Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,38
only a little sunlight peaking around the shutters, so apparently, he saw no need to hurry away from her. “Yesterday, he was adamant I wasnae worth of ye.”
“He was wrong,” she vowed fervently. “If aught, I am no’ worthy of ye. What am I? Merely beautiful. Whereas ye are strong and witty and brave and—”
He stopped her by squeezing her. “Hush, love. Ye are so much more than beautiful, remember that. But aye, we belong together, and I will continue pestering yer grandfather ‘til he sees that.”
“And if he doesnae,” she whispered fervently, “then I will happily run away and be a humble doctor’s wife.”
“ ’Twill no’ come to that. I wouldnae ask ye to give up all ye ken for me, and I willnae dishonor ye by stealing ye away from yer guardian like a thief. When we marry, Davina, the world will ken we belong together.”
Remembering his fervent pledge about making her his in every sense of the word, she let out a sigh and snuggled closer. She prayed he was right and Grandda would eventually come around. She wanted to be married with her grandfather’s blessing as well, with her loved ones and clan members at her side. She didn’t want to have to marry Graham in secret, but if that were the only way for them to be together—
Her musings were interrupted by a knock at the door, which had both her and Graham stiffening.
“Who could that be?” he hissed, as aware as she being caught naked together in bed wouldn’t help their cause with Grandda.
“I dinnae ken,” she whispered back, already scrambling for her chemise. “Dinnae worry; I’ll answer it and send them on their way.”
The knock came again, louder, this time accompanied by a loud whisper. “Davina? Are ye there?”
That sounded like…
She pulled open the door a fraction of the way so as to keep Graham hidden. “Rocque? What are ye doing here?”
The big man looked relieved to see her, although ‘twas hard to tell with those pieces of linen shoved up his nose. Luckily, they were smaller than the handkerchiefs he’d been wearing the last time she’d seen him.
“Thank St. John! Lass, have ye seen Graham?” Rocque craned his neck to try to peer over her shoulder. “He’s no’ in his room.”
Before she could wonder at why Rocque would assume he was here, Graham’s low voice rang out from behind her. “I’m here, Rocque. What is it?”
She opened the door a bit wider and turned to see Graham already wore his shirt and was hastily buckling his plaid. “Is it Merewyn?” he asked.
When Rocque nodded and pushed his way into the room, everyone seemed to relax. At least this—Merewyn’s labor—was expected.
“How long have her pains been going on?” Graham asked, reaching for his boots.
Rocque, who didn’t seem at all fazed to find his brother alone—and half-dressed—in Davina’s room, rocked back on his heels. ‘Twas hard to read his expression, between that beard and the nostril plugs, but he was definitely nervous.
“They started yesterday evening and continued all night. They’re still no’ close together. She thinks ‘twill be a long labor and sent me off to my usual morning sparring lesson.” He managed to snort around the linen. “As if I was going to go on my merry way while my wife is bringing my bairn into the world!”
One side of his lips pulled up into a smile as Graham slapped his brother on the back. “Congratulations, Rocque, ye’ll make a fine laird.”
The man didnae look pleased. “I just want Mere to be safe.”
“Aye, and I’ll help keep her that way. She’ll no’ be pleased to see me, but I’ll be nearby to help.”
As Rocque nodded, relieved, Davina asked, “Ye’re so certain the bairn will be a laddie, then? Finn and Malcolm’s bairns were both daughters.”
Rocque shrugged. “Mere says there’s ways to tell, and she thinks she’s carrying a lad.”
Vina sensed Graham’s interest when he asked curiously, “Ways? Like what?”
“Like what color her piss is, and if she’s craving greens or meats, and what cycle of the moon ‘twas last night, and which knee is aching, and whose nipples hurt.”
“Whose nipples hurt?”
Rocque nodded intently. “If the mother’s nipples are achy and swollen, she’s carrying a lassie. She’s carrying a lad if the father’s nipples hurt, and mine are right sore.”
Davina had to press a hand to her lips to keep from laughing out loud. Graham wasn’t so polite. “Those are ridiculous ways to determine a child’s sex.”
His brother snorted. “Then I suppose ye’re going