Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,41
mother.”
Graham’s irritation softened. “She’ll be a good one too. And ye’ll be a good father.”
His brother’s expression turned strangely hesitant as he shrugged inside his cloak. “Da says I will, but ‘tis terrifying to think about a small life dependent on ye.”
“More terrifying than considering the welfare of an entire clan resting on yer shoulders?’
Kiergan scowled. “Aye. When ye finally get around to marrying Davina, ye’ll ken what I mean.”
“When I’m able to convince her stubborn grandfather, I will.” Graham sighed, then nudged his brother’s elbow. “Let us first worry about bringing yer bairn into the world, aye? Then ye can fret over its every wee sneeze and hiccup.”
Strangely, the image caused Kiergan to smile, then straighten his shoulders. “Truthfully, I’m terrified, but I cannae wait, either. I cannae wait to hold its wee little hand and ken ‘tis my child. One Katlyn and I made together.”
One of Graham’s brows twitched. “Katlyn did all the work.”
“I helped a bit, at the beginning.”
“Providing raw materials for yer wife to build into a human being?”
Kiergan chuckled. “Women’s insides are weird.”
“Once ye’ve seen the inside of a human body, ye’ll agree that we’re all mysterious and miraculous.”
“And weird.”
Graham shrugged. “And weird.”
A commotion from the cottage drew their attention, and both turned to see Merewyn stomping out of the house, Rocque following, his arms full of bundles.
She marched up to Graham and stuck her finger in his chest. “I’m no’ ill. I’m a laboring mother, and ‘tis a perfectly natural and beautiful thing!”
Calmly, Graham nodded. “Aye, miraculous indeed. I bow to yer superior knowledge.”
“Then why is my husband dragging me up to the castle? I’d rather give birth here in my house!”
Graham glanced at Rocque, who looked miserable. Thankfully, the linen seemed to have fallen out of his nostrils.
“I think ye’ll find,” he began slowly, “that there will be more hands at the castle. I will leave ye alone unless ye need me, but think of the other women, yer sisters-by-marriage and Moira, who will all be there to run and fetch.”
“I dinnae—” Merewyn’s objection was halted by a moan, and when she reached out blindly, her husband stepped up. As she panted through the contraction, Graham silently kept count.
He understood enough of midwifery to know she still had some time.
As she released a breath and wiped at the sweat on her forehead, despite the chill of the morning, Rocque cursed. He thrust the bundles at Kiergan, bent, and scooped up his wife.
“Put me down!” she weakly protested. “I’m no’ a bairn!”
“Ye’re as light as a bairn to me, and ye’re carrying my son, so I’ll treat ye as I’d like, woman,” Rocque growled.
Instead of protesting, Merewyn leaned her head against his shoulder, and thus the four of them made a strange procession back to the castle.
As they entered the great hall, Graham patted Rocque’s shoulder. “Moira is still in with Evelinde in their chambers, and I assume Malcolm is with her as well. Why no’ use mine? ‘Tis simple and small, but the bed is comfortable and ‘twill do to bring yer son into the world.”
And he’d be nearby if it became necessary.
Merewyn began to grumble again, but since she’d had two more pains on their hurried journey, Graham wasn’t surprised she didn’t outright object. He hurried ahead of the couple to ensure his chambers were prepared—he hadn’t slept there last night, after all—and was surprised when Kiergan kept pace with him. When he glanced over, his brother shrugged.
“I dinnae like to be away from Katlyn for too long,” he admitted sheepishly.
Well, Graham could understand that. He might’ve even said so, but as they reached the bottom of the steps, a call came from upstairs.
A frantic call, one which caused his heart to stutter.
“Fire! Fire!”
Kiergan grabbed his arm. “That sounded like Davina!”
Graham tried to maintain his calm. “I’m sure ‘tis—”
“Katlyn!” his brother cried, lunging for the stairs.
‘Twould do little good to assure Kiergan that Vina would keep her sister safe, not now. Besides, if there was fire above stairs, every able-bodied person would be needed to save the castle and its occupants.
So, murmuring a prayer to St. Luke, Graham took a deep breath and pounded up the stairs after his brother.
There was a commotion in the corridor, and he recognized Malcolm and Alistair, along with some of the servants, as he and Kiergan pushed their way toward the source of the smoke. ‘Twas not as bad as he’d expected, so mayhap the fire was contained.
The brothers skidded to a stop at the opening