. I just wear these”—he gestured to the linen squares up his nostrils—“to be safe. And because they feel nice.”
There was naught to be said to that. Graham exchanged a look with their father, who was clearly trying not to laugh, then said, “They do?”
“Like a sensual nose massage,” Rocque clarified.
Sensual nose massage?
Graham closed his eyes.
No’ going to ask, no’ going to ask.
It seemed their father wasn’t so circumspect. “A sensual nose mas—”
“How’s Merewyn?” Graham blurted, interrupting Da’s incredulous question.
Rocque blew out a breath and hooked his thumbs in his sword belt. “The muscles in her back were tight this morning, so I rubbed them. Otherwise, she is the same.”
Clucking his tongue, Graham shook his head. “She’s got to be past due by now.”
“Aye, she’s a big believer in counting. By her count, she’s at least a fortnight past when she thought she’d have the bairn, mayhap longer.”
Graham winced. “ ’Tis possible she miscounted, or the bairn is just late.”
“If he’s at all like his father,” Da cut in, “he’s stubborn and taking his time.”
“Thank ye,” Rocque intoned seriously, offering a nod.
The banter didn’t ease Graham’s disquiet. “I am no’ an expert on women’s conditions, but I trust she is. Is she worried at all?”
His brother shook his head. “She says sometimes this happens, especially with a first bairn. She says the lad will arrive when he’s ready and rushing him willnae help.”
Rocque seemed at ease with the situation, so Graham kept his worry from his tone. “I am pleased to hear that. Ye must promise me that ye’ll fetch me when she does begin her labor, aye?”
“For what?”
Graham shrugged. “I am competent and can help. I helped Fiona, despite Merewyn insisting ‘tis a woman’s job.” She was right, but Merewyn was the Oliphant healer, which meant she’d need help when she was the one in labor. “I ken she’ll no’ want me there but promise me ye’ll send for me. I’ll no’ irritate her, but I will be nearby.”
Nodding, Rocque offered his hand. When Graham clasped his forearm, his brother pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “I promise. I’m glad ye’re here, brother.”
Trying to stay out of the way of the not-quite-snot-encrusted handkerchiefs, Graham managed a nod, and a noise which might’ve been a grunt of agreement.
As he and his father watched Rocque stroll off, whistling, Graham tried to get his breath back.
“Ye’re worried,” Da said in a low voice. “Dinnae deny it.”
Straightening, Graham shrugged. “Merewyn is skilled, and if she is no’ worried, I shouldnae be.”
“But ye are.”
His lips twitched ruefully as he nodded to his father. “ ’Tis what I do.”
“ ’Tis why ye make such a fine doctor, lad.” His father studied him. “Although I dinnae have a right to claim any responsibility for the man ye’ve become, I am still proud of ye.”
His father’s praise made him uncomfortable. “Da, I…”
“And when ye call me Da”—the older man shook his head—“I cannae describe how good that does my heart. Ye remind me of her, ye ken.”
Graham reared back. “My-my mother?”
“Flora, aye. Our love burned hot and fast. I ken that now, now that I have Moira. But Flora and I would’ve been verra happy, had her father allowed us to be together.” His voice dropped to a mutter. “Had I no’ been lied to and told she’d died.”
She had died, but not afore birthing Graham, the child she’d conceived with a younger William Oliphant. Graham knew all this…now. And after a lifetime of being reviled for ruining his clan’s chances at an alliance through his mother’s marriage, the acceptance of the Oliphants—and his father’s pride—made his heart whole.
That and Davina.
“Aye, and although ye have my coloring, and look like yer brothers…” Da shook his head. “And for all that ye’re a man, ye even move like her. And yer kindness, yer compassion. The fact ye worry for others, the reasons ye’ve made a brilliant doctor…? Ye get that from her.”
His words—praise for his long-dead mother—made Graham’s chest swell. “Ye really think—“ Those things about me? “Ye think I get those things from her?”
Da’s hand dropped onto his shoulder. He was a large man, larger than Graham, but his touch was gentle. “I ken it, laddie. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out. And ye get yer goodness from her.”
My goodness.
Graham felt his throat closing up with emotion, and he swallowed.
The older man took a