Too Scot to Hold (The Hots for Scots #8) - Caroline Lee Page 0,43

again. Determined, he leaned over to breathe into her mouth for the third time.

Around him, he became aware of fervent murmuring and calls to fetch Father Ambrose. The priest’s prayers might be more valuable than the rest, but Graham knew why he was being called for.

They expect her to be given Last Rites.

And as her body refused to accept his breath, Graham had to acknowledge it might be necessary. He’d lost patients before, but never one who meant so much to him. Aunt Agatha had been among the first to accept him here at Oliphant Castle, loving him unconditionally. They’d been conspirators in his quest to gain Davina’s hand, and remembering the way the old woman had cackled and teased him, made tears prick at his eyes.

“Come, Agatha,” he murmured, before breathing more air into her mouth. “Breathe, Aunt. Breathe!” When her body continued to lie, inert, a curse burst from his lips. “Damnation!” Frustrated and angry, he slammed the side of his fist against her scrawny chest. “Breathe, damn ye!”

“Graham…” He felt Davina’s light touch on his arm, but he shrugged her off.

“Breathe!” he growled, lowering his mouth over his aunt’s, supporting himself against her chest. As he blew down her throat, he felt her ribcage expand under his hand. As he pushed down, the air rushed out, but that allowed a sort of rhythm, which he tried again.

Again and again, he breathed into her mouth, filling her lungs while he compressed the spot right above her heart in a steady rhythm. ‘Twas futile, he knew it. He knew she was dead. But even Davina’s sobbing or his father’s murmured prayers, couldn’t convince Graham to stop.

And then…

And then, under his hand, he felt her chest expand without his breath. He felt her breathe.

Then she was coughing weakly, sucking in lungfuls of air, all on her own. As laughing voices and jubilant hands reached for her, Graham allowed himself to sit back on his heels, focusing only on his own breaths. He closed his eyes and sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward.

“Graham.” Davina pressed against him, and he wrapped his arm around her, burying his face in her hair, and tried not to think how close he’d come to losing her today.

By God’s tender mercy, she and Katlyn, their grandfather and Agatha, would survive.

As Moira and Da lifted Agatha—presumably to carry her to Davina’s room to lie beside her now-husband, Graham allowed the sound and the commotion of the clan to wrap around him. The smoke was clearing out, and he heard Malcolm barking orders to remove the ruined bed and furniture from the burned room.

And in the midst of all the noise, he heard Kiergan croak, “Brother?”

It seemed as if his eyelids weighed as much as an elephant, but Graham forced them opened, hearing the fear in Kier’s voice. He turned and met his brother’s eyes, and saw the absolute terror written across Kiergan’s features as he held his wife.

Katlyn was pale, unmoving, her eyes screwed shut in pain, and Graham saw blood flowing from under her skirts.

The fall. She fell on her stomach and started labor before she was ready.

And with Merewyn in the midst of her own labor, Graham was the only one who could help her.

“The bairn,” Kiergan whispered, his blue eyes pleading. “ ’Tis too soon.”

Graham struggled to his feet. “Nevertheless, yer child is arriving today.”

“I dinnae care,” his brother hissed, cradling his wife. “Just save her, Graham. Save my Kat!”

And he knew he would. Not because of his vows, or even her relationship to him, or his love for Davina. He’d do everything he could to save Katlyn because that was what he did.

Straightening his shoulders, he reached for his sister-in-law, determined to thwart the Grim Reaper yet again. “Aye,” he growled, “I will.”

And he knew he spoke the truth.

Chapter 11

This birth seemed faster than Fiona’s, but not as fast as Evelinde’s, and involved more screaming than Davina thought possible. Fiona had yelled, but hearing her sister screaming in pain caused Vina’s blood to freeze in her veins.

Kiergan wasn’t any better. He, being almost as filthy as the sisters after his heroic save, climbed right up onto the bed and pulled his wife back against his chest. When Graham suggested he might want to go below and pour some ale, he’d glared so hard, Davina had been afraid he’d hit his brother.

Vina was hard-pressed not to climb up on the bed and curl up beside her sister as well. Katlyn was alternating between